tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80765593033961267272024-03-05T09:20:06.302-08:00Pastor Martin's MyopiaThe musings and mutterings of a minister at times captivated by the mystery of the faith.Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.comBlogger271125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076559303396126727.post-63066299422285682892020-12-16T15:40:00.000-08:002020-12-30T13:32:08.789-08:00When God Says No: A reflection on Matthew 26:36-46<p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i style="font-size: x-large;"></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJUtB6n05GZKC1tGhNtr7LPBcy2JFjvwyLLbhmFUaHtwenH7_NWQNDitRly3uCJ4zd43-9BYLwu1GO5Fv7BtMdydu97nReYq2_hyphenhyphenHlCV_lKkvmTHIL8QjuwYl4FZZwPEBbuELq_rNGCbRS/s700/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="473" data-original-width="700" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJUtB6n05GZKC1tGhNtr7LPBcy2JFjvwyLLbhmFUaHtwenH7_NWQNDitRly3uCJ4zd43-9BYLwu1GO5Fv7BtMdydu97nReYq2_hyphenhyphenHlCV_lKkvmTHIL8QjuwYl4FZZwPEBbuELq_rNGCbRS/s320/1.jpg" width="320" /></a></i></div><i style="font-size: x-large;">"My Father, if there is no other way than this, drinking this cup to the dregs, I'm ready. Do it your way." </i><span style="font-size: x-large;">Matthew 26:42, The Message</span><p></p><p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span>Even though it's Christmastime,
my devotional reading from the Bible these days is coming from the
latter end of Matthew's Gospel. Matthew 26 would be a chapter to read
during Easter Week as opposed to the days leading up to Christmas.
For most of that chapter concerns the last night of Jesus' life on
earth.</span></span></p><p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">It's the high holy days in
Jerusalem and the city is full of pilgrims </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">from all over the then
known world who have come home to celebrate Passover, the feast the
Israelites have celebrated time out of mind of their deliverance by
God from generations of slavery in Egypt. As he eats the sacred meal
with his disciples he changes the meaning of it. Instead of looking
backwards with thanksgiving for their redemption from the Egyptians
for now on they will eat together “the Lord's Supper” speaking of
a greater deliverance from the bondage of sin. He then drops
something of a bombshell: one of them, his close circle of students
and friends, will betray him before the night is out and he will be
arrested, tried, tortured and killed. It's a lot of information to
process and all the disciples in shock reject that they will deny
him. Judas is among them and before the meal is concluded he quietly
slips out to make a bee line to the Temple guard to reveal where
Jesus is.</span></p><p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ24BXv35lVugxBz_-30Y-FlKNgKbOOdvmQFCx5nVJKFWkjbvfeXmKeDr0ZXhZux0aly_shpS2gUwJaaLG7N66dnNMQIB9HtDkHxyK8pZe4T2ra84lVNhI2aE8XX3IvC_TU4FL95K2JRE-/s830/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="374" data-original-width="830" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ24BXv35lVugxBz_-30Y-FlKNgKbOOdvmQFCx5nVJKFWkjbvfeXmKeDr0ZXhZux0aly_shpS2gUwJaaLG7N66dnNMQIB9HtDkHxyK8pZe4T2ra84lVNhI2aE8XX3IvC_TU4FL95K2JRE-/w400-h180/3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p></p><p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: x-large;">Having concluded their Passover meal, Jesus quitely leads his group of friends back into the night, across the Kidron Valley and up the Mount of Olives. There's a quiet olive garden that Jesus likes to visit when they have opportunity to visit Jerusalem. He is going there to <br />pray. The way Matthew tells it, he is the only one in their party who has a clue as to what is about to go down. He knows that even now a<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_3_uI6R11zhqZ76-QGzWK3OQeHqtJJPfdTAwhv5lZ17pN4Hi9H-kSIwROHNQyKA6z_vQKGuwAGkBULe2dhIVUGZe8Lf6FaLGSTZ_jqhBXrc2on1cZfy509IpLWx9xTSVF8GKcDucycfRH/s492/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="492" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_3_uI6R11zhqZ76-QGzWK3OQeHqtJJPfdTAwhv5lZ17pN4Hi9H-kSIwROHNQyKA6z_vQKGuwAGkBULe2dhIVUGZe8Lf6FaLGSTZ_jqhBXrc2on1cZfy509IpLWx9xTSVF8GKcDucycfRH/w163-h200/2.jpg" width="163" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Judas and his posse</td></tr></tbody></table>party of soldiers led by Judas is heading their way to arrest him within the hour. And he knows what will follow once they take him into custody. He tells his disciples to keep watch with him and then he steps further into the grove and begins to pray as he has never prayed before. He doesn't revel in the idea of torture nor at the prospect of a violent death and so he prays: <i>"My Father, if there is any way, get me out of this. But please, not what I want. Do it your way" </i>(26:39, 42, Msg). So, "if there is any other way to redeem mankind get me out of this...but if not, I'm ready to see this through regardless of what it will cost me."</span><p></p><p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p>
<p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_SyTQaAggjQgBcu9ChPb9TtPOeZsMembPs9zCaX7T18BAg9_37WAPhoPjw2vgolRxiSL798PFj9gBeZhoL7S3i4FO6EWHxYG_6X1_T9nimPLxRNvVSlVRTufGBKdcPAw2TitFzwPodtVs/s277/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="182" data-original-width="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_SyTQaAggjQgBcu9ChPb9TtPOeZsMembPs9zCaX7T18BAg9_37WAPhoPjw2vgolRxiSL798PFj9gBeZhoL7S3i4FO6EWHxYG_6X1_T9nimPLxRNvVSlVRTufGBKdcPAw2TitFzwPodtVs/s0/5.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-large;">All of us have prayers that have
yet to go unanswered. I know I <br />certainly do. I have prayed for people
who are seriously ill for God to heal them and they have died anyway.
I continue to pray for people I know who do not profess faith in
Christ or walk with him and they seem about as far away from him as
they always have been. My wife and I have been praying for our adult
children to find life partners and they all remain years later very
much single. Who doesn't love the story of Daniel in the lion's den
(Daniel 6) when Daniel, because of his loyalty to Yahweh, is thrown
to the lions? The next morning, however, he comes out of the pit
without even a scratch on him because God shut the lions' mouths. But
there are other people throughout history who have been just as
faithful as Daniel was and when it's their turn to be thrown into the
lion's den God doesn't shut their mouths. They become breakfast,
their prayers and faithfulness to the contrary. It is truly a mystery
sometimes trying to figure out just what God is up to. I'm sure all of us who think on these things can relate.</span><p></p><p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: x-large;">If you're a Christian you
probably have run into the phrase, “All things are possible”.
It's taken from Matthew 19 and is a quote of Jesus, yet only part of it. As he's
teaching his disciples how difficult it is for a man who loves riches
to enter heaven, his disciples reply: “Who then can be saved?” to
wit Jesus replies: “With man this is impossible, but with God all
things are possible” (v. 26). In other words, when any person
regardless of what they're carrying turns to the Lord anything is
possible be they a rich dude or a poor addict. It doesn't mean that
if we pray hard enough, believe hard enough, trust hard enough we
will get the things we hope and pray for. Whatever </span><i style="font-size: x-large;">that</i><span style="font-size: x-large;"> is it's not love and trust which is what our relationship with the Lord is meant to be.</span><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5rpWXYb3It38KQQ1GojDi0l0repRANNx5vVAuURXhwkJ0GLVKetKZWIQoZivxKuxtJWBkKJsN-L2Ec_UGFllid0PXkXZslucrcGcyMcHnwjuR1KAGw1VwMECEv9XmHMoTcy9essD2gF80/s800/4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5rpWXYb3It38KQQ1GojDi0l0repRANNx5vVAuURXhwkJ0GLVKetKZWIQoZivxKuxtJWBkKJsN-L2Ec_UGFllid0PXkXZslucrcGcyMcHnwjuR1KAGw1VwMECEv9XmHMoTcy9essD2gF80/w400-h300/4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Jesus asked the Father for
a way out – if there was another way that fulfilled the meaning
of his life. After all to do the Father's will was his primary desire and goal.
The writer of Hebrews says this about that moment: “...he offered
up prayers and petitions with loud cries and tears to the one who
could save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverent
submission” (Heb 5:7). So he was heard as he cried out to the
Father in the garden but the answer was still 'no, there is no other
way.' One guy put it this way:</span></p>
<p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Jesus
had prayed, </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>'If
it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it,
may your will be done' </i></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">(42),
and the Father took him at his word. The prayer of Jesus in
Gethsemane shows that we can be close to God, live a holy life, and
pray with faith, earnestness and expectancy, and yet not get what we
ask for. It is a profound mystery before which we must bow. </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>Michael
Green</i></span></p>
<p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Jesus' life was one of love and
obedience. He is our example to follow when heaven seems to say 'no'
to our prayers, even when prayed with the most sincerest of
attitudes. Or the answer may be 'not yet' for reasons that are not ours to know. Both the 'no' or the 'not yet' require us to trust him all the
same. “Although he was a son, he learned obedience from what he
suffered and, once made perfect, he became the source of eternal
salvation for all who obey him...” (Heb 5:8-9). So we pray on,
submitting ourselves to God's will for our lives. </span></p><p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Through my chaplaincy at the Barron County Jail I have prayed with a number of inmates who are hoping for an Alternate To Revocation (like being sent to a center for treatment). Instead, the judge sends them to prison. As a pastor I have also felt the heartbreak of a spouse whose partner does not want to be reconciled to them as they file for divorce. A job falls through or a house that seems a sure thing is sold to another and on the list goes, one disappointment after another. In those moments of 'no' can we believe that though the answer we have is not what we sought it is an opportunity to learn obedience and trust and have our character transformed even further as submit ourselves fully to Him?</span></p><p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtXkOE1MS5pA-T08s6JWWlos1vDQRvXyPay_aCnCik-sx1b2lZfsWbQCms1UKvNRkNimaQAJMluCbRC9n425-xWRXrA8HFHErRA5S6VeoIPCLZadvvxIlfozD2ibsgAduFd9y8jRfgJ3TD/s2048/6.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1363" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtXkOE1MS5pA-T08s6JWWlos1vDQRvXyPay_aCnCik-sx1b2lZfsWbQCms1UKvNRkNimaQAJMluCbRC9n425-xWRXrA8HFHErRA5S6VeoIPCLZadvvxIlfozD2ibsgAduFd9y8jRfgJ3TD/w400-h266/6.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p></p><p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p><p> </p></div>Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076559303396126727.post-50562962304381926272020-12-08T15:01:00.000-08:002020-12-08T15:01:05.900-08:00Tidings of Great Joy: An Advent Meditation<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkLfWLUWNKuiXQfEYa1Ej7jVoNua8xvvxmDQyB4E3Umb5FIDP9uBR8C-4CAUIJK-5k2WEcO0yt86z_zGSrxznHD9WKiCJF3Z_z7NeZ0d_1FNfjf3Mm7Fy-NosJpgILWh0uOoRfXwgUy4vS/s919/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="919" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkLfWLUWNKuiXQfEYa1Ej7jVoNua8xvvxmDQyB4E3Umb5FIDP9uBR8C-4CAUIJK-5k2WEcO0yt86z_zGSrxznHD9WKiCJF3Z_z7NeZ0d_1FNfjf3Mm7Fy-NosJpgILWh0uOoRfXwgUy4vS/w400-h236/1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"> <i>"Bah!"
said Scrooge. "Humbug!"<br /></i></span><p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">He
had so heated himself with rapid walking in the fog and frost, this
nephew of Scrooge's, that he was all in a glow; his face was ruddy
and handsome; his eyes sparkled, and his breath smoked again.</span></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">"Christmas
a humbug, uncle!" said Scrooge's nephew. "You don't mean
that, I am sure?"</span></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">"I
do," said Scrooge. "Merry Christmas! What right have you to
be merry? What reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough."</span></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">"Come,
then," returned the nephew gaily. "What right have you to
be dismal? What reason have you to be morose? You're rich enough."</span></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Scrooge,
having no better answer ready on the spur of the moment, said, "Bah!"
again; and followed it up with "Humbug!" </i>(from A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens)</span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">It
has, it seems, been a year for the history books: rioting in major
cities across America, division and rancor across the Union that
hasn't been felt in at least a generation, a disputed election, and
the flotsam and jetsam of a global pandemic that continues to
polarize people into various camps which divide along the virtues of
wearing face coverings or not, of worshiping in person or doing the
same virtually, of elected officials ordering shut downs or private
citizens defying the same. Who is right and who is wrong depends
largely upon what circles you run in. But no matter what with the
kind of year it's been, it's all too easy for the dormant Scrooge
within us (or the Grinch if you prefer) to be decidedly sour and
obnoxiously loud as we approach the twenty-fifth of December.</span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Q4dDKfWcXiORy6Aft6Wg-I4pqYToOV1VmvhOb3PkY6WniQjKzhnkWYuqaw03ZbfSbKOH20f1_fNQLvX6lP2KqrYcT55tZtl4ygk8K_3QU1xQ79KL0L0fI6Qvb1k4woOUUe3BNZfHH6G0/s1200/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Q4dDKfWcXiORy6Aft6Wg-I4pqYToOV1VmvhOb3PkY6WniQjKzhnkWYuqaw03ZbfSbKOH20f1_fNQLvX6lP2KqrYcT55tZtl4ygk8K_3QU1xQ79KL0L0fI6Qvb1k4woOUUe3BNZfHH6G0/w400-h200/2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p>What
</span><i style="font-size: x-large;"><b>do</b></i><span style="font-size: x-large;"> we have to be merry about? When the CDC is
recommending we all stay put this Christmas and avoid travel, when
the President-elect plans to issue a federal mandate to wear a mask
“for 100 days only” on the first day of his administration, when
Covid continues to creep and crawl all around us now infecting people
we know as well as ourselves, its all too easy to shout Scrooge's
reply to his nephew's seemingly pollyanish view of the world: “Merry
Christmas! </span><i style="font-size: x-large;">What right have I to be merry?</i><span style="font-size: x-large;">...”</span><p></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4JyDls3UZAOsdR68Tb1HFaLmDrpyxnxMGApCPP6aEy0iJhuZGBjXva4zPG2LC6vi1Njc_C7jb5degrsOGl8l2SHwuxV7XjbHSfC7GSuxJEuGTtFk5ue9T6M-2T4I3GoROnOZbxuOxO2w9/s2048/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4JyDls3UZAOsdR68Tb1HFaLmDrpyxnxMGApCPP6aEy0iJhuZGBjXva4zPG2LC6vi1Njc_C7jb5degrsOGl8l2SHwuxV7XjbHSfC7GSuxJEuGTtFk5ue9T6M-2T4I3GoROnOZbxuOxO2w9/w200-h133/3.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">Except
this: Once upon a time in Bethlehem in Judea, Jesus the Christ was
born. God became flesh and blood and “moved into the neighborhood”
(John 1:14, The Message) for one purpose and one purpose only: to
save us from our sins.</span><p></p><p style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge7NE-3CYeCt32Ji9WNpmOqqFiW7AVPSQ3PD_qVdnxc0x6bpN2tcecRBygGqSkv2N3qP-1Vrk5xBPUIAj1WGC0cKb4mEt9ahBrZb1vdmhHGiRDNId_DBekjCUiLgzNvrBdwD4x3b6nsAdF/s1024/5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="683" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge7NE-3CYeCt32Ji9WNpmOqqFiW7AVPSQ3PD_qVdnxc0x6bpN2tcecRBygGqSkv2N3qP-1Vrk5xBPUIAj1WGC0cKb4mEt9ahBrZb1vdmhHGiRDNId_DBekjCUiLgzNvrBdwD4x3b6nsAdF/w133-h200/5.jpeg" width="133" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">If
we're honest, the world has always been a pretty dark place (I think
the last 100 years of history speaks loudly to that fact). There have
been wonderful moments to be sure but there seems to be no end to the
cruelty and ugliness that we humans can think up or mete out on one
another. Despite the fact that there are a lot of nice people in
these here parts, the verdict of heaven is that we are utterly and
completely lost and cannot fix ourselves (our best efforts to the
contrary).</span><p></p><p style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix3aCbrFFu47JajXrGR1ZS4GCv-PfwsHApfZfMcDvcZKMQMGXCKOKYvjtkggVe_gHvFp4ll8Uzk3Z65b7Xu9jRzpt-5WSWw6GTdwKS3DXoi_pb6wzbzMIWdmg_N-jGG96ri8wRhgGvM5KN/s960/6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix3aCbrFFu47JajXrGR1ZS4GCv-PfwsHApfZfMcDvcZKMQMGXCKOKYvjtkggVe_gHvFp4ll8Uzk3Z65b7Xu9jRzpt-5WSWw6GTdwKS3DXoi_pb6wzbzMIWdmg_N-jGG96ri8wRhgGvM5KN/w400-h300/6.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><p style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p>But at Bethlehem, God entered the mess our world is and came near to us
in Jesus. Years later Paul the Apostle would describe Christmas in
this way: </span><i style="font-size: x-large;">“For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that
though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you
through his poverty might become rich”</i><span style="font-size: x-large;"> 2 Corinthians 8:9 (NIV). In
ways that are difficult to quantify, Jesus imposed limits on his
divine nature for a season and became one of us for the purpose that
we might become sons and daughters of God through faith in him. His
sacrificial death on a Roman cross paid the debt of sin we could not
pay off in a million years and he offers us life eternal in exchange
for our simple trust in him.</span><p></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvJn_izbn8V49uAgFJXIuV7umg8ru11dyV811aa0BnY48zzRCOjImcM5r3XO8As0sOZcJ8RsVNMj1onLfFodQYu8VAkasK7XEuuv_ZOvuONvx_djMW-cTc03m7gWxc1RgGTNQwwhq1oZbn/s512/8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="471" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvJn_izbn8V49uAgFJXIuV7umg8ru11dyV811aa0BnY48zzRCOjImcM5r3XO8As0sOZcJ8RsVNMj1onLfFodQYu8VAkasK7XEuuv_ZOvuONvx_djMW-cTc03m7gWxc1RgGTNQwwhq1oZbn/w184-h200/8.jpg" width="184" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">What
right have we to be merry? Here are reasons enough! So on the days
leading up to Christmas should Scrooge rear his ugly face and scream
his sarcastic accusation we have every reason to smile and say back
to him what his nephew retorted, <i>"What right have [I] to be
dismal? What reason have [I] to be morose? [I'm] rich enough."</i></span><p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">No
wonder one of the words found in the lexicon of heaven regarding
Christmas is “joy”. As the angel spoke to the shepherds outside
of Bethlehem that night, “Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good
tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is
born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the
Lord” (Luke 2:11-12, KJV). That's good news, maybe the best news,
and should give us reason enough to rejoice in God's goodness and
love for us as we wish all we know or meet <b><i>Merry Christmas!</i></b></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl7kvRfg3YfvRz76L8tCgiH7j9X506wovHpJY78WrVDI2RkOOq5194DdI5muN99HpLgoNsUeY3FqKsMIMgdQUzxaiUvL3aNU4eibmJJXbcp5WqrHY1apMygP6K2bjn6EWoFJNwS6ZxzAyr/s320/9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="247" data-original-width="320" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl7kvRfg3YfvRz76L8tCgiH7j9X506wovHpJY78WrVDI2RkOOq5194DdI5muN99HpLgoNsUeY3FqKsMIMgdQUzxaiUvL3aNU4eibmJJXbcp5WqrHY1apMygP6K2bjn6EWoFJNwS6ZxzAyr/w400-h309/9.jpg" width="400" /></a></b></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /><i><br /></i></b></span><p></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></p>Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076559303396126727.post-48962245136612968572020-07-22T15:12:00.001-07:002020-07-22T15:12:43.168-07:00What do I want the Lord to do for me? (A meditation on Matthew 20:29-34)<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><font size="5"></font></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><font size="5"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWQEZgtCAJBLJbUNEaIIz4EmPkqVb18lOY05xDlefCCDlKintNhLrSqvPQneKojbhmI3vamFbGNBwiIaD7WJjWl_guDYDMqORD-rd-5zDcPhk7dIgUMiDpgQXaqbnjEuRtLsOC9FKeKQkq/s940/bartimaeus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="627" data-original-width="940" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWQEZgtCAJBLJbUNEaIIz4EmPkqVb18lOY05xDlefCCDlKintNhLrSqvPQneKojbhmI3vamFbGNBwiIaD7WJjWl_guDYDMqORD-rd-5zDcPhk7dIgUMiDpgQXaqbnjEuRtLsOC9FKeKQkq/s320/bartimaeus.jpg" width="320" /></a></font></div><font size="5">“<font><i>As
they were leaving Jericho, a huge crowd followed. Suddenly they came
upon two blind men sitting alongside the road. When they heard it was
Jesus passing, they cried out, 'Master, have mercy on us! Mercy, Son
of David!' The crowd tried to hush them up, but they got all the
louder, crying, 'Master, have mercy on us! Mercy, Son of David!'”</i></font></font><p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><font size="5">“<font><i>Jesus
stopped and called over, 'What do you want from me?'</i></font></font></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><font size="5">Matthew
20:29-31, The Message</font></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><font size="5"><br /></font></p><p style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><font size="5">Jesus
is on his way up to Jerusalem for the very last time. The way Matthew
tells this story (Mark and Luke tell it too), he's been on the road
for the last few chapters heading up, up to the city that is renowned
for rejecting and killing those who dare to speak truth to her, up to
Gethsemane, Golgotha and a borrowed tomb.</font></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><font size="5">The
road is crowded with not only his entourage but also fellow </font></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><font size="5"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwGc-Q5eYhIXshYxWTyPGt5vrmiv1yJKATE7vA9aNps9SoGCmGMg6ouIqZmbRP1IEmCQ7aCckXBuOVzDpy2Wm0OhCSpC2uojEULbiusO4TH2WeJy2zMQgMm1fFXRwtNTbYEFqOVOXLFxsg/s1024/blind-bartimeus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwGc-Q5eYhIXshYxWTyPGt5vrmiv1yJKATE7vA9aNps9SoGCmGMg6ouIqZmbRP1IEmCQ7aCckXBuOVzDpy2Wm0OhCSpC2uojEULbiusO4TH2WeJy2zMQgMm1fFXRwtNTbYEFqOVOXLFxsg/s320/blind-bartimeus.jpg" width="320" /></a></font></div><font size="5">pilgrims
on their way up to celebrate Passover as has been their custom for
time immemorial. While passing through Jericho, two blind men learn
that Jesus of Nazareth is passing by. His reputation as a miracle
worker has preceded him and with opportunity knocking they begin to
scream his name in hopes of gaining his attention and becoming yet
another amazing story of his healing power. Much like they tried to
keep little kids from pestering him (Matthew 19), now his handlers
want to move him through Jericho as quickly as possible. And when
they are told to pipe down they scream all the louder. After all,
this may be their last chance to experience a touch by the Son of
David.</font><div><font size="5"><br /></font></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEJX1u3QKAyrxfi98zPPOXqUdqWdBgQeHCFCvT-w3eDTQ_-4gkdkf78Xo8rFiwTRNY9Ere4Tf_-oU5bw2pLXt9uv-ClJdeLmmcIU9J4-681t9ClPyOGVGbiD1uaOp-SMsbNI3HJPSJHVWR/s350/Bartimaeus+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="273" data-original-width="350" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEJX1u3QKAyrxfi98zPPOXqUdqWdBgQeHCFCvT-w3eDTQ_-4gkdkf78Xo8rFiwTRNY9Ere4Tf_-oU5bw2pLXt9uv-ClJdeLmmcIU9J4-681t9ClPyOGVGbiD1uaOp-SMsbNI3HJPSJHVWR/w400-h313/Bartimaeus+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><font size="5"><br /></font><p></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><font size="5">Their
efforts are rewarded. Jesus stops, looks in their direction and very
directly asks them, “What do you want from me?” Because we've
read the story before we know already how they're going to respond –
they're going to ask for their eyes to be opened – but the question
itself is worth contemplating. As Michael Card puts it:</font></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><font size="5">“<font><i>It
is a harder question than you might imagine. For years I have placed
myself in the story, in Bartimaeus's </i>[named
in Mark's version of the story]<i> shoes. When Jesus asks me,
“What can I do for you?” to this day I have not come up with an
answer.” </i>(<i>Matthew:
The Gospel of Identity, </i>p. 181.)
Honestly, I'm not sure how I would answer myself.</font></font></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><font size="5"><font><br /></font></font></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><font size="5"><font></font></font></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><font size="5"><font><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDbIejCm6LL1bwUzWNmEzrxwo7bNby-5_QGc1cqTOWEmaHkDn4hC8lAPiwM3YdWF_r44Pvg23t1ha1r1SeVx8NC5C5KPdTn1nZPKQZtCPs_r8uMI5YHQednOuXAsObgQJR7kVp3yBXkt88/s400/Solomon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="309" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDbIejCm6LL1bwUzWNmEzrxwo7bNby-5_QGc1cqTOWEmaHkDn4hC8lAPiwM3YdWF_r44Pvg23t1ha1r1SeVx8NC5C5KPdTn1nZPKQZtCPs_r8uMI5YHQednOuXAsObgQJR7kVp3yBXkt88/s320/Solomon.jpg" width="320" /></a></font></font></div><font size="5"><font>I
think of Solomon shortly after becoming king. God appears to him in a
dream and says to him, “Ask for whatever you want me to give you”
(1 Kings 3:4-15). He could have asked for anything – wealth, power,
influence, fame – but instead humbly asks: </font><font><i> “Give
me a God-listening heart so I can lead your people well, discerning
the difference between good and evil” (</i></font><font>v.
9, Msg). For such an answer he gets what he's asking for – and then
some.</font></font><p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><font size="5">Would
I ask for wealth so I'd never sweat the small offering ever again?
Would I ask for health so that cancer nor COVID-19 could ever touch
me? Would I ask for long life, fame, “big” church prestige or
ramble out the odd assortment of items on my bucket list? Somehow all
those things ring hollow. Hezekiah, when informed by Isaiah that he
was going to die, begged God for more time. God gave him what he
asked for and during the remaining fifteen years of his life a son
was born to him – a son so profane who would live to undue
everything he had done during his mostly distinguished reign. In
retrospect would it have been wiser to stoically resign himself to his
death? Fame and fortune are relatively fleeting things, here today,
gone tomorrow and I'm told that many of those folk who enjoy such
things also enjoy more stress and anxiety as well and seem to do if
the tabloids are even partially true</font></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><font size="5"><br /></font></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4KAXiXj9PgBf12MxG3P3UiH8tKIXCMjJdslr1d3SdJPKOztEf1H051MtrvCEPepnzDrzNubOaQkS_VdfDBIzdzg_U1ttIOTnlwJsaS1AU7IlNmLRUJdbIoXvwyArjgMwC5v-jCSyf-vu7/s640/Hezekiah.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="332" data-original-width="640" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4KAXiXj9PgBf12MxG3P3UiH8tKIXCMjJdslr1d3SdJPKOztEf1H051MtrvCEPepnzDrzNubOaQkS_VdfDBIzdzg_U1ttIOTnlwJsaS1AU7IlNmLRUJdbIoXvwyArjgMwC5v-jCSyf-vu7/w400-h208/Hezekiah.png" width="400" /></a></div><font size="5"><br /></font><p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><font size="5">At
58, I think of my life and I'm thankful that I'm married to a woman
who still loves and cares for me 34 years into our marriage, that our
four adult children all walk with Jesus and are engaged in meaningful
work that they are well suited for and are active participants in the
fellowship they belong to. For nearly 29 years I have had a place to
work out my calling and along the way have learned to wear other hats
like coach, chaplain, teacher and mayor. I don't have everything I
want but I certainly can say I have everything I need.</font></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><font size="5">So
what do I want? What can the Lord do for me? The best answer I can
come up today (who knows? I may come up with a better answer
tomorrow) is:</font></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><font size="5">11 Teach me your
way, Lord,</font></i></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><font size="5"><font><i> that I may rely on your
faithfulness;<br />give me an undivided heart,<br /> that
I may fear your name.<br />12 I will praise you, Lord my God,
with all my heart;<br /> I will glorify your
name forever.<br />13 For great is your love toward me;<br /> you
have delivered me from the depths,<br /> from
the realm of the dead. </i></font>
</font></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><font size="5">(Psalm
86:11-13, NIV)</font></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><font size="5">Lord
knows, I want to be a good pastor, mayor, coach, husband and father.
But more than success at any and all of these endeavors I do so want
an undivided heart that in all things I will demonstrate faithfulness
and love to Him who formed me and called me and placed me on this
earth to do some good.</font></p><p style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbY1oOkTqhEXM_ZRzu3_AklF3cQFF18h8pzaoJgQ1JGogNys-iG9JzmkMCRZckEAy0SYZA-i33cIYS0Sxva4L5GuXUZ5bVXdMepUSlrJL63CmKrdWXV5tkS9tplhPkVmYatzEJWn8dZl1f/s960/family.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbY1oOkTqhEXM_ZRzu3_AklF3cQFF18h8pzaoJgQ1JGogNys-iG9JzmkMCRZckEAy0SYZA-i33cIYS0Sxva4L5GuXUZ5bVXdMepUSlrJL63CmKrdWXV5tkS9tplhPkVmYatzEJWn8dZl1f/w400-h300/family.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can you really ask for anything more?<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><font size="5"><br /></font></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><font size="5"><br />
</font></p><br /></div>Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076559303396126727.post-73960955933835157322020-03-04T16:24:00.000-08:002020-03-04T16:24:29.825-08:00Tell me a story and other good reads: A reflection on our most recent Sharing Circle Sunday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR_MaCSGjegfJ1l3qm4KDZr8Ys3mkvTFssAQYnd-gYBRWAUNd6aM3R3PozmIhlGpSFzDhgqn_QyAwbOdqDcU9NfGxJlfSIyXpyBimYwIVcV5WgjvCtTF72gZg03B_8fS6vVoBwzfds7e7y/s1600/15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="440" data-original-width="660" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR_MaCSGjegfJ1l3qm4KDZr8Ys3mkvTFssAQYnd-gYBRWAUNd6aM3R3PozmIhlGpSFzDhgqn_QyAwbOdqDcU9NfGxJlfSIyXpyBimYwIVcV5WgjvCtTF72gZg03B_8fS6vVoBwzfds7e7y/s320/15.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Whenever
you read a good book, somewhere in the world a door opens to allow in
more light.” </i></span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">This
past Sunday was a “Sharing Circle” Sunday at Refuge. For us, a
“sharing circle” looks like this: we put the chairs in the
sanctuary in a circle and the main event for that particular Sunday
morning gathering is people come ready to share. Ever since we got
rid of our pews and invested in chairs back in the early 2000s, new
panoramas of experiences have opened up to us as a congregation
because now we can place the chairs however we like. That's one
reason “Thanksbringing”, our annual service of thanks-sharing,
came to be. Since that time we have used that same formation for
similar kinds of services.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_s59IULbcHFHyI2SAB8t-EJYHlxCu8t66jshQXi5BK0AK8cIrjfrqZyD4RystuWxMYWtioTgTxYxKvqzXucCwT5k5S6jk0BaHvqYwl5t0tqJ29U753RXjHDTIvpdO_PeSQ7PsckxUB4Lh/s1600/17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_s59IULbcHFHyI2SAB8t-EJYHlxCu8t66jshQXi5BK0AK8cIrjfrqZyD4RystuWxMYWtioTgTxYxKvqzXucCwT5k5S6jk0BaHvqYwl5t0tqJ29U753RXjHDTIvpdO_PeSQ7PsckxUB4Lh/s400/17.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">For
this particular gathering the week before I gave everyone an
assignment: that they should come ready to share about a book they
have recently read that has given them life; a book that has helped
them grow in their walk with Christ. Of course, not everyone likes to
read. And others don't take time to read. But in every group there's
always those who are voracious readers and if you ask them they are
only too happy to let you know what they're next best read currently
is.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMsJpGcFhIZ4J2F3orITS2f2JrRQSahh7sInAKaybtkRT1ou-vJwXFbp68pfmKvmft_SJum3g_4O6_EFRC554QpWqf2pis3m-FX92YQnWdb8Hy9pSBJYrZFOE57C0lpZQbJC7Jyjjafd28/s1600/18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMsJpGcFhIZ4J2F3orITS2f2JrRQSahh7sInAKaybtkRT1ou-vJwXFbp68pfmKvmft_SJum3g_4O6_EFRC554QpWqf2pis3m-FX92YQnWdb8Hy9pSBJYrZFOE57C0lpZQbJC7Jyjjafd28/s320/18.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Kale
& LeAnne were our worship leaders that morning and as they played
the opening song people drifted in. By the greeting time that
followed most of the folk who were going to be there were on hand
including some infrequent guests and a family being exposed to Refuge
for the very first time (but not to most of us). When the chairs are
lined up in rows there is a level of security that most people create
especially the further away from the platform they sit. They can
“hide” in plain sight, especially if they've had a bad week. But
when you put the chairs in a big circle Pangea opens up and it
potentially could expose you to eye contact from the pastor. We've
done this kind of format enough, however, that most of us know how
the gathering will roll and, in many cases, welcome the change. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6rLqMVGBwc8htsTkdBz0GVMcKjO6ARD5s_h69mBEkyDKNSMjalHt6AV_Wbsb3Q-XuONjtDhGlwD9cAg16XvsMHEWcDQHyTVdogjAwOaufpqb41sE0WoRIGnubILok701trMHwQXo4LK9K/s1600/19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="642" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6rLqMVGBwc8htsTkdBz0GVMcKjO6ARD5s_h69mBEkyDKNSMjalHt6AV_Wbsb3Q-XuONjtDhGlwD9cAg16XvsMHEWcDQHyTVdogjAwOaufpqb41sE0WoRIGnubILok701trMHwQXo4LK9K/s320/19.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Following
announcements and the weekly passing of the plate, we got right to
it. While normally our gathering lasts two hours the deacons had
requested that we conclude by 11:30 a.m. as immediately following the
gathering we were planning a “Meal of Sharing” (which is code for
“potluck”). So with all the preliminaries out of the way it was
10:30 and since we also had communion to partake of, we had
potentially 45 minutes worth of sharing before we had to transition
to the meal.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Here
are the books that were presented during the sharing time that
followed:</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwvAXbGBXPwbLP11fyewTwPx7dyYSqJaR0L4r7ELz_xpUJxG5GLTc3BrZP_t_nwOxFCzyCzEBxDJITCUoQHhd3kcPqzfwF3pFQY5aAMelYErtIvvtWg4qo8cCcQvWWz0zQSJxlXj13oKkj/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="267" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwvAXbGBXPwbLP11fyewTwPx7dyYSqJaR0L4r7ELz_xpUJxG5GLTc3BrZP_t_nwOxFCzyCzEBxDJITCUoQHhd3kcPqzfwF3pFQY5aAMelYErtIvvtWg4qo8cCcQvWWz0zQSJxlXj13oKkj/s200/1.jpg" width="133" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Run
With the Horses: The Quest For Life At Its Best </i>by
Eugene H. Peterson.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">(myself)</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I've
read pretty much everything that Eugene wrote. He vicariously
mentored me as a young pastor through his writings. This book,
however, brought into the life of Jeremiah the Prophet and chapter
12 (“To All the Exiles”) gave words to the feeling that was in
my heart when I read this book for the very first time in 1993.
Jeremiah 29:7 - “seek the peace and prosperity of the city to
which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the Lord
for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper” - has become
my ministerial philosophy for my life. Everything I do as pastor, as
coach, as mayor, and as substitute teacher flows through this verse
and I have Peterson to thank for helping me discover that.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUU7K_p_xMVMw0tRt8nrisyAsj3JL_OxQuuRZDil1K4aK-nUr3urCFWyqr_hVN7TSgWu3bAOh2e0QuQ3PYcfmqc-_eswPPFjPg2wuFvKQ13ZG5RmgpqEDriLp3OC-XHebjotNZ1haaVVmY/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="257" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUU7K_p_xMVMw0tRt8nrisyAsj3JL_OxQuuRZDil1K4aK-nUr3urCFWyqr_hVN7TSgWu3bAOh2e0QuQ3PYcfmqc-_eswPPFjPg2wuFvKQ13ZG5RmgpqEDriLp3OC-XHebjotNZ1haaVVmY/s200/2.jpg" width="128" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>The
Way of Life: Experiencing the Culture of Heaven on Earth </i>by
Bill Johnson.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">(Dan
Grotberg)</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Dan
is an electrician. Johnson is all about every part of our lives
being used to build the kingdom and glorify God.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; display: inline !important; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAFkCT0euoRJyDU38SqXeAQZ_G9RgmjZ8kF2wyDeSWKWJHrs-anS5cWeD0yLcZES0mdJ52VUpAmf1nCKnZb_C8qihdcNUmiiiyyBZaBjMX32wI31iB8pBO733S4-eECvUx3SXDxH0QZLvb/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="333" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAFkCT0euoRJyDU38SqXeAQZ_G9RgmjZ8kF2wyDeSWKWJHrs-anS5cWeD0yLcZES0mdJ52VUpAmf1nCKnZb_C8qihdcNUmiiiyyBZaBjMX32wI31iB8pBO733S4-eECvUx3SXDxH0QZLvb/s200/3.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>They
Said It Wasn't Possible: True Stories of People Who Were Healed from
the Impossible </i>by Karen Hurd.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">(LeAnne
Turney)</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">LeAnne
has struggled with a physical condition for many years. Karen's book
has encouraged her and the diet she prescribes has helped create
real change in her life.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_KS2Ws7nhzDWiB-qLIP8DsRdmDh-Y9HnB5HzA95KTJ7HgTgY2FGoEQPCtCEGzU7CEZs9T36fQ0I7fVF7rYvGlqiMYGtTYS36SJu8Vldhgx5_ghDH7UzOpb66XW_28vIGzAe4omdDmgW3z/s1600/4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="309" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_KS2Ws7nhzDWiB-qLIP8DsRdmDh-Y9HnB5HzA95KTJ7HgTgY2FGoEQPCtCEGzU7CEZs9T36fQ0I7fVF7rYvGlqiMYGtTYS36SJu8Vldhgx5_ghDH7UzOpb66XW_28vIGzAe4omdDmgW3z/s200/4.jpg" width="123" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>The
Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader </i>by
C.S. Lewis.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">(LeAnne
Turney)</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">LeAnne
shared a portion of her favorite chapter from this book (Chapter 7:
“How the Adventure Ended”) that's all about the “un-dragoning
of Eustace Scrubb” and read that portion to us. It's my favorite
portion, too.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><i>The
very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right
into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse
than anything I’ve ever felt. The only thing that made me able to
bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off….Well,
he peeled the beastly stuff right off – just as I thought I’d
done it myself the other three times, only they hadn’t hurt –
and there it was lying on the grass: only ever so much thicker, and
darker and more knobbly looking than the others had been. And there
was I as smooth and soft as a peeled switch and smaller than I had
been. Then he caught hold of me…and threw me into the water. It
smarted like anything but only for a moment. After that it became
perfectly delicious and as soon as I started swimming and splashing
I found that all the pain had gone from my arm. And then I saw why.
I’d turned into a boy again…after a bit the lion took me out and
dressed me – “</i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Dressed
you. With his paws?”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Well,
I don’t exactly remember that bit. But he did somehow or other: in
new clothes.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Jesus
saves us but growing into his character often hurts. In fact, if it
doesn't we may be trying to “scratch” our own skin off instead
of allowing his claws to do their work.</span></div>
<div style="display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i></i></span></div>
<div>
<div style="display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></i></span></div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Radical:
Taking Back Your Faith From the American Dream</i>
by David Platt.</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaKKFqvENboBvVD-R7P-gCKsgFErZ8Z6Sjm49VBU9J9VYsIcjjS7_4KW7JsRJqtKNg7ryuMfAk_RYWs8BcK4CAZj_OKyuPN5I25f8xC9ZAIifW94ovAJ7uHx5juLA_uYgDeIpSKg9ZSQsX/s1600/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="324" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaKKFqvENboBvVD-R7P-gCKsgFErZ8Z6Sjm49VBU9J9VYsIcjjS7_4KW7JsRJqtKNg7ryuMfAk_RYWs8BcK4CAZj_OKyuPN5I25f8xC9ZAIifW94ovAJ7uHx5juLA_uYgDeIpSKg9ZSQsX/s200/5.jpg" width="129" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">(Randy
Waterhouse) </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">This
is a book that Randy will tell you changed his life. He took it with
him while elk hunting out West once. He didn't bag an elk but God
got a hold of his heart.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcBxyKnyLq0vhgYJDtom6GEsvAY4kn7fxE_kc9hKlj5SR-FE1twbftMx3U3J_N9i6hu_oN8_LEsDeFBN-Q86_-Qq0Ai2AKVrAxhkMN-iX3CaKDzVyyw-a0-FSa4ELgziN3pr_qohaBJWNo/s1600/6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="331" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcBxyKnyLq0vhgYJDtom6GEsvAY4kn7fxE_kc9hKlj5SR-FE1twbftMx3U3J_N9i6hu_oN8_LEsDeFBN-Q86_-Qq0Ai2AKVrAxhkMN-iX3CaKDzVyyw-a0-FSa4ELgziN3pr_qohaBJWNo/s200/6.jpg" width="131" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>How
Dare the Sun Rise: Memoirs of a War Child </i>by
Sandra Uwiringiyimana with Abigail Pesta.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">(Randy
Waterhouse)</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">It's
the story of how a girl from the Democratic Republic of the Congo
who survived a massacre, emmigrated to America and overcame the
wounds of her past. Both Randy and Renee have read several books of
survivors of tribal massacre in East Africa and how they have found
life through forgiveness.</span></div>
<div style="display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i></i></span></div>
<div>
<div style="display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></i></span></div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Introverts
in the Church: Finding Our Place in an Extroverted Culture </i>by
Adam S. McHugh.</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf6vdQgByeZnFu2pG3Ac6Pfr6FsmCPkJJmRDHj5dfa7TddswYG5Z1oE6ohuv_nO70Cjtep1NrXdxy4RK4aw_iP_Y8wqrKF2jvKXcEl7OWmE6M2yXEQ_cRMcSIOjXzPAe0B3pn60xECKOTA/s1600/7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1360" data-original-width="880" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf6vdQgByeZnFu2pG3Ac6Pfr6FsmCPkJJmRDHj5dfa7TddswYG5Z1oE6ohuv_nO70Cjtep1NrXdxy4RK4aw_iP_Y8wqrKF2jvKXcEl7OWmE6M2yXEQ_cRMcSIOjXzPAe0B3pn60xECKOTA/s200/7.jpg" width="129" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">(Linda
Martin)</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Linda
is an introvert. She doesn't care to chit-chat with a lot of people
after the weekly gathering. For years she has struggled with guilt
because of this. This book has assured her that being an introvert
is one of the many beautiful things about her. And – as the
secondary title has suggested – it's helped her to find her place
at church.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO-_XZF8TZtV6jjivNa4rG_-B5ahUISsTeXV6nFiIpnrnYJ-Pqt41aVZsXEXLL0Hso6UIR_BLsTBv1-l1zYLB1QBgRAHjEeC4efNsBWtwdP4E15z4xAl7YmUqX91c1AyRJDfhOdMgqmB-z/s1600/8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="197" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO-_XZF8TZtV6jjivNa4rG_-B5ahUISsTeXV6nFiIpnrnYJ-Pqt41aVZsXEXLL0Hso6UIR_BLsTBv1-l1zYLB1QBgRAHjEeC4efNsBWtwdP4E15z4xAl7YmUqX91c1AyRJDfhOdMgqmB-z/s200/8.jpg" width="131" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>You'll
Get Through This: Hope and Help for Your Turbulent Times </i>by
Max Lucado.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">(Linda
Martin)</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Sandy
shared this book with Linda last fall and it was a real God-send in
her walk these past few months dealing with losing her job and other
factors out of her control.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggdQPUngBcWit3R9K5Ssz3pWyw1zBNKnitIRSBWjPJkdAz0Tlq6r1eRpaCIqUzNoZYqnNbUMRaTyPMJeql-yjh1UngZzTQBMX1CB3-L8shVf7CzwtzeOG_yHBJhxpJ9ttMBogek0CRyGLQ/s1600/9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="323" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggdQPUngBcWit3R9K5Ssz3pWyw1zBNKnitIRSBWjPJkdAz0Tlq6r1eRpaCIqUzNoZYqnNbUMRaTyPMJeql-yjh1UngZzTQBMX1CB3-L8shVf7CzwtzeOG_yHBJhxpJ9ttMBogek0CRyGLQ/s200/9.jpg" width="161" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Uninvited:
Living Loved When You Feel Less Than, Left Out, and Lonely </i>by
Lysa TerKeurst.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">(Linda
Martin)</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Linda
will tell you that in the last month or so this book has helped her
process more than anything else some of the interior dialogue that
she has been experiencing. It has truly been life-giving to her.</span></div>
<div style="display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i></i></span></div>
<div>
<div style="display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></i></span></div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Fervent:
A Woman's Battle Plan to Serious, Specific, and Strategic Prayer</i>
by Priscilla Shirer.</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD1p04Fa8bzLKaW4yMY06nwl2VbEnPmXYe_9tCPcm3aazVoMp4sbc2r0_P_u1Uq2o9CvBx62JeXLCzT7nYaw4WXg54q2Dse2ZmxH7l0TuU_ijPc0oRyb8cHA_DT5h39tuVMCXzMiXdlRu7/s1600/10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="253" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD1p04Fa8bzLKaW4yMY06nwl2VbEnPmXYe_9tCPcm3aazVoMp4sbc2r0_P_u1Uq2o9CvBx62JeXLCzT7nYaw4WXg54q2Dse2ZmxH7l0TuU_ijPc0oRyb8cHA_DT5h39tuVMCXzMiXdlRu7/s200/10.jpg" width="126" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">(Christine
Martin)</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">First
of all, whenever two introverts (i.e., Linda and Christine) speak up
at a gathering like this eager to share the books that have helped
them grow, the rest of us should take note. Shirer's book has really
helped Christine grow in her attitude with prayer and she highly
recommends it.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Radiant:
His Light, Your Life for Teen Girls and Young Women </i>by
Priscilla Shirer.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi5IGQ_dXHLA9c_xy2BXXtka995KzItuOe6Q37tzk1O4fESe-qLeQzBV4ev4DlVIDVHonRuUBcClKKTuXBMc784FsNvmVm0EKUOc4kl5HHuDLb5kA_tiJowWaW5YcmwNXNUoGNns5-YskY/s1600/11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi5IGQ_dXHLA9c_xy2BXXtka995KzItuOe6Q37tzk1O4fESe-qLeQzBV4ev4DlVIDVHonRuUBcClKKTuXBMc784FsNvmVm0EKUOc4kl5HHuDLb5kA_tiJowWaW5YcmwNXNUoGNns5-YskY/s200/11.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">(Emily
Holmbeck)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Immediately
after Christine had finished sharing Emily was eager to share about
her favorite read lately. Shirer's words have been catalytic in
Emily's and Christine's lives.</span></span></div>
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<i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">The
Purpose Driven Life: What On Earth Am I Here For? </i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">by
Rick Warren.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">(Jessica
Hanson)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">This
book changed my life”. That's what she said. Everything they have
done as a family – adopt five children, live two years in
Guatemala for ministry purposes, serve at the Pregnancy Help Center
– has grown out of reading Warren's book.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>The
Monster at the End of this Book </i>by
Jon Stone.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">(Lara
Turney through her mother, LeAnne). Lara (a first grader) likes this
story because it's about Grover (of Sesame Street fame) and the
things we're afraid of.</span></div>
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The
Dodo: Pumpkin's Story </i>by
Aubre Andrus.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB-ISLZrhZHUDABnd6NSbE2ucns88RyIdeH3gfSVfCsFf1IS6RxVSTo_DzC4gUn8MzwJLYHW2D_REcu34xHhNP-wRcOhlTcP3EZ3k62FGYX9qF_oPASRXF4SobeIpwhnInMSvGBscSvyAx/s1600/14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="482" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB-ISLZrhZHUDABnd6NSbE2ucns88RyIdeH3gfSVfCsFf1IS6RxVSTo_DzC4gUn8MzwJLYHW2D_REcu34xHhNP-wRcOhlTcP3EZ3k62FGYX9qF_oPASRXF4SobeIpwhnInMSvGBscSvyAx/s200/14.jpg" width="137" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">(Kaylee
Turney through her mother, LeAnne). Pumpkin is a real miniature
horse whose legs don't work to well and how she has found help.
Kaylee (a fourth grader) is really enjoying this story as it's about
unconditional love.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;">By
the time we got to Reader #8 people were warmed up and I could tell
if I had let it go on we would have heard a few more “book
reports”. But I wanted to honor the deacon's request of </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg__7cZEgsvI_HBLT501Qj2w6MYbYsMeEdsxrhFOTXrea0M1F-734Pr_JJWMFoKeLHF96BdxmvbT-4PHcguPE0RKd8OZagDYuJ3LhHfDmx3AhkL4INiheXxQN1_mszvrn6iEOM95yAPm87/s1600/20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg__7cZEgsvI_HBLT501Qj2w6MYbYsMeEdsxrhFOTXrea0M1F-734Pr_JJWMFoKeLHF96BdxmvbT-4PHcguPE0RKd8OZagDYuJ3LhHfDmx3AhkL4INiheXxQN1_mszvrn6iEOM95yAPm87/s200/20.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">concluding
the gathering at 11:30 a.m. so I closed the sharing time. Kale &
LeAnne then led us in another song and then Michael, one of our
deacons, led us in the serving of the Meal. For the record we
concluded at 11:34 a.m. but I also happened to know we didn't start
until a few mintues after 10 so, all things being equal, we pulled it
off. </span>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;">One
of the things I </span><i>loved</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
about Sunday's gathering was that it was a true group effort. While I
facilitated the gathering, the Body participated – worship leaders
led, people shared from their life and then one of our leaders took
us to the table of Jesus to partake in his supper. </span></span>
</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigQKED2ZQ2VdnOyip7tWwALRtkJHeE3sW2aWSNXhBP69RblSlGfrHRhlwuFktFGcSPZeDqoIb3yYyh_q1ncXqPQ13ADK_VxxRXmYXKBb52uDYmf3N_YGH1Y4rlfViUKoFY-gfRG5uom8Fc/s1600/21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigQKED2ZQ2VdnOyip7tWwALRtkJHeE3sW2aWSNXhBP69RblSlGfrHRhlwuFktFGcSPZeDqoIb3yYyh_q1ncXqPQ13ADK_VxxRXmYXKBb52uDYmf3N_YGH1Y4rlfViUKoFY-gfRG5uom8Fc/s320/21.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Following
the gathering those of who could stay moved downstairs for what we're
calling a “Meal of Sharing”. A few weeks ago the elders and
deacons had met together to converse about how we could, among other
things, foster a greater sense of community. During that part of the
conversation someone suggested we try a community meal on the first
Sunday of the month at least for the immediate future. Those who can
stay will stay. Those who have to go should feel free to do so. The
story </span><i>Stone Soup</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
is all about making much out of little by sharing together. Instead
of coordinating who would bring what we simply had instructed people
to bring what they would and trust that together it would amount to a
feast. In the event it didn't, of course, people could always go home
and eat there.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;">If
any of us were worried that there wouldn't be enough that worry was
for nought. There was more than enough and with left-overs. People
stayed, moved about, shared with one another and did what a healthy
faith community is supposed to do – encourage one another. </span></span>
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<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">It
was a fun day and memorable. I heard of at least one good book that I
will put on my list to read. I tried something (i.e., picking the
topic of our sharing time) I hadn't before and it seemed to work. The
two ideas that had come out of the leadership team meeting a few
weeks before worked as well – create opportunities for leaders of
our fellowship to grow in their communication abilities and foster a
greater sense of community through a common meal on a regular basis.
I would say for our fellowship this past Sunday was a win all the way
around and something we'll reference time and again.</span></div>
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<br />Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076559303396126727.post-21475754382654215222019-12-17T16:36:00.002-08:002019-12-31T11:24:56.494-08:00Kids these days: An Advent meditation<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyJ3VDhfU92faTCnbeqhAZduPJ-Pe_B922G5R0KvMIgTq0DeQsT6iKFoX7H03n2S6iaIDa9mzlLFFDBBmSZBgWkzOldXXLPulafaIWR0cUX9_pSylQEm4ibJn3tUgj8MPuT__ALR6-fFOe/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="336" data-original-width="702" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyJ3VDhfU92faTCnbeqhAZduPJ-Pe_B922G5R0KvMIgTq0DeQsT6iKFoX7H03n2S6iaIDa9mzlLFFDBBmSZBgWkzOldXXLPulafaIWR0cUX9_pSylQEm4ibJn3tUgj8MPuT__ALR6-fFOe/s400/3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="first-line-none chapter-1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span class="text Luke-2-1-Luke-2-5" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><b>"</b>About that time Caesar Augustus ordered a census to be taken throughout the Empire. This was the first census when Quirinius was governor of Syria. Everyone had to travel to his own ancestral hometown to be accounted for. So Joseph went from the Galilean town of Nazareth up to Bethlehem in Judah, David’s town, for the census. As a descendant of David, he had to go there. He went with Mary, his fiancée, who was pregnant."</i></span></span></div>
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<i style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>"</b>While they were there, the time came for her to give birth. She gave birth to a son, her firstborn. She wrapped him in a blanket and laid him in a manger, because there was no room in the hostel."</i></div>
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span class="text Luke-2-6-Luke-2-7" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">(Luke 2:1-7, The Message)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">What do you think of teenagers these
days? To you are they overfed, under-worked, and otherwise a fairly
self-absorbed lot? At times, I think the same thing. But I just think that
means I'm getting older for from time to time I catch myself muttering about kids these days with their phones, their ear-buds
and their snap-chatting. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br />And then as I re-read the story
of Jesus' birth I'm reminded that it was through teenagers that God
inaugurated a new age for Planet Earth. Of course, nobody really
knows how old Mary and Joseph were when Jesus was born. The Gospel
writers Matthew and Luke who were the only ones to write about Jesus' Nativity didn't think
that was relevant to the story so we're left to grasp at possibilities.<br /><br />We live in a wonderful
time for women in particular. Never before <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9DveJGvNYpUuMysJNTs7NlgyPNRPLKWRUmZi-LzXOgcsryQm_bt-yXGXVGC7-0yq9l9_IpzSnQVqsoWMp8nFmQVjhGRnW-EfEo9N5IzbAlCcYSH8sSGhc6glTAsiUygC4BDc4qdPo_pcA/s1600/10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1065" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9DveJGvNYpUuMysJNTs7NlgyPNRPLKWRUmZi-LzXOgcsryQm_bt-yXGXVGC7-0yq9l9_IpzSnQVqsoWMp8nFmQVjhGRnW-EfEo9N5IzbAlCcYSH8sSGhc6glTAsiUygC4BDc4qdPo_pcA/s320/10.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Currently running for President</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
has the door been so wide
open for a woman's career aspirations. Do you aspire to be a
scientist? an astronaut? a professional athlete? The sky seems to be the limit. Currently there is a female former Air Force pilot running for President - and certainly
one day in our time our chief executive at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue
will be a woman.<br /><br />But not in Mary's day. In those times once a
young girl began her monthly cycle it was time for her to settle
down, get married and start raising a family. Life expectancy was a
lot less in those days and it was important to get down to business and keep the family name alive. So, depending on who you read, Mary might have been 13 or 14
years old when the Holy Spirit came on her to conceive
Messiah. Among our fellowship's ranks are a set of triplets who are
currently in the 7th grade and 14 years old. That the idea of one of them being a bride and with child is downright creepy reminds us how far we've come in two millenia.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH8WMHwHgJ03Kt0ldcUXd0q_WNQ5bYKzhfRSGhFJkEtU5zWWh4YLz5dCpQX0rN03dumzGLgxmipTZfXElwjdKlw9i0iWyfb7pjiY3tFAlM3SLM8r-IzF1194wXbsflEb27FgB2Pxj2L6BF/s1600/6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="574" data-original-width="742" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH8WMHwHgJ03Kt0ldcUXd0q_WNQ5bYKzhfRSGhFJkEtU5zWWh4YLz5dCpQX0rN03dumzGLgxmipTZfXElwjdKlw9i0iWyfb7pjiY3tFAlM3SLM8r-IzF1194wXbsflEb27FgB2Pxj2L6BF/s400/6.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mary could have looked young like this</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />Joseph, on the other hand, could have been as old as
30 (he was, after all, already established in his trade) but I just
read a commentary the other day who speculated that he may, in fact,
have been as young as 18 years old. In Joseph's day, there was none
of this thought of allowing a lad "to sow his wild oats"
before he settled down. After all, as the Torah so eloquently puts it, "It's not good for a man to be alone" (see Genesis 2). Better to
get a young man married early to channel his normal desires in a healthy
way.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguNZ4pof_oBnq26lkV4Daz6P8B_-txZqttP1ijBrCurIz-_yhwYxyJ4YLlt_oc5IsHV_fsAU5HIUQoLjiJbiuk-5kyXTU44BJefhzYC0cM93Oicp53f3A-vuMXYpS-CP69bf_yT72PJkrn/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="578" data-original-width="403" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguNZ4pof_oBnq26lkV4Daz6P8B_-txZqttP1ijBrCurIz-_yhwYxyJ4YLlt_oc5IsHV_fsAU5HIUQoLjiJbiuk-5kyXTU44BJefhzYC0cM93Oicp53f3A-vuMXYpS-CP69bf_yT72PJkrn/s320/2.jpg" width="223" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Granted there were a lot of things different back then. A
14-year old young woman and an 18-year-old young man back then were, by comparison to kids
today, most likely way more mature. But as I reflect on God's great
undertaking to save the human race the fact that he chose two young,
godly and yet inexperienced kids to steward his son until he was of
age is, to me, remarkable.<br /><br />When I think of most Nativity sets I've seen, our own included,<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaFRjUJ2YNcNEE5x5oMruC0GrHObUWyXQ2M00HCBSos5EAjA5Ctn_mZ2CgE2uHjqLkHqDD6G15RaCzkxm4pW2JAfPv_Vb3aEY7uEM19qS6lohhD4ZIXVtK6YiH-ERGrhg2h2PNlRv6YPM1/s1600/11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaFRjUJ2YNcNEE5x5oMruC0GrHObUWyXQ2M00HCBSos5EAjA5Ctn_mZ2CgE2uHjqLkHqDD6G15RaCzkxm4pW2JAfPv_Vb3aEY7uEM19qS6lohhD4ZIXVtK6YiH-ERGrhg2h2PNlRv6YPM1/s320/11.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is how we're used to seeing them</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Joseph always looks so old and wise with a full beard and Mary so very maternal as if she's an old hand of bringing kids into the world. But what if they were, in actuality, kids in their teen years? </span><span style="font-size: large;">What did they know about parenting?
It's weighty enough to bring a child into the world but to bear
Messiah, the hope of their nation, and then raise him as a son of the
Covenant? That's a tall order for any couple let alone a newly
married young one? </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Just think the stories that might have been
murmured behind closed doors in Nazareth about how quickly the two
finalized their wedding plans before heading south on account of the Census. But as far as we know they bore
this all in dignified silence knowing they were part of something way
bigger themselves.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhup20N5uV-Cj0UYhzqm5M42gheX7aH7c3rE1Wh0S2My-PeMhlL3yBk0KuBIYFKc64qKiL3VCb8_ajghvVjv4RG8xMQRTNPJIHcy2KncDh9lj1d5waTP-Yxygy9XLhRNqkasW8hivrrt3hq/s1600/12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="416" data-original-width="740" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhup20N5uV-Cj0UYhzqm5M42gheX7aH7c3rE1Wh0S2My-PeMhlL3yBk0KuBIYFKc64qKiL3VCb8_ajghvVjv4RG8xMQRTNPJIHcy2KncDh9lj1d5waTP-Yxygy9XLhRNqkasW8hivrrt3hq/s400/12.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Earth's mightiest heroes in the MCU</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />But it's just like God, isn't it? As
much as I enjoy all the Marvel Cinematic Universe movies of Avengers
saving the planet from aliens and a demi-god with a serious ego
problem by comparison God's way seems so frail, so flimsy, so weak.
Ask a young couple to shoulder the burden of parenthood and then send
them out on their own heading south to register for the Roman census
while Mary was nearly at term. Yeah, he chose as he always seems to
choose - <i>"the foolish things of the world to shame the
wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. God
chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things—and
the things that are not—to nullify the things that are" </i>(1
Corinthians 1:27-28, NIV).<br /><br />For the record the fact is I know a LOT of good teens who are well on their way to becoming fine men and women and participants in God's
salvation story that He is still writing. Thank God for them - and kids like
Mary and Joseph who were willing to "step off the map" as
it were and take God at his word when He called on them to do so. They played a key role in the saving of the human race.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr2QYuovd2V9OlxIJzMoUAJdFIRJET_Rhm77iuKm2G8Slqa20ruU1yYaaRt7R195j41sZrdaJHvON2ysTOM40BwBT1Iogaa2dfT_clxzqhBYfUJte5zpNw6U54jMiyK0-hM_xuWLIIz40m/s1600/1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="419" data-original-width="779" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr2QYuovd2V9OlxIJzMoUAJdFIRJET_Rhm77iuKm2G8Slqa20ruU1yYaaRt7R195j41sZrdaJHvON2ysTOM40BwBT1Iogaa2dfT_clxzqhBYfUJte5zpNw6U54jMiyK0-hM_xuWLIIz40m/s400/1.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These heroes were the real deal</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<br />Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076559303396126727.post-12789219205130206542019-12-16T14:55:00.000-08:002019-12-16T15:43:44.859-08:00Keeping watch: Reflections from an evening's intercession<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>We have this monthly practice at
Refuge that I call “Wait & See”. On the first or second
Sunday evening of the month those who can gather in the sanctuary to
wait upon the Lord. The first half hour or so we find a quiet place
in the sanctuary to read the Scriptures or still ourselves while
either sitting or kneeling. We're encouraged to pay attention to
Scripture or thoughts that come to mind while we wait. The second
half hour, then, we circle up and share what Scripture or impressions
we experienced and then see if we can discern a common thread or
“word” that the Holy Spirit is bringing to mind in helping us to
pray. Admittedly, it's more art than science but it seems more often
than not to work for us. This is a reflection based on December
2019's gathering.</i></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ggVbkkmUoOrjjXEdOsAQNV7AdczOb8sjN0kMs73F5nGBVYk4r0h0MCoYf-Splb6Hm3DAuaa7pLkEAGFv8l7QuJjYWGpCReNHtGX5HOXpUkPi2V6TWEK7-32evMYR0-ZjFbpOW1tBx6BS/s1600/1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="349" data-original-width="582" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ggVbkkmUoOrjjXEdOsAQNV7AdczOb8sjN0kMs73F5nGBVYk4r0h0MCoYf-Splb6Hm3DAuaa7pLkEAGFv8l7QuJjYWGpCReNHtGX5HOXpUkPi2V6TWEK7-32evMYR0-ZjFbpOW1tBx6BS/s320/1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NIV-24984"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NIV-24985"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NIV-24986"></a>
“<i>And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby,
keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the
Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them,
and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not
be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for
all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has
been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be
a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying
in a manger.”</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NIV-24987"></a><i>Suddenly
a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel,
praising God and saying,</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NIV-24988"></a>“<i>Glory
to God in the highest heaven,<br /> and on earth
peace to those on whom his favor rests.”</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NIV-24989"></a><i>When the
angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one
another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has
happened, which the Lord has told us about.”</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NIV-24990"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NIV-24991"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NIV-24992"></a>
<i>So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who
was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the
word concerning what had been told them about this child, and
all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them.”
</i><span style="font-style: normal;">Luke 2:8-18, NIV</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUhPLi1ExB19g5ySkqB3ZRJd6NK4nSR33hBmEEZJuw3j3Gi_F5RiXXFese5bKya7jqK0VqLpxY0paB5G_5UaOGjXjvLexLjBTXz_mteWs8rssXyDJKxShe_F-18eW7_t_VJ6OMasizBtqG/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="325" data-original-width="464" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUhPLi1ExB19g5ySkqB3ZRJd6NK4nSR33hBmEEZJuw3j3Gi_F5RiXXFese5bKya7jqK0VqLpxY0paB5G_5UaOGjXjvLexLjBTXz_mteWs8rssXyDJKxShe_F-18eW7_t_VJ6OMasizBtqG/s320/2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">While
kneeling at the altar and trying to still my scattered thoughts a
seasonal verse comes to mind: </span><i>“And there were shepherds
living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at
night”</i>. Just what did it mean
to 'keep watch' over the flock? My assumption is they were staying
awake and alert to ensure their sheep remained safe from predators
that may slink into the herd unawares or that none of them wandered
off from the flock of their own accord. The night the angel showed up
was, as we say today, “just another day at the office.” It was an
otherwise normal night suddenly and terrifyingly interrupted by a
messenger of heaven announcing the dawn of a brand new age. Have
shepherds in those days or really in any day ever commanded the
respect of their contemporaries? Bottom-dwellers the lot of them
living on the outskirts of society caring for critters that are
renowned for their skittishness and stupidity. But at the moment that
the angel stands before them and announces the birth of Messiah in
nearby Bethlehem they find much to their surprise that they are on
the proverbial 50-yard-line of God's new thing he is beginning in the
little town just over yonder ways.
</span></div>
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</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">In
response to this heavenly visitation they head into town to get a
look-see themselves and discover that, just as the angel had said,
here was a young couple holed up in a shallow cave and their brand
new baby boy lying where livestock would normally find their feed. I
like how The Message translates that moment: “Seeing was believing”
(v. 18). They saw it and then whooped it up and told everyone they
met just what they had heard and later seen with their own eyes: at
long last the days of Messiah had begun.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh-vumG2TqZvNUDRIvfHTVdcXwa62_NSdNo4SUGX_5oOURYwZFPbQbDKwnM1YPIwPzTzU8crGB0hhG1GMsi7lv7lzu9TLV23BkZU4BzR0Fyd-9nWr0d1Ws11XfA_qItue9g5N5aDHcJ36J/s1600/4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="678" data-original-width="1200" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh-vumG2TqZvNUDRIvfHTVdcXwa62_NSdNo4SUGX_5oOURYwZFPbQbDKwnM1YPIwPzTzU8crGB0hhG1GMsi7lv7lzu9TLV23BkZU4BzR0Fyd-9nWr0d1Ws11XfA_qItue9g5N5aDHcJ36J/s400/4.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First witnesses of Messiah</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The
handful of us gathered in the sanctuary tonight have not come seeking
an angelic visitation. We're just here to seek God's face and wait
upon Him. And if he should speak to us then it will be our job to let
others in on what he has said allowing them to judge themselves
whether or not it's a 'word' from God – or not.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">In a
way, we too are keeping watch over the flock (there are never many of
us at these gatherings but those who do come are usually the elders
of our fellowship). We are “guarding the flock”, “overseeing
them” for their own welfare, on guard against predators and against
their knack to wander off and drift apart. While kneeling and
thinking about these things a few more verses come to mind:</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Acts
20:25-31</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Paul,
on his way to his “rendezvous with destiny” in Jerusalem, meets
once more with the leaders of the Church of Ephesus:</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYJdmd9-jEM_lguJggML4tBs1BRZNiISo5L989avxsUlUtZnwHQGzqgi_zdkS_pDP1nHXJjohbtsQvP0cNmicRzS-Zc9yrcWk4SRLHufXIQXgKomf4-UJ44ADEDQo-zAgCHxWeYIn_8exP/s1600/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="321" data-original-width="450" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYJdmd9-jEM_lguJggML4tBs1BRZNiISo5L989avxsUlUtZnwHQGzqgi_zdkS_pDP1nHXJjohbtsQvP0cNmicRzS-Zc9yrcWk4SRLHufXIQXgKomf4-UJ44ADEDQo-zAgCHxWeYIn_8exP/s320/5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paul says farewell</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NIV-27653"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NIV-27654"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NIV-27655"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NIV-27656"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NIV-27657"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NIV-27658"></a>
“<i>Now I know that none of you among whom I have gone about
preaching the kingdom will ever see me again. Therefore, I
declare to you today that I am innocent of the blood of any of
you. For I have not hesitated to proclaim to you the whole will
of God. <b>Keep watch over yourselves and all the flock of
which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers. Be shepherds of
the church of God, which he bought with his own blood. </b>I
know that after I leave, savage wolves will come in among you
and will not spare the flock. Even from your own number men will
arise and distort the truth in order to draw away disciples after
them. <b>So be on your guard!</b> Remember that for three
years I never stopped warning each of you night and day with
tears. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">(NIV)</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Peterson translates
28-31 in this way:</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-MSG-11862"></a>“Now it’s
up to you. <i><b>Be on your toes—both for yourselves and your
congregation of sheep. The Holy Spirit has put you in charge of these
people—God’s people they are—to guard and protect them. God
himself thought they were worth dying for.” </b></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">(Msg)</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-MSG-11863"></a>“I know
that as soon as I’m gone, vicious wolves are going to show up and
rip into this flock, men from your very own ranks twisting words so
as to seduce disciples into following them instead of Jesus. <i><b>So
stay awake and keep up your guard.”</b></i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
So the need for vigilance in the exercise of pastoral oversight is
necessary not because we want to control people but exercise good
spiritual care for them.</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>
1 Peter 5:1-3</i></b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYGzQ086yZwU173qb_jOLuE8S9wvI-Q0YlAHHG7wV7etS6g94iQ_Gp8BB4LIGzUT2ZxVY0cP5l2lIhf-Dxez46Sk14A67yzIye1W4xOxQa8PEG9tilGOWat4RJOalmt2TVVTDHJnoPQYAD/s1600/6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="526" data-original-width="960" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYGzQ086yZwU173qb_jOLuE8S9wvI-Q0YlAHHG7wV7etS6g94iQ_Gp8BB4LIGzUT2ZxVY0cP5l2lIhf-Dxez46Sk14A67yzIye1W4xOxQa8PEG9tilGOWat4RJOalmt2TVVTDHJnoPQYAD/s320/6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>I have a special concern for you
church leaders. I know what it’s like to be a leader, in on
Christ’s sufferings as well as the coming glory. Here’s my
concern:<b> that you care for God’s flock with all the diligence of
a shepherd. Not because you have to, but because you want to please
God. Not calculating what you can get out of it, but acting
spontaneously. Not bossily telling others what to do, but tenderly
showing them the way. </b></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">(Msg)</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">There
is something real to this shepherding-thing which requires diligence
on the part of pastors and elders whom God has placed in places of
authority.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">So
this night, kneeling at the altar waiting upon the Lord I, too, am
playing the role of a shepherd keeping guard and praying God's
protection upon the flock of God who gather at 724 Leonard Street.
These people, with all their virtues as well as their flaws, “God
himself thought they were dying for.” </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">As
I kneel there different faces come to mind of individuals who while
once part of the “festive throng” of our regular gatherings
(Psalm 42:4) have now become inactive on account of being overwhelmed
by life. While no longer “here” nor seemingly able to contribute
in any meaningful way to the fellowship they are still part of us and
require my encouragement and prayers for the protection of their
souls. I sincerely believe that just like the earth is made up of
huge tectonic planes slowly moving infinitesimally across the globe
so our souls do the same. Why else would the writer of Hebrews warn:
“</span></span><i>We must pay the most careful attention,
therefore, to what we have heard, so that we do not drift away”
</i><span style="font-style: normal;">(Hebrews 2:1, NIV)?</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI5MnXPLziQRU_DSfoA_xDW7IZIQaAhncrwQBnPncm6ryY7f0BaeCJe_NHDNNX2WCxRy213y6Thkgks2v2bVb-qRPvy8nn-llg86QQuljLtPOwuB5W7lKD6dpTOTrJ-kxj0IE9FzqD1_y5/s1600/7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="402" data-original-width="715" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI5MnXPLziQRU_DSfoA_xDW7IZIQaAhncrwQBnPncm6ryY7f0BaeCJe_NHDNNX2WCxRy213y6Thkgks2v2bVb-qRPvy8nn-llg86QQuljLtPOwuB5W7lKD6dpTOTrJ-kxj0IE9FzqD1_y5/s320/7.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nothing is static. Everything is in movement.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">So, we
guard. We watch. We wait. We pray. We intercede. We visit. We
encourage hoping to strengthen those who have become weary in
well-doing.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1gCJ626_hFXJ4bGQiM3PbS7nqXv3BTSl82mT4Bt2uLZ6M9leuXdUAUwGsecZ6bGBSFxwP-0rknl24URrFZxoaCDOfXdkjU6d4ngN9v3AAkkjJREzR6TrZKkvf3JBNVu2HfSga1qZAb6_h/s1600/8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1gCJ626_hFXJ4bGQiM3PbS7nqXv3BTSl82mT4Bt2uLZ6M9leuXdUAUwGsecZ6bGBSFxwP-0rknl24URrFZxoaCDOfXdkjU6d4ngN9v3AAkkjJREzR6TrZKkvf3JBNVu2HfSga1qZAb6_h/s400/8.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sharing notes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Later
as we gather in the “couch corner” of the sanctuary to share our
thoughts and impressions, Duane shares of old Zechariah, while
burning the incense in the holy place in the Temple, Gabriel appears
before him and announces: “Your prayer has been heard” (Luke
1:12ff). How many years had he prayed that prayer? After all he was
an old man and his wife, Elizabeth, was way past her prime. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-VxCxZG6V8ZPH1qXh_8iuLaB8vJI7TjqDoNJ0Cegv1fFIDdB77aPJYD1xOU588uShiaPn5uRP-FcxpcNMGdEOjddHyLVMhKnb9ITINd-AzJInK0nM6IuZvY1_RQxe7HGik5wMKanqyadl/s1600/9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="1134" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-VxCxZG6V8ZPH1qXh_8iuLaB8vJI7TjqDoNJ0Cegv1fFIDdB77aPJYD1xOU588uShiaPn5uRP-FcxpcNMGdEOjddHyLVMhKnb9ITINd-AzJInK0nM6IuZvY1_RQxe7HGik5wMKanqyadl/s320/9.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't doubt God's messenger</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
When was
the last time he had prayed that prayer? He questions the veracity of
Gabriel's announcement and, of course, for his trouble is struck mute
and has to watch the wonders of his elderly wife's growing abdomen
until the day she gives birth to their son. What Duane feels that we
need to hear is that God hears our prayers and while not everyone is
answered in a timely way – if at all – it's important to remind
ourselves that this regular gathering together is not just a waste of
time. God is watching, listening and nearer than we suppose. And
should he decide to send a messenger to inform us that our prayers
for our fellowship are heard we best not ask too many questions.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">Randy
is the only real shepherd in our bunch. He owns and cares </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5yg6E-yzwGtnYZIFRkY0J4BktAkbje-FZirS2vGGZ1r3eyyGcadNECIhUpLUu9Vdt3MDnf5ujEB7HWKSeo4e6_77pyt3INtZZGzeHKmDWaiUKAboYhptpanABPyVRL48ms6MB44ci3HP/s1600/10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5yg6E-yzwGtnYZIFRkY0J4BktAkbje-FZirS2vGGZ1r3eyyGcadNECIhUpLUu9Vdt3MDnf5ujEB7HWKSeo4e6_77pyt3INtZZGzeHKmDWaiUKAboYhptpanABPyVRL48ms6MB44ci3HP/s320/10.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">for a small
flock of them on his and Renee's hobby farm. He laughs as he thinks
about his flock and how after a recent snowstorm a large pile of snow
had dropped from a tree near the feed trough. This mass of frozen
water crystals set them all on edge and they refused to approach the
trough hungry though they were. Randy had to get out there and move
the snow pile or they would have starved themselves for fear of the
big white mass that stood in their way. Good thing they had a
shepherd who was “keeping watch” over them.</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">Lois
shared how she found herself reflecting on the prayer of Ezra. Ezra
is the scholar and priest sent to re-establish the regular routines
of Temple worship and life in Jerusalem following seventy years of
exile. He's a bit of a crank and exercises a firm hand but to be fair
a firm hand was needed. The people were back in the land but already
were engaging in spiritual compromise, intermarrying with folk who
were not God-fearers or followers. Did they learn nothing from exile?
In chapter 9 he prays:</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>And now this, on top of all we’ve
already suffered because of our evil ways and accumulated guilt, even
though you, dear God, punished us far less than we deserved and even
went ahead and gave us this present escape. Yet here we are, at it
again, breaking your commandments by intermarrying with the people
who practice all these obscenities! Are you angry to the point of
wiping us out completely, without even a few stragglers, with no way
out at all? You are the righteous God of Israel. We are,
right now, a small band of escapees. Look at us, openly standing
here, guilty before you. <b>No one can last long like this.” </b></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">(Ezra
9:13-15, Msg)</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIrpISnwRjpqMQ1y4KSEcjTEdcEiQps-GsLJ5ObwbBCs0M2usafv8G124BW7agSAjIylRPUL8Ga2P17NvLgnkPGYx-t3wMRIl5pHk6DSBh7mgRu4XS5aZkDBCLTy3pfspsSCgroaUlAtzG/s1600/11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="500" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIrpISnwRjpqMQ1y4KSEcjTEdcEiQps-GsLJ5ObwbBCs0M2usafv8G124BW7agSAjIylRPUL8Ga2P17NvLgnkPGYx-t3wMRIl5pHk6DSBh7mgRu4XS5aZkDBCLTy3pfspsSCgroaUlAtzG/s320/11.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Let's admit it: there's plenty to be riled up about today</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Lois
is a grandmother and an elder in our fellowship. She is a very loving
person but she struggles with what she sees as the Church – big “C”
- seems to more and more reflect our culture (increasingly pagan by
the year) rather than the other way round. “No one can last long
like this”. Or, we will last but we will cease to represent Him.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">So
these became our prayer points for the evening, our intercession for
the flock of God here at this fellowship prone to wander because of
busy-ness and inattention, for those we know and love who are doing
just what the writer of Hebrews warned them not to do – fall out of the
habit of meeting together (see Heb 10:25) – and for Christians of
the Church of Jesus in our area that we repent and align ourselves
with His rule and standard as opposed to whatever messages we are
receiving from our culture of what is “right” and “normal.” </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Before
the end of our gathering we didn't receive an angelic messenger to
assure us that “our prayer has been heard.” I guess we didn't
need that because the things we prayed for and about lined up with
what God has clearly spoken in his Word. We trust that he did hear us
and that somehow our gathering together and intercession mattered for
these people that he thought were worth dying for. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvej_XRKCVnircsj68yzMJxuPUghTmIiYELMYy2qEN4dgYRvr1LMDanwKqT_SKV11UnRwd_rRQ_rR4YNTWbiOZjMIqRHPbcyyWM__oBC-t09pZEwkddObDSPN7X6G7W-QkckHx4GHcrtRh/s1600/12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvej_XRKCVnircsj68yzMJxuPUghTmIiYELMYy2qEN4dgYRvr1LMDanwKqT_SKV11UnRwd_rRQ_rR4YNTWbiOZjMIqRHPbcyyWM__oBC-t09pZEwkddObDSPN7X6G7W-QkckHx4GHcrtRh/s400/12.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<br />Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076559303396126727.post-58242687701674645842019-12-07T13:03:00.001-08:002019-12-07T13:03:48.827-08:00Mary's Choice: An Advent Reflection<i>Every year in the Chetek Alert's annual 'Tis the Season publication, local pastors are asked to contribute reflections. This is my contribution for 2019 (which you may read free of charge here).</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrikU9UqW2leozqWh4gda3_rMW9kHzo4I8Q5ClcxgzGTqhZ4lOS4QDTyJEeaosDfXZrGtp8YF-Aj87vmmiNe2mZazkRVVqzVa0udQPcvrov5kE5AIvyDO2bJhZqsFOYI7FVV00EWrGEG3Q/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="633" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrikU9UqW2leozqWh4gda3_rMW9kHzo4I8Q5ClcxgzGTqhZ4lOS4QDTyJEeaosDfXZrGtp8YF-Aj87vmmiNe2mZazkRVVqzVa0udQPcvrov5kE5AIvyDO2bJhZqsFOYI7FVV00EWrGEG3Q/s320/1.jpg" width="202" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NIV-24921"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NIV-24922"></a>
“<i>In the sixth month of
Elizabeth’s pregnancy, God sent the angel Gabriel to
Nazareth, a town in Galilee, to a virgin pledged to be
married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The
virgin’s name was Mary. The angel went to her and said,
“Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.”</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NIV-24923"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NIV-24924"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NIV-24925"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NIV-24926"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NIV-24927"></a>
“<i>Mary was greatly troubled
at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But
the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found
favor with God. You will conceive and give birth to a son, and
you are to call him Jesus. He will be great and will be called
the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne
of his father David, and he will reign over Jacob’s
descendants forever; his kingdom will never end.”</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Luke
1:26-33, NIV</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">At
a recent gathering at Refuge after reading the preceding text as a
way of provoking meditation I asked the following question: “Did
Mary have a choice?” That is, when Gabriel announced to her that
she has been chosen to bear Messiah could she have declined the
favor? What followed was a long reflection on the mystery of free
will and God's sovereignty. On one hand, she was not simply a
biological incubator pre-programmed to bear the Christ Child for nine
months. She was a human being born with the gift all men and women
are graced with, the power to choose. But God, who knows each of us
inside out, knew that Mary was so humble and devout of heart that she
would ultimately submit to his invitation. Still it's clear from the
rest of the story that Gabriel awaited her response to his incredible
announcement before reporting back to headquarters (or why else does
she get to have the last word in their conversation?)</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Jewish
girls in Mary's day and age didn't dream of growing up and becoming
scientists or business owners. They lived, really, for one purpose:
to marry and bring children into the world. That we live in a time
when a woman can and do serve as professors, scientists, corporate
CEOs, US representatives, senators and, one day certainly, president
we call progress. But for Mary only one path lay ahead of her and
while she and Joseph had yet to make a home together legally they had
already tied the knot. All that was left was the wedding.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">So
what Gabriel was asking her to do was, in effect, lay aside her dream
for herself and submit to God's dream for her, one that beyond her
wildest comprehension would ultimately lead to the salvation of
mankind. But before that there would be crosses of her own to bear.
For starters, she was a virtuous maiden living in conservative
Nazareth. Today we may take it as a matter of course that couples
cohabit and procreate prior to marriage – if they ever marry at
all. But not then. For a girl to be found in the family way would
invite public shame and outcry and, in some cases, death for bringing
such reproach on her family and her village. And we know from
Matthew's version of the story the threat was real: why else would
Gabriel speak to Joseph in a dream to <i>not</i> divorce her?
</span></div>
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</span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The
way Luke tells it the optics couldn't be worse: Gabriel announces the
honor being bestowed on her and immediately she leaves town to spend
a few months with her relatives, Elizabeth and Zechariah who
remarkably in their old age are also pregnant. Upon her return to
Nazareth she would have already had a baby bump. Imagine what her
parents must have felt when she informed them that God had given her
a baby. So, apart from her husband and her relatives downstate, Mary
would be in this pregnancy pretty much alone without the normal
support of family and close friends.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Of
course, public shame is bad enough – especially when it's
undeserved – but on the day they dedicate their new born son old
man Simeon emerges out of a throng of worshipers in Jerusalem and
warns her that her boy would be both misunderstood and controversial,
causing the falling and rising of many, many people and, oh yeah,
“...a sword will pierce your own soul, too” (Luke 2:33-35). It's
a lot for a young teen age girl to bear (in those days, once a girl
began her monthly cycle it was time to settle down and begin
“adulting”, as kids are wont to call it today).</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">In
J.R.R.Tolkien's classic trilogy <i>The
Lord of the Rings</i><span style="font-style: normal;">,
while journeying to Mount Doom to save Middle Earth from the reign of
the Dark Lord Sauron, Frodo's constant companion, Sam, reflects upon
the grand quest they are on and how unlikely a pair they are to be
playing a part in it:</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>The
brave things in the old tales and songs, Mr. Frodo: adventures,</i></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFWUyg5fsUjYw5AO9DlHqHLn2m0L7JZ-n_tsRwhBMr6CEN62kA3Bc6KJUtl2SbJVOzyhrT-9P929VAIXBv1hDHYLFMTlLPLTzbb_BHPvGJYHb2wQfLrOpCk8F2Vca_cXw4nBhugy63O1Wd/s1600/8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFWUyg5fsUjYw5AO9DlHqHLn2m0L7JZ-n_tsRwhBMr6CEN62kA3Bc6KJUtl2SbJVOzyhrT-9P929VAIXBv1hDHYLFMTlLPLTzbb_BHPvGJYHb2wQfLrOpCk8F2Vca_cXw4nBhugy63O1Wd/s320/8.jpg" width="240" /></a></i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i> as I
used to call them. I used to think that they were things the
wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they
wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a
kind of sport, as you might say. But that's not the way of it with
the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind.
Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually – their paths
were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of
chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn't. And if they had,
we shouldn't know, because they'd have been forgotten. We hear about
those as just went on – and not all to a good end, mind you; at
least not to what folk inside a story and not outside it call a good
end...But those aren't always the best tales to hear, though they may
be the best tales to get landed in! I wonder what sort of a tale
we've fallen into?'”</i><span style="font-style: normal;">(from
</span><i>The Two Towers</i><span style="font-style: normal;">)</span></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">As
I read Mary's story again safely separated from her time by two
thousand years of hindsight it's easy for me to quickly gloss over
the scandal, the shame, the risk, and the confusion that was her's to
bear by submitting to the invitation presented to her that morning by
Gabriel. We, of course, know how the story ends and just what kind of
epic tale Mary and Joseph had fallen into, as Sam would put it. I
suppose had she said no, it's likely we would have never heard of her
but would celebrate and, in certain traditions, venerate another
young woman's choice to bear the Son of God. As we read her response
to Gabriel that day it's necessary to acknowledge that we may lack
the proper awe and respect owed her when her reply was simple and
forever succinct: <i>“Behold
the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word.”
</i><span style="font-style: normal;">(Luke
1:38, KJV). It is the same surrender and submission that God requires
of each of us to choose each day regardless of the kind of tale we
may find ourselves in.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
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<i></i>Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076559303396126727.post-43352104087610424472019-12-05T13:01:00.000-08:002019-12-05T13:01:49.068-08:00Snow day on Sunday<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>Let’s
see how inventive we can be in encouraging love and helping out, not
avoiding worshiping together as some do but spurring each other on,
especially as we see the big Day approaching.” </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Hebrews
10:24-25, The Message</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>The
nice thing about life is you never know when there’s going to be a
party.”</i> </span><span style="font-size: large;"><i>The
Homecoming</i></span><span style="font-size: large;"> by
Earl Hamner, Jr</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">This
past Saturday night a winter storm descended upon the upper Midwest
determined to cover us all under a heavy blanket of snow. It happens
up here from time to time beyond the 45<sup>th</sup>
Parallel requiring church council presidents and other designated
leaders to make the call to cancel the Sunday morning gathering. I
used to boast <span style="font-style: normal;">“We
</span><i>never</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
cancel,” and never did for nearly twenty-eight years until this past winter conditions were so
bad on Sunday morning we did so </span><i>twice</i><span style="font-style: normal;">!</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm
sorry to say I used to think it was a reflection of the quality of
the spirituality of a congregation if they did call the gathering on
account of snow. No longer. If roads are impassable or parking lots
cannot be plowed than wisdom probably is to punt and call it a day.
But Refuge is in town and though it was snowing again this past
Sunday morning, our city crew had done a marvelous job of clearing
all the roads. What's more, we don't have a parking lot to be cleared
or worried about. And if Pastor Guy and the folks at Chetek Lutheran
were meeting (and the Methodists up the street as well) who was I to
cancel our gathering? Who ever could make it would and those who
would have to travel roads that had yet to be plowed or were
considered unsafe were justified in remaining at home.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuiWj9coFMq75PN99hmeNKI-zK81KdPf-tIiYZQ3xzv-wSoJsu-ZgGb60Z-wwLEgtuFqBePPa3ZZy3OFW9vy3j41g7Um3OW29YPC-n986JlprEBf9xHzZRAF2Icx21APHzRDxioSk6T3je/s1600/1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuiWj9coFMq75PN99hmeNKI-zK81KdPf-tIiYZQ3xzv-wSoJsu-ZgGb60Z-wwLEgtuFqBePPa3ZZy3OFW9vy3j41g7Um3OW29YPC-n986JlprEBf9xHzZRAF2Icx21APHzRDxioSk6T3je/s320/1.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They lead so well together</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Kale
and LeAnne normally lead worship on the first Sunday of every month
but he had messaged me the day before to let us know that both of
them were under the weather and would be unable to lead snow or no
snow. Fortunately all our kids were home on account of Thanksgiving
and our son, Ed, and our daughter, Emma, are worship leaders in the
fellowships they are members of and were happy to pinch hit.
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I
have a rule at our fellowship: our service begins at 10 a.m. whether
we have a quorum or not. Here's what happens at 724 Leonard Street in
Chetek <i>every</i>
Sunday these days. At 10 a.m. there's just a handful of people in
attendance (and I do mean a handful). Our worship leaders know that
the service always begins with <i>two</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
songs before the “meet and greet”-time begins (otherwise there
would be frankly few to mingle with). It's the music, after all, that
draws the rest in. By 10:30-ish whoever is going to be there is
usually on hand. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
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<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">On
Sunday at 10 a.m., as the snow continued to fall, our congregation
was made up of the following individuals: Ed and Emma who were on the
platform, our other son, Charlie, who was in the sound booth, a guest
named Rick from a fellowship in Cameron who had canceled that day who
was sitting toward the back on the left side, Dennis and Vicki who
were in their usual place (against the rear wall of the sanctuary on
the right side) and I in mine (front row, left side). Stationed
almost like four points of the compass it was an awkward arrangement
for such an intimate gathering. Sometime during the first song, Linda
and our other daughter, Christine, entered the sanctuary and sat in
the row that Linda is wont to sit in (mid-right side section). Snow
be danged but we were having 'church' or, at least, taking our places
as if it were yet another Sunday morning on Leonard Street.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">After
Ed and Emma's short worship set, I suggested we all circle up in the
“couch corner” of the sanctuary and just as we had arranged the
chairs accordingly, the second shift of worshipers came in – Austin
and Monica with good friend, Sandy, in tow, Josh and Sarah and two of
ABC's short-term workers, Kerry from Costa Rico and Ricky from
Belize. In a few short minutes we had doubled in size.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdVzR-gNmiRjTnF90JI-k6v1eqhUW6UjnDd50kvTlkqiQ1Q2i76eQ5RGTzo4ULiBC8LMq7NOzEUXJAunB8EuAZ71hpv0FlshA5yKDxtbtuu_Zhyphenhyphenu6N6y49Dh7w6DcbuqZwzJKHA0nJN-2z/s1600/11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdVzR-gNmiRjTnF90JI-k6v1eqhUW6UjnDd50kvTlkqiQ1Q2i76eQ5RGTzo4ULiBC8LMq7NOzEUXJAunB8EuAZ71hpv0FlshA5yKDxtbtuu_Zhyphenhyphenu6N6y49Dh7w6DcbuqZwzJKHA0nJN-2z/s320/11.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love the "couch corner" in our sanctuary</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">With
that subtle move to the back the dynamic had shifted from worship
service in a sanctuary to that of a family gathering in somebody's
living room. For the next several minutes we listened to updates of
the goings-on of our three kids who were home for the long holiday
weekend, how Thanksgiving had been celebrated among different
families, and some blessings to thank God for such as Sandy, a nurse
at our local nursing home, who couldn't make it home the night before
and was grateful to spend the night at Austin & Monica's.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">While
it was the First Sunday of Advent instead of preaching the text we
engaged in a devotional interactive study of Luke 1:26-38, the
pronouncement of Gabriel to Mary that she would bear the long awaited
Messiah. My question to the group was, “Did Mary have a choice?”
That is, could she have said to Gabriel, “Thanks but no thanks”?
For the next thirty minutes or so our conversation became essentially
a reflection on the mystery of free will and God's sovereignty; does
God's foreknowledge remove our ability to say 'no' to his invitation?
Think of Abraham who was asked to turn his back on his life in Ur or
Moses asked to go and lead the people out of Egypt or Jonah who ran
away from God's call to preach at Nineveh. Did they really have a
choice or were they “cornered” and “divinely persuaded” to
play the part they were called upon to do?
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">My
question provoked a lot of reflection which both young and old shared
their perspective on. This was far more than a parlor game with zero
risk. For if Mary was truly free to decline Gabriel's pronouncement,
then any one of us is free to resist the Holy Spirit when we feel
invited to step out of our comfort zone and play the role God asks to
play at a particular moment.</span></div>
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<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Our
Bible reflection time led naturally into a time of prayer for one
another followed by Ed and Emma leading us in yet another short
worship set before we shared communion with one another. When it was
over, over two hours had elapsed. Even on a snow-day a
Refuge-gathering goes at least two hours. We just can't seem to help
ourselves.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">At
the close of <i>The Homecoming</i> by Earl Hamner, Jr. Clay-boy
Spencer, unable to make it home, ends up stranded on Christmas Eve with the spinster sisters
Miss Emma and Miss Etta on account of a blizzard that has descended
upon Spencer Mountain. As he warms himself by the fireplace, Miss
Etta hands him a mug of eggnog spiked, as it were, with a touch of
“Papa's Recipe”. As they visit by the fire Miss Etta remarks,
“The nice thing about life is that you never know when there's
going to be a party.” I could have canceled our gathering this past
Sunday and no one would have complained or grumbled. After all, who
doesn't love a snow day? But think what the sixteen of us would have
missed? We gathered in Jesus' name, worshiped, read and reflected
upon the Word, shared a piece from our lives with one another, prayed for one another
and then gathered at the table to remind ourselves once again that He
makes us one family through his broken body and shed blood. Yes, Miss Etta was right. The snow that kept most of us home bound
this past Sunday brought a handful of us together to enjoy good
company in a serendipitous party held in Jesus' honor.</span></div>
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<br />Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076559303396126727.post-40813711431131753642019-11-29T17:48:00.001-08:002019-11-29T17:48:49.775-08:00Giving thanks even on the bad days<br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>A
Thanksgiving Eve Service used to be shared between the Lutherans and
the Methodists in Chetek, one year Chetek Lutheran hosting and the
following Chetek United Methodist, rotating back and forth as such
for many years running. Somewhere along the way, however, things
changed and it became a gathering open to any congregation in Chetek.
This year with Pastor Norm in Georgia, Pastor Paul in South Dakota,
Pastor Chris in Indiana and Pastor Scott in Minnesota, it fell to
Pastor Guy from Chetek Lutheran and myself to facilitate the
gathering and since Guy was hosting that meant I was up to bat to
share the message. The following post is the gist of what I shared.</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>...</i></span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“</span><span style="font-size: large;"><i>I
went to sleep with gum in my mouth and now there's gum in my hair and
when I got out of bed this morning, I tripped on the skateboard and
by mistake I dropped my sweater in the sink while the water was
running and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no
good, very bad day. At breakfast Anthony found a Corvette Sting Ray
car kit in his breakfast cereal box and Nick found a Junior
Undercover Agent code ring in his breakfast cereal box, but in my
breakfast cereal box all I found was breakfast cereal. I think I'll
move to Australia.”</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">So
begins Judith Viorst's wonderful little book <i>Alexander and the
Horrible, Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. </i>In it she shares the
woes that beset an eight-year-old boy named Alexander throughout the
course of a miserable day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>There
were two cupcakes in Philip Parker's lunch bag and Albert got a
Hershey bar with almonds and Paul's mother gave him a piece of jelly
roll that had little coconut sprinkles on the top. Guess whose mother
forgot to put in dessert? It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very
bad day.”</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>There
were Lima beans for dinner and I hate Lima beans. There was kissing
on TV and I hate kissing. My bath was too hot, I got soap in my eyes,
my marble went down the drain, and I had to wear my railroad-train
pajamas. I hate my railroad-train pajamas. When I went to bed Nick
took back the pillow he said I could keep and the Mickey Mouse
nightlight burned out and I bit my tongue. The cat wants to sleep
with Anthony, not with me.”</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">We've
all had days like that where nothing has gone right, where we wished
had we to do it over could have just stayed in bed. We've all had
months like that – seasons, really – where the math just doesn't
add up, where it feels we've had more losses than wins. It makes me
think of a card my mom sent me once that on the cover said, “In
every life a little rain must fall” and upon opening it reads,
“followed by damaging winds and hail.” Indeed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think Hallmark said it better. Just saying.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm
a chaplain at the Barron County Jail and that means, among other
things, that I lead a monthly worship service there, teach a
quarterly class on the difference a father makes, and sit down from
time to time with guys who so request a visit. When I think of Daniel
Powter's song </span><i style="font-size: x-large;">Bad Day</i><span style="font-size: large;"> – </span><i style="font-size: x-large;">'Cause you had a bad day. You're
taking one down. You sing a sad song just to turn it around –</i><span style="font-size: large;"> I
think of a guy named “Joe.”</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Joe
and I met after one of the worship services I led and we began to
meet regularly at the jail for several months running. He enrolled in
my class (as well as others there too), and over time made trustee
(which is a big deal). Sandy, the Director of Inmate Services, helped
him secure a job on the outside and because of “good” time he
actually was let out early. It was Saturday morning and everything
was looking up.</span></div>
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<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He
got a ride to his new job (a saw mill) but when he showed up the mill
was on fire – as in burning to the ground. Not only was there no
work that day it was uncertain when the place would reopen. Strike 1.
He was staying with his mom and that very day got into a heated
argument with his mom's boyfriend. Strike 2. The very next morning
(Sunday) he showed up at Refuge but Pastor Jeff happened to be on
vacation. Despite a friendly plea from our greeter to stay anyway Joe
left in a huff and in a mood. So he drove over to Barron to find an
old “buddy” and we have a beer, then three, then six, now we
smoke a few joints, now we're heading down Highway 25 to hook up with
some girls and oh, by the way, the car is stolen, now we're leading
the cops on a three county chase, higher than a kite, eventually
crashing and running into someone's house. This is all in the course
of one day of a guy who was released from jail the day before on an
8-year stayed and imposed sentence. That means when they catch you,
you go directly to prison and you don't pass go. That's a terrible,
horrible, no good, very bad day.</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Of
course, I knew none of this at the time. The following week when I
was up at the jail to see someone else I asked Sandy for Joe's
contact information. As she went to retrieve that information and I
watched her read the monitor of her computer I noticed her eyes get
bigger and bigger and her mouth slowly open. After she relayed this
all to me to say that I was upset is to sanitize that moment.
Unbelievable. After months of weekly visits, Bible study, prayer,
you're out one day and you totally self-destruct? I was livid and
when Sandy very sweetly said to me, “Well, I guess Mr. Joe just has
to learn a few things more,” my thoughts about that were less than
godly.</span></div>
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<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">When
he was finally extradited back to Barron County prior to being sent
down to Waupun, Sandy called me to let me know that Joe wanted to see
me prior to being sent downstate. Frankly, I didn't want to see him.
I didn't want to waste one more minute with this guy. But, of course,
I went. That's what pastors do. But I was going to have a little
heart-to-heart with Joe and I was going to give it to him with the
bark on. As I sat in PV1 at the jail waiting for Joe to join me I
once again rehearsed what I was going to blast him with. And then the
door opened, and there stood Joe dejectedly and instantly God gave me
his heart for him. He sat down in a heap and said, “Jeff, I'm just
so, so, sorry....” But God is so good. He's so nice, as one
preacher used to say. Because when the moment came to let him have it
all I said was, “It's okay, Joe. God loves you and he's in the
place they're sending you to so look for him there.” And I was able
to give Joe a hug before he went south.</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">It
makes me think of another inmate I met in the last year or so at the
jail. “Sam” was a meth dealer and because he done his business
across state lines when he first came to the jail he was looking at
something that essentially would amount to a life-sentence. He also
was a student in my class and we would meet regularly outside of
class. He was a crack-baby. His mom had used heroine until the day he
was born so before he even had taken a breath in this world Sam was
already set up to fail. His dad was no better. He grew up in foster
care. He made a lot of bad choices in his life and now will be in our
penal system for many years to come. Let me read you a portion of a
letter he sent me from Waupun a few months ago.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>I
was able to get into a great weekly Bible study and an amazing
worship service weekly. You know, it's an incredible moving of the
Spirit when 100+ “hardened” criminals are in a chapel clapping
lifting the Lord up in praise! My spirit just overflows every
Thursday night when I'm in the service. I know and accept that God is
working on me and in me right now! With the people he sends into my
path. Maybe for a day or longer it just all points to God at work!!
Believers are here mixed in with everything else. We are here and we
tend to “gravitate” to one another Ya we still have “challenges”
but we walk for and with the Lord each day!”</i></span></div>
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</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He
closed his letter with 1Thessalonians 5:16-18: “Rejoice always,
pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances for this is God's
will for you in Christ Jesus.” Just to be clear: Joy is not
happiness. I can start my day off happy, have a spat with Linda over
something inconsequential, or get a flat tire on my way to Eau Claire
which sends my perfectly planned day totally off course and I'm not
happy anymore. No, joy is what one pastor calls bedrock-stuff. Joy is
knowing God loves me and is with me no matter what. As we go about
our day we are exhorted to have a prayerful mindset, bringing our
concerns and frustrations and cares to the Lord who cares for us. And
no matter if it is a good day or a bad day, whether in your breakfast
cereal box there is just breakfast cereal, we are to give thanks in
all things.</span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">One
of my favorite stories from </span><i>The
Hiding Place</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
by Corrie ten Boom is how while interned at </span>Ravensbrück
<span style="font-style: normal;">concentration
camp her older sister Betsie made Corrie make a mental list of all
the things they should give thanks for. Corrie didn't want to but
Betsie was insistent because, after all, the Scripture says to give
thanks “in all circumstances” not just in pleasant ones. So
Betsie began to name them, like, they were together and that somehow
the guards had missed their pocket New Testament when they entered
the camp. But when Betsie suggested giving thanks for Barracks 28,
their dormitory, Corrie thought she had gone too far. After all, the
crowded dorm was packed with women living in deplorable conditions
and crawling with fleas. “In </span><i>all</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
things,” Betsie persisted so reluctantly Corrie muttered her thanks
for the fleas.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Every
night after receiving their meager bowl of turnip soup Betsie and
Corrie would retreat to the back of the barracks and under the light
of a wan single light bulb hold their evening worship gathering. This
is how Corrie describes them:</span></span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>They
were services like no others, these times in Barracks 28. A single
meeting night might include a recital of the Magnificat in Latin by a
group of Roman Catholics, a whispered hymn by some Lutherans, and a
sotto-voce chant by Eastern Orthodox women. With each moment the
crowd around us would swell, packing the nearby platforms, hanging
over the edges, until the high structures groaned and swayed.”</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>At
last either Betsie or I would open the Bible. Because only the
Hollanders could understand the Dutch text we would translate aloud
in German. And then we would hear the life-giving words passed back
along the aisles in French, Polish, Russian, Czech, back into Dutch.
They were little previews of heaven, these evenings beneath the light
bulb. I would think of Haarlem, each substantial church set behind
its wrought-iron fence and its barrier of doctrine. And I would know
again that in darkness Gods truth shines most clear.” </i><span style="font-style: normal;">(p.
201)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">A
few months later, Betsie had heard something that day which she later
shared with Corrie. Betsie reflected upon the fact that she always
found it remarkable the relative degree of freedom they enjoyed
inside the barracks and then she overheard a guard that day refuse to
enter on account of </span><i>the
fleas</i><span style="font-style: normal;">.
These annoying, pestilent parasites were God's sentries standing post
and insuring that at least in Barracks 28 the Word would continue to
be shared with all who would listen.</span></span></div>
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</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Paul
put it this way: </span><i>“And
we know that in all things God works for the good of those who
love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” </i><span style="font-style: normal;">(Rom
8:28, NIV). We can give thanks in all things because we know that God
is at work in all the messy details of our life and by his grace and
in his time he is bringing forth good even on those days where in
frustration we wish we lived in Australia. But as Alexander's mother
reminds him, “Some days are like that, even in Australia.”</span></span></div>
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<br />Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076559303396126727.post-54628279394591723672019-11-22T11:07:00.003-08:002019-11-22T14:38:26.775-08:00Whispering our prayers<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXZuMcu5Jf4AoYz7g1Jq3_bgzmugWE5TAZRZ7tLJO0F-DeGrDmbx59zO9mtR-GBIKG_yfBnMLsHpddler90Adv5Mz1Xx1JG_d2mTrIlLoPjCBDUf8LQnsqp58ygqNiFh5Sy2hz-6jbgkur/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXZuMcu5Jf4AoYz7g1Jq3_bgzmugWE5TAZRZ7tLJO0F-DeGrDmbx59zO9mtR-GBIKG_yfBnMLsHpddler90Adv5Mz1Xx1JG_d2mTrIlLoPjCBDUf8LQnsqp58ygqNiFh5Sy2hz-6jbgkur/s400/3.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">“<i>It’s
after midnight. The two youngest children are sleeping. You sneak
out, dig up your Bible and bring it back inside. The curtains
are pulled and very, very softly do you read to your wife and
16-year-old son. You’ve only recently shared the gospel with him.
Now he’s old enough and wise enough not to accidentally betray you.
Of course, he didn’t understand the gospel at first, but you’re
teaching him. You’ve been praying for years that he’d be ready.”</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>You
read the Bible in the dark, you pray, the words are hardly audible.
Do you sing in whispers? When you’re in a bold mood.” </i>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-style: normal;">The
Secret and Surprising Ways Christians Pray in North Korea” (from
Open Doors,
<a href="https://www.opendoorsusa.org/christian-persecution/stories/the-secret-and-surprising-ways-christians-worship-in-north-korea/" target="_blank"><b>Secret and Surprising</b></a> </span><span style="font-style: normal;">October 25, 2018)</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
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<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Our
fellowship has observed the International Day of Prayer for the
Persecuted Church (IDOPPC) for over twenty years. While several
advocacy groups like Open Doors (OD) and The Voice of the Martyrs
(VOM) provide inserts, power points and video material to help a
pastor facilitate this gathering, the main thing is that Christians
here, who are free to gather and pray and worship to their heart's
content without any fear of reprisal by either their neighbors or
local government officials take time to pray for their brothers and
sisters in Christ in other parts of the globe who persist in
Christian faith despite it being culturally unpopular, illegal and,
in some places, downright dangerous.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHFSyK-NS_FAK1AblPy4B05yIJNRgm2BzPZcZSSo3nSzw1XMCfjb5X4NFIsFNPSx0hI9PZlZwqTwHweg_hTl5njR16DWXU_hqcq4pxbnDjS0c2h-ow6KMt2s8Am1zYT_ifOPQ4JEcOIZIo/s1600/8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="188" data-original-width="268" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHFSyK-NS_FAK1AblPy4B05yIJNRgm2BzPZcZSSo3nSzw1XMCfjb5X4NFIsFNPSx0hI9PZlZwqTwHweg_hTl5njR16DWXU_hqcq4pxbnDjS0c2h-ow6KMt2s8Am1zYT_ifOPQ4JEcOIZIo/s200/8.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">In
this year's observance I had Olivia, a sixth grader, begin our time
of prayer by reading the story of Peter's incarceration found in Acts
12. Herod, feeling the approval of his subjects for beheading James,
brother of John and apostle of Jesus, has Peter arrested. His plan is
to do him in the next day. Meanwhile, fearing for Peter's life, the
"church prayed strenuously" (12:6, The Message). God
answered their concerted prayers in a remarkable way: he sent an
angel to break Peter out of Herod's prison. Though they had prayed
for just this very thing, it took a while before they could believe
their eyes when Peter stood in the middle of their gathering. The
point for all of us is that we need to labor in prayer for those
imprisoned on behalf of Jesus. Frankly, a lot of us while good at
laboring aren't very good at laboring in prayer.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3CruX2G5sLBH_wRk7mF6kEUnrQQkQqaWhKhmHcdYdB95i3aTlkPUDIFSthIAmelCnMxMWzz3KhymzF-1NT63cfEylHo3N_rWHBBKIzyRbVWOkScUb8pnZPwVZ8I5zPgar-zqrJW9udnmQ/s1600/9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3CruX2G5sLBH_wRk7mF6kEUnrQQkQqaWhKhmHcdYdB95i3aTlkPUDIFSthIAmelCnMxMWzz3KhymzF-1NT63cfEylHo3N_rWHBBKIzyRbVWOkScUb8pnZPwVZ8I5zPgar-zqrJW9udnmQ/s400/9.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ji Hyeon A, a North Korean defector, was forced to have an abortion <br />
without anesthesia because of her faith prior to her defection</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">We
then watched two short videos about the life of the faithful in North
Korea. Given it's reputation, it should not be a surprise to us to
learn that life is extremely challenging for believers there. To
confess Christ as Lord is literally to risk life imprisonment at a
labor camp or be killed by a North Korean hit squad. As a segue to
our time of intercession I had LeAnne, one of our young moms, read
Jesus' words found in John 15. On the night that he himself was
betrayed by a dear friend he grimly reminded the disciples, "If
you find the godless world is hating you, remember it got its start
hating me. If you lived on the world’s terms, the world would love
you as one of its own. But since I picked you to live on God’s
terms and no longer on the world’s terms, the world is going to
hate you" (vv. 18-19). Jesus didn't want us to be
disillusioned when the things that happened to him happened to us.
Through the centuries and up to the present day Christians have
suffered economic deprivation, incarceration, torture and death on
account of the faith. But if these things happened to our Shepherd
without shame, it would be naive of any of us to think we would
receive better treatment simply because we live in a modern world.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho-3c6_YikRnCJtKehP1qBHthVoa6MDJEnFci5tOzL8hopA7oa-5-Tg9PFzQWt0xwtJVe-ccFwcvuIz5H5XBlUEqTuTfZA-GjD1O199SxaAejjphyphenhyphenB6Fg9NovchEgBCGuc26Z2wv1-vkA5/s1600/4+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="416" data-original-width="620" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho-3c6_YikRnCJtKehP1qBHthVoa6MDJEnFci5tOzL8hopA7oa-5-Tg9PFzQWt0xwtJVe-ccFwcvuIz5H5XBlUEqTuTfZA-GjD1O199SxaAejjphyphenhyphenB6Fg9NovchEgBCGuc26Z2wv1-vkA5/s400/4+-+Copy.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">North Korea is physically and spiritually in darkness</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">At
Refuge, we do our Sunday-morning praying in a few different ways.
Every Sunday the altar is open and people are encouraged to come
forward during the course of worship and, if they are able, kneel to
receive prayer. At least half of the Sundays in a given year we
practice “open mic”-praying. As worship is concluding there is a
mic on the floor where people are encouraged – and at times
literally “volunteered” - to come to the mic and pray for one of
the individuals or ministries listed on a prayer insert in our
bulletin. But on the rest of the Sundays we break into “prayer
circles”, groups of 5-7 people who are then encouraged to spend
time praying for each other. (Honestly, if I put the matter to a
vote, the prayer circle format would win every time against the open
mic one such is the fear that people have of speaking publicly, even
among friends.)</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">At
this year's IDOPPC gathering, having listened to the Scriptures </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">and
having watched the testimonials of a few Christians who have endured
persecution in North Korea we were ready to begin interceding for
them. I asked them to break into prayer circles and with the help of
an insert provided by VOM spend time praying for the faithful but to
do so while <i>whispering</i>.
As a rule we are not shouters here despite the fact that a good many
of us consider ourselves Pentecostals. Even at our most jubilant we
keep things to a dull roar. But in honor of those who have to whisper
their prayers regularly for their own safety, we spent about twenty
minutes whispering ours. Speaking for myself and a few others there
was something emotionally moving as I listened to the corporate
murmuring of our fellowship praying concertedly for those we will
never meet this side of eternity.</span><br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">While
I prayed in our prayer circle Daniel 2 came to mind.
Nebuchadnezzar, sitting on his throne in Babylon, is troubled by a
dream that both terrifies and perplexes him. Unable to make heads or
tails of it he summons his wise men and demands they not only they
interpret his dream but tell him what he saw (an impossible act).
While whining with proper court decorum just how impossible a thing
their sovereign has just commanded, a young Hebrew man and one of the
exiles from Jerusalem is brought before him and incredibly tells
Nebuchadnezzar just what he's asking for to a T.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The
king, Daniel states matter-of-factly, saw a towering statue of a man
made up of all kinds of alloys but ultimately as tall and impressive
as it was in one moment it was destroyed completely.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>While
you were looking at this statue, a stone cut out of a mountain by an
invisible hand hit the statue, smashing its iron-ceramic feet. Then
the whole thing fell to pieces—iron, tile, bronze, silver, and
gold, smashed to bits. It was like scraps of old newspapers in a
vacant lot in a hot dry summer, blown every which way by the wind,
scattered to oblivion. But the stone that hit the statue became a
huge mountain, dominating the horizon.” </i><span style="font-style: normal;">(vv.
34-35, Msg).</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">As
Daniel continues with the interpretation he informs the king that
every different part of the statue is a kingdom of the world that
becomes increasingly more brittle in its consistency as it descends
to the toes. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-MSG-9267"></a>“<i>But
throughout the history of these kingdoms, the God of heaven </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVqxQbPDp1YZ-YffiHVgulAi7heTaCM-RX7YtgydRnOtB2SrtoT0b0ft2nCzV0ZEeIXG9hsJblFcnNYtj0i5q0UraoySW_eR8Arrvn0mGM452k0II2WVF03riWFGoCSDHZr03zrgqhoI5j/s1600/10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="342" data-original-width="363" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVqxQbPDp1YZ-YffiHVgulAi7heTaCM-RX7YtgydRnOtB2SrtoT0b0ft2nCzV0ZEeIXG9hsJblFcnNYtj0i5q0UraoySW_eR8Arrvn0mGM452k0II2WVF03riWFGoCSDHZr03zrgqhoI5j/s320/10.jpg" width="320" /></a></i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>will be
building a kingdom that will never be destroyed, nor will this
kingdom ever fall under the domination of another. In the end it will
crush the other kingdoms and finish them off and come through it all
standing strong and eternal. It will be like the stone cut from the
mountain by the invisible hand that crushed the iron, the bronze, the
ceramic, the silver, and the gold. The great God has let the king
know what will happen in the years to come.” </i>(vv. 44-45)</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The
present ruling powers – powers like China, North Korea, Iran, and
other places where Christians must whisper their prayers lest they be
found out – as absolute as they seem today in their dominance will
one day be blown away. That thought helped me to whisper a little
louder my <i>“Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done.” </i>
</span></div>
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</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">We
wrapped up our time of whispering prayer by singing softly Chris
Tomlin's song <i>How
Great Is Our God.</i>
There is something powerful when we quietly affirm together that
whatever king or dictator or world leader would like to believe, his
little kingdom is going to be ultimately replaced - crushed, really -
by God's kingdom which is coming in its fullness at the end of
days.<br /><br />To lead us
back into worship, I had Olivia's older sister, Emily, a freshman in
high school, read to us the story of Paul and Silas' imprisonment in
Philippi as found in Acts 16. Despite being locked up for no good
reason, despite being black and blue from the beating they had
received, at midnight they chose to sing a "robust" hymn to
God. A "robust" hymn is a hymn sung with gusto (which,
admittedly, is not our strong suit either). But we must, as Paula,
Olivia and Emily's mother, reminded all of us, because we
<strong>can</strong>. </span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br />Admittedly,
if we personally knew some of those folks the intensity of our
prayers would be greater. But there's the rub. While going about
their daily lives and seeking to share the gospel with their friends
and neighbors, they have to do so subtly and with great care. But God
hears our whispers as much as our shouts and I have to believe that
what we whispered here in our sanctuary a week or so ago, God heard
loud and clear in this throne room and dispatched his angels to do
comfort and empower those who continue to remain faithful to him.
</span></div>
<br />Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076559303396126727.post-17992072015056713032019-11-20T04:45:00.001-08:002019-11-20T04:45:38.834-08:00Finding our way forward by looking backward<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikrIirsNqJ7e5Ucey2zXmwyjDCKy7Gr4VVXhQk5xjo43rynhUA4fAY2uxWhClgm0TenLblGJCjLXH4zIq2Xb_9qc7WwoCpShGUzWuvwJ19e9vib5xuGHxzD306OoqWVLmbb1EQLdFDZuF0/s1600/15.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikrIirsNqJ7e5Ucey2zXmwyjDCKy7Gr4VVXhQk5xjo43rynhUA4fAY2uxWhClgm0TenLblGJCjLXH4zIq2Xb_9qc7WwoCpShGUzWuvwJ19e9vib5xuGHxzD306OoqWVLmbb1EQLdFDZuF0/s400/15.JPG" width="400" /></a><em><span style="font-size: large;">Count
your blessings, name them one by one,Count your blessings, see
what God has done!<br />Count your blessings, name them one by
one,<br />Count your many blessings, see what God has done.</span></em></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<em><span style="font-size: large;">- <span style="font-style: normal;">from
“Count Your Blessings” by Johnson Oatman, Jr</span></span></em></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<em><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></em></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><em><span style="font-style: normal;">Johnson
Oatman, Jr, while a licensed Methodist preacher, made his living
selling life insurance. But his real claim to fame was in writing
gospel music. In fact, by the time he died in 1922, he had written
over three thousand hymns including </span></em><em><i>The
Hallelujah Side, Higher Ground, </i></em><em><span style="font-style: normal;">and
</span></em><em><i>Count
Your Blessings. </i></em><em><span style="font-style: normal;">If
20 the Countdown Magazine had been around in 1897 </span></em><em><i>Count
Your Blessings </i></em><em><span style="font-style: normal;">would
have been on it so popular was it then. To listen to it now, however,
it seems so quaint and “old-folksy”. But if you could push the
mute button on the gospel tune (which seems so antiquated to our ears
so prone to hearing soulish angst these days) and just muse over the
words, there is much to glean here:</span></em></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>When
upon life’s billows you are tempest-tossed,<br />When you are
discouraged, thinking all is lost,<br />Count your many blessings, name
them one by one,<br />And it will surprise you what the Lord has
done.</em><br /><br />Hilda
was a dear lady I used to visit on Friday afternoons in my early
years of ministry in Chetek. She lived at the local nursing home and
during our visits from time to time she would regale me with stories
of hers and her late husband's life together and recount how God had
provided for them again and again during the dark days of the
Depression. It was Hilda who first taught me this song (I didn't grow
up in a Gospel church; I grew up Lutheran and I don't think our
pastors or our organist had ever heard of it).<br /><br />While
I'm not sure, Oatman may have been inspired to write his song after
reading Psalm 77. At the beginning, the psalmist affirms loud and
clear that he doesn't just call out to God; he yells and when he
yells he does so "at the top of my lungs” (v.1, The Message).
The result of all is yelling is that “God hears him.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">But
then he explains why he can say this so certainly. His life was a
mess, "an open wound that wouldn't heal". He speaks of
wringing his hands in duress and being "awake all night - not a
wink of sleep" so distraught is he. Awash in melancholy he
strums his "lute all through the night, wondering" how to
get his life together (vv. 2-6).</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />In short, the kind of funk he
describes is a form of depression that has him so low that he
bitterly complains, "Just my luck...The High God goes out of
business just the moment I need him" (v. 10). Many of us can
identify with him. Life can be pretty overwhelming sometimes and our
circumstances can speak a lie to us that, if we allow ourselves, we
may swallow hook, line and sinker: "God is not
here. He is absent. In fact, maybe there isn't anything to this thing
we call faith at all."<br /><br />But about half-way through his
lament, he finds a way forward by<strong>
</strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong><i>looking
backward</i></strong>:</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>Once again I’ll go over
what God has done,<br /> lay out on
the table the ancient wonders;<br />I’ll ponder all the things you’ve
accomplished,<br /> and give a long, loving look
at your acts. </em><em><span style="font-style: normal;">(vv.
11-12)</span></em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></em></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><em><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></em></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><em><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></em></span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Yes,
life has him down - and seemingly, out for the count. But he starts
reflecting on God's acts in the past, reflecting on how God has
worked on behalf of God's people in difficult days before and finds
the hope he needs to rise above the despair that has him in a
stranglehold. As he muses upon their history with God – the sea
being pushed back in order that the people can make their escape from
the chasing Egyptian army, God doing the same thing to the River
Jordan at flood stage a generation later in order that they may pass
into the land on dry ground – and suddenly a rush of adrenaline
hits him:</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /><em>O
God! Your way is holy!<br /> No god is great
like God!</em></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><em><br /></em><strong><i>You’re
the God who makes things happen</i></strong><em><i>;</i></em><em><br /> you
showed everyone what you can do— </em>(vv.
13-14)<br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">For
many years running now our fellowship celebrates a day we </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">call
<i><b>“ThanksBRINGING”</b></i><span style="font-style: normal;">.
It's a gathering in early November before the high holy days of gun
deer season kick in. It's a service all about sharing thanks. The
chairs are arranged in an oval so we can look at each other and after
a few songs sung just to help everyone transition from life to
sanctuary the main act of worship begins. The stories begin - stories
of God's provision, God's comfort, God's help – and as people share
their personal journeys in it we are reminded yet again that while
life is messy, and at times, discombobulating God is good and He is
faithful.</span></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">We
are mostly introverts here (myself and few others excluded) so it
usually takes a bit for the stories to percolate but eventually after
over an hour or so I feel compelled to shut it down in order that we
might finish at the table. The big loaf of bread and regular sized
cups await us at the center of the sanctuary (for this gathering
there is no piece of cracker and plastic shot glass of grape juice
for communion; we're going to feast!). Families and couples come to
the table for the elements and then return to their seats and share
communion together.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thomas is a refugee and a pastor from South Sudan</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">This
year unexpectedly we had a family of refugees from South </span><span style="font-size: large;">Sudan with
us at the gathering. They are friends of a couple who worships
regularly at our fellowship and while currently residing in North
Dakota were in town for the weekend. Both Thomas and his wife, Joyce,
shared stories in the gathering that morning of God's provision and
safety in their lives. Also in the gathering was Elisardo, a
temporary worker from Costa Rica, working at the rafter factory
across the street from Refuge along with one of his co-workers,
Pablo, from Belize.</span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Immediately
following the gathering, we set up tables in the <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-IUHQ3W-wrjh5SGbD6EihgLmn6i1cQTRpb5ZEBdV3CSeU8mF-ZXG0jDzsSY7vkKx_3ATaFI5AH-hVNk9kKw_zhDMdiFLnxJH_n2iz_TXL-aWFyBtpUrWwSaWX5G1RKacrVZ5CzOBWfviX/s1600/105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-IUHQ3W-wrjh5SGbD6EihgLmn6i1cQTRpb5ZEBdV3CSeU8mF-ZXG0jDzsSY7vkKx_3ATaFI5AH-hVNk9kKw_zhDMdiFLnxJH_n2iz_TXL-aWFyBtpUrWwSaWX5G1RKacrVZ5CzOBWfviX/s320/105.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elisardo prays</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
sanctuary, get all
the food out and sit down to an honest to goodness turkey dinner with
all the fixings. Since we are The Refuge </span><i>International</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
I always like to ask guests from other countries (which we receive
more than you would expect being so far up here in the woods) to pray
in their native dialect as a way to “seed the atmosphere” and
create a desire to pray for the nations here (who are closer to us
than we care to admit). So I asked Pastor Thomas to pray over our
meal and he led in Arabic for an extended time (clearly it was way
more than “Lord, bless our meal together”). But since Eli was
with us I asked him to pray as well and he led an equally lengthy
prayer in Spanish. Our meal was deeply blessed and then we all sat
down together in the presence of the Lord and enjoyed good fellowship
along with good food, too.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-MSG-6510"></a><span style="font-style: normal;">Some
years for ThanksBRINGING someone volunteers to serve as a recorder
who writes what is shared so that when we need to be reminded we can
turn to the book of testimony and recall how God has answered prayer
and provided what we needed for the different seasons of our lives.
Unfortunately, it didn't happen this year which is too bad because we
heard some pretty good stories. If there is anything I took away from
this year's gathering is that whether it is a hard season we are
going through or a discouraging one we need to remind ourselves that
God is with us and therefore we should not be afraid. Just like he
led the people through the Sinai, hostile and forbidding thought it
was, still today He leads his people “like a flock of sheep” (v.
20). </span>
</span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>So,
amid the conflict whether great or small,<br />Do not be discouraged,
God is over all;<br />Count your many blessings, angels will
attend,<br />Help and comfort give you to your journey’s end.</i></span></div>
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<br />Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076559303396126727.post-85407473862748268852019-07-15T15:36:00.000-07:002019-07-15T15:43:17.021-07:00Get up and pray! Some thoughts about last night's prayer meeting<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJKBuYnHThx8BrdOYNMO5sFDQQl2cOkoYdj6lCAGX20iU9gDkc70918Qz0N50nMHR8L5fVpHkQeE9DXtzuKYm0U_c8MhxqbnNBOUmmGelXiriSAhGKNMimhjSzfgShLrCaMXlur51g9_vk/s1600/jonah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="849" data-original-width="1260" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJKBuYnHThx8BrdOYNMO5sFDQQl2cOkoYdj6lCAGX20iU9gDkc70918Qz0N50nMHR8L5fVpHkQeE9DXtzuKYm0U_c8MhxqbnNBOUmmGelXiriSAhGKNMimhjSzfgShLrCaMXlur51g9_vk/s320/jonah.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><i>9 Then
God said to Jonah, “What right do you have to get angry about this
shade tree?”</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Jonah
said, “Plenty of right. It’s made me angry enough to die!”</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-MSG-9620"></a><i>10-11 God said,
“What’s this? How is it that you can change your feelings from
pleasure to anger overnight about a mere shade tree that you did
nothing to get? You neither planted nor watered it. It grew up one
night and died the next night. So, why can’t I likewise change what
I feel about Nineveh from anger to pleasure, this big city of more
than 120,000 childlike people who don’t yet know right from wrong,
to say nothing of all the innocent animals?” </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Jonah
4:9-11, The Message</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Once
a month a handful of people from our fellowship gathers on a Sunday
evening to wait upon the Lord for an hour. While anyone can come to
these gatherings it's never more than a handful and why that is I
couldn't say (although I have my opinions). The format is simple. We
sit quietly by ourselves for the first half hour or so and seek to
listen to his voice. Then during the second half hour we gather in
“the couch corner” of the sanctuary and share what verse of
Scripture, images, or impressions that have come to mind while we
have quietly sat before the Lord. Often a certain theme emerges in
the sharing and then we seek to pray “into” that theme together.
It's not a perfect science but frequently we feel “led” by the
Spirit to pray in a certain manner. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Last
night as I knelt at the altar Jonah 4:9-11 came directly to mind.
Jonah, of course, is the reluctant prophet. He's the guy who didn't
want to go to Nineveh and warn them of the judgment that was coming.
After some divine arm-twisting that occurs in the belly of a whale he
grudgingly obeys God's command. Peeved at having to deliver God's
warning to one of the enemies of his nation, he marches into the main
square of Nineveh and like Luther nailing his 95 Theses upon the door
of the Wittenburg Church declares: “In forty days Nineveh will be
smashed” (3:4, Msg). That's it or at least all that Jonah said that
he shared with these uncircumcised pagans. He then marches out of
town and sits on a hill and waits for the fire to fall. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">But
these Ninevehites do something surprising. They don't scorn or mock
Jonah. They listen to him. They get serious with God. They repent for
their sins. They are, as we like to say now, all in.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>The
people of Nineveh listened, and trusted God. They proclaimed a
citywide fast and dressed in burlap to show their repentance.
Everyone did it—rich and poor, famous and obscure, leaders and
followers.” </i><span style="font-style: normal;">(3:5)</span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7-QGUj9JeH3X7vh_VXu9VqqXE4Y8FV_6cEHJrTsvggeHFzjEgn79Dg88JE0KHq18XlzPuvF9csYr3ICyk2uQrOy-RwP7Lt4rTik1Jz9H3rQHkoNWBgwnE71lfI3zdzFM-PknbE4y0j8Gc/s1600/ninevah-repents-7-2-15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7-QGUj9JeH3X7vh_VXu9VqqXE4Y8FV_6cEHJrTsvggeHFzjEgn79Dg88JE0KHq18XlzPuvF9csYr3ICyk2uQrOy-RwP7Lt4rTik1Jz9H3rQHkoNWBgwnE71lfI3zdzFM-PknbE4y0j8Gc/s400/ninevah-repents-7-2-15.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Well, this is awkward</td></tr>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Their
response is so complete and so sincere that God </span><i style="font-size: x-large;">changes his
mind</i><span style="font-size: large;">. “On second thought, I'm
not going destroy their city” (3:10)</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">You
would think that this kind of response is enough to summon a chorus
of Hallelujahs from Jonah. Instead by the end of his short story he
is sitting in a sulk mad at God for changing his mind. In fact, we
learn why he's so peeved is that he anticipated such a response. He
knows enough of God's heart to know that the only reason Yahweh would
send him there was so that these people could get another chance.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>4 1-2 Jonah
was furious. He lost his temper. He yelled at God, “God! I
knew it—when I was back home, I knew this was going to happen!
That’s why I ran off to Tarshish! I knew you were sheer grace and
mercy, not easily angered, rich in love, and ready at the drop of a
hat to turn your plans of punishment into a program of forgiveness!”</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Dang."</td></tr>
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<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">When
the story began God is angry with Nineveh for its practice and
reputation for wickedness. Like Marvel's Thing Yahweh says to anyone
who may be listening, “It's clobberin' time.” But at the end of
the story, the people of Nineveh have repented in sackcloth and ashes
and now God is angry with his prophet who should know better. If, as
he said, he knew that God was “sheer grace and mercy, not easily
angered, rich in love, and ready at the drop of a hat to turn your
plans of punishment into a program of forgiveness” why should he be
stewing over the salvation of 120,000 people who spiritually speaking
don't know what they don't know?</span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After
awhile another verse came to mind. Jesus used parables, hyperbole,
dialogue, Scripture references to persuade his fellow Jewish
countrymen to believe what he was telling them. He always seems in
control of the conversation, engaged but not overly argumentative.
But in Matthew 23 the water flows over the dam. Jesus' frustration
with the obstinacy of the religious establishment leads him to
pronounce seven “woes” upon them. I certainly don't believe he
“lost it” with them but I'm sure he didn't say these things with
a smile. At the end of his litany he says this,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>Jerusalem!
Jerusalem! Murderer of prophets! Killer of the ones who brought you
God’s news! How often I’ve ached to embrace your children, the
way a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you wouldn’t let
me.” </i><span style="font-style: normal;">(23:37-38, Msg).</span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyicQrbvg1IouzJzYGsNoRqDMw3JBvJgrWEFg1jrGlNmRJm5mIqobHkSIbA8gTHrFUXnaJ2u2YUo8NzC58u-G_uVSOAUc4VlXUrbB9lb7_nnUWfwd1FvnkpBtM71Wy0U716KpXAqmgA0i3/s1600/Jesus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="700" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyicQrbvg1IouzJzYGsNoRqDMw3JBvJgrWEFg1jrGlNmRJm5mIqobHkSIbA8gTHrFUXnaJ2u2YUo8NzC58u-G_uVSOAUc4VlXUrbB9lb7_nnUWfwd1FvnkpBtM71Wy0U716KpXAqmgA0i3/s400/Jesus.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He should look angrier</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In
Jonah's story, an entire city of spiritually ignorant people humble
themselves because of a one-sentence sermon delivered by a guy who
didn't even want to be there. At this moment, Jesus speaks to the
spiritual gatekeepers of his nation expressing God's great heart to
draw them to himself as a hen gathers her chicks but they are
tone-deaf to his plea. “Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Whatever.
We're not listening. No thank you. We don't want any.” In his next
breath he pronounces the judgment that will visit them within a
generation for their hardheartedness (v. 39).
</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxyewqYcBc4I4XF8sOTMpzpwsQ54Ife_Wa8Bo0oz_8V2mouJZremu2VsxUAOWNkVXyRBBB02REM4llfUFwFOayY7vULAnR_nEEqQ2U27vyGW9gZQmAEzOxedHC5X2I_hOEBkIYz5JyD5SS/s1600/mother+hen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxyewqYcBc4I4XF8sOTMpzpwsQ54Ife_Wa8Bo0oz_8V2mouJZremu2VsxUAOWNkVXyRBBB02REM4llfUFwFOayY7vULAnR_nEEqQ2U27vyGW9gZQmAEzOxedHC5X2I_hOEBkIYz5JyD5SS/s320/mother+hen.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">It
occurred to me that both verses reveal that when it comes to
spiritually dead or deaf people God's arms are wide open. He is, as
Jonah testified to, “sheer grace and mercy”. He is that mother
hen who wants nothing more to draw her chicks back under the
protection of her wing. The people who don't know a thing – who
“don't know right from wrong” (Jonah 4:11) – listen and
respond. The people who know it all – who certainly cannot claim
spiritual ignorance – act as if they are entitled to God's
deliverance when, in fact, they are headed to a rendezvous with
destiny.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Randy
is one of our elders at Refuge and a very thoughtful man. He reads a
lot and ponders the ways of God. His contribution to our discussion
was this passage from Romans 13</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-MSG-12092"></a>“</i><i>Don’t
run up debts, except for the huge debt of love you owe each other.
When you love others, you complete what the law has been after all
along. The law code—don’t sleep with another person’s spouse,
don’t take someone’s life, don’t take what isn’t yours, don’t
always be wanting what you don’t have, and any other “don’t”
you can think of—finally adds up to this: Love other people as well
as you do yourself. You can’t go wrong when you love others. When
you add up everything in the law code, the sum total is </i>love<i>.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-MSG-12093"></a>“<i>But
make sure that you don’t get so absorbed and exhausted in taking
care of all your day-by-day obligations that you lose track of the
time and doze off, oblivious to God. The night is about over, dawn is
about to break. Be up and awake to what God is doing! God is putting
the finishing touches on the salvation work he began when we first
believed. We can’t afford to waste a minute, must not squander
these precious daylight hours in frivolity and indulgence, in
sleeping around and dissipation, in bickering and grabbing everything
in sight. Get out of bed and get dressed! Don’t loiter and linger,
waiting until the very last minute. Dress yourselves in Christ, and
be up and about!”</i> (Romans 3:8-14, The Message)</span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This
text, in my mind, was the exclamation point that the Holy Spirit was
placing upon our hearts last night. <i><b>Pray!</b></i> We must pray and
intercede for our neighbors, the city we call home, the state and
country we live in, the world we share with so many others. We can't
tell ourselves that “God's gonna do whatever he's gonna do” when
in fact he partners with us to stand before him (ala Abraham in
Genesis 18) and plead for those we care about – and for those we
don't care about but should. To not respond to the Holy Spirit's
voice is to be guilty of wasting time and laying around when we
should be dressing ourselves “in Christ and be up and about.”</span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And so we did pray together and will continue to do so because somehow or another our prayers matter to "the Judge of all the earth" (Gen 18) and he waits for us to call on him.</span></div>
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<br />Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076559303396126727.post-63886822458259587512019-05-31T15:13:00.001-07:002019-05-31T15:13:24.149-07:00Not enough rocks (a pastoral response to the problem of evil)<br />
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<span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: large;">“<i><span style="font-weight: normal;">If
God is God why would he allow me to be adopted into a family that
would raise me to do terrible things?”</span></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was recently asked this by a former inmate of the
Barron County Jail. He was adopted when he was three years old and
according to him when he got older his adopted father forced him to
do some pretty perverse things that now in his 50s he has great shame
about. Why, he asked me, would God allow that? Why would God, he
inferred, stand by and let that happen?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As a pastor of a small rural congregation, I don't sit
around contemplating a good apologetic for God and the problem of
evil. It's not that I have not encountered evil in my nearly
twenty-eight years of pastoral ministry. I certainly have. I've
buried a young woman who died of cancer way before her time and
another who suffered from mental illness and later shot herself. My
work as a volunteer for both our local food shelf and with the
Salvation Army has brought me up close and personal to the ugliness
that poverty can create in families and individuals. My service at
the Barron County Jail as a chaplain has taught me the reality and
power of generational sin. No, I may not live in the 'hood but in
these idyllic woods in which we live sin abounds and scars and works
havoc in people's lives.
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Many
years ago our neighbor's son was tragically killed in a car accident.
Raised in the Baptist church, he had not been a part of fellowship
for several years and at the time of his death he was living with his
girlfriend in another community. He wasn't drunk. It was simple
negligence on his part. He didn't look twice before he entered the
median of the highway before a truck slammed into his car killing him
instantly. It was, literally, an accident. At his funeral my
neighbor's pastor said, “It was all part of a greater plan”, that
God “allowed this to happen” and that even though we mourn we are
comforted because “he's with the Lord now because when he was at
Bible camp as a teen he had made his profession of faith.” I've
never asked his mother if those words brought her comfort but
admittedly sitting out in the congregation that morning my first
thought was, “Are you saying that God </span></span></span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">willed</span></span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
for this kid to be killed by a truck?” To be fair, I'm not sure
what I would have said if I had been the one presiding at that
gathering but I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be to opine that his death
by truck was part of some greater plan of God's. Maybe at times like
that it's better to be a Calvinist.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When we're born we don't start at zero. That is to say
that none of us are a 'blank slate' when we come into this world. We
are a born into a family, for better or for worse, that depending on
the health of that family we will be nurtured or we will be
corrupted. A few months back I sat in PV 1 at the jail listening to a
38-year-old guy I'll call CJ tell his story. He was a crack baby
which means he was screwed even before he was born. The womb is
supposed to be one of the safest places on earth but in his case his
own mother caused him to be an addict long before he took his first
breath. His father was no better and was long gone by the time CJ was
a toddler. His mother was incapable of raising him (later dying of an
overdose) and so he was brought up in the foster care system bounced
around from one family to another. Somewhere along the way he became
a user and then later a dealer. At the time of our conversation he
was looking at the potential of over two decades of incarceration for
his crimes.
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<span style="font-size: large;">As I listened to his story I was struck by the fact that
though we were only sitting across the table from one another a great
chasm of life experiences separated us. I was born into a nuclear
family where both my parents were committed to their faith and to one
another. I was born on a Friday which means by the following Sunday I
was in church and no doubt baptized soon after. My parents loved me,
provided for me, disciplined me when I needed it, made sure I went to
school and church regular as clockwork. We went on family vacations
and from time to time Dairy Queen on a Sunday night in the
summertime. That's what I mean when I say we don't all start at zero.
Compared to CJ, I was born at +50. Compared to me, CJ was born at
-25. I was set up to succeed in life whereas he was set up to fail.
Why me and not him? How is it that I was fortunate to be born into a
good family while CJ a bad one (and the guy mentioned at the
beginning of this post as well)?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Honestly,
I don't know. But while listening to CJ's story I was reminded
(again!) how fortunate and blessed I have been in being raised in the
family I was. I won't for a second attribute my circumstances to luck
and his to bad luck. “Sucks to be you” would be horrible
commentary on CJ's condition. But mysteries abound in the life of
faith and frankly most of the time I know better than to offer an
opinion as to why bad things happen to good people – and, for that
matter, bad. The thing theologically referred to as the Fall is
enough answer for me. God created a perfect world and his original
plan was to fill it with free-will agents who would willingly choose
him. But that plan involved risk that those same free-will agents
would choose to </span></span></span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">not</span></span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
follow him. And thus we have the command: </span></span></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>You can eat from any tree in the
garden, except from the Tree-of-Knowledge-of-Good-and-Evil. Don’t
eat from it. The moment you eat from that tree, you’re dead.”
</i><span style="font-style: normal;">(Gen 2:16-17, Msg)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Of course, we know
how that ended and thus we inherited the world we chose now full of
sin and disease and heartbreak and death. We wanted to run the show
ourselves – to be our own bosses – and the rest is history –
and how sad that history has been at times. That some people live
their whole lives relatively untouched by the world's sorrows I
attribute to God's goodness. That others seem to experience trouble
unlooked for or undeserved I'll attribute to man's propensity to lash
out at his neighbor, the work of corrupted structures like government
or just part of the reality of how “the rain falls on the just and
the unjust” (Matt 5). As someone reminded me once, “We're not
living in the Garden of Eden, you know. We're not even next door to
it.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">...there
is a distinction between the “pastoral”...problem of people
</span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnyHT3QScV0H8xxs0eXMmtiHxgxuDSYnhRJW9HjkxQjx1UIBkfdxxrx8E05MCEL7QOe8ZTFOmIW2H-LqgdWAEnNTxJfeB0tW_Bjl8eAjK6YFKlcQFhgb4YREXUlqE2XIkRj9136zn-0xKW/s1600/God+and+the+Problem+of+Evil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="333" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnyHT3QScV0H8xxs0eXMmtiHxgxuDSYnhRJW9HjkxQjx1UIBkfdxxrx8E05MCEL7QOe8ZTFOmIW2H-LqgdWAEnNTxJfeB0tW_Bjl8eAjK6YFKlcQFhgb4YREXUlqE2XIkRj9136zn-0xKW/s200/God+and+the+Problem+of+Evil.jpg" width="133" /></a></i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>struggling to make sense of suffering and evil in their lives and the
lives of others close to them, and the philosophical problem of
showing the congruence (or at least compatibility) of the existence
of evil with the existence, power, and goodness of God. These are not
the same problem... </i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">William
Hasker in </span></span></span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">God
and the Problem of Evil: Five Views </span></span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">(p.
151)</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">I
agree. Most of the people who come to me with their questions (when
they do come at all) aren't really looking for me to give them a good
answer when, in truth, good answers don't abound. They just want to
be heard and have their pastor acknowledge that sometimes the math in
life doesn't add up. I have learned to tread carefully in the
presence of suffering. Pat answers won't do. And frankly, I don't
usually feel like I </span><i>have</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
to defend God. He's a big God and he can defend himself if he needs
to. Instead I try and mimic Job's posture who in the face of divine
rebuke contritely responded,</span> “<i>I babbled on about things
far beyond me, made small talk about wonders way over my head.”
</i><span style="font-style: normal;">(Job 42). So, I simply try to
listen and be a representative of the God who is Immanuel,
“God-In-It-with-Us.” It provokes me to silently pray the biblical
prayer, </span><i>“How long, O Lord, how long?”</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> while at the same time it reminds me something
that Forrest Gump once said, “Sometimes, I guess there's just not
enough rocks.”</span></span></div>
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<br />Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076559303396126727.post-63573116561090101422019-05-24T15:01:00.003-07:002019-05-25T04:21:00.469-07:00Driving all the way to Chicago to hear a good word<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhazZf8QWpf6BQGDrItLEG1LazwHWXz4GMLoNmvZWPTEICyGaSssQ6IzvbMknXiAEddwmgYGzEcmKD-fp1XrSawbbigWwQJhiCPG1MXJhltwhW0x2NRcYZd8egsLhbEyiaKwlAdozNIVny_/s1600/Elijah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhazZf8QWpf6BQGDrItLEG1LazwHWXz4GMLoNmvZWPTEICyGaSssQ6IzvbMknXiAEddwmgYGzEcmKD-fp1XrSawbbigWwQJhiCPG1MXJhltwhW0x2NRcYZd8egsLhbEyiaKwlAdozNIVny_/s320/Elijah.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>Then the word of God came
to him: 'So Elijah, what are you doing here?'”</i></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">1 Kings 19:9, The
Message</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Elijah was by
anybody's definition a spiritual Avenger in the times he lived in.
Case in point would be the 'Clash on Mount Carmel' where he
single-handedly faced down wicked Queen Jezebel's regiment of prophets
of Baal and – with God's help – did it with style. Isaiah had
once prayed, “Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come
down,...” (Isaiah 64:1ff). I wonder if he had Elijah's victory on
the mountain in mind when he had prayed thus? In any case, after that
slam dunk knockout he becomes Public Enemy Number One. You would
think his victory would fill him with bravado. Instead, his resolve
melts like snow in May and he high tails it out of Dodge. He runs
south, way south. He runs until he can't run any more and then crawls
under the shade of some scraggly tree out in the Negev hoping for
death to find him. However, God's got other plans. After being
ministered to by an angel, he then walks “forty days and nights”
(1 Kings 19:8) until at long last he reaches Horeb, the mountain of
God where once upon a time Moses received the law of the Lord. He
crawls into a cave to rest and while sleeping the word of the Lord
comes to him,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>“<i>So, Elijah, what are you doing
here?”</i></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQpSlqWKlly7MQF07dAte6rYv1KLmTzz4I3d0zAzTpy6qimlCmswUahGxFiTGYDl5dWemw06cPBQC_SdyBUtxAvCkTQqAOMiHQqf-ENnNw9YEwxPvpdAVGzi1_eHELWpOareZvyPpHaUTD/s1600/Elijah+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQpSlqWKlly7MQF07dAte6rYv1KLmTzz4I3d0zAzTpy6qimlCmswUahGxFiTGYDl5dWemw06cPBQC_SdyBUtxAvCkTQqAOMiHQqf-ENnNw9YEwxPvpdAVGzi1_eHELWpOareZvyPpHaUTD/s400/Elijah+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Personally,
I would expect a better greeting from the Lord for this guardian of
the Law. I would think a 'well done' or an 'atta-boy' or 'thank you
for standing with me' would be a far better way to greet his
exhausted servant. But no. He gets a, 'What are you doing here,
Elijah?' as in 'Why are you here and not up there defending Me and
doing my work?' To wit I say, Come on, man. He's tired. He's
emotionally spent. He's been an outlaw for God for such a long time
and that's all he gets? </span><i>“So Elijah, now tell me, what are
you doing here?” </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Frankly, it's
a bit harsh. If that's how it went down, God's sure got a funny way
of encouraging his servants. </span>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">FCA Convention Night #1</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">A
month ago I attended the national convention of the association that
our fellowship belongs to held this year in Chicago. Early on in my
ministry in Chetek I was able to attend this gathering annually but
our fellowship's resources have been pretty tight for a number of
years now. What's more, the convention is always during track season
guaranteeing if I go that I miss a full week of practice and meets.
So I haven't attended one since 2008 when it was held in Minneapolis.
But this year, seeing it was back in the Midwest, I felt like I </span><i>had</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
to go. Unlike Elijah in so many ways I do identify with that moment
he drags himself into the cave on Horeb feeling discouraged and in
need of a good word to sustain him. So I drove to Chicago with the
hope that God was going to speak such a word to me.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Honestly, this has
been a season of tough sledding in our ministry in Chetek. It's not
that we have been experiencing conflict with our leadership team. We
haven't. In fact, we have enjoyed a wonderful sense of unity in our
midst for several years now. It's not that we have experienced some
huge defections either. For a small fellowship, we have a good
percentage of disciples serving in various capacities. So what's made
this season so tough? Here are three things that come to mind:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>For starters, one of our elders –
and one of my dearest friends – has gone missing. </i>
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Without divulging particulars suffice to say he has become consumed with his work. He's
a farmer and the ag industry in this<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbIx-6nkVgy2_cgxzgc4ABnem5Z2XQidIPpb5QU7no_q0u4t1C5vMce0wux2SNc3_UCo3J58EY6RZFD7QNhkl5vDloDaWtfQTTLwDfEnCn4MMJfW7yHUrGz8OUrNfg-DTsQc9xgHQ42MPN/s1600/Pickett.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="558" data-original-width="450" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbIx-6nkVgy2_cgxzgc4ABnem5Z2XQidIPpb5QU7no_q0u4t1C5vMce0wux2SNc3_UCo3J58EY6RZFD7QNhkl5vDloDaWtfQTTLwDfEnCn4MMJfW7yHUrGz8OUrNfg-DTsQc9xgHQ42MPN/s320/Pickett.jpg" width="258" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Longstreet needed this man in the fray</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
country is the worst it's been
in a generation. He's trying to keep the family farm afloat and that
pretty much robs him of energy and attention he used to be able to
expend at our fellowship. We all feel he and his wife's absence from
regular worship and the other things that go on around here. What
Confederate Lt. General James Longstreet once said about one of his
generals, Gen. George Pickett, sums up perfectly how I feel about
this missing elder of ours, “I don't like being without Pickett.
It's like going into battle with one boot on.” I feel his absence
keenly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">Like a slowly collapsing bag, over
the past five months people have left.</span></i></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">One left because he
was offended at what he perceived was our lack of spiritual
commitment. Another left (with her two children) 'feeling led' to
begin attending another fellowship 15 miles north of here. What makes
that loss more keen is that she once had been core. Yet another took
a job in a neighboring county and therefore moved away. And another
core couple have been slowly fading out for reasons they attribute to
work schedules. These are, on the main, par for the course. Who of us
in ministry hasn't experienced these kinds of shifts in the makeup of
the fellowship we are responsible for? But the long and short of it
is that on any given Sunday there are a lot more empty chairs in our
sanctuary than we have been accustomed to.
</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwdJRIO6bLpSybb5EgHYIzZqTVBq55Ng7GD4RdR5pglRIgRiHOs1xz2grRSf1qVSSvm7aAJGv0Hr2sCQWsfUkWIflTJvVcjU_LkRBkrObDbxj0jAgZ9RiA-0lXA4tYf7i3ytoSKvUoCxH7/s1600/Refuge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwdJRIO6bLpSybb5EgHYIzZqTVBq55Ng7GD4RdR5pglRIgRiHOs1xz2grRSf1qVSSvm7aAJGv0Hr2sCQWsfUkWIflTJvVcjU_LkRBkrObDbxj0jAgZ9RiA-0lXA4tYf7i3ytoSKvUoCxH7/s320/Refuge.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Supposedly 'regular attendance'
among evangelical Christians these days is 1 Sunday out of 4. </i>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I don't recall
which poll generated that finding and where I heard it quoted first
but if that is so it certainly has been playing out at Refuge these
past few months. The new 'normal' seems to be 30-35 average weekly
attendance where 50-60 used to be the norm. Fair or not it's those
dang Millennials that seem to be the primary culprits of fitting
corporate worship into their schedules (as opposed to fitting their
schedule around corporate worship).
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The
Lord specifically told King David never to count the fighting men to
remind him that the sustenance and protection of the kingdom did not
reside in his ability to marshal the troops and send them out to
fight. In the same way, I shouldn't be counting heads in order to
find my confidence as a leader but admittedly I have. Besides, less
people attached to our fellowship means less resources both
financial and human and taking all these other factors into account
has left me feeling insecure and wanting to read the 'tea-leaves' of
my circumstances. </span><i>Maybe it's me? Maybe God has been trying
to tell me I'm done for some time now and I've just been tone deaf to
his voice?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH-XBI7tPfomnnuYlyWzh9xL2w6HpHZ8xuvLdHnzBmzqwPlED_tOheKhdbGAJNCmysBdrhnCnDQLFnTpsh343aQvMSzN1VUE4oqCkbbtZeAA9jJS12XBFQeP4u-hIHZxVTJpDG2a5yLmpp/s1600/FCA+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="960" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH-XBI7tPfomnnuYlyWzh9xL2w6HpHZ8xuvLdHnzBmzqwPlED_tOheKhdbGAJNCmysBdrhnCnDQLFnTpsh343aQvMSzN1VUE4oqCkbbtZeAA9jJS12XBFQeP4u-hIHZxVTJpDG2a5yLmpp/s320/FCA+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hollis had a good word for all of us</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">This was my state
of mind as I pulled into the convention center on Chicago's
far-southwestern side on Tuesday afternoon. The only thing I brought
with me to the daily gatherings and the nightly services was my
journal in hopes I would catch a 'word' that spoke to my current
situation – a text, a Scripture, shoot, even a “thus saith the
Lord” would do. Over the course of four days I heard some good
messages, heard some wise counsel and engaged in more than a few
poignant conversations with fellow ministerial colleagues and
friends.</span></div>
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</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghzqsFjjcoNjQRADhAMPeuePOBxEdASTJhR2nGRyDsxsvDTlLtp24VzoFIi3sUczfgqT120l_rY8-_8N_k6rJTeu9srVuu36AenpKEI6NlxSTJ6CidXfLJnktKxzk2EeuJ5YlxvjSmymgX/s1600/John.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghzqsFjjcoNjQRADhAMPeuePOBxEdASTJhR2nGRyDsxsvDTlLtp24VzoFIi3sUczfgqT120l_rY8-_8N_k6rJTeu9srVuu36AenpKEI6NlxSTJ6CidXfLJnktKxzk2EeuJ5YlxvjSmymgX/s320/John.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Convention is way more than hearing messages.<br />
It's about connecting with friends.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">On the
very first night the speaker – a pastor turned stand-up
comedian/Christian entertainer – shared from Genesis 42. In the
passage, Jacob's sons are appealing to him to allow Benjamin to
return with them to Egypt so that they may appease the prime minister
who makes seeing their youngest brother a part of the deal to acquire
more grain. When Jacob hears the terms he complains to his sons, “You
have deprived me of my children. Joseph is no more and Simeon is no
more, and now you want to take Benjamin. </span><i>Everything is
against me!</i><span style="font-style: normal;">” (v. 36). His
point: A lot of times we don't see things from God's point of view.
Unbeknownst to Jacob he is soon to be a part of a grand reunion of
all his sons as soon as Joseph reveals who he is. What appears to be
against us may, in fact, be working out to be something very good for
us. Which is why we need to seek “God's eye-view” of things in
our life and ministry.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The
very next day at morning devotions another pastor-friend <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD7tLZxiw0cege0_8kmJKRK0u7ab4U-TDS507l6c4dnzpBwgz_6lsIO3OW0eN4Darq3zLMnjtaUTi6WkTN7Z6MBvVpxshAicGS28cUl-er3fv072nsKs_T3p340FSRobn13uD1J0pbcrpg/s1600/Johnny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD7tLZxiw0cege0_8kmJKRK0u7ab4U-TDS507l6c4dnzpBwgz_6lsIO3OW0eN4Darq3zLMnjtaUTi6WkTN7Z6MBvVpxshAicGS28cUl-er3fv072nsKs_T3p340FSRobn13uD1J0pbcrpg/s320/Johnny.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's another former roommate that I hadn't<br />
sat down and spoke with for over twenty or more years</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
shared from
Jeremiah 6:16 reminding us that God, indeed, wants to speak with us.
Inspired by the text his counsel was simple, “Listen. Look. Ask.
And then obey.” He concluded with something not original but I
really like: </span><i>“I've never heard God's voice but I know
what it sounds like.” </i>
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Looking through my
journal today I am reminded that all through that week I was writing
snippets of good counsel and wise Scriptural advice that I heard. As
I opened up to a few good friends and shared my life with them I
received what you would expect to receive – encouragement, a pat on
the back and a reminder that I am not the only pastor struggling with
the issues that seem to be facing us here.</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwN8JnvsPOXrxh7Ltu6E6zDY0sQgEme2FOsL9WGKmO0ZiA1QdQTSWDaWdo2RpSUtRXzMRlKpiiiSvZXIPIbWbGL5P-_ayyg9_1ZEMKeb38WdDGsOX_EbB1biJoNt__ns7zIlmKJ-eDGr5_/s1600/Elijah+3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwN8JnvsPOXrxh7Ltu6E6zDY0sQgEme2FOsL9WGKmO0ZiA1QdQTSWDaWdo2RpSUtRXzMRlKpiiiSvZXIPIbWbGL5P-_ayyg9_1ZEMKeb38WdDGsOX_EbB1biJoNt__ns7zIlmKJ-eDGr5_/s400/Elijah+3.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">In the cave, Elijah
was instructed to go out upon the mountain and prepare himself as
“the Lord is about to pass by” (1 Kings 19:11, NIV). Perhaps it
was the very place or in close proximity to the cleft of the rock
where God had hid Moses seven hundred or more years earlier following
the fiasco with the golden calf just before he passed by (see Exodus
34). But whether at that place or another there he stands waiting in
expectation of the Lord's imminent visitation. And then this:</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>A hurricane wind ripped through
the mountains and shattered the rocks before God, but God wasn’t
to be found in the wind; after the wind an earthquake, but God wasn’t
in the earthquake; and after the earthquake fire, but God wasn’t
in the fire; and after the fire a gentle and quiet whisper.”</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-MSG-4276"></a>“<i>When
Elijah heard the quiet voice, he muffled his face with his great
cloak, went to the mouth of the cave, and stood there. A quiet voice
asked, 'So Elijah, now tell me, what are you doing here?' Elijah said
it again, 'I’ve been working my heart out for God,
the God-of-the-Angel-Armies, because the people of Israel have
abandoned your covenant, destroyed your places of worship, and
murdered your prophets. I’m the only one left, and now they’re
trying to kill me.'” </i><span style="font-style: normal;">(1 Kings
19:11-14, Msg)</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I think it's a
legitimate complaint. He's been working hard and living on the run
without a lot to show for his efforts. As far as he can see there has
not been a whole-sale turning back to God among his countrymen. Ahab
and Jezebel still rule in Samaria and while she's lost a whole
company of her prophets, the people continue to flock to the
religious sites at Bethel and Dan. He feels like he's fighting for a
lost cause.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Of
course, he's not. As bad as things are things are never as bad as
they appear. God gives his dejected prophet some tasks to do (like
return to the fray and appoint a successor) and then reminds him,
that even though it feels like he's standing alone there are in fact,
many remaining in Israel who “h</span>ave not bowed down to Baal
and whose mouths have not kissed him.” (v. 18, NIV).
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">During
the long drive home on Friday, as I reflected on all that I heard both
corporately and personally, I felt that God had spoken to me. </span><i>
</i>Not audibly and yet directly.
Not dramatically and yet certainly. No whistles, no bells. No vision
or ecstatic prophecy. While it wasn't a life-changing word – e.g.,
'Go to Africa' or 'Come and be our pastor “over here”' - it was
definitely a life-sustaining word.<i> </i><span style="font-style: normal;">And
it simply was: “Keep going. Keep going. Keep going.” </span>
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmpexuT_OihwMBoYS7B_FBfSivuTqLo74mMdcd16clLgrJVk_YjLZdjFTitsp-nRF35oEQq7njSKYa0JW-Ssq1aaqTbkR0G1nIpa6Rnzg5BqOSeqbpdvz2yd7gMqTWrejczT4xQAG5flCN/s1600/run.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="332" data-original-width="480" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmpexuT_OihwMBoYS7B_FBfSivuTqLo74mMdcd16clLgrJVk_YjLZdjFTitsp-nRF35oEQq7njSKYa0JW-Ssq1aaqTbkR0G1nIpa6Rnzg5BqOSeqbpdvz2yd7gMqTWrejczT4xQAG5flCN/s400/run.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Chicago seems like
a long way to go from here to hear a word that you could just as well
as hear from any of my pastor-friends at Chetek Cafe. But sometimes
you have to go far to hear something that's a whisper's length away.
Here's how I put it in my journal: “...in lieu of not knowing any
differently I must keep going [in Chetek] trusting that You are with
me and will be with me.” And that's what I call a good word.</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>Don’t be misled: No one makes a
fool of God. What a person plants, he will harvest. The person who
plants selfishness, ignoring the needs of others—ignoring
God!—harvests a crop of weeds. All he’ll have to show for his
life is weeds! But the one who plants in response to God, letting
God’s Spirit do the growth work in him, harvests a crop of real
life, eternal life.</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>So let’s not allow ourselves to
get fatigued doing good. At the right time we will harvest a good
crop if we don’t give up, or quit.” </i><span style="font-style: normal;">(Galatians
6:7-9, Msg)</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">So, chin up. Keep going. Don't give up. And carry on until the journey's end. </span></span></div>
<br />Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076559303396126727.post-4377861928492437652019-03-14T19:55:00.000-07:002019-03-14T19:55:17.897-07:00Thy Kingdom Come: In gratitude for Kirk and his many prayers<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcfZj4-6TlTfbTHjX0Wi_bjKMzMpX0hqSjAt08jE8Ntx3g8sYH7eGqREMfENUz8BqOnZDLLE-DGlBG8lhrYxpYVSJClFYy4P0P3Bm_Os2rM3cgQUzsqpk_RpWey8LunqMhZbBvknVkYeuO/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcfZj4-6TlTfbTHjX0Wi_bjKMzMpX0hqSjAt08jE8Ntx3g8sYH7eGqREMfENUz8BqOnZDLLE-DGlBG8lhrYxpYVSJClFYy4P0P3Bm_Os2rM3cgQUzsqpk_RpWey8LunqMhZbBvknVkYeuO/s320/1.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kirk at one of the "on the hill"<br />gatherings we have hosted</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NASB-16256"></a>“<i>My frame
was not hidden from You,<br />When I was made in secret,<br />And skillfully
wrought </i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>in the depths of the earth;<br />Your eyes have seen
my unformed substance;<br />And in Your book were all
written<br />The days that were ordained for me,<br />When as
yet there was not one of them.” </i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Psalm
139:15, 16 (NASB)</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Rev. “Kirk” Petterson spoke <i>a
lot</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> about prayer. In fact, you
could say that after serving a congregation in Shell Lake for ten
years and then moving to Chetek to serve here it's about all he ever
spoke about. But more than just talking about it he actually did it
and demonstrated with his life that among his other loves – such as
his wife, LeAnn, and their children and grandchildren as well as the
efficacy of certain barbecued meats – communion with the Father and
intercession for God's people was one of the top priorities of his
life. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivI8uhV_qDzrl0ilElL0Zx743PjLRuV-as7DFp0FVMhyrFodpEQGtb_pwIQbtnTW6cDudus8mjyM3M9s5QTKpfcGCWlRW3FMr49RqGL6_BKtWk_i4c0IyTQCdIbwfLREa0myYpRqYruhxp/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivI8uhV_qDzrl0ilElL0Zx743PjLRuV-as7DFp0FVMhyrFodpEQGtb_pwIQbtnTW6cDudus8mjyM3M9s5QTKpfcGCWlRW3FMr49RqGL6_BKtWk_i4c0IyTQCdIbwfLREa0myYpRqYruhxp/s400/3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of the membership of the Breakfast Club.<br />Kirk's spot was usually at the head of the table</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">We met
at a Pastor's Prayer Summit held at Luther Park back in the mid-90s
but after he moved to town a few years later he quickly became a
regular compadre of our circle of intercessors and assorted prayer
warriors here. In fact, Kirk was a significant catalyst for a prayer
movement that began in the mid-2000s when a number of us began to
gather at what was then Bob's Grill (now Chetek Cafe) every Tuesday
morning. The format was simple: breakfast, coffee and conversation
followed by a time of prayer. We dubbed ourselves “the Breakfast
Club” and with the exception of when Christmas and New Years fall
on a Tuesday, have been meeting there ever since throughout the
calendar year. We pray for each other, for our community and for
God's Church in our area.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvaBMDboLyEL9IY2Fi_UOKQ5Kqhdo-dBdlUCmMayDLpmHW_Cbj3aQgYsC7COaFg1CK3wpL-6deZ-S1QDx38htJ9QAq1xN1SRcc4voMUr_xPz8wb3IZEZXfrMb-l9E-4zZwDKLVcI0cx1o2/s1600/11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvaBMDboLyEL9IY2Fi_UOKQ5Kqhdo-dBdlUCmMayDLpmHW_Cbj3aQgYsC7COaFg1CK3wpL-6deZ-S1QDx38htJ9QAq1xN1SRcc4voMUr_xPz8wb3IZEZXfrMb-l9E-4zZwDKLVcI0cx1o2/s320/11.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Around-the-Grounds '15"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Kirk
was a founding member of our club and that regular meeting and eating
and praying together naturally fostered love and trust. And out of
love and trust, as all of us should know, so many good things
happened and continue to happen. In order to give us some kind of
cache with those outside our group we created what we called the
Chetek Area Prayer Initiative. On top of our weekly breakfast
meetings we continue to sponsor so many corporate prayer events
including “Around-the-Grounds” (an annual prayer walk around and
through our schools prior to the beginning of the new school year),
“See You on the Hill” (a prayer meeting for our city on top of
the only hill in town), “A Day Away to Pray” (an informal
pastor's prayer gathering that occurs every so often), “A
Progressive Prayer Meeting” (just like a progressive dinner we
moved from church to church), not to mention the annual “See You At
the Pole!”, “National Day of Prayer” and “Sanctity of Human
Life Sunday” gatherings. Over the years participation in these
events has ebbed and flowed according to people's interest and
schedule but Kirk was </span><i>always</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
there. He agreed that we God's people needed to be about the business
of intercession and he lived it. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1WUyu44MmvAW9fQwmQMg2IK-g4QdwDDeQ85WI0hgvWmpbC_nNIk0Pmvx_is7HyaER9GaMi-jRbyikqWcyBGSInw_axiXkIdrKP-fYlDaQ3m-CZ8OMj1ud7n9vKgl7dgj9y6LtadC4aET-/s1600/12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1WUyu44MmvAW9fQwmQMg2IK-g4QdwDDeQ85WI0hgvWmpbC_nNIk0Pmvx_is7HyaER9GaMi-jRbyikqWcyBGSInw_axiXkIdrKP-fYlDaQ3m-CZ8OMj1ud7n9vKgl7dgj9y6LtadC4aET-/s320/12.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">When
Pastor Norm, another founding member of the Breakfast Club, owned a
pontoon one Tuesday morning in the summer we loaded up the boat and
puttered around the lake praying for our city from that floating
platform. As much as the Chetek Hydroflites regularly pack out their
ski show and just as the lawn between Advent Christian and their
parsonage is always full on the night of the fireworks we asked God
(among many other things) that His house would be just as full of
people seeking Him. For a few years running five of us drew the names
of participating fellowships out of the proverbial hat and whatever
church we drew that was where we preached that Sunday. Yes, love and
trust can move mountains where organizational meetings only seem to
grow them.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGsKYSSBHjDTdPaE1yCY3zZSr4YCRyetTX-aSph6BQkQQ7ZrDcN-Mg7ULIvwzhPE6loNxe_oec4wDha05GfGFAAAlMVelvqoW-tzx8LBHDNg7CAS6LS9IsM4c_9HhUNUVbshZb6i16HPFQ/s1600/8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGsKYSSBHjDTdPaE1yCY3zZSr4YCRyetTX-aSph6BQkQQ7ZrDcN-Mg7ULIvwzhPE6loNxe_oec4wDha05GfGFAAAlMVelvqoW-tzx8LBHDNg7CAS6LS9IsM4c_9HhUNUVbshZb6i16HPFQ/s320/8.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kirk praying on the pontoon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">When
George Otis, Jr began producing his Transformations documentaries, it
was Kirk who got us watching them and the watching fueled our
imaginations what might be here in our city and area if we redoubled
our efforts to pray for not just revival but wholesale
transformation. When </span><i style="font-size: x-large;">The Elk River Story: Transforming the
Spiritual Climate of a City</i><span style="font-size: large;"> came
out it was Kirk who gave us all complimentary copies. When a group of
intercessors from our community felt compelled to begin a House of
Prayer right here in town, Kirk and LeAnn not only frequented the
weekly gatherings held there they supported it financially every
month. When his own church decided to take one of their Sunday School
rooms and turn it into a prayer room, it was Kirk who designed and
outfitted it. Yup, prayer was very much what he was all about.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi15zIIrTS169kEN2FP9tQxwhp2yaMoZUwoTqfFSkDIsZpbSAL00kMSrnwetTMd6Vqebd3cKpLSG9VxXzHYMqxFLClkJIyhPWWJ9A2f07XF59Xrp1N8suYBUGRXKrHWHJuhr1AS2o1RGUZs/s1600/13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="327" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi15zIIrTS169kEN2FP9tQxwhp2yaMoZUwoTqfFSkDIsZpbSAL00kMSrnwetTMd6Vqebd3cKpLSG9VxXzHYMqxFLClkJIyhPWWJ9A2f07XF59Xrp1N8suYBUGRXKrHWHJuhr1AS2o1RGUZs/s320/13.jpg" width="209" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the book he gifted us all with<br />this past Christmas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">He
prayed long. In fact, he once laughingly told me that someone from
his fellowship called him a “prayer hog” as once he started into
praying he wouldn't stop until he was prayed out. (I won't speak for
the other guys but I know that on more than a few occasions I
struggled to hang in there with him and secretly hoped for the meter
to run out!) But regardless of the length of his intercession, his
prayer generally included a cry for God to send </span><i>“a Holy
Ghost, heaven-sent revival”</i><span style="font-style: normal;">, a
prayer that we who remain will continue to pray from this side of
eternity.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEq4cDI3pICZtgzxTr86xQEQ5dyy4PwqYahGN0YWothVaV5RNKwSSY1b-CyMRrdx8z_hoqFVD2jPubZ8IQBPJfrjx-W592lVp9DXx0vN2uyPgG3MxKtT2r35CRTffDFjH1yEDOFvrTb9Fo/s1600/5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1394" data-original-width="1600" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEq4cDI3pICZtgzxTr86xQEQ5dyy4PwqYahGN0YWothVaV5RNKwSSY1b-CyMRrdx8z_hoqFVD2jPubZ8IQBPJfrjx-W592lVp9DXx0vN2uyPgG3MxKtT2r35CRTffDFjH1yEDOFvrTb9Fo/s320/5.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Praying at the HOP</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">He
prayed continually. Tuesday mornings and Thursday nights (at the
House of Prayer), Wednesday nights (at Northside Christian, the
fellowship he was a member of), and once a month on Friday nights (at
The Well in Barron, a ministry focused on the local Somali population
there). And that's only the gatherings I'm aware of. I'm sure there
were others. I am grateful for his example of persistent prayer.
Jesus Himself, the Captain of the Host, exhorted his First Century
disciples and also exhorts us his Twenty-First Century ones the same:
we</span><i> “should always pray and not give up” </i><span style="font-style: normal;">(Luke
18:1). As far as I see it, Kirk was faithful in that. He liked his
meat rare and his preference in pancakes was always “gooey”
(regardless of the cook who was on he always offered to demonstrate
just what that was but for the record he never sent any back). But he
prayed on regardless of the consistency of his cake. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHqSNEecB65K5xlwqQV_cIEzzzZQ3fd0iIquhdWxQI1rEDU9lYQbajiboxqZNvhb5UFeJIVoktvvL3xxkGfrZyLBDL_Lk0aQDxH91gE_AiFC3dvaOayoOqrgTJAAAJKYMCUqXoLrGmYUl9/s1600/14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="720" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHqSNEecB65K5xlwqQV_cIEzzzZQ3fd0iIquhdWxQI1rEDU9lYQbajiboxqZNvhb5UFeJIVoktvvL3xxkGfrZyLBDL_Lk0aQDxH91gE_AiFC3dvaOayoOqrgTJAAAJKYMCUqXoLrGmYUl9/s400/14.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Praying at The Well 2010</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">In
recent years he had been struggling with various health issues. In
fact, three years ago he nearly died while attending the
international convention of the College of Prayer International in
Atlanta. He recovered and returned to his normal routine of prayer
around our community. Psalm 139:15-16 became one of his verses
claiming that since every day of his life was already recorded in
God's book he planned to live every one of them. During the last year
he liked to quote some African brother he heard at a COP gathering
who said,<i> “If God has ordained for you to die on Friday you cannot
die on Thursday.”</i> To him it gave purpose to each day he was given.
How ironic that he actually died on a Friday.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNhOTGv74z9jHLqq-Mg2U6j3hDqM5vFKgHdB2R7Ob5g6CGWSy5llQXkzPVPAhizjL08r-Cf41d2FGxLTNgeiVB-72b-zLusOL9JKzzjsMK4_e7StpOovAtoAGnCtvSu1L3rxSYd919nAKB/s1600/15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNhOTGv74z9jHLqq-Mg2U6j3hDqM5vFKgHdB2R7Ob5g6CGWSy5llQXkzPVPAhizjL08r-Cf41d2FGxLTNgeiVB-72b-zLusOL9JKzzjsMK4_e7StpOovAtoAGnCtvSu1L3rxSYd919nAKB/s320/15.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Concert of Prayer held at Northside 2016</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Some
people serve their community by volunteering at a local food shelf or
at the school. Others serve as an alderman or as a member of a
non-profit organization. Kirk served us here in Chetek by praying
persistently and consistently for all of us. I will miss his presence
at the Breakfast Club and every other prayer event that we usually
host in the course of a calendar year. I will miss his prayers, long
though they could be, but now the rest of us will just have to pray
on a little longer now that his voice has been silenced. Of course,
his prayers that he raised in this life, especially the ones that
have not been realized with regardless to that 'heaven-sent, Holy
Ghost revival' he asked so persistently for remain continually as
incense in God's presence (Revelation 5:8). And for that I am
grateful because it seems like we need that more now than ever
before. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>May
the Lord bless and keep him and may there be stacks of gooey pancakes
cooked to perfection in the presence of the Lord he loved so dearly
in this life. </i></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxjJoiJMNKnEQDdyOKlR6S8-nAA0HdY5KEH1VeM7dnx1s4rKoqsj8QsbN36Iy2WZyJyG2yCdXUjc8hbIdK_RtaF8yQxC2jeQqdse_AG2CXeKPy4FEHwi_PZt36r9q3BN7e0GfvxLB0hzx-/s1600/6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxjJoiJMNKnEQDdyOKlR6S8-nAA0HdY5KEH1VeM7dnx1s4rKoqsj8QsbN36Iy2WZyJyG2yCdXUjc8hbIdK_RtaF8yQxC2jeQqdse_AG2CXeKPy4FEHwi_PZt36r9q3BN7e0GfvxLB0hzx-/s320/6.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At our most recent "Day Away to Pray" gathering in January 2019</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076559303396126727.post-83736329121101481212019-02-11T19:51:00.001-08:002019-02-12T03:01:04.326-08:00Let it shine: What I "saw" last night at "Wait & See"<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMi1wAgYyLmVHe2CWfGygLkN2GNJ-xXCY4Kciuck7n3zIobECTzK7QNB78g4bfFSky6CDqUJ1bFHOKrIP04PEUgiPQgHkIt4Y0hnwDPTEG21Dr5qv-0bt1wkoGjCwdaKeB1IQ60Yu_jtHc/s1600/Tolpingrud-Light-crop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="913" data-original-width="1369" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMi1wAgYyLmVHe2CWfGygLkN2GNJ-xXCY4Kciuck7n3zIobECTzK7QNB78g4bfFSky6CDqUJ1bFHOKrIP04PEUgiPQgHkIt4Y0hnwDPTEG21Dr5qv-0bt1wkoGjCwdaKeB1IQ60Yu_jtHc/s320/Tolpingrud-Light-crop.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">“<i>Then shall the kingdom of heaven
be likened unto ten virgins, which took their lamps, and went forth
to meet the bridegroom. </i></span><i style="font-size: x-large;">And five of them were wise, and
five were foolish. </i><i style="font-size: x-large;">They that were foolish took their
lamps, and took no oil with them: </i><i style="font-size: x-large;">But the wise took oil in their
vessels with their lamps.</i><i style="font-size: x-large;">While the bridegroom tarried,
they all slumbered and slept. </i><i style="font-size: x-large;">And at midnight there was a cry
made, 'Behold, the bridegroom cometh; go ye out to meet him.' </i><i style="font-size: x-large;">Then all those virgins arose, and
trimmed their lamps. </i><i style="font-size: x-large;">And the foolish said unto the
wise, 'Give us of your oil; for our lamps are gone out.' </i><i style="font-size: x-large;">But the wise answered, saying, 'Not so; lest there be not enough for us and you: but go ye rather to
them that sell, and buy for yourselves.'</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="font-size: x-large;">And
while they went to buy, the bridegroom came; and they that were ready
went in with him to the marriage: and the door was shut. </i><i style="font-size: x-large;">Afterward
came also the other virgins, saying, 'Lord, Lord, open to us.' </i><i style="font-size: x-large;">But he
answered and said, 'Verily I say unto you, I know you not.'"</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-KJV-24022"></a>“<i>Watch
therefore, for ye know neither the day nor the hour wherein the Son
of man cometh.” </i></span><span style="font-size: large;">Matthew 25:1-13,
KJV</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Kf5vYy-PS5p9LqjGMMqhUnCKH7h_dplytTC6nDKHyToLU92gg13ERkJaCBEYDGe5lokxnZHeQH85XIKvYjFBL954sQBEGVJnH4eP4fGiqHPOGrkgGdrCreJ_EpiRIjSWfAa8d_mHcra3/s1600/The+Joy+of+Listening+to+God.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="260" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Kf5vYy-PS5p9LqjGMMqhUnCKH7h_dplytTC6nDKHyToLU92gg13ERkJaCBEYDGe5lokxnZHeQH85XIKvYjFBL954sQBEGVJnH4eP4fGiqHPOGrkgGdrCreJ_EpiRIjSWfAa8d_mHcra3/s320/The+Joy+of+Listening+to+God.jpg" width="208" /></a></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The Second Sunday
evening of every month since last year has been set aside for an hour
of corporate prayer in the sanctuary of our fellowship. I started
scheduling such an event after reading Joyce Huggett's book
<i>The Joy of Listening to God </i>(Intervarsity Press <span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">©</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">
1987). Speaking only for myself, I know how to talk to God; it's the
listening part that is challenging to me. I call these gatherings
“Wait & See” because my hope is that we will wait upon the
Lord and then "see" and hear what he may be saying to us.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The
format that we use for this gathering is fairly simple. I put on some
quiet, instrumental worship and encourage those who attend to sit
quietly anywhere in the sanctuary and be still before him. Most
people bring their Bible with them. I bring my journal as well. We
are quiet for the first half hour or so trying to allow him room to
speak. After this we circle up and share among ourselves
impressions, thoughts, pictures or Scripture that may have come to
mind while we sat. The goal is try and discern any common themes or
Scriptures that may come to light as we share. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Yesterday
it snowed all day and while by evening the snow was tapering off the
plows had only begun to clear the way. Honestly, these gatherings are
not well attended – usually only between four and seven
people – so I fully anticipated that I might be on my own for this
gathering. But if the priest in the days of the Tabernacle was
required to keep the lamp of the Presence burning daily how could I
neglect the Lord because of four inches worth of snow? Besides I only
live three blocks away.</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">But
three showed up – Sandy, a senior citizen, Sara, a twenty-something and Randy, one of our elders who lives out of town –
and more than quorum was met. Since beginning this routine of these
gatherings I have gotten better at learning to still myself before
the Lord. But last night I came to the gathering with a lot of
interior noise and static. I was frustrated over a few fellowship
matters, our internet at home wasn't working, and one sentence out of
an otherwise positive letter from a couple in our congregation raised
a bit of ire in me. So out of a need to quiet myself I turned to
Philippians 4 and re-read the words of Paul to myself:</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgXvJwywhLBxkwoAQZgBpi0yIi8G3YsITCoKL4za2SeZ_5HDKIkx-6Nc2dxrI9-LSH8O_YPnH18gehQ02XenQ9vOcqFcl81wut_cNEXkwo2CQujEjxwjIyuTUbwPZjN8mcnZapeHWV1uzI/s1600/quiet+road.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="642" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgXvJwywhLBxkwoAQZgBpi0yIi8G3YsITCoKL4za2SeZ_5HDKIkx-6Nc2dxrI9-LSH8O_YPnH18gehQ02XenQ9vOcqFcl81wut_cNEXkwo2CQujEjxwjIyuTUbwPZjN8mcnZapeHWV1uzI/s320/quiet+road.jpg" width="214" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">“<i>Celebrate God all day, every day.
I mean, revel in him! </i><span style="font-style: normal;">[Peterson's
translation of “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again,
Rejoice] </span><i>Make it as clear as you can to all you meet that
you’re on their side, working with them and not against them. Help
them see that the Master is about to arrive. He could show up any
minute!”</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>Don’t fret or worry. Instead of
worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into
prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense
of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come
and settle you down. It’s wonderful what happens when Christ
displaces worry at the center of your life.” </i>(Philippians 4:6-7, Msg)</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I had to do this
first, purposefully rejoicing in God's goodness, the wonder that for
over twenty-seven years a group of people still unflinchingly
affirmed me as their pastor and that probably was okay to be off the
'net for an afternoon and evening. I won't say my spirit settled
immediately but eventually it did.</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And then in my
mind's eye as I continued to kneel at the altar I saw Pastor Guy. Pastor Guy pastors Chetek Lutheran
Church down the street from us. He's something of an artist and will just as eagerly quote
Scripture as he will, say, John Lennon, as a part of his weekly
message. He's also writes and plays folk music. So while I knelt at
the altar disciplining myself to rejoice and not to worry I saw and
heard Pastor Guy playing <i>“This Little Light of Mine”</i> as he had
done at our annual ministerial Post-Epiphany Christmas Party a few weeks before.
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoIySlf0KqclUPNxAHgTiSIA62OM_XCJLcq2Ht-c99hX5UxGL2vAVNrYtwm790kJKnONlE8Rc5QEEp0GqnRb_RsJP5KMHXQ-eVG0J_NbapMArOneGXBDcIloJl4GdI2mt539XDz0UwMaiJ/s1600/Pastor+Guy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoIySlf0KqclUPNxAHgTiSIA62OM_XCJLcq2Ht-c99hX5UxGL2vAVNrYtwm790kJKnONlE8Rc5QEEp0GqnRb_RsJP5KMHXQ-eVG0J_NbapMArOneGXBDcIloJl4GdI2mt539XDz0UwMaiJ/s320/Pastor+Guy.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pastor Guy working his magic</td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Journal entry
#1:</span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLJbj7yFM9pdIRWV8MFYAwaU0NmT6J6YXaxrFPdnbPz_iIJ8arUW9gUmU6HieqHlKW2hT7N8k9Wg3pMii0UJgqWEDkDePWLRwHuEyuWWi6f_9P5VkDdlTOfWQVvxWEWdDODfzC9B3XhvfN/s1600/lamp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="176" data-original-width="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLJbj7yFM9pdIRWV8MFYAwaU0NmT6J6YXaxrFPdnbPz_iIJ8arUW9gUmU6HieqHlKW2hT7N8k9Wg3pMii0UJgqWEDkDePWLRwHuEyuWWi6f_9P5VkDdlTOfWQVvxWEWdDODfzC9B3XhvfN/s1600/lamp.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">“<i>We are probably the only
Christians in Chetek tonight gathered together to pray. Four souls
out on a snowy night to wait on God together. I can't help but hear
refrains of “This Little Light of Mine” as we do. Our 'little
light' burns tonight – may it light the darkness and encourage the
faithful to keep their lamp trimmed.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I then turned to
Matthew 25 to re-read the Parable of the Ten Virgins. Five were wise
and five were foolish. The wise ones remained alert while the foolish
allowed themselves to become distracted, sleepy or both. And then
suddenly, the bridegroom showed up and the wedding began in earnest
to the joy of the wise virgins and the shock and disappointment of
the foolish ones.
</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Journal entry
#2:</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>I want to be
diligent to keep my lamp trimmed with a ready supply of oil. I want
to stay on task, expecting inspection at any moment. May You lead our
prayers so that we at Refuge and the faithful here in town will
remain diligent, fervent, serving the Lord.” </i>
</span></div>
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<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
I had entered the sanctuary thirty minutes before frustrated (among
other things) that I couldn't get on-line at home and the tech
support people had been less than professional in their dealings with
me. (To be fair, I wasn't the best of customer to them.) A half hour
later, however, I was in earnest that we here would be about the
Master's business when he returns.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Journal entry
#3:</span></b></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>Yes, I'm on
my way! I'll be there soon! I'm bringing my payroll with me. I'll pay
all people in full for their life's work!” </i><span style="font-style: normal;">(Jesus
in Revelation 22:12, The Message) </span><i>Lord, may my life's work
glorify You and bring glory to You.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">
As we circled up and shared the Scriptures and impressions that we
had individually felt a common theme did emerge that could be summed
up this way: <i><u><b>small things matter and cause significant
change</b></u></i></span></div>
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<i><b>Sandy:</b></i><i><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></i> <i>“What
shall we say the kingdom of God is like, or what parable shall
we use to describe it? It is like a mustard seed, which is the
smallest of all seeds on earth. Yet when planted, it grows and
becomes the largest of all garden plants, with such big branches that
the birds can perch in its shade.” </i></span><span style="font-size: large;">(Mark 4:31-32, NIV) </span><i style="font-size: x-large;"><b>All God needs is a small mustard seed of hope and he can turn
things around.</b></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>Sara:</b></i> “...<i>let your
light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and
glorify your Father in heaven.” </i><span style="font-style: normal;">(Matthew
5:16, NIV) </span><i><b>Even a little light can brighten the
darkness. So may God help us to be his light wherever we go.</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NIV-29406"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NIV-29407"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-NIV-29408"></a>
<i><b>Randy: </b></i><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">“</span></i><i>Do
everything without grumbling or arguing, so that you may
become blameless and pure, 'children of God without fault
in a warped and crooked generation.' Then you will shine among
them like stars in the sky as you hold firmly to the word of
life.” </i><span style="font-style: normal;">(Philippians 2:14-16,
NIV). </span><i><b>We need to be light. </b></i>
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7UqjRDy2o_Sh2r81RAMHVr-rCt5m1l-8z76DJM9szOtyNrie4Q20i3hy5IIYTRZC1_ivYn_AqIodXOZNU21g_1R0E79zRQ1fB6S-Rh7FBTeiHUScM3tQgF6FE6b8gIsArf8g2Of9e1CtJ/s1600/candle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="430" data-original-width="300" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7UqjRDy2o_Sh2r81RAMHVr-rCt5m1l-8z76DJM9szOtyNrie4Q20i3hy5IIYTRZC1_ivYn_AqIodXOZNU21g_1R0E79zRQ1fB6S-Rh7FBTeiHUScM3tQgF6FE6b8gIsArf8g2Of9e1CtJ/s200/candle.jpg" width="139" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">
These weren't the only things that each of them shared. There were
more. But I think we could sense at least one thing God was saying to
us on a snowy night in Chetek: <b>Don't give up gathering together and seeking me.
Stay alert and awake. Stay on task and be diligent. Remember “even
a little light” can brighten a dark room.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“<i><b>So let it
shine, let it shine, let it shine...”</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/QCN893hzueQ/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/QCN893hzueQ?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe><br />
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<br />Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076559303396126727.post-18022560210001397962019-01-03T14:30:00.000-08:002019-01-03T14:30:24.546-08:00Some thoughts on being an "unbusy" pastor<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8GxTCKOAnMsE17POY677oQoN18oWM7L0i8LzaUX2FwbAU9xWmdxWGmPvf9NgJnUUUF8FBtDfkLCfGmHYAIWBP-HucN2iS_MrGJ2amtzecBblGHAGNYdtnhBWB7bc4Wb5BwjB3egZ3ryij/s1600/whirlwind2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="307" data-original-width="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8GxTCKOAnMsE17POY677oQoN18oWM7L0i8LzaUX2FwbAU9xWmdxWGmPvf9NgJnUUUF8FBtDfkLCfGmHYAIWBP-HucN2iS_MrGJ2amtzecBblGHAGNYdtnhBWB7bc4Wb5BwjB3egZ3ryij/s1600/whirlwind2.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">“<i>The world went and got itself in
a big damn hurry.” </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Brooks in
</span><i>The Shawshank Redemption</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Busy. </span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">That's what we all tend to feel these days. Places to go. Things to
do. People to “touch base” with. Because I'm a pastor at
Christmastime I usually get a lot of undeserved sympathy - as in “It
must be a pretty busy time for you, pastor” - when the truth is I'm
no busier than anyone else at that time of year. But the belief
persists that ministers have so much more to do every Advent than any
other time of year except Lent and Easter (to be fair, my liturgical
brothers in the Catholic and Lutheran traditions probably </span><i>are</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
a lot busier at those times of the year). Anyway I serve a
non-traditional congregation and unless I feel compelled to schedule
special events or gatherings, the members of the fellowship I serve
are only too happy to </span><i>not</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
have a reason to show up in the sanctuary other than our weekly
worship gathering on Sunday morning because, after all, they </span><i>too</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
are busy with the matters of their own lives.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Ask
someone how things are going and they'll probably reply with some
version of “fine...but we've been busy” (in fact, when is the
last time you asked someone how they were and they replied, 'Great.
I've had nothing to do for weeks on end'?). Pastors do the same thing
but frequently they use the phrase as a catch-all excuse to get out
of some function they've been invited to. “I'd like to but I'm real
busy right now” or “Wish I could but gosh I just have so much to
do.” Frankly, it's a cop-out but I have a measure of empathy for
those who use it because most pastors usually feel they </span><i>do</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
have a lot to do.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl8iejkIBn9D4miVUHagFwqHep7K3HnAw4XQO5N9vxMpjf_U-cASQDO9RiQKWP4VYu_YY5bELyNPYmpDg9jROQxWO8mgFvD2ouFrT_VRf0aFCGrloYxljh6nHvNmtKmKHQmI1BjQAaDiRp/s1600/41FWQBzGIvL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="332" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl8iejkIBn9D4miVUHagFwqHep7K3HnAw4XQO5N9vxMpjf_U-cASQDO9RiQKWP4VYu_YY5bELyNPYmpDg9jROQxWO8mgFvD2ouFrT_VRf0aFCGrloYxljh6nHvNmtKmKHQmI1BjQAaDiRp/s320/41FWQBzGIvL.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you're a pastor this is a good read</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Lately,
I've been reading Eugene H. Peterson's memoir, </span><i>The Pastor</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
and he writes about how early on in his pastoral call he struggled
with being a “busy pastor.” He had successfully pioneered a new
work, built a sanctuary and the congregation was self-sustaining but
there always seemed like there was more stuff to do. One evening
things came to a head when his five-year-old daughter asked him to
read her a story:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">I
said, “I'm sorry, Karen, but I have a meeting tonight.” </span></i></span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">This
is the twenty-seventh night in a row you have had a meeting.” She
had been keeping track, counting.</span></i></span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i>The meeting I had
to go to was with the church's elders, the ruling body of the
congregation. In the seven-minute walk to the church on the way to
the meeting I made a decision. If succeeding as a pastor meant
failing as a parent, I was already a failed pastor. I would resign
that very night. </i></span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">We met in my study. I convened the
meeting and scrapped the agenda. I told them what Karen had said
twenty minutes earlier in our living room. And I resigned. I told
them I tried not to work so hard, but that I didn't seem to be able
to do it. “And it's not just Karen. It's you too. I haven't been a
pastor to this congregation for six months. I pray in fits and
starts. I feel like I'm in a hurry all the time. When I visit or have
lunch with you, I'm not listening to you; I am thinking of ways I can
get the momentum going again. My sermons are thrown together. I don't
want to live like this, either with you or with my family.”</span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">When his leaders
asked what he wanted to do months of growing frustration with the way
things were suddenly burst out of him in a long harangue:</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>I want to be a pastor who prays.
I want to be reflective and responsive and relaxed in the presence of
God so that I can be reflective and responsive and relaxed in your
presence. I can't do that on the run. It takes a lot of time. I
started out doing that with you, but now I feel too crowded.”</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuqwH9JXyeOq8qJ4WOyDys_jDeqOWCGh8jGDLPqr4NHNFvSg7kv_FA0jHYv9XEbOJ8Tj86Y6QPyBJZk2meG57TK1rrzqkLKAlTUsh5e9ycf5M4vtK8owLPymfoMhaBXvgNmNVt7rnFiNw6/s1600/quote-i-think-pastors-are-the-worst-listeners-we-re-so-used-to-speaking-teaching-giving-answers-eugene-h-peterson-91-86-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="850" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuqwH9JXyeOq8qJ4WOyDys_jDeqOWCGh8jGDLPqr4NHNFvSg7kv_FA0jHYv9XEbOJ8Tj86Y6QPyBJZk2meG57TK1rrzqkLKAlTUsh5e9ycf5M4vtK8owLPymfoMhaBXvgNmNVt7rnFiNw6/s400/quote-i-think-pastors-are-the-worst-listeners-we-re-so-used-to-speaking-teaching-giving-answers-eugene-h-peterson-91-86-13.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>I want to be a pastor who reads
and studies. This culture in which we live squeezes all the God sense
out of us. I want to be observant and informed enough to help this
congregation understand what we are up against, the temptations of
the devil to get us thinking we can all be our own gods. This is
subtle stuff. It demands some detachment and perspective. I can't do
this just by trying harder.”</i></span></div>
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</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>I want to be a pastor who has the
time to be with you in leisurely, unhurried conversations so that I
can understand and be a companion with you as you grown in Christ –
your doubts and your difficulties, your desires and your delights. I
can't do that when I am running scared.”</i></span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>I want to be a pastor who leads
you in worship, a pastor who brings you before God in receptive
obedience, a pastor who preaches sermons that make scripture
accessible and present and alive, a pastor who is able to give you a
language and imagination that restores in you a sense of dignity as a
Christian in your homes and workplaces and gets rid of these
debilitating images of being a 'mere' layperson.”</i></span></div>
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</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>I want to have the time to read a
story to Karen.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>I want to be an unbusy pastor.”</i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
(pp. 277-78)</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I wear a lot of
hats around here – pastor, mayor, coach – so there are times of
the calendar year when my life is fuller than say it normally is but
the last thing on earth I want to be perceived as by members of our
fellowship or people from town is someone who is “busy”, as in
“too busy” to be called upon or available for prayer or a
listening ear. Since Day 1 I've had an “open door” policy in that
people don't need to have an appointment to stop in and visit me. Of
course, from time to time I am with someone else but for the most
part if my car is parked out front, the pastor (or coach or mayor) is
“in.”
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I don't want to
give the wrong impression that people are beating a path to my door
daily. They're not. Many days I am left to myself to tend to whatever
I think needs doing that day. But just yesterday afternoon while
trying to put my thoughts together for this post (which I wanted to
get on-line yesterday) I had three individuals from Refuge who at
various times throughout the day wanted to bend my ear for awhile.
How could I not oblige them? Besides that probably was my main
assignment anyway.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I realize not
everyone rolls that way. Some guys block out whole mornings – or
afternoons – for study and sermon prep and are religious in their
commitment to that. I've tried that approach but somehow it's never
worked well for me. I tend to prayer and the reading of the
Scriptures when alone and if someone stops in for a chat I put that
aside. I just figure it'll keep. I, too, want to be an “unbusy”
pastor being attentive to whatever audibles the Lord may call for me
that day. In my case, I'd like to think of myself as not busy but
being fully present at where I need to be at that moment be it
office, city hall or at practice. Granted, that's more art than
science and I don't always get that right. Life for all of us,
whether pastor or not, is all about juggling and sometimes just like
everyone else I drop a few balls.
</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8WcUqTBGKU6hO1MxTHtAcfhLqClVV93IBZR9iEGa-B8dQwNgVy1bm8tfcBET9u3JDAkVPuiZn0-SvkEodXQ2i7q8r5yc_kvlIYwHEx5mcb74TmSIq9wdZCiXIQSoqEYmGb93auxCr6mja/s1600/3251114_263955_0c6fe80e6b_p.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="658" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8WcUqTBGKU6hO1MxTHtAcfhLqClVV93IBZR9iEGa-B8dQwNgVy1bm8tfcBET9u3JDAkVPuiZn0-SvkEodXQ2i7q8r5yc_kvlIYwHEx5mcb74TmSIq9wdZCiXIQSoqEYmGb93auxCr6mja/s320/3251114_263955_0c6fe80e6b_p.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good juggling to you</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<br />Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076559303396126727.post-36531620344493573932018-12-28T13:43:00.001-08:002018-12-28T13:43:55.252-08:00Wasting the gift: A meditation on the life and death of Samson<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU8_PJ33OhqcCP3D5mw1_7DHTyVFaHrDEKcMP20jEo5_2EzKjq4jvADw9EyLk7Ju51OYIB79y2uO0wkmfN2JPDkYbXhi3wv8-o3jtMxHavKfBULGQIuiaNiwlez317IrBnHfmVCAej4daX/s1600/Eustache_Le_Sueur_-_The_Sacrifice_of_Manoah%252C_1640-1650.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="308" data-original-width="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU8_PJ33OhqcCP3D5mw1_7DHTyVFaHrDEKcMP20jEo5_2EzKjq4jvADw9EyLk7Ju51OYIB79y2uO0wkmfN2JPDkYbXhi3wv8-o3jtMxHavKfBULGQIuiaNiwlez317IrBnHfmVCAej4daX/s1600/Eustache_Le_Sueur_-_The_Sacrifice_of_Manoah%252C_1640-1650.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>...but the Angel said to her
'...you will soon conceive and have a son!...for he shall be...a
special servant of God from the time of his birth; and he will begin
to rescue Israel...'” </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Judges
13:3-5, LB</span></span></div>
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</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-TLB-22178"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-TLB-22179"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="en-TLB-22180"></a>
<i>30 “Don’t be frightened...” the angel told her, “for
God has decided to wonderfully bless you! 31 Very soon now,
you will become pregnant and have a baby boy...32 He shall be
very great and...And he shall reign over Israel forever...'” </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Luke
2:30-32, LB</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">My devotions this
year have come out of my meditative reading of the Book of Judges and
recently I was struck by the fact that of all the leaders named and
talked about in this volume, only Samson</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">has a story about
his birth. In fact, the Samson cycle is four chapters long (Judges
13-16 - pretty long as stories go in that book) and one quarter of it
alone (chapter 13) concerns how he came to be.
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIjDDBOg-m6q517lQBtA51ynpjeyFpydetAYOaqIuf4xBLv6eyhwzdx6dFLV5JuorDGXWp8OVTBzCnxyOPU4XhNG-I-nDVa87seEutA2Tbhds7VAOzpKePk3NcfXanXHM3gV2EJcwL9e0Q/s1600/www-St-Takla-org--Bible-Slides-judges-649.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="526" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIjDDBOg-m6q517lQBtA51ynpjeyFpydetAYOaqIuf4xBLv6eyhwzdx6dFLV5JuorDGXWp8OVTBzCnxyOPU4XhNG-I-nDVa87seEutA2Tbhds7VAOzpKePk3NcfXanXHM3gV2EJcwL9e0Q/s320/www-St-Takla-org--Bible-Slides-judges-649.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Samson as a baby boy?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">His parents, Manoah
and Mrs (only Delilah gets named in his story; all the other women –
including his mother – are simply referred to impersonally as in
“the woman”) live on the frontier of western Judah within
shouting distance of the hated Philistine hostiles that live in the
coastal region. Though they've been married for sometime they have no
children and to be barren in those days was a curse. And then one day
all that changes. Expectantly, while going about her housework, the
woman is met by an angel who shares with her remarkable news: she was
going to be a mother. In fact, she was already with child. Her only
son was destined for greatness (so the angel said) and therefore his
whole life he was to live the Nazirite way.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwnXeFCL9AtNko7zNBUeFrf26SrLetefyDrqWjflc5ZQ0xS7KdYkuLnI0Hy_n1MxedWirjlltjdwGVU8Vg54hKYww0cjrwB95fLwPKF8Tj5NzwUAnKnVYiiPdsSUpFvEl0QV4G3zctN1DD/s1600/dread-locks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1152" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwnXeFCL9AtNko7zNBUeFrf26SrLetefyDrqWjflc5ZQ0xS7KdYkuLnI0Hy_n1MxedWirjlltjdwGVU8Vg54hKYww0cjrwB95fLwPKF8Tj5NzwUAnKnVYiiPdsSUpFvEl0QV4G3zctN1DD/s320/dread-locks.jpg" width="230" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Did Samson have dreds?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">In those days, if
someone wanted to dedicate himself to God for a certain season of
time, he would inform the priest and this would be the terms of his
consecration: he was to drink nothing with alcohol in it, remain
ritually pure by steering clear of anything dead and refrain from
cutting his hair. It was the hair cut (or lack thereof) that would
give you away to be a Nazirite, a separated one. This kind of vow
could not be demanded. It was totally voluntary except in Samson's
case: the angel told the woman he was to be a Nazirite his entire
life, consecrated and set-apart for a special purpose. These were the
terms of his extraordinary life. In fact, later when the angel
returns and speaks to Manoah who wanted both confirmation as well as
further instructions all the angel will offer is what he commanded
the first time: he was to be a Nazirite for always. He would be God's
chosen tool to begin to deliver his people from the domination by the
Philistines.
</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9nCGzlSig0HsdaBIOr7WDT6IfM07V5bleqigCxnRSlZURUwA-2agXBbUDPT5H4y8bcrTNrjoQa_NsOh0LBF9dui65KxXEE6hZ5p150bzPoPXoEtXQNs65tZNI4oPsB7vlJXhSUzed4WW5/s1600/philistine-warrior.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="812" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9nCGzlSig0HsdaBIOr7WDT6IfM07V5bleqigCxnRSlZURUwA-2agXBbUDPT5H4y8bcrTNrjoQa_NsOh0LBF9dui65KxXEE6hZ5p150bzPoPXoEtXQNs65tZNI4oPsB7vlJXhSUzed4WW5/s320/philistine-warrior.jpg" width="253" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bad guys of Judges, Samuel and Kings</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Hundreds
of years before under Joshua's leadership, the Israelites had entered
the land and had begun the process of evicting the Canaanites. God's
instructions delivered by Moses had been very clear: </span><i style="font-size: x-large;">everyone</i><span style="font-size: large;">
must go. No one who did not embrace the leadership of Yahweh as it
was spelled out to Moses on Sinai was to remain in the land. If they
did in time, they would “turn your sons away from me to serve other
gods and the L</span><span style="font-size: large;">ord's</span><span style="font-size: large;">
anger will burn against you and quickly destroy you” (Deut 7:4).
Initially they had experienced impressive victories – Jericho, Ai,
Gibeon – but at the time of Joshua's retirement there were still
pockets of resistance of Canaanites who stubbornly remained in the
land of Promise. What the Book of Judges records is what happens to
God's people when they do not heed God's command: like a cancer the
attraction to the world – at least, the world of their Canaanite
neighbors – spreads insidiously among them and over a long period
of time they eventually become indistinguishable from them. By the
time Samson is born they've conformed so much to the worldly ways of
the Canaanites that they've nearly forgotten their unique identity as
a “people holy to the L</span><span style="font-size: large;">ord</span><span style="font-size: large;">
your God” (Deut 7:6). This stokes God's ire and if they will not
resist the Philistines and their growing cultural influence, he will.</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp6BLc5wgsS7Uej32psqysgqYWYzuAUGCcYijEU2GtUS0Qo8JzrpmFDu4WvMDbZBtvKhSO0fKhw3kRDI08JOmvw9B7PBDXpeOsfRTGX03VCif3YH8dcDmTum7aYHu2JjNYaPaxnm6X93xO/s1600/jawbone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="983" data-original-width="736" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp6BLc5wgsS7Uej32psqysgqYWYzuAUGCcYijEU2GtUS0Qo8JzrpmFDu4WvMDbZBtvKhSO0fKhw3kRDI08JOmvw9B7PBDXpeOsfRTGX03VCif3YH8dcDmTum7aYHu2JjNYaPaxnm6X93xO/s320/jawbone.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Samson's life, so
the angel said, was the first salvo of deliverance from Philistine
domination. Later Saul would contend with them rigorously and David
would do clean-up. After King David's rule, the Philistines pretty
much vanish as a foil to God's people. But during Samson's lifetime
they are a prevalent menace that no Israelite will do anything about.
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Unselfconsciously,
simply by being his impulsive, willful, selfish self, denying totally
the consecrated life he was destined to live, he becomes a wrecking
ball to Philistine hegemony. By the end of his short life, as the
Philistine body count mounts he literally pulls the house down on top
of their leaders, their priests and their god (see Judges 16). But
even as the dust settles I can't get around the fact that his life
was pretty much a train wreck that leaves me wondering what could
have been had he tried to live the set-apart life he was called to
live.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">In my
previous readings of Samson I've read the end of his story as almost
like a “thief-on-the-cross” moment – a guy who realizes too
late that he's squandered the gift God had given him but now requests
one more opportunity to glorify God before his life is over. But
that's not what the narrator tells us. Yes, his hair begins to grow
again (16:22) (did none of the guys who captured him tell their boss
what Delilah had learned about his hair?) Was nobody paying attention
when following his “performance” (could it have been feats of
strength?) he asked to be put between the pillars that “hold the
temple up”? (v. 27) But the nature of his final prayer reveals the
soul of the man. Here was no penitent thief on the cross- kind of
prayer, i.e., </span><i>“Lord, remember me when you enter your
kingdom”</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> but </span><i>“Oh,
please, give strength yet once more. God! With one avenging blow let
me be avenged on the Philistines for my two eyes!”</i> (v. 28). No
contrition here. There is nothing but a desire for revenge and with
one mighty shove he dies with those he had lived and contended with
for much of his life.
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Reading his story again during Advent I
couldn't help but hear echos of the Nativity story that we read again
at this time of year:</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Like Jesus, the angel announced to his
mother who was barren that she would give birth to a son.</span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Like Jesus, the angel shared with her
knowledge that he was being consecrated for a special purpose.</span></li>
</ul>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Like Jesus, Samson was born to two
parents living on the outskirts of wherever the action was (e.g., he was not born in Shiloh
where the Tabernacle resided).</span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Like Jesus, he was rejected by his own
people and turned over to Gentile overlords (Judges 15).</span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">And like Jesus, his delivering-work
that he was born to do was consummated in his death.</span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">But for all that Samson was nothing
like Jesus. As one man puts it aptly:</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><i> He
is one of the most narcissistic persons in all the Bible.
Self-gratification is what drives this man. Never in the Samson
narrative does he operate in anyone's interest but his own. He does
not care about God's plan or any of the divine standards of either
his place as an Israelite or his Nazirite status. He does not care
about the will of his parents or the hearts of his “lovers” with
whom he consorts. All are to be manipulated for his sake...Very
simply, Samson is not a type of Christ...Instead, if anything,
Samson is a foil to Christ. Yes, there are similarities, but the
contrasts are much greater. The similarities only heighten the
contrasts all the more. </i></span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> (NIV Application Commentary on Judges by </span></span><span style="font-weight: normal;">K.
Lawson Younger, Jr pp. 327-28)</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">How
vastly different is the Savior that we welcome at his birth every
December 25. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>"He had equal status with God
but didn’t think so much of himself that he had to cling to the
advantages of that status no matter what. Not at all. When the time
came, he set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of
a slave, became human! Having become human, he stayed
human. It was an incredibly humbling process. He didn’t claim
special privileges. Instead, he lived a selfless, obedient life and
then died a selfless, obedient death—and the worst kind of death
at that—a crucifixion." </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Philippians
2:5-8, Msg</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
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</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i> “God made him who had no sin to
be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of
God.” </i><span style="font-style: normal;">2 Corinthians 5:21, NIV</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">At the
credits roll on Samson's story the narrator adds, “He had led</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Israel twenty years.” I haven't really figured out yet what that
means. I mean for the bulk of his story he's living in a cave by
himself or going into some Philistine town for a night of fornicating
with some of their women. What we're told of him is that he's ruled
by his glands and his passions. If that's leadership it certainly
it's lowest form of it and his style is not to be envied or copied.
In movies, he's commonly portrayed like a version of The Rock, a
he-man with abs of steel. But if that's so why are the Philistines
willing to pay Delilah $15 million in today's dollars (16:5) to find
out his secret? What if he was just a guy who looked like an
otherwise normal Hebrew until his life was threatened and then the
Spirit of God would rush upon him and he would be unstoppable? The
incredible hulk but just not green or muscle-bound?</span><div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNvDBUUNmKDuXgL73c9G40uicPClppwmUv3HWrBY_duCoaPc191QnWxRYvovCE52174OJ2ZcbIv0mNWakjaCWif5hrcotV4506hhFsxVe34kIUuDBqAarQUwJoWAvnJEeSWhmeQ2DUZI-E/s1600/the+rock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="197" data-original-width="255" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNvDBUUNmKDuXgL73c9G40uicPClppwmUv3HWrBY_duCoaPc191QnWxRYvovCE52174OJ2ZcbIv0mNWakjaCWif5hrcotV4506hhFsxVe34kIUuDBqAarQUwJoWAvnJEeSWhmeQ2DUZI-E/s320/the+rock.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is how I usually imagine Samson</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBAfUUweIQsDM6egg4MWbGEFXRPFfbqup9wbZ15P36YDho8eex5G3OWk-aqLj4OhIQJLtoNGT_4fSIV2P68yl2e0opcYllDA0ItcGZ8cv9bQkW3mlNHhep_5wBDebn04pAGuOFUI3-gnLj/s1600/d562f46ec969c3258fe45bd8c5324bb9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="774" data-original-width="570" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBAfUUweIQsDM6egg4MWbGEFXRPFfbqup9wbZ15P36YDho8eex5G3OWk-aqLj4OhIQJLtoNGT_4fSIV2P68yl2e0opcYllDA0ItcGZ8cv9bQkW3mlNHhep_5wBDebn04pAGuOFUI3-gnLj/s320/d562f46ec969c3258fe45bd8c5324bb9.jpg" width="235" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">But what if he looked more like Mark Ruffalo than Dwayne Johnson?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Regardless,
his legacy is tragic. Sure, he killed a lot of Philistines before his
death but he frittered away his life and the awesome God-given
potential that he had been born with. It provokes me to </span><i style="font-size: x-large;">not</i><span style="font-size: large;">
be like him. To </span><i style="font-size: x-large;">not</i><span style="font-size: large;">
live only for myself and my own version of success as we define it
around here. To live, rather, obediently and faithfully and aspire to
follow the path that Christ himself took all the way to Golgotha, if
that is what is required of me.</span></div>
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Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076559303396126727.post-83166514848572562032018-12-15T12:14:00.000-08:002018-12-15T12:14:10.406-08:00A little Shekinah here if you don't mind: An Advent Meditation<br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">Fahoo forays, dahoo dorays<br />Welcome
Christmas! Come this way<br />Fahoo forays, dahoo dorays<br />Welcome
Christmas, Christmas Day<br /><br />Welcome, welcome, fahoo
ramus<br />Welcome, welcome, dahoo damus<br />Christmas Day is in our
grasp<br />So long as we have hands to clasp</span></i></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Welcome
Christmas” from the 1966 “How the Grinch Stole Christmas”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">A week ago Saturday night I decorated
the sanctuary and entryway of our church for Advent (yes, I'm well
aware that we are <i>already</i> well into Advent; it's how we roll
in this fellowship.) It's not usually my job (for good reason). In
fact, in the twenty-seven Advents I have served here I don't recall
ever having to do it. But this year my lone volunteer got called into
work at the last minute and on the eve of the Second Sunday in Advent
our sanctuary was still looking a lot like Thanksgiving (as had been
pointed out to me by someone on the First Sunday in Advent). So
circumstances press-ganged me, as it were, into decorating service
along with my somewhat reluctant wife and son who were there only
because of my plea for help.
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRsYgGldsPLSKdXk9gikU8CLPI5oD8qcMrjMTyEPgyiO1K5P-SdtfMXItTe_-v0hKD5oYcOLwrev7v18mXI4pFezfOR3OADInuSwh5kvtQJjX713FymuZnwH812c4NWi39v-SXU9Zb3KRE/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="528" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRsYgGldsPLSKdXk9gikU8CLPI5oD8qcMrjMTyEPgyiO1K5P-SdtfMXItTe_-v0hKD5oYcOLwrev7v18mXI4pFezfOR3OADInuSwh5kvtQJjX713FymuZnwH812c4NWi39v-SXU9Zb3KRE/s320/2.jpg" width="176" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The funny thing is the longer you leave it plugged in<br />the more the lights come on. Odd.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The congregation I serve is a small
one. Most of them are in these parts and with few exceptions our odd
assortment of wreathes and candles and Advent what-nots are cast-offs
from various people's homes or thrift sales. Last year two of our
ladies bought a brand new artificial tree for the entryway that came
with the lights already attached. This seemed to be just the ticket
for a fellowship like ours that is – er, light – on committees.
All you need do was take it out of the box and plug it in. It worked
great last year but this past Saturday night when I plugged the tree
in only the bottom third lit up. Admittedly, tidings of great joy did
not automatically roll off my tongue.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW-vIMLeQfBTKEyBrwlYe2PaoGcO3wKrKLIfrXzLw8aNn2duqBF8gNoPNCf1AqH1fPqWzPwHh-BShRH0Z-6TX7HpSWQ6uMvtxSNo19_rkGM4uNBfeGwBTpSaoQ82Y_CTr8pueEk2XpVYbd/s1600/7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="450" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW-vIMLeQfBTKEyBrwlYe2PaoGcO3wKrKLIfrXzLw8aNn2duqBF8gNoPNCf1AqH1fPqWzPwHh-BShRH0Z-6TX7HpSWQ6uMvtxSNo19_rkGM4uNBfeGwBTpSaoQ82Y_CTr8pueEk2XpVYbd/s320/7.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm not Lutheran anymore<br />but they sure know how<br />to get ready for the season</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">As I dug through the bins that hold our
collection of Christmas decorations I found myself wishing we were
more like the Lutherans. In my experience, Lutherans do the seasons
<i>right</i><span style="font-style: normal;">. The colors, the
banners, the candles, the trees, the lights. Everything matches and
nothing whatsoever appears secondhand at all. </span><i>Rich</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
is a word that comes to mind as in both the quality of the item and
the fullness of the meaning. I can still recall when I was a boy the
excitement that would bubble up within me like some latent artesian
spring when the first candle would be lit on the Advent wreath that
hung reverently above the sanctuary. </span><i>Christmas </i><span style="font-style: normal;">was
approaching. (In my early years of service here I introduced the
folks to an Advent Wreath but it didn't have the same effect them as
it did on me when I was a boy. Apparently I was being way </span><i>too</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
Lutheran for a pastor of a Pentecostal church.) </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">So there I was
grumbling beneath my breath as I hung wreaths and swags and Linda set
up the donated nativity set in the sanctuary. The YouTube channel I
had chosen to stream Christmas music kept cutting out and buffering
interminably. Linda had a set of her own complaints a few of which
she shared with me. And Charlie just wondered when we could go home.
Our little decorating conclave was anything but festive.
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">I've
been reading Eugene H. Peterson's memoir – </span><i>The Pastor</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
– of late. In the middle of my foul reverie of how drab our
decorations are and how spotted and faded the carpet in our sanctuary
is, I thought of a story his friend, Paul, a Jewish rabbi, had once
shared with him. In his early days of ministry, Peterson was planting
a church in the basement of his home in suburban Baltimore. It was a
church that “didn't look like a church” (one of his teens
lovingly referred to it as 'Catacomb Presbyterian'). A few of his
parishoners had left the fledgling congregation over what they
thought a church should look like. As he reflected on their exit with
his rabbi-friend, Paul told a story about the Shekinah glory of God:</span></span></div>
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</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">At the
end of the Babylonian captivity, as the exiles returned to Israel,
they began to rebuild the Temple. To us, a church is a holy place but
you can always go to another church if you move or you don't like the
one you're at. For them, however, the Temple was </span><i>the</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
house where God resided and the centerpiece of their nation. There
was no other place to worship God. But this Second Temple that they
had built was but a shadow of the one Solomon had constructed
centuries before. So when it was at last dedicated the response of
the old ones in their company – the ones who had once worshiped at
Solomon's Temple decades before - was revealing.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i>When the first
people arrived they took one look at the restored temple and wept at
what they saw. The Solomonic temple that for five hundred years had
provided a glorious centering for their life as a people of God had
been replaced by what looked to them like a tarpaper shack. The
squalid replacement broke their hearts, and they wept. As they wept,
a dazzling, light-resplendent presence descended, the Shekinah –God's
personal presence – and filled that humble, modest, makeshift,
sorry excuse for a temple with glory. They lifted their arms in
praise. They were truly home. God was truly present. The Shekinah
faded out. The glory stayed. </i></span>
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">People
like you and me,” Paul continued, “need that Shekinah story. And
our congregations need it.</span></i></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
</span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Most
of what we do in getting our congregations going doesn't look
anything like what people expect it to.” </span></span></i></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">(Paul's
congregation was a fledgling synagogue worshipping in a three-car
garage that didn't look at all like a synagogue.)</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">It's
not an excuse to not take pride in God's sanctuary. I mean if we go
all out in lovingly decorating our own homes for the season we should
want God's house to look festively arrayed as well. But even if our
decorations fall short of inspiring what matters most, when all is
said and done, is the presence of God felt and experienced as we
weekly gather together like the robbed Whos of Whoville to worship
and welcome “heart to heart and hand in hand.” That's the kind of
glory that remains long after the Advent season is past and our partially lit Christmas tree is put away. I still
hope for the day that we can replace the carpet in the sanctuary and
upgrade our facility a notch or two. But in the meantime I'll settle
for some of that Shekinah to continue to transform our fellowship
into something that truly honors the God we love and worship and
comes near to us at Christmas.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
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<br />Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076559303396126727.post-75431477304740521242018-12-08T14:08:00.000-08:002018-12-08T14:12:21.036-08:00 Temerario amor de Dios<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI7ApayZDxTR85mskoSPH5iYE8hUgh8b2MSnIyK2ilVCN97IllIgmKTHXOE9cY0Vs7ZnluIaGCgQ49rxCpB20x5z5KOJfh0b3tDJcG7wNj_kdxFF6PS2AbJ4RW4IEof_nHcuFFZWRKYZVK/s1600/The+guys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI7ApayZDxTR85mskoSPH5iYE8hUgh8b2MSnIyK2ilVCN97IllIgmKTHXOE9cY0Vs7ZnluIaGCgQ49rxCpB20x5z5KOJfh0b3tDJcG7wNj_kdxFF6PS2AbJ4RW4IEof_nHcuFFZWRKYZVK/s320/The+guys.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The day I met my first Ticos</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/1/null" name="en-NIV-3316"></a>“‘<i>When
a foreigner resides among you in your land, do not mistreat them. The
foreigner residing among you must be treated as your
native-born. Love them as yourself, for you were
foreigners in Egypt. I am the Lord your God.”
</i><span style="font-style: normal;">Leviticus 19:33-34, NIV</span><i>
</i>
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Since April there
have been 30-some Costa Ricans living in our small community
primarily made up of folk of European descent. They are seasonal
workers at ABC Truss who over the next few weeks will be returning to
their families and their native country. This past Sunday we threw
them a farewell party to thank them for living and working in our
small town.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmcQEIoHKkhd3ICBtPvWqex-d4iCYCSdva6K9dVHwZNAtkhUqXJyUwGQpcQJ2-5I_QOOxjoTU57l9TDCoULgXYeWV4g7E9-BWGW1Nb9gN_lq2CUEwokmDfdzl1zkAOPTCyjFbd9VEjHK7H/s1600/Belizeans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmcQEIoHKkhd3ICBtPvWqex-d4iCYCSdva6K9dVHwZNAtkhUqXJyUwGQpcQJ2-5I_QOOxjoTU57l9TDCoULgXYeWV4g7E9-BWGW1Nb9gN_lq2CUEwokmDfdzl1zkAOPTCyjFbd9VEjHK7H/s320/Belizeans.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barbecue & gathering with <br />
our Belizean neighbors in 2017 </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">This is not the
first time men from Central America have lived among us. In late
2015, ABC hired about ten men from Belize as part of a trial run. It
worked out so well that by the following year and through 2017
approximately 30 Belizeans lived and worked among us. Our fellowship
and Faith Baptist connected well with these guys and overall they
endeared themselves to us and their coworkers at ABC. By and large
they were bi-lingual speaking what they jokingly referred to as
“Spanglish”, a sort of pigeon dialect of English and Spanish.
Four or five of the guys were regulars at Refuge and in late
December/early January of 2016-17, thirteen of us from here traveled
to Belize to visit them and their families in their homeland.
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0MDjmCEr3K6tofGX2JOSlYcHB-K8FMWxbLY4vnFe8LilbA5VgvFtTxMmZxitMkJ5UOaKizl76rr5xX19rXkJjxeLDpbq_MTrOC2p2ZyXMe3PjGqjS469mc4eMxyDH96C0znhaGyFatGMi/s1600/Belizeans+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0MDjmCEr3K6tofGX2JOSlYcHB-K8FMWxbLY4vnFe8LilbA5VgvFtTxMmZxitMkJ5UOaKizl76rr5xX19rXkJjxeLDpbq_MTrOC2p2ZyXMe3PjGqjS469mc4eMxyDH96C0znhaGyFatGMi/s320/Belizeans+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We miss our Belizean friends</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">At the beginning of
this year, our government canceled the labor agreement we had with
the Belizean government over their record on human trafficking. So
ABC contracted with another labor pool, this one out of Costa Rica.
But unlike their Belizean forbears, these guys are mostly
Spanish-speaking men who may understand some English but speak very
little of it themselves. Admittedly, getting to know them has been
more problematic as so many of us – like so many Americans in rural
areas – are pretty much fluent in only one tongue. The adjustment
at the plant I am told by both sides was even more challenging.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I met Elisardo in
April when he and four of the other guys were biking down our street.
I had just been informed that ABC's new guys were in town and with
one look I knew these must be some of them. I had just pulled into my
driveway so I hopped out of my van and walked into the street to
introduce myself as they passed our home. We made acquaintances, I
learned where they were staying, I oriented them how to get to the
VFW tank (which they wanted to pose in front of) and before they took
off I invited them to come to our worship gathering on Sunday (as
well as directing them to where St. Boniface was as many of them are
Catholic.) Elisardo and another one of the “Ticos” (as they
prefer to refer to themselves) showed up and has been a part of us
ever since. A former body guard and a lover of Jesus he very quickly
fit in with us thanks to Mike.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWaoacwKIYX3G0UqHgjrUAiKdoxYIk1yuWoyauYP_8aZSZ8otz6_r97DL9OEOSwWV8jR0hSVVnFPFuQlg9VtfJ0Xvh1ZRHHqKDgV2CqcIoTwf85yHlu3C7w-MWCRsUxAjNyc9M52o-rsMQ/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWaoacwKIYX3G0UqHgjrUAiKdoxYIk1yuWoyauYP_8aZSZ8otz6_r97DL9OEOSwWV8jR0hSVVnFPFuQlg9VtfJ0Xvh1ZRHHqKDgV2CqcIoTwf85yHlu3C7w-MWCRsUxAjNyc9M52o-rsMQ/s320/1.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mike & Eli have made a good ministry duo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9-q0dQPhWboV72ZSm4GUAzyUACbrNlRCRR8vKdx0R3UTCa1-1OiVDsUXnE-FsDi7MGUI2j8je1U6lxD07yJC-4xBkSQ3X-YP_kyNaUmGxocoKfVNMg4qb2qEC0j2LvwFpWCTtdcTPs_L_/s1600/6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9-q0dQPhWboV72ZSm4GUAzyUACbrNlRCRR8vKdx0R3UTCa1-1OiVDsUXnE-FsDi7MGUI2j8je1U6lxD07yJC-4xBkSQ3X-YP_kyNaUmGxocoKfVNMg4qb2qEC0j2LvwFpWCTtdcTPs_L_/s320/6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Mike, while one of
us, was born in Peru but mostly grew up in Chicago. He is fairly
fluent in Spanish (in fact, compared to the rest of us he is our
resident expert.) He and Eli became fast friends and I think because
he saw the need Mike offered to lead a bilingual worship set once a
month if only for our favorite Tico's benefit if for nothing else.
What's more he and Randy, one of our elders, <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLnvZTtB7fH7IO0u3SvEIlT__jrg0KW-u_PhUz3uWIbWLvMuJ16VPuFH055QoQL21IFGwLJ18qHmzSgoUeMU_kc8ZU_5KSniVX1a0xKuPDwCeAU6_j3c7wRopr1r9h8kWqvvuLrcanfjBJ/s1600/ESL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="960" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLnvZTtB7fH7IO0u3SvEIlT__jrg0KW-u_PhUz3uWIbWLvMuJ16VPuFH055QoQL21IFGwLJ18qHmzSgoUeMU_kc8ZU_5KSniVX1a0xKuPDwCeAU6_j3c7wRopr1r9h8kWqvvuLrcanfjBJ/s400/ESL.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barb at work with the ESL class</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
came up with the idea of
beginning an ESL class to help Eli and his fellow Ticos get oriented
to Chetek and the surrounding area. When they brought their idea to
me I thought of Barb, a recently retired ESL teacher and former
missionary to Chile who lived a few blocks down the street. As it
happened, I ran into her and husband at the craft fair during Liberty
Fest and pitched her the idea. On the spot she offered to help. For
the rest of the summer and into the fall she led the class as well as
oversaw the volunteers from Refuge and elsewhere who offered to
assist her.
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Interest in the
class faded primarily because this past fall the guys were working
long hours and with only one day off in seven it was challenging for
them to commit to bettering themselves while also needing to get
their laundry and shopping done. Beyond waving at them whenever they
passed our home or church and calling out 'Buenos dias' or 'Buenos
tardes', it was the extent of my connection with most of them for the
last few months.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMzEal08DA07wGkddGyIG6YHnb6c_xhtDZc-3yw51A18gNqMJPHF1-nn214_hgyYPeoqTpoeXsh9oXJuGMV4YRzQR4KHwBSdYB0ERv0oUldTUhEH4HrmlSDtILhNxbVPcFPMt9UquA5FrT/s1600/21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMzEal08DA07wGkddGyIG6YHnb6c_xhtDZc-3yw51A18gNqMJPHF1-nn214_hgyYPeoqTpoeXsh9oXJuGMV4YRzQR4KHwBSdYB0ERv0oUldTUhEH4HrmlSDtILhNxbVPcFPMt9UquA5FrT/s320/21.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mike & Ronda and their Tico friends at Thanksgiving</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">My idea of this
farewell gathering was a simple one – it would involve a worship
gathering with singing, preaching and prayer in Spanish and English
followed by an authentic Costa Rican meal. We'd invite all the guys.
Mike would lead worship and be my translator as well. We'd pray over
them and then send them out with a blessing. End of story – or so I
thought.</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwSwNI_QXoUv8xc_IBeHK8aBtmw8yQnx0rW0x-weKWbmm5FPp0gPOF6Vm9jKl_cdeDBz8ycB-uXw814_GnCo8fpq_92Ym0HOu3_sM9piQwM1iCOLe4foAmph_dBjTx1gJvpyWJtuNYmWdQ/s1600/25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwSwNI_QXoUv8xc_IBeHK8aBtmw8yQnx0rW0x-weKWbmm5FPp0gPOF6Vm9jKl_cdeDBz8ycB-uXw814_GnCo8fpq_92Ym0HOu3_sM9piQwM1iCOLe4foAmph_dBjTx1gJvpyWJtuNYmWdQ/s320/25.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kale opening up the gathering</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">And then Mike
informed me that he would be out of town on the Sunday of our
<i>despedida</i> ('farewell' in Spanish) and in one fell swoop our
Costa Rican soiree was in a tailspin. I began sending out emails and
making phone calls to various pastors in our area – in Rice Lake,
in Chetek, in Cumberland, in Ridgeland – who had involvement in one
way or another in connecting with the approximately 1,400
Spanish-speaking people in our county and struck out every time. I
was in need of a translator and bi-lingual worship leader and none
seemed to had. Even Barb the ESL teacher was unavailable to be with
us on that Sunday. In desperation I reached out to a sister church in
the Twin Cities whom I knew to be pastored by a bi-lingual man and,
as it happened, caught him just as he was about to board a plane to
Argentina. He quickly placed a call to his sister who agreed to come
– if it didn't snow but the long-term forecast called for snow.
Despite my best efforts to organize it, this gathering seemed to be
awfully resistant to coalescing.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbeU2ZYI4AS2SR6Rdx-X2S7jjRxU47qDbUqxSH1jylwi4okr699X21_ZzvD11I8t9JWFbyo3m6WyS6VGDyDDK7D8uM4TMjyGew5qZT5qlqaKFytyha0VAcNS_SwfuyQbyeNU7Cu-803ami/s1600/11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbeU2ZYI4AS2SR6Rdx-X2S7jjRxU47qDbUqxSH1jylwi4okr699X21_ZzvD11I8t9JWFbyo3m6WyS6VGDyDDK7D8uM4TMjyGew5qZT5qlqaKFytyha0VAcNS_SwfuyQbyeNU7Cu-803ami/s400/11.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They made it look easy</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">While originally
the plan had been for the meal to be pot-luck, the week before the
farewell Monica, the woman I had asked to head up the meal called and
informed me that she and fellow-chef, Joy, had conferred and thought
it would be a whole lot simpler if they could cook the meal. All they
needed was $300 for ingredients. Their logic was totally
understandable (I mean, rice and beans is not a staple meal around
here) but cash flow at our fellowship was definitely a challenge. All
we could do is put it out there and trust that the money for the meal
would come in.
</span></div>
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</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Meanwhile, because
of a post I had placed on Facebook, Colleen, a woman I've known since
she was a teen and married to a Venezuelan living in neighboring
Cameron up the road from us, offered to translate and if necessary
help lead Spanish worship on that Sunday. At the same time, a guy
named Zabdiel (or simply Z for short) from Red Cedar, while
apologizing for not being able to come himself, said he would send
his parents instead. Kale, one of our worship leaders, let me know
that he could lead at least one song in Spanish. At the same time,
the leaders of an intrachurch discipleship class (aka the
Discipleship Training Class) held this year at Faith Baptist had the
idea of sending their students and staff to mingle with the guys
during the meal and a fellowship time to follow. I said 'yes' to
everyone (beggars can't be choosers after all) yet lacked the clarity
on what the morning and afternoon would exactly look like. The only
thing I was certain of was that God loves the foreigner living among
us and wants us to bless them and so one way or another, by hook or
by crook, this gathering was going to happen. These men, with God's
help, would be blessed.</span></div>
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</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Between the hat
being passed at Refuge and at Faith Bapitst the Sunday before, the
$300 needed was collected. I got a list of all names of the Ticos
from the Operations Manager at ABC as well as where they all lived
and on the Wednesday before hand delivered 33 invitations. But on the
Saturday night before the gathering it snowed three inches and as
promised my worship leader from the Cities called and cancelled. We'd
have a service and a meal but at the moment my 'despidida'-idea
seemed to be just a bunch of random pieces of fabric lying together
in a heap on the floor.</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">But here's what
happened and for any person accustomed to being a part of the Lord's
work, none of what happened is probably a bit surprising. Because out
of these assorted pieces of cloth – some selected songs in Spanish
from a back-up worship leader, a Spanish couple whom I met fifteen
minutes before the gathering began, and some remaining ambivalence on
my part on just how the service should flow - the Lord wove together
a beautiful quilt of blessing.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjocw4JxVyE0ZcHNqnCbR0hMP-DjssT2_3EccIVEI9SqcBnoL5AkGSaMBt29RDNrap_eevLWdE6HSR_kb9xnmfPPe34RJSi2dmZZStMXxp0YUSB30iHDpKE7neqkwDKtct9L41GTm8FY4dZ/s1600/9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="642" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjocw4JxVyE0ZcHNqnCbR0hMP-DjssT2_3EccIVEI9SqcBnoL5AkGSaMBt29RDNrap_eevLWdE6HSR_kb9xnmfPPe34RJSi2dmZZStMXxp0YUSB30iHDpKE7neqkwDKtct9L41GTm8FY4dZ/s320/9.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvoi6Tc_HGx2JCRaOILeBipeoclLyeEzS0Rg-gSXWZbMlpZLzx760gKpGg9cGls6MGrgRx9Gp75S8qNcNXOEwFrztfn-3QP6w2afXmhn0M7Hn-NVmGiQ7i2YSjUTNxDCO_TBIZk249ZiKJ/s1600/8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvoi6Tc_HGx2JCRaOILeBipeoclLyeEzS0Rg-gSXWZbMlpZLzx760gKpGg9cGls6MGrgRx9Gp75S8qNcNXOEwFrztfn-3QP6w2afXmhn0M7Hn-NVmGiQ7i2YSjUTNxDCO_TBIZk249ZiKJ/s320/8.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij0CMGkre0v6iS27SJWvmGlf7ZGIMD-VAca5-vgX-NG4lYE_e4axZ3TaKu-dIOy3spR2zEdjespcSXaVgyRy72ZJpn8XVIxk_F4iUKi4_Y11vOprZ7nofgyQuMFBIAKmz0g9ol9KkymrXQ/s1600/14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij0CMGkre0v6iS27SJWvmGlf7ZGIMD-VAca5-vgX-NG4lYE_e4axZ3TaKu-dIOy3spR2zEdjespcSXaVgyRy72ZJpn8XVIxk_F4iUKi4_Y11vOprZ7nofgyQuMFBIAKmz0g9ol9KkymrXQ/s320/14.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The despedida
opened with a couple of songs in English led by Kale followed by your
standard meet-and-greet time as well as offering and announcements. I
then welcomed Colleen, our translator, to join Kale on the platform
and together they led three songs bilingually with Kale leading in
English and Colleen in Spanish. Though they had just met a few
minutes before the gathering they made it look like they did this
every week. I then introduced France (pronounced Francee), Z's
mother, who proceeded to share a 10-minute exhortation from John 10
in Spanish about Christ coming to give us abundant life – now and
eternally. She clearly had done this sort of thing before. I then
shared some thoughts pertinent to all of us from Leviticus 19 as well
as a brief exhortation from Luke 15. Just as they are anxious to get
home to their families in Costa Rica and their loved ones there are
eager for their return so Father God is longing to see any of us who
may be away from His family. All of this I had to do in bite size
sentences, of course, so Colleen could translate for me.
</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2xyRMbGboY6NNnlIBqh24MPyxPGbns46SQ-Uv6FC2Au6SI9q1jaii_NKSiPdAlAPxpEbHYjJDkAljFf0YOgFw03G7qMHcperWUtCMesf1J_Fa7tZ3KTYWuWFdB-psz4GRYuHmD7K6cebn/s1600/10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2xyRMbGboY6NNnlIBqh24MPyxPGbns46SQ-Uv6FC2Au6SI9q1jaii_NKSiPdAlAPxpEbHYjJDkAljFf0YOgFw03G7qMHcperWUtCMesf1J_Fa7tZ3KTYWuWFdB-psz4GRYuHmD7K6cebn/s320/10.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barb shares some parting words</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">During my sharing
who should enter the sanctuary but Barb, our ESL teacher, who had
managed to get off early from her job to be with us. So even though
she's Presbyterian on the spot Pentecostal-like I asked her to come
and share a greeting with the guys. She did wishing them a safe
journey home as well as a heart-felt relationship with Jesus Christ.
I then asked Elisardo if he would care to share anything and he was
only too happy to do so thanking all of us and Barb for making them
feel so welcome. As we proceeded into communion after some
instructions Kale surprised us all by singing Cory Asbury's Reckless
Love in what seemed to all of us fluent Spanish (he told me
afterwards he had practiced all week long). As we were about to close
the gathering, Oscar, one of the Ticos, asked if he could share. In
so many words, this is what he said: “You have a wonderful family
here. To us, your community is a little bit of heaven and if any of
you should find your way to Costa Rica we want you to know you have a
welcome there.” I then prayed over the men for traveling mercies
home and closed the service.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnw-53Rp6v0ebi9PzugTIfQqIjeZWQ7rsG2ndSjKjUmGT6UprU-eQF5-bn6mcTWGY7aqn-tmTEePoupzCTdrOPN2uQwuQNEkxIfqan-JGmlgbUCScC_G1uRoPYGTopuQCoIeigXuEJbXQ-/s1600/13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnw-53Rp6v0ebi9PzugTIfQqIjeZWQ7rsG2ndSjKjUmGT6UprU-eQF5-bn6mcTWGY7aqn-tmTEePoupzCTdrOPN2uQwuQNEkxIfqan-JGmlgbUCScC_G1uRoPYGTopuQCoIeigXuEJbXQ-/s400/13.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg5H-gCL7W34OKDrP56rNa2yrQhCPtyhYu5GsHbLJwiUxNAiEy5erRbHIZh2a0SRaifDIQ93VUjVOwSQxS17ZQldXsuzTQGUGLfjchPb50x0T64pKqBYocY59Bwdtp8n-I-Tb3_2Wrz8Hp/s1600/15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg5H-gCL7W34OKDrP56rNa2yrQhCPtyhYu5GsHbLJwiUxNAiEy5erRbHIZh2a0SRaifDIQ93VUjVOwSQxS17ZQldXsuzTQGUGLfjchPb50x0T64pKqBYocY59Bwdtp8n-I-Tb3_2Wrz8Hp/s320/15.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbR1mD0pUlYwkSxi2_RlwSDuzK5q46AMtGe4g-sGv3tEgvZhupFzSW_7kMajLXXF3wrC67v8dozvU7bL2nvg4BK3qj9vmTuMDoegLts6IGVa8bIa-DEmXrTOBKXLMLuKk5u5c4uEJXDETa/s1600/16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="642" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbR1mD0pUlYwkSxi2_RlwSDuzK5q46AMtGe4g-sGv3tEgvZhupFzSW_7kMajLXXF3wrC67v8dozvU7bL2nvg4BK3qj9vmTuMDoegLts6IGVa8bIa-DEmXrTOBKXLMLuKk5u5c4uEJXDETa/s320/16.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Instructing
the guys that they were to lead the way, they proceeded downstairs to
the fellowship hall where Monica and Joy had prepared a meal of a</span><span style="font-size: large;">rroz
con pollo (chicken and rice), gallo pinto (beans and rice),
ceviche(seafood dip), arroz con leche(rice pudding), and tres leches
(three milk cake). We were packed to the gills and soon our stomachs
would be the same in the Jesus-style of at the very least twelve
baskets of left-overs. After dinner, the guys were invited back up
into the sanctuary and at this point the DTC-ers took over. For the
next hour or so they split the guys and their students up randomly
and played a variety of “minute-to-win-it” games that everyone
seemed to enjoy. Fortunately, there were two gringos in that group
that were fluent in Spanish to translate.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOrgbjQpORPHkeypDpo6boh0bfqkUR1zrGsamfcqUMsORBkHr04OUPfeaFfrzq_WStCN0c_pGapJLqtBuKCgWRuf8ikv1zcE6Krz1NfiIxs49QQWzE8vQyuwdwRy0l68yDvyQ-snw7d0Qx/s1600/17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOrgbjQpORPHkeypDpo6boh0bfqkUR1zrGsamfcqUMsORBkHr04OUPfeaFfrzq_WStCN0c_pGapJLqtBuKCgWRuf8ikv1zcE6Krz1NfiIxs49QQWzE8vQyuwdwRy0l68yDvyQ-snw7d0Qx/s320/17.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">The DTC folks had made up gift bags for
each of the guys with their name on it. Inside there were home made
cookies, bars and treats, a homemade bookmark with their name and
Scripture on it and a tabbed Spanish Bible, marking important
salvation verses. At the close, Brian, a high school teacher in Eau
Claire, shared his faith story with the guys and explained, via the
translators, how the tabbed Bible worked. When he was done and there
seemed nothing more to say, Sarah, a twenty-something gal suggested
they call the guys up and let all of them pray over them. They came
forward and circled up and allowed the gringos to pray prayers of
blessing upon them.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFCy9vYzXixI5iGIATzfd-7V9XKiPrFQ6zqlTpEsUOMt-mx0LTqGVrnFIn1vjYnLwQdWsnXy4C27lwzBRgKQaQ6LqSpY8Di3q3sY52pAR-VvUkBhyYrVlrfi_xIfmjNv94FO6kHL49byRF/s1600/20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFCy9vYzXixI5iGIATzfd-7V9XKiPrFQ6zqlTpEsUOMt-mx0LTqGVrnFIn1vjYnLwQdWsnXy4C27lwzBRgKQaQ6LqSpY8Di3q3sY52pAR-VvUkBhyYrVlrfi_xIfmjNv94FO6kHL49byRF/s400/20.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">It was, all in all, a great day and the
eighteen or so Ticos who had come to our despedida seemed sincerely
touched by the generosity they had experienced. Many of them made a
point of coming to me to thank me for inviting them to the gathering.
I was simply grateful that by all of us pooling our efforts together
the nation of Costa Rica on that Sunday had been blessed by the
gringos of the little northern 'burb of Chetek, Wisconsin and
surrounding area. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXoeZQUW7PG6FddnDAUoiY4i661QAmRqpuQudjiBrAC46l9lerVbghPp2gX0wDwOYsBk89moKGpfT3HtEcoeeulY0Hd2qoYoemktM-fUwLMCz-_ant2X_6vxLaaQYIYEVyyqCvuCLxvZI1/s1600/19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXoeZQUW7PG6FddnDAUoiY4i661QAmRqpuQudjiBrAC46l9lerVbghPp2gX0wDwOYsBk89moKGpfT3HtEcoeeulY0Hd2qoYoemktM-fUwLMCz-_ant2X_6vxLaaQYIYEVyyqCvuCLxvZI1/s320/19.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oscar & me</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Granted it was just a handful of us and a handful
of them but it's through gatherings such as these that we are
reminded that we have far more in common than our language
differences would suggest. In a day where there's a lot of angry
rhetoric and harangues in the air on building or not building a wall
and stopping or not stopping waves of caravans, disciples of Jesus
need to be about building bridges so that all may experience the
Father's warm welcome to all of us whether we hail from north or south of the border.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMQAVTZshdvKBnLWqRpcCuspak3TOp5cgzfSFpRfAOF8q4vL_LSQAZiatmjKkyuEe4RtMter5KGp2wlF3K1sKDs8i5IrIAdISxhU_9Eb1ID6CsVXF1YFBifUqx3L5-a7OuqhGMiXjrii5O/s1600/22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMQAVTZshdvKBnLWqRpcCuspak3TOp5cgzfSFpRfAOF8q4vL_LSQAZiatmjKkyuEe4RtMter5KGp2wlF3K1sKDs8i5IrIAdISxhU_9Eb1ID6CsVXF1YFBifUqx3L5-a7OuqhGMiXjrii5O/s640/22.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Experiencing a snow storm and walking out on the water<br />
was pretty cool for Elisardo and the guys</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<br />Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076559303396126727.post-76583729242589549142018-11-19T17:18:00.000-08:002018-11-19T18:03:18.955-08:00Pastor, Mayor, Coach and some thoughts on unanswered prayer<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjozGJq_ZuJUT-qQYmuHqTj7oeC0A2zCoy2R9g7FxICgbh_buNlzKvPfiZJ6d_DoLL0HUbT9T5SzFxZfwPkHTvBN9ELmMR4cqmH-dn35L4nSM9hoW4_CkRELZmoWQjLDtbEtd5iSgvvM9fx/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="960" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjozGJq_ZuJUT-qQYmuHqTj7oeC0A2zCoy2R9g7FxICgbh_buNlzKvPfiZJ6d_DoLL0HUbT9T5SzFxZfwPkHTvBN9ELmMR4cqmH-dn35L4nSM9hoW4_CkRELZmoWQjLDtbEtd5iSgvvM9fx/s320/1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>Be cheerful no matter what; pray
all the time; thank God no matter what happens. This is the way God
wants you who belong to Christ Jesus to live.” </i><span style="font-style: normal;">1
Thessalonians 5:16-18, The Message</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">At this time of
year it's appropriate to give thanks for God's goodness in our lives.
I'll echo and 'amen' what the psalmist says repeatedly in Scripture:</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i><b>Give thanks to
the Lord, for he is good;</b></i></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>his love endures
forever” </b></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">(Psalm
107:1)</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Beyond
the usual suspects of gratitude for my wife, my children, and the
congregation I have served for over 27 years now, this year I'll add
this one: gratitude for all my prayers that have </span></span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">not</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
been answered over the decades of my service here.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
We come from what would go as a “big” church around here – over
a thousand people per Sunday. And while our pastor never taught this
as a young man attending Bible college assumptions subtly grew within
me; namely, that if you work hard and pray harder and remain faithful
in time your church will be “big” too. When I landed here in 1991
fresh off the boat, as it were, assuming the leadership of a small
congregation of approximately 60 people, I consciously set my sights
on growing this church. I was eager to see my dreams realized. I
prayed fervently that God would bless my every message and effort so
that people would flock to this place and join what in time would
certainly be a “great” church in the north woods of Wisconsin. I
prayed that our worship would be “anointed” and the ministry
“powerful and effective”. And of course, like every good
evangelical pastor I prayed for people to be won for Christ and made
disciples of Jesus.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbcMHqZVvT7veB4Fv7_4sV_nt2sqJTtnECtHwg3CLIGmqCNjJlF1-eUAAhGaTgsSiZehsheyY1rT3ieMCrWBUy8vJM4AZU1yhuw2ur1IBAyaiN4i6CGZU-QDto7tYEIvykX1TVyZB4kAql/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="618" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbcMHqZVvT7veB4Fv7_4sV_nt2sqJTtnECtHwg3CLIGmqCNjJlF1-eUAAhGaTgsSiZehsheyY1rT3ieMCrWBUy8vJM4AZU1yhuw2ur1IBAyaiN4i6CGZU-QDto7tYEIvykX1TVyZB4kAql/s400/3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what I thought I wanted</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Twenty-seven years and a couple of months later, we're still about
the same size as we have always been. In fact, because I have kept
attendance since October 6, 1991 (my first official Sunday as pastor)
I can say with great authority that over two and a half decades of
ministry our average weekly attendance has ebbed and flowed between
40 and 60 with 75 folks on the rolls at any given time. Kids have
grown up and left for school only to return for Christmas and Easter
celebrations. Families have moved away or found another faith family
to be a better fit for them. A few have graduated to the far better
congregation of heaven. At the same time, babies have been born to
those who were kids when we first arrived and others have been added
to our ranks by transferring from another congregation or being born
into the family of God. Over the years we have been fairly fortunate
in the variety of worship leaders who have served here. And while
they may not have what it takes to make the varsity squad of your
run-of-the-mill mega church, they're pretty good for around here. But
the truth is despite all our best efforts to grow the church, it has
stubbornly remained the same numeric size through the past two and a
half decades. In fact, whenever our average attendance begins to rise
I emotionally prepare myself for an exit of a key individual or
family because history has tended to repeat itself and they
frequently do.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKUXTmmL3IOURIOhryi3yrCylE0HCaO4sPduOuGZLh5JO7D4GQ0qpgywQ-gFCyd2kTXVS5tPGthYZwP7oxKGvC-HpzoWmtupiYrhX9OzGIplWQHf7H73Sf1qwG8QB9YbSHJFRF1PT4zbpj/s1600/14.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKUXTmmL3IOURIOhryi3yrCylE0HCaO4sPduOuGZLh5JO7D4GQ0qpgywQ-gFCyd2kTXVS5tPGthYZwP7oxKGvC-HpzoWmtupiYrhX9OzGIplWQHf7H73Sf1qwG8QB9YbSHJFRF1PT4zbpj/s400/14.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what it is</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">But
here's the thing: where I may have once (</span><i style="font-size: x-large;">okay,
more than once</i><span style="font-size: large;">)
griped about God's seeming indifference to reward my best efforts and
my most fervent prayers, at this time of year I find myself thankful.
Why? Because one of the unforeseen benefits of serving a congregation
the size it consistently remains is I've been able to outsource
myself to a lot of other arenas and find great joy in doing so.
Thirteen years ago, Chetek-Weyerhaeuser High School was in need of a
Cross Country coach. Despite having no prior coaching experience, I
applied. They passed on me but two years later when their new guy
didn't pan out, they hired me. For the past 11 seasons I've been
their Cross coach. Three of those seasons I had the blessing of
coaching my son. Meanwhile, a lot of our athletes have become some of
my kids whom I continue to connect with long after their high school
running days have been in their rear view mirror.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxcaljGLEHj9lEZ709bCKtvxUubCom9RMwpHQLwkdBDFPHCK9KAQwoJa8Hbhwabip2p0htGD8GKB-qL5hAgIxkHkaVz5M9cOwrkNzBYVJatz6SY3ha7Xyz5XS6YRqr59C6UdkXhLdp6tD8/s1600/Team.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1181" data-original-width="1600" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxcaljGLEHj9lEZ709bCKtvxUubCom9RMwpHQLwkdBDFPHCK9KAQwoJa8Hbhwabip2p0htGD8GKB-qL5hAgIxkHkaVz5M9cOwrkNzBYVJatz6SY3ha7Xyz5XS6YRqr59C6UdkXhLdp6tD8/s400/Team.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love these kids</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUzuNvmOLFN5tlUvfwtpiE9GmNqEm1Mg_Nn04bRMXN8aUPvfDp6Qorph8pcszRgxAfCWsZsiXxacFlsGlIQulp90Uz5FJHE6gn6Q8yQWVHLkGvbOMUyfidmnS5_wR-3oTalbPzpWNaIZaE/s1600/20.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUzuNvmOLFN5tlUvfwtpiE9GmNqEm1Mg_Nn04bRMXN8aUPvfDp6Qorph8pcszRgxAfCWsZsiXxacFlsGlIQulp90Uz5FJHE6gn6Q8yQWVHLkGvbOMUyfidmnS5_wR-3oTalbPzpWNaIZaE/s320/20.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MS-ers are a lot of fun</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Two years later three of the four middle school track coaches decided
to do something else with their spring. I ran into the head coach at
a school assembly one day and she asked if I would like to become one
of her assistants. I literally thought about it for about 30 seconds
and then said, 'Sure' and just like that I have staffed the track
program at the middle school for the past eight seasons (it also
allows me to scout and recruit for our high school Cross program in
the fall).</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
In 2013, a former YWAM-er who was a part of our fellowship encouraged
me to get my sub license in order to substitute teach in our school
system. To help grease the skids, as it were, he paid the $100 fee
required for a three-year sub license. I never do it in the fall when
Cross is going on but throughout the winter and spring I've been a
regular sub at the elementary school ever since (I like working there
because I can still do the math and I'm still taller than most of
them). Of course since my kids were in kindergarten back in the '90s,
I've done read-alouds at Roselawn Elementary, reading primarily to
kindergarteners through second graders throughout the school year.
</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1iKwtAAHautwV_gU0ZymZx5lz3PuzSaOHB9m3md3xCQEVijj7Jsm_3ZH66jCrboWpqGyJ5j0jcpTsysoNu3rOm9AoLT8aUzOYRbwxlSoD-tC6-0Ks7VZaGjmUH5V_zmgaguUyB2MQ9pCy/s1600/4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="480" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1iKwtAAHautwV_gU0ZymZx5lz3PuzSaOHB9m3md3xCQEVijj7Jsm_3ZH66jCrboWpqGyJ5j0jcpTsysoNu3rOm9AoLT8aUzOYRbwxlSoD-tC6-0Ks7VZaGjmUH5V_zmgaguUyB2MQ9pCy/s400/4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
In 2016, though I had never held elective office before, I decided to
run for mayor of our small town – and won. It's a part-time gig
that doesn't require me to hold regular office hours. In fact, people
can – and do – meet with the mayor at Refuge just as easily as
they can at City Hall. I enjoyed my first two years so much I ran
again and was re-elected in an uncontested election. I am fortunate
to serve in such a way and connect with a whole different group of
people than I normally would. And it's been fun, too.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
The joke around here is “Just what do we call you? Pastor? Mayor?
Coach?” To wit I simply reply, “Yes.” Perhaps if I served a
larger congregation I would not be free to do this kind of stuff (as
well as serve at our local county jail as a chaplain there) given the
demands that a bigger fellowship would place on me. But in my case it
feels that I'm right in my wheelhouse, as it were, wearing the
multiple hats and filling the multiple roles that I am blessed to do.
</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
Honestly, I don't remember what I thought ministry would look like
back in 1991 other than I'm pretty sure it didn't look like how it's
played out. No, a lot of things that I had hoped and prayed for have
never come to pass <i>yet </i>and – who knows? - may never be
answered. But as far as I can see it's worked out better.
</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPUMuAXRY1ANOEv0qqDmg5eAAd071Q64Pgr55F1S5ddA1jXqog1XkqBOrQ3-ZHLcBwZSRp0z357zjuiYq6hOE57F-CLEMIGDCXOXwRd1ERUWMxidfcirH43J1WDwKOs8eWwBHFT_nXqqpG/s1600/6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPUMuAXRY1ANOEv0qqDmg5eAAd071Q64Pgr55F1S5ddA1jXqog1XkqBOrQ3-ZHLcBwZSRp0z357zjuiYq6hOE57F-CLEMIGDCXOXwRd1ERUWMxidfcirH43J1WDwKOs8eWwBHFT_nXqqpG/s400/6.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Child dedication Sunday</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">My
pastor once gave me some advice that he said his pastor shared with
him on his ordination day: “Don't seek a big church. Seek a big
ministry.” Of course, “big” is a relative term but I think its
fair to say that over 25-plus years of ministry my footprint in this
community, by God's grace, has been bigger than our facility. It
reminds me of something Garrison Keillor once said, </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Some
luck lies in not getting what you thought you wanted but getting what
you have, which once you have it you may be smart enough to see is
what you would have wanted had you known.” It reminds me – again
– how lucky and blessed I really am.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<br />Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076559303396126727.post-65146471044331745802018-11-08T12:02:00.000-08:002018-11-08T12:02:04.689-08:00Unscripted: A lesson in intercession<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj54dZwsCpPlePzaBXY7LN2RCK2yZnD5JmuttD_lI5MVpd44t3nZgABaRXlW4pQEhHB8a1kOaEfleIvFw6fxek67i_bgK0zB5Qe6onJiSbCQC2qjZCvNHrMwV1nHzWdYUNBT2CYRVFQyEqW/s1600/IDOP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="504" data-original-width="983" height="164" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj54dZwsCpPlePzaBXY7LN2RCK2yZnD5JmuttD_lI5MVpd44t3nZgABaRXlW4pQEhHB8a1kOaEfleIvFw6fxek67i_bgK0zB5Qe6onJiSbCQC2qjZCvNHrMwV1nHzWdYUNBT2CYRVFQyEqW/s320/IDOP.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>Remember to pray for me in this
jail.” </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Paul in Colossians 4:18</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">This past Sunday was the International
Day of Prayer for the Persecuted Church (IDOPPC), an annual
observance to remember those suffering for Christ around the world.
It is an event our fellowship has participated in every year going
back perhaps to the mid-90s when it began. Some years we have
followed the curriculum that is provided by one of the several
advocacy groups out there like Open Doors or Voice of the Martyrs.
The first few times we observed it I remember creating massive prayer
guides for people to take home with them. Now and again I have tried
an additional follow-up prayer gathering involving Christians from
other fellowships in town. But whatever the format we employed we
spent time – sometimes longer than others – praying for those we
probably will never meet this side of heaven who are experiencing
hardship and trouble on account of their devotion to Christ.
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUo7deFhgLWpXTBIrRWoJ7RJCxtHwYeEccZIUML3OKMVSSY9tLbb5KGwd7a8c5YRhLg0GX9__8xawErlJBEnRw7l3xSuTDHgECnmxIpyyl5ypcJ5IqHqZsMr22UfblPpku5uJ6AtJwGw7K/s1600/Brunsons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="1200" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUo7deFhgLWpXTBIrRWoJ7RJCxtHwYeEccZIUML3OKMVSSY9tLbb5KGwd7a8c5YRhLg0GX9__8xawErlJBEnRw7l3xSuTDHgECnmxIpyyl5ypcJ5IqHqZsMr22UfblPpku5uJ6AtJwGw7K/s320/Brunsons.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pastor Andrew and Norine Brunson</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">This year frankly I did not know what
to do. I only had an idea that began to germinate when I caught a
snippet of an interview American pastor Andrew Brunson, recently
released from two years of captivity in Turkey a few weeks ago, gave
on CBN. I found him very candid about how broken the first year of
his captivity had left him and what came of it. Based on stories he
had read of others who had been imprisoned for Christ he had expected
to be buoyed by a grace that made him joyful despite the bars that
separated him from his family, his church and the rest of the world.
Instead he was desolate and alone and felt <i>absolutely</i> <i>nothing</i>
leaving him struggling with disappointment in the very One to whom he
professed his faith in.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_zmkAwGNRU-Ul1gUOQTDqELjyNJjSWvIBSJ9jVIyN2G7UnKGL_5YokTnOTRYnE3dEu6KY6s8camjdKbyDSfA-ub-Drcniqjyed2eUT1ljphh17VGQ-KnveUn-5ux_VWCXlklWPXNlY0vo/s1600/Brunsons+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="1600" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_zmkAwGNRU-Ul1gUOQTDqELjyNJjSWvIBSJ9jVIyN2G7UnKGL_5YokTnOTRYnE3dEu6KY6s8camjdKbyDSfA-ub-Drcniqjyed2eUT1ljphh17VGQ-KnveUn-5ux_VWCXlklWPXNlY0vo/s320/Brunsons+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">So my plan became this: after some
introductory comments, we would listen to the audio version of
Colossians 4 from The Message (I prefer its real-world sound) and
then watch a series of videos I found on YouTube including:</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<ul>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The FOX News interview that Pastor
Andrew & Noreen Brunson gave after he was released from house
arrest in Turkey (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L592izvzTng" target="_blank"><b>"I will preach Jesus until the day I die"</b></a>).
(I personally like the images and timeline that track his story from
prison to kneeling before President Trump and praying for him 24
hours after his release).</span></div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">A much more subdued and poignant
interview that the Brunsons gave to CBN during which they each were
candid about their experiences being incarcerated
(<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o6XdKY2HvO8" target="_blank"><b>"I was really broken"</b></a>).
(Noreen herself shared a cell with her husband for the first 13 days
of his imprisonment).</span></div>
</li>
<li><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizUEKLI-Y4Rho30Tof7KjObHCEo2yygPw7_0naA0r8on7Hhb0m_nkUGEEBXIkQoqee2Aex6w3Z3Rn2F1Pa9K03gwi1UG4BtPr69MPiwhRzeR3jWIjtKyUeNQUK4-t2wqhB-9aUwivd-E3R/s1600/Asia+Bibi+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1485" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizUEKLI-Y4Rho30Tof7KjObHCEo2yygPw7_0naA0r8on7Hhb0m_nkUGEEBXIkQoqee2Aex6w3Z3Rn2F1Pa9K03gwi1UG4BtPr69MPiwhRzeR3jWIjtKyUeNQUK4-t2wqhB-9aUwivd-E3R/s200/Asia+Bibi+2.jpg" width="185" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Asia Bibi</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">A CBN update and interview on the
case of Asia [pronounced AH-ZIA] Bibi, a Christian mother of five
recently acquitted of blasphemy in a Pakistani court but currently
still incarcerated (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GuX8JpQB5P0" target="_blank"><b>Asia Bibi</b></a>).
</span></div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">A call to prayer for Christians in
Pakistan who suffer because of Christ created by another advocacy
group for the IDOP observance
(<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hd69ReuOpjs" target="_blank"><b>IDOP 2018</b></a>).
</span></div>
</li>
</ul>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">All of them concluded in the same way:
a request to pray for them and how the knowledge of people praying
for them across the globe sustained them in their darkest time. So
even though these people are a “zillion miles away” from here
somehow, someway our prayers matter.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3StdnPtlhKFstGVKVksJHX9YnZegpsNw7YxyafC0rAgAOFbHiEVGPVXEoNPwlk8D9xyCKCZvSt6cRBky1KzeQL4EGF8hnx_79D03plMWg-OZ7j-R5m6cdA1td8GW3eClE1bcIjGeR-bsk/s1600/2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3StdnPtlhKFstGVKVksJHX9YnZegpsNw7YxyafC0rAgAOFbHiEVGPVXEoNPwlk8D9xyCKCZvSt6cRBky1KzeQL4EGF8hnx_79D03plMWg-OZ7j-R5m6cdA1td8GW3eClE1bcIjGeR-bsk/s320/2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">It was a small group Sunday at Refuge
which simply means that </span><span style="font-size: large;">corporate prayer is done by people taking
their chairs and circling up to pray with one another (something that
we practice at least twice a month). Just as people were about to
break into small groups to pray for the persecuted, this happened:
Duane – one of our elders and about as introverted as they come –
popped to his feet and asked to share something. But he couldn't
speak. All he could do is look at all of us and try and restrain
himself from weeping and failing at it. While we waited for him to
regain his composure, Larry popped up and stood with Duane in
solidarity. Our congregation was temporarily at the mercy of the
emotional display of two introverts, one weeping and one standing
with his friend.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Eventually Duane was able to share
briefly about some of the persecuted he knows personally. Having
served with Youth With A Mission for over 27 years, he shared just
how he was overcome with sadness for former students of his who are
presently serving in Bangladesh and China and experiencing hardship
because of their commitment to Christ. In our small groups then we
went into a time of intercession. The only instructions I gave was
that before they prayed for each other they were to pray the best way
they knew how for the persecuted around the world. I can only speak
for the small group that I was a part of but it seemed that our
prayers were heart-felt and direct. As I looked around the room,
everyone seemed to be on point praying the best way they knew how as
well.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWCzfpIfiUQbTN7AWo_M1hDrO31hC42tDwDrUXyY3IwXAW-qJouh_irZGFLRApmp69hPETV-MMUh5NInPx6fjWPH7hD9iaL9r_AH_w0l-lGDIwpi7q0wyG41rsCFRRLsqXpb0uRJigjHyL/s1600/5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWCzfpIfiUQbTN7AWo_M1hDrO31hC42tDwDrUXyY3IwXAW-qJouh_irZGFLRApmp69hPETV-MMUh5NInPx6fjWPH7hD9iaL9r_AH_w0l-lGDIwpi7q0wyG41rsCFRRLsqXpb0uRJigjHyL/s400/5.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Following prayer we returned to the
large group and I led the gathering in worship from songs I
deliberately had chosen that would affirm that God is God, that He is
Lord and that he sees and knows and is present with us in times of
loss and hardship. When the service was over it just felt like we had
experienced some kind of serendipitous moment of grace that had
helped us pray that morning. It was a moment that carried on to our
monthly prayer gathering for the handful of us who gathered to wait
upon the Lord that evening.
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3BcRTBte7c67HO6TJatViZyvtWRaVJvGEChh0qHO5XYT2ZjuJgg1C_RkPgZtKT2GNgB-N_MEkH8LalVSjw0Y3PYkYAf2iKZpAOye4_bCPGsmdXDtlYoSS01nSGS8o2GA9PAYqYym1bkEn/s1600/Prayer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="254" data-original-width="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3BcRTBte7c67HO6TJatViZyvtWRaVJvGEChh0qHO5XYT2ZjuJgg1C_RkPgZtKT2GNgB-N_MEkH8LalVSjw0Y3PYkYAf2iKZpAOye4_bCPGsmdXDtlYoSS01nSGS8o2GA9PAYqYym1bkEn/s1600/Prayer.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">That afternoon as I reflected upon what
had happened and pondered Duane's unusual display of emotion
(unusual, that is, for him) this is what I now believe had happened.
Knowing Duane like I do I know his intent wasn't to manipulate us
into some kind of contrived sadness so that we would be in the right
mood to pray. No, what I believe we witnessed when two introverts
stood before us in an unscripted moment was a prophetic picture of
how God feels when his servants suffer – and sometimes die – on
account of the Name. It was only a few moments but I believe that
picture of God's broken heart for his people “in chains” helped
us to intercede in English and (later for those so endowed) in a
language we do not know nor fathom.
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVyqDZ-sYnujWiVrpKu540UDDSouVC7N_VS2gvsoNfnZV5GJATq5UBAywrlL5RvuCvYD0eF9JedMEUdrY2Xq_ptZSPMsFIdX4GmB6r70-vhWBKIcSAdzBGSs3QMRUOcrVOXqi5AQwSeT1c/s1600/Asia+Bibi+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="940" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVyqDZ-sYnujWiVrpKu540UDDSouVC7N_VS2gvsoNfnZV5GJATq5UBAywrlL5RvuCvYD0eF9JedMEUdrY2Xq_ptZSPMsFIdX4GmB6r70-vhWBKIcSAdzBGSs3QMRUOcrVOXqi5AQwSeT1c/s320/Asia+Bibi+3.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">And then this: Asia Bibi, the Christian
Pakistani mother of five we had prayed for on Sunday was released on
Tuesday and she and her family have since been moved to a secure
location within Pakistan or are currently in exile beyond it (reports
are conflicting). I realize that the forty or so saints gathered at
724 Leonard Street in Chetek this past Sunday were but one of
probably thousands across the globe who had prayed for her that day
and for many months before. But the reminder to me is simple: <i><b>our
prayers matter</b></i>. Not because on that day we prayed in such a
way that he was certain to hear us. Certainly not because we had
found (accidentally) “the secret” of effective prayer. But
because the Spirit helped us and taught us how to pray for her and
for countless others like her on that day.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>When he ripped off the fifth
seal, I saw the souls of those killed because they had held firm in
their witness to the Word of God. They were gathered under the Altar,
and cried out in loud prayers, “How long, Strong God, Holy and
True? How long before you step in and avenge our murders?” Then
each martyr was given a white robe and told to sit back and wait
until the full number of martyrs was filled from among their servant
companions and friends in the faith.”</i> Revelation 6:9-11, The
Message</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Until he comes to set things right, may
we be found faithful and may he help us to pray for those who suffer
in the here and now as he leads us to pray.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ7bADjbf7Azwn_1V5CNXX2uykP6H_2EeUJnzcRTi4EBsZT0rWtR1xfwavUEjeoJv3Bso6ttwaL73LmbFSZGLHlst6vZL595ReUk3LfKNEzdVcRf-J1oryr_WPu_xfkCllfLNtdaAAjHXR/s1600/Prayer+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="334" data-original-width="633" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ7bADjbf7Azwn_1V5CNXX2uykP6H_2EeUJnzcRTi4EBsZT0rWtR1xfwavUEjeoJv3Bso6ttwaL73LmbFSZGLHlst6vZL595ReUk3LfKNEzdVcRf-J1oryr_WPu_xfkCllfLNtdaAAjHXR/s400/Prayer+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<br />Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076559303396126727.post-87151139317057894772018-05-15T19:11:00.000-07:002018-05-15T19:11:16.739-07:00Met with a smile instead of a scold<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6wvFbyVhSvuCGlzja2Hp8yEbU1eiEYacvQlC4rp6OAHsoysN5Ssa3EY-EX-bjFq3cZQfEDLyOK0luIztiau6BJYab7RHSw5wq4NyIqLaopm_ieeTF25djC_JVGwocLCQTysc_MEWqQ33Q/s1600/Esther.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1136" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6wvFbyVhSvuCGlzja2Hp8yEbU1eiEYacvQlC4rp6OAHsoysN5Ssa3EY-EX-bjFq3cZQfEDLyOK0luIztiau6BJYab7RHSw5wq4NyIqLaopm_ieeTF25djC_JVGwocLCQTysc_MEWqQ33Q/s320/Esther.jpg" width="227" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">“<i>Three days later Esther dressed
in her royal robes and took up a position in the inner court of the
palace in front of the king’s throne room. The king was on his
throne facing the entrance. When he noticed Queen Esther standing in
the court, he was pleased to see her; the king extended the gold
scepter in his hand. Esther approached and touched the tip of the
scepter. The king asked, 'And what’s your desire, Queen Esther?
What do you want? Ask and it’s yours—even if it’s half my
kingdom!'”</i></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Esther 5:1-3, The
Message</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">This past Saturday
night I experienced a bit of serendipity. I expected to be scolded
but instead was met with a smile.
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigtBTidGggeSHFnU0sNzulG_LRdoJTrkFmRHImE0Cju38A7tdlAyy8POHEkESoIUvZ1PkfLYOcsCsKceC_-GF2VSTY5JoOrMz5ElMxejuzaW6cGUXjSBDQ3AD-B6L6NN_2kBwt3uBoefc9/s1600/wait+and+see.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigtBTidGggeSHFnU0sNzulG_LRdoJTrkFmRHImE0Cju38A7tdlAyy8POHEkESoIUvZ1PkfLYOcsCsKceC_-GF2VSTY5JoOrMz5ElMxejuzaW6cGUXjSBDQ3AD-B6L6NN_2kBwt3uBoefc9/s200/wait+and+see.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Every
month at our fellowship this year I have been holding a prayer event
that essentially has three components: listening, discerning and then
responding to what we believe God is saying or doing. I haven't
figured out what to call it yet – since January it's been called
“Look”, “Look and See”, “Watch and Wait” and this past
Saturday night, “Wait and See” - but the purpose is simple: to
learn how to wait upon the Lord corporately. For the first half hour
or so I put on some worshipful music and encourage people to find a
place in the sanctuary to wait quietly. Some, like myself, bring a
journal. All of us bring our Bible. My only instruction is to </span><i>not</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
pray but “be still and know that he is God” (Psalm 46). After
about a half hour or so (practically speaking, it's about all we can
handle as a young couple with their infant daughter are regulars to
this event) I then welcome everyone to gather at the “couch corner”
of the sanctuary and share the words, impressions and Scripture that
have been impressed upon us. Together then we try and discern if
there is a common theme or thread that emerges and frequently there
is.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_KfSVQFpxHxMMuA806dz_3A5zGF__k8l9WwbRPsf8tzyTBm13ktcQNybnRaDFe9Opx-I8wRA-KhlUg8qLiZJz_cb3aApzS4tnOP6rnEj6TjQ1mtzZ8LtjdZfKymHzHeB0ngfex_dGMiuj/s1600/chicken.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="448" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_KfSVQFpxHxMMuA806dz_3A5zGF__k8l9WwbRPsf8tzyTBm13ktcQNybnRaDFe9Opx-I8wRA-KhlUg8qLiZJz_cb3aApzS4tnOP6rnEj6TjQ1mtzZ8LtjdZfKymHzHeB0ngfex_dGMiuj/s320/chicken.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes I feel this way</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Like everyone else
I have a number of character flaws one of them being I have a hard
time with boundaries. I'm involved in a lot of stuff and last week
was no different. I subbed two days. It was the last week of track
season and other than practice every afternoon we had two meets on
Monday and Thursday nights. Tuesday night I had a city council
meeting that went pretty long. Wednesday night I was in Cumberland
for a fall coach's meeting. And then Friday night we drove up to
Superior to spend that night and all day Saturday helping our son,
Ed, move into his new place. So by the time I got to Refuge on
Saturday night to open the doors and wait on God spiritually speaking
I was running on fumes. I opened my journal and the last entry was
from Sunday morning the week before – and it wasn't a long entry at
that as I had overslept that morning.
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">My default setting
is guilt. I don't know if it's growing up Lutheran because I know a
lot of Lutherans who don't struggle with feeling guilty about missing
prayer or Bible reading but this former member of the ALC does. If
I've had a busy week like last week and totally neglected my regular
devotions, I feel guilty. It could be just me. In any case, that was
my mind set as I knelt at the altar at Refuge this past Saturday
night, spiritually slamming the brakes on my car driving pell-mell
down the road. I already was working my prayer of contrition up and
then I saw in my mind's eye a picture.</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj1RWe2HjBivIj5IMbCeKPHAFzPgQ-2veMkB9Qd4319XQAC3Oljt03biAQSy4tQskJWrrETtynJnhoTlj9yevrUcbpo_jkONoUO7K7yXXt4qJUjR2yQTjzGNt-Fqh4moK1TxhltQFdqtew/s1600/banquet.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="409" data-original-width="558" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj1RWe2HjBivIj5IMbCeKPHAFzPgQ-2veMkB9Qd4319XQAC3Oljt03biAQSy4tQskJWrrETtynJnhoTlj9yevrUcbpo_jkONoUO7K7yXXt4qJUjR2yQTjzGNt-Fqh4moK1TxhltQFdqtew/s320/banquet.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I read a lot of Seuss</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">It was
a banquet hall beautifully decked out and with the table full of a
king's ransom worth of food. Like the end scene in </span><i>How the
Grinch Stole Christmas</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> the table
wound and stretched throughout the hall. And then a thought from
foggy bottom bubbled up, a phrase that I thought for sure was in the
Psalms somewhere. With the help of my phone I googled phrases hoping
to jar loose the Scripture that evaded me without success. But then
it occurred to me what I was looking for – it wasn't a verse so
much as a moment in time from the Esther story.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNN0HuajtWrCey7gIOHaFUlAe4GDQ2V8lHy4wNV6C77V-OyC4V-LoPp0waWs_SXkb3hzPM1beX4xJYQTZXVxefwtVB5DkRUOSly2OM0DmyCyf_PQzsM1jmYhvVI6sO4esZLfrHvPqfahX7/s1600/Esther+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="770" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNN0HuajtWrCey7gIOHaFUlAe4GDQ2V8lHy4wNV6C77V-OyC4V-LoPp0waWs_SXkb3hzPM1beX4xJYQTZXVxefwtVB5DkRUOSly2OM0DmyCyf_PQzsM1jmYhvVI6sO4esZLfrHvPqfahX7/s320/Esther+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">In her story,
Esther, favored queen of Xerxes, with fear and trepidation dares to
enter the throne room uninvited. She may be his First Wife but nobody
approaches the king without an invitation. The penalty in that
administration could mean demotion or worse. But her countrymen's
lives are on the line and putting on her best dress dares to approach
the king. The king sees her and smiles. He extends his golden scepter
and says to her in so many words, “What would like me to do for
you? Ask away.”</span><br />
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Whoever Xerxes was
what little we learn of him within Esther's story is that he's
something of demagogue seated on the throne of the world (or, at
least his world) who spends a lot of time issuing </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir-kwwH1eukbf2G0-ZDVZGXVgDSSUTopQOQplVkcWOhCubOmvRC1nGb_4BmIsmx8W0hB5fZps9TeMDFgf4mjT14UQgfgwG9tHZCkgaTHIkWL2izwBc9bNU3nn8RU-0TNhzi2r-JR4GVNkY/s1600/Xerxes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="533" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir-kwwH1eukbf2G0-ZDVZGXVgDSSUTopQOQplVkcWOhCubOmvRC1nGb_4BmIsmx8W0hB5fZps9TeMDFgf4mjT14UQgfgwG9tHZCkgaTHIkWL2izwBc9bNU3nn8RU-0TNhzi2r-JR4GVNkY/s320/Xerxes.jpg" width="213" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">silly decrees like
banishing his former First Wife for not doing the dance of the seven
veils for his male guests at one of his parties or agreeing to allow
one of his sycophants to kill thousands of individuals in his empire
simply because one of them wouldn't bow down to him. Fast forward to
that moment in time when on a Saturday night in May kneeling at the
steps of the altar with a hang dog look about me expecting a scold
from King Jesus for my neglect of him during the previous week, I'm
met with a smile. Not a sarcastic or a condescending smile. No, his
is genuine and full of affection and in that moment I hear his voice:
“Welcome!” No scold. No guilt. No wagging finger. On the
contrary. He extends his scepter toward me and says again, “Welcome.
So good to see you.”
</span><br />
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">What happened next
was totally natural: having been met with open arms and acceptance I
immediately began to respond to my King with thanks and praise for
his goodness, his grace and his loving-kindness. I felt fresh wind in
my sails and a weight off my chest. The easiest thing in the world at
that moment was just to kneel in his presence and enjoy his company.
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVCFWv_zwtpQUOTyz2QQ-6-j1gPDGVfSNTPoZDy6yjfJBSfT9_br2QcDhdzphK6gRGTJERc0KuYL7DemTcXy1AAOXl8hQG2wBeCAa1xypXUwB6F46c6iMxBrCNGAajgh5d952NpfIQa-yZ/s1600/Christmas+Present.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="420" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVCFWv_zwtpQUOTyz2QQ-6-j1gPDGVfSNTPoZDy6yjfJBSfT9_br2QcDhdzphK6gRGTJERc0KuYL7DemTcXy1AAOXl8hQG2wBeCAa1xypXUwB6F46c6iMxBrCNGAajgh5d952NpfIQa-yZ/s320/Christmas+Present.jpg" width="268" /></a></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I didn't receive
some new revelation. It was just a bit of serendipitous remembering
that our King God loves us as a father loves his children and
welcomes us into his presence whenever we choose to enter it. If I'm
wise I'll go there as often as I can for what awaits me is a
banqueting table teeming with his goodness.</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<br />Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076559303396126727.post-33976135280674380192018-04-17T15:07:00.001-07:002018-04-18T04:33:06.319-07:00"Home Church" at Church<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAeirf9jR3nQLjQmebMrrGQxnJ8pae9Vm9BxS9PP5dllKD5imbHiURul-OGw9QXVb_7WWlgKOz5EZauF7nLkFLg_6B2sTs368XsoNjOsCnFJMKIcPzvCoXYNtGMUk7ZNRYOJanfaK0TZYR/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAeirf9jR3nQLjQmebMrrGQxnJ8pae9Vm9BxS9PP5dllKD5imbHiURul-OGw9QXVb_7WWlgKOz5EZauF7nLkFLg_6B2sTs368XsoNjOsCnFJMKIcPzvCoXYNtGMUk7ZNRYOJanfaK0TZYR/s400/3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was something like this but more snow</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“<i><span style="font-weight: normal;">'The
glory which thou hast given me I have given unto them; that they may
be one, even as we are one; I in them, and thou in me, that they may
be perfected into one: that the world may know that thou didst send
me, and lovedst them, even as thou lovedst me.' This is amazing
doctrine. It sounds novel even now. Christ declares his mission to be
the binding of men together by indissoluble bonds. It is by the
brotherliness of those who believe in Jesus that the hard heart of
the world is to be softened and the truthfulness of Jesus' words
established. The world is to be brought to God by Christians loving
one another.” </span></i></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Charles
E. Jefferson, 1910</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;">This past Sunday for the first time in twenty-six and a
half years of pastoral ministry I nearly pulled the plug and
cancelled our Sunday morning gathering – <b><i>nearly</i></b>. An early
spring front moved through the upper Midwest dumping over a foot of
snow Saturday night and by Sunday morning there was no real let-up.
In fact, at 7 o'clock Sunday morning it was near white-out conditions
outside and the roads hadn't even been plowed yet. But on the
principal that “whoever can make it will” I decided to not cancel
and see who would show up and what God would do in spite of the
weather conditions.
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoMvNZQn0f3J_fXaEbuTAL5gi_Eute5TgNEV6hw0ZlDrKKmHWwf7UyhsTcGJ8OG3MZ9aEaXngznbWa5nbquXepRN1H9aoEVlzm3NZbM2N6go1J8craRsr9mYoPS71g_A5yktHs9Ug8EILI/s1600/4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoMvNZQn0f3J_fXaEbuTAL5gi_Eute5TgNEV6hw0ZlDrKKmHWwf7UyhsTcGJ8OG3MZ9aEaXngznbWa5nbquXepRN1H9aoEVlzm3NZbM2N6go1J8craRsr9mYoPS71g_A5yktHs9Ug8EILI/s320/4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;">When I was a kid, I loved a snow day from school. Who
doesn't? But now as an adult in charge of a Christian congregation
I'm pretty old school about these things. In other words, (to date) I
haven't allowed the weather to dictate the terms of whether or not
we'll gather. I don't say that with even the slightest hint of
judgment against those of my fellow pastors who felt it more prudent
to not have their weekly gathering that morning. After all, they know
their fellowship best and what is best for them. I just don't like to
turn off the lights simply because of weather. On Sunday, it was “on
with the show” at 724 Leonard Street and for the 27 people who did
make it all of them were glad that they did.</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;">For me personally, here's a few reasons why:</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i><span style="text-decoration: none;">Kale
& LeAnne</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">:
</span></span></b>
</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Pdm7sJ3YMRPvBzRPAWHvd8nXRjwM0yT721mfy6HTKM_Kd3BhCEMJ5WwcpdeDnDY7yMag7kkpPjG_nwMUzYMjQpMN-vYAUGvbcylugYnlHT3acniEufeNNcdlTtvJ4Nf7FMWIvMv-QVEF/s1600/Kale+%2526+LeAnne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Pdm7sJ3YMRPvBzRPAWHvd8nXRjwM0yT721mfy6HTKM_Kd3BhCEMJ5WwcpdeDnDY7yMag7kkpPjG_nwMUzYMjQpMN-vYAUGvbcylugYnlHT3acniEufeNNcdlTtvJ4Nf7FMWIvMv-QVEF/s320/Kale+%2526+LeAnne.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So sweet and good</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">For
the first time since anyone can remember they led worship </span></span></span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">together</span></span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">.
That's actually how they met. Back in 2006-ish, Kale was our only
worship leader then and that summer a lovely young lady with a
beautiful voice moved to town and began attending our fellowship.
Kale is what I call a “contemplative” worship leader. He's not
into “bouncy” songs. I would suggest a song or two to Kale to
implement in his weekly set which seemed to fall on deaf ears. But
when LeAnne would suggest the same suddenly one would appear Sunday
morning. Hmmm. As our bass player at the time and I concurred, LeAnne
was definitely “Plan B” when our requests for music went
unheeded. </span></span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">They
are a wondeful couple and ten years later parents of three beautiful
daughters. These “baby” years, however, have kind of put the
cramp to LeAnne's Sunday morning worship-style for obvious reasons.
</span></span></span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">It
was soooo good to see her back on the platform aside her husband </span></span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">just
like the “old” days. To me, that was worth the price of
admission. She has a prophetic bent to her and that clearly was in
play yesterday morning.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0UfKjKcArIgQhRi6ZQdt-K-JI6x1Jb912svO6qbiWRQ-uKjlDM3tbIJWPro_v_r_4EH_IjbDaQzZDJEw6QtDmmbsYEOaeLW4MdSlK5fW_tVloTChmYYjke3aRBMiyF-m2IrRKkUFAMtho/s1600/CC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0UfKjKcArIgQhRi6ZQdt-K-JI6x1Jb912svO6qbiWRQ-uKjlDM3tbIJWPro_v_r_4EH_IjbDaQzZDJEw6QtDmmbsYEOaeLW4MdSlK5fW_tVloTChmYYjke3aRBMiyF-m2IrRKkUFAMtho/s320/CC.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">NOT Renee and NOT us (they seem more organized<br />
than we are!)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<i><b><span style="font-size: large;">Renee
and Children's Church:</span></b></i></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;">You would think on a Sunday morning where only 27 heads
can be counted we wouldn't necessarily have the need for Children's
Church especially since several of our families were absent. But
Dennis & Vicki brought their grandkids and James had a friend
sleep over the night before and throw in two of Kale & LeAnne's
girls and now you have a posse of littles. It was Renee's week to
lead Children's Church and thank God she was ready for action because
that brood brought it. Renee, one of our elders at Refuge (which does
not make her old), is one of the wonderful servant-leaders that our
fellowship is blessed with. Mind you, she doesn't see a future for
herself in Children's Ministry but is more than willing to pitch in
and help so that these kids' parents can participate in the gathering without distraction. I'm glad she's on our team.</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU6olwF0llGdb93X7cSkfLJW__DB79_XBNroGrSiCyTWAEYQQ7Q4lMXps71Vk5y0sao24_4Z3NIae0mtLoVoHoEI9lYNoX3XFJuQ3rs-aw3NdIl-s616NN2sGzjlFpPxsRHPxk6lVx8THq/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU6olwF0llGdb93X7cSkfLJW__DB79_XBNroGrSiCyTWAEYQQ7Q4lMXps71Vk5y0sao24_4Z3NIae0mtLoVoHoEI9lYNoX3XFJuQ3rs-aw3NdIl-s616NN2sGzjlFpPxsRHPxk6lVx8THq/s320/2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<i><b><span style="font-size: large;">The
rest of us:</span></b></i></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;">At Refuge we identify ourselves as a “healing
community of Jesus Christ.” We cannot save or heal anyone but the
good news is Christ doesn't call us to do those things. He calls us
to love and accept people and foster loving, nurturing community
among ourselves. I personally believe that for a small faith
community like Refuge that is easier to do simply because of our
size. A small church should do what a small church can do and so we
have experimented on Sunday morning for sometime now different ways
to “do” fellowship. Actually, a lot of these things we do are
very conducive to a small group gathering in someone's home. But if
we – meaning, Refuge – try and establish a home group our history
tells me that these ventures start with great enthusiasm and then
fizzle out by the end of Lent simply because our interest wanes and
other ventures beckon. So, why not use Sunday morning – which we
know we pretty much still own – to nurture Christian community?
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVtOgid7laroMwDk8zCOIK3ZqKL7tDiB84nQHbIOBJ9TppFJyXAXG_IL_klQbJh8KYsj_venlRM1nPnl6VNeVGhSk42fkzEvhPHbBp_dCvpSD-u8-hDfK7CKy2zQ2hc885C-uieulPOz-S/s1600/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVtOgid7laroMwDk8zCOIK3ZqKL7tDiB84nQHbIOBJ9TppFJyXAXG_IL_klQbJh8KYsj_venlRM1nPnl6VNeVGhSk42fkzEvhPHbBp_dCvpSD-u8-hDfK7CKy2zQ2hc885C-uieulPOz-S/s320/5.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;">About a month ago, the kids from The Focus, the
interchurch youth group that meets at Refuge on a weekly basis, took
up a collection or two and bought two couches from IKEA and a few
tables for the corner opposite the sound booth in the sanctuary. On
Wednesday night it makes the sanctuary feel a bit more “homey”
and on Sunday mornings, it's a blessing to parents with little
children. This past Sunday rather than preach the message I had
prepared I invited those of us who remained upstairs after the kids
egressed down for Children's Church, to circle up in the “couch
corner.”
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
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</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyoW_LUxQjmpXs6_NdqhHpBwhtETFb-S0YIOKxHSSctQsZYgbId0yOL8vUIBIlE_0uCc9p7DucRHdk2ib9hWKM_SZd61V_oPNWnGOtaR7WZleZnchv4fL2kRmYusULPNBZEthH8AFStYv2/s1600/6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyoW_LUxQjmpXs6_NdqhHpBwhtETFb-S0YIOKxHSSctQsZYgbId0yOL8vUIBIlE_0uCc9p7DucRHdk2ib9hWKM_SZd61V_oPNWnGOtaR7WZleZnchv4fL2kRmYusULPNBZEthH8AFStYv2/s320/6.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of us in the "couch corner"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
way we normally “do” corporate prayer alternates between open mic
on one Sunday followed by prayer circles on the following Sunday.
Honestly, if I did away with the open mic format I think a lot of the
folks would only be too happy. They </span></span></span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">love</span></span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
circling up their chairs and praying for one another. Sunday was
supposed to be a prayer circle day anyway so we just drew the circle
a little bigger than we normally allow (17-18 as opposed to 5-6).</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">It was Missions Sunday at Refuge so I shared an email we
had recently received from Duane, another elder from our fellowship,
who is presently on a ministry trip in Bangladesh and the
Philippines. I updated everyone on the developments at The Well
International, the inter church agency that Refuge helped establish
back in 2008, to reach out to the Somali refugees in Barron. We spent
time praying for a number of these people and after awhile moved on
to finding out how we can pray for one another.</span></div>
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<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sean
is in need of work and housing. Kale is changing jobs. I asked prayer
for my students in the class I teach at the jail. Our daughter, Emma,
is contemplating a job change as well and traveling to Thailand for a
month of service there and so we prayed for her, too. Again and again
as the needs were shared prayers were offered for those who requested
it. Of course, in the sharing natural opportunity arose to encourage
and affirm one another. Ultimately a common thread emerged that a lot
of us present needed to be reminded that God is in control (“He's
got this” was spoken forth more than once that morning almost as a
mantra) and we needed to trust him in the areas where we have little
or no control with regards to securing a job, the spiritual condition
of our adult children and the choices they are making.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">As
I looked around the circle I was struck by its diversity – Greg and
Rachel, a couple in their 30s with five years of marriage under their
belt, were on one couch and their baby, Raiyn (if not in the arms of
my wife) was in her car seat working a bottle; Dennis and Vicki, a
couple in their 60s who have been together forty or more years, were
trying to entertain their two youngest grandkids who had a case of
the wiggles. The rest of our group was made up of a teen, and at
least one representative from every age group from the 20s through
the 60s, married and single. It was, in effect, a family gathering in
what someone at our fellowship likes to refer to as God's living
room. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">We
have said to each other that we want to foster fellowship and
community at Refuge and in our case the snow storm helped make some
of that happen the other day. We gathered, we worshiped, we shared
prayers and requests and spoke into each other's lives. This, too, is
what “church” is all about. </span></span>
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcyJMCJmMVVYjIhEuaMaI-ax59nT6WOpCTApcOpD1tq_bWoqzNSZkirmOjchFsYHC42IbHr0f9qlF78bXeo7n8lE2g0nQo684x_ypdr4yZR28_hcS9YaxePeZfNFFyTYSmVJb7jr2l7TZW/s1600/Jefferson-Charles-300x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcyJMCJmMVVYjIhEuaMaI-ax59nT6WOpCTApcOpD1tq_bWoqzNSZkirmOjchFsYHC42IbHr0f9qlF78bXeo7n8lE2g0nQo684x_ypdr4yZR28_hcS9YaxePeZfNFFyTYSmVJb7jr2l7TZW/s1600/Jefferson-Charles-300x300.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Though gone his words still "speak"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I've
been reading Charles E. Jefferson's </span></span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
Building of the Church</span></span></i><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
lately. Jefferson was a pastor in New York City and ministered at the
same church (the Broadway Tabernacle) for nearly 40 years from
1898-1937. </span></span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
Building of the Church </span></span></i><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">is
made up of a series of lectures he gave at Yale University in April
and May 1910. His stuff, even though he wrote it over a hundred years
ago, reads like it just came out last month. Speaking to those who
were at Yale training for ministry, he said:</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">A
Christian owes something to a fellow-Christian which he owes to no
other human being, his first duty to his fellow-believers, his first
obligation is to his Christian brethren, his first concern is with
his comrades in Christ. It is by Christians loving one another after
the sacrificial manner of Jesus that other men are to become
Christians. Love is the law of the church. Love is the badge of
discipleship. Love is the chief evangelist and head worker. Love is
the power which overcomes. It is not love for the community or love
for humanity, but love for one's fellow-Christians by which the door
of the world's heart is to be opened. </span></span></i></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">“Building
the Brotherhood”</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">We
had fun this past Sunday morning but it was more than just gathering
together to spite the storm. It was practicing loving one another and
if we can do that – and get better at it – than for all our
shortcomings we will be a fellowship where Jesus abides and the love
we have for one another is real and growing.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
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<br />Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076559303396126727.post-87500988434680827092018-04-14T10:14:00.000-07:002018-04-15T02:28:34.869-07:00Journey's end: Reflections on John 21:18-25<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFBXiHiEHy8BA420Da0ZQJHWc2TiTxuAlyi_mnsHQ1cM1zrvE262pAwlJXOP52JDxhOOOyMjVTMjbw0S-UnKSxeVWmZyf-7LKBTdjxGC-tvPPxYqa7xsrK1kQdTblQ_-GvOi3b34ZulmY6/s1600/Peter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="184" data-original-width="273" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFBXiHiEHy8BA420Da0ZQJHWc2TiTxuAlyi_mnsHQ1cM1zrvE262pAwlJXOP52JDxhOOOyMjVTMjbw0S-UnKSxeVWmZyf-7LKBTdjxGC-tvPPxYqa7xsrK1kQdTblQ_-GvOi3b34ZulmY6/s320/Peter.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One last meal together</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">When you were young you dressed
yourself and went wherever you wished, but when you get old you’ll
have to stretch out your hands while someone else dresses you and
takes you where you don’t want to go.” He said this to hint at
the kind of death by which Peter would glorify God. And then he
commanded, “Follow me.”</span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">Turning his head, Peter noticed the
disciple Jesus loved following right behind. When Peter noticed him,
he asked Jesus, “Master, what’s going to happen to him?”</span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Jesus said, “If I want him to live
until I come again, what’s that to you? You—follow me.” </i>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i> </i><span style="font-style: normal;">John
21:18-22, The Message</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>In the next day or two Frodo went
through his papers and his writings with Sam, and he handed over his
keys. There was a big book with plain red leather covers; its tall
pages were now almost filled. At the beginning there were many leaves
covered with Bilbo's thin wandering hand; but most of it was written
in Frodo's firm flowing script. It was divided into chapters but
Chapter 80 was unfinished, and after that were some blank leaves. The
title page had many titles on it, crossed out one after another...”</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>'Why, you have nearly finished it,
Mr. Frodo!' Sam exclaimed. 'Well, you have kept at it, I must
say.'<br /><br />'I have quite finished, Sam,' said Frodo. 'The last
pages are for you.' </i>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i> </i><span style="font-style: normal;">“The
Grey Havens” in </span><i>The Return of The King </i><span style="font-style: normal;">by
J.R.R. Tolkien</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">For
the last year and a half I have been camped in the Gospel of John
taking a meandering, slow devotional journey through it. Just the
other day I came to the end of the road: </span>“Jesus did many
other things as well. If every one of them were written down, I
suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books
that would be written” (v. 25, NIV). The writer of the last
sentence, be it John or a later contributor as some suggest, is
waxing eloquent. As Gary Burge notes:</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i> With playful and delightful hyperbole,
John says that even all the books of the world could not contain
Jesus’ story. Such expressions were common in antiquity. Rabbi
Johanan ben Zakkai, a first-century teacher, wrote, “If all heaven
were a parchment, and all the trees produced pens, and all the
waters were ink, they would not suffice to inscribe the wisdom I have
received from my teachers: and yet from the wisdom of the wise I
have enjoyed only so much as the water a fly which plunges into the
sea can remove.” John ends his Gospel with similar humility. <b>The
story is larger than anything he can imagine. His effort, while
glorious for us to read, pales in comparison to the glory of the
Person whom his story describes.</b></i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The story ends
where it began – at the shore of the sea. Though John doesn't
mention it in his gospel, all the other gospel writers do (Matthew
1:18-22; Mark 1:16-20; Luke 5:1-11) sharing the origin story of the
age-old Sunday School song “Fishers of Men” that I learned as a
boy:</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig6hAYfB_9PiCuJ001JjeDrBf3Z_SIJqCM-t5ohbxrgOY-kTChU4IEKZkUbOKIYwhdm5Tze998eKMmd_sL5eamMH431ue7th9qNbrEQuT_zcz5Dr4HRLu0KAp9Fc-B9JowEjb4YCb-OIyw/s1600/fishers+of+men.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="262" data-original-width="579" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig6hAYfB_9PiCuJ001JjeDrBf3Z_SIJqCM-t5ohbxrgOY-kTChU4IEKZkUbOKIYwhdm5Tze998eKMmd_sL5eamMH431ue7th9qNbrEQuT_zcz5Dr4HRLu0KAp9Fc-B9JowEjb4YCb-OIyw/s320/fishers+of+men.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span><i>I
will make you fishers of men,<br /> Fishers of men, fishers of men.<br /> I
will make you fishers of men,<br /> If you follow Me.</i><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><br /> </span><i>If
you follow Me,<br /> If you follow Me,<br /> I will make you
fishers of men,<br /> If you follow Me. </i>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Three
years before Peter and John (along with Andrew and James) had been
invited to leave their vocation as fishermen and apprentice
themselves to this peripatetic rabbi who majored in story-telling and
frequently confusing teaching that was validated by the miraculous
again and again. They did drop their nets. They did turn their backs
on their homes in Galilee and had followed Jesus of Nazareth all the
way to the cross – and beyond. Now that journey had taken them back
full circle to where it had all began. And just like then Peter and
Jesus are walking along the shore of Lake Tiberius (John is the only
one of the Gospel writers to refer to the sea with its proper Roman
name) with John in tow. I imagine it's a cool morning at the lake and
the waves are gently lapping along the shore. There's a bit of a
breeze that gives a little bite to the air. Once again, Jesus turns
to Peter and utters his all purpose invitation to all would-be
disciples of every place and of every time: “Follow me” - through
thick and thin, in good times and bad, even though it may cost you
everything including your life – which it will. </span><i><b>“You
</b></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">must
follow me, Peter!” (v. 22) is how we're supposed to hear it. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">All of us who read the story are silent witnesses of these three
walking along the lake in the early morning. Church history is in the
making. Peter and John both will follow Christ through the rest of
their lives but the arc of their stories will follow different trajectories. As Bruce Milne puts it:</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>
The ministries of Peter and John would be different. Peter would be
the shepherd, John the seer; Peter the preacher, John the penman;
Peter the foundational witness, John the faithful writer; Peter
would die in the agony and passion of martyrdom, John would live on
to great age and pass away in quiet serenity.
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Both
would follow Christ faithfully. In the early days of the movement
known as the Church they would walk together ministering in both
Jerusalem and Samaria. But eventually their paths would take them in
different directions, John to Ephesus in modern-day Turkey
(interrupted by several years spent in exile out in the Aegean) and
Peter to ultimate martyrdom in Rome as Jesus had foretold. But at
this particular moment in time all of that is in their future. Right
now it is just Jesus and two of his most closest friends having a
private conversation by the sea. </span></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Mark's
story ends with wonder in front of the empty tomb. Matthew's
concludes with Jesus uttering “the Great Commission” to the
Eleven. And Luke's finale is perhaps the most dramatic of all with
Jesus ascending to heaven right before their eyes. But John's gospel,
which many believe officially concludes with Thomas' declaration of
Jesus being his Lord and God when the resurrected Christ appeared
before him (John 20:26-31), is singularly unique in that it comes to
an end in a quiet and yet emphatic invitation to follow the risen
Savior to whatever end he has destined for each of us. With regards
to Peter, Michael Card writes:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i style="font-weight: normal;">
They had first met beside this very same sea, on this same shore. At
first Jesus had to show Simon that the lake he thought was empty was
indeed full of fish. Now he had done it once again. Now a new kind
of fisherman is left standing there – beside not a lake of fish but
a vast sea of souls. He will fish for men and women. He will tend
and feed the flock of Jesus. He can accomplish all this now because,
in his brokenness, he knows the certainty both of his love for Jesus
and – more importantly – of Jesus' love for him. He is armed with
the painful knowing of own end. He is ready.</i> <i style="font-style: normal;">A <b>Fragile Stone: The
Emotional Life of Simon Peter</b></i></span></div>
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Tolkienphile that I am, the last verses in John wistfully remind me
of chapter 9 in <i>The Return of the King</i>. The One Ring and
Sauron utterly destroyed and King Elessar now enthroned in Gondor,
the Third Age has ended. Gandalf, Galadriel, Elrond and Bilbo are
making one last journey to the Grey Havens to board the ship awaiting
to carry them to Valinor. Frodo, accompanied by the faithful Sam,
travels to the Havens, too, to bid farewell to this mighty company.
Once there, however, Sam learns that Frodo plans on taking the ship
as well. Crestfallen, Sam vainly tries to persuade Frodo to stay to
no avail. Replies Frodo:</span></div>
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...<i>I have been too deeply hurt, Sam. I tried to save the Shire,
and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Sam,
when things are in danger: some one has to give them up, lose them,
so that others may keep them. But you are my heir: all that I had and
might have had I leave to you. And also you have Rose, and <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnYoNnOqDXqKq0NgBLrL_4TDMUB042iy7R2eydQ4ajpCDr5InhNT-kzwbihBeBt_NSER8XP1gV1BGSHhBOf2yKfL_X4NFzxWHigT3TgACOy95ud-XRuSU9ZS6Am0l95-DTebx4lmmAViLb/s1600/Red+Book+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="361" data-original-width="640" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnYoNnOqDXqKq0NgBLrL_4TDMUB042iy7R2eydQ4ajpCDr5InhNT-kzwbihBeBt_NSER8XP1gV1BGSHhBOf2yKfL_X4NFzxWHigT3TgACOy95ud-XRuSU9ZS6Am0l95-DTebx4lmmAViLb/s320/Red+Book+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The passing of the Red Book</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Elanor;
and Frodo-lad will come, and Rosie-lass, and Merry, and Goldilocks,
and Pippin; and perhaps more that I cannot see. Your hands and your
wits will be needed everywhere. You will be the Mayor, of course, as
long as you want to be, and the most famous gardener in history; and
you will read things out of the Red Book, and keep alive the memory
of the age that is gone, so that people will remember the Great
Danger and so love their beloved land all the more. And that will
keep you as busy and as happy as anyone can be, as long as your part
of the Story goes on. </i>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Peter's
and John's (as well as James' and the others) part of the great Story
would continue for many years to come. All but John would suffer and
die for the glory of the Name but all followed Christ and allowed him
to write His story in theirs. And unlike that melancholy good-bye
among the members of the Fellowship of the Ring at the Havens, his
spirit would abide and remain in them all their lives. As Paul put it
they would know</span></span> “the power of his resurrection and
participation in his sufferings,becoming like him in his death”
(Phil 3:10-11, NIV). They told the Story to others who in turn passed
it onto others through the millennia and because they did the world
continues to fill with the stories of Jesus. And yet, as Frodo
reminds us, despite all that has been written there's yet a few pages
more for each of us to write our own installment of the Story that
will go on<span style="color: black;"> until he returns. “</span>Unto him
be glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world
without end. Amen” (Ephesians 3:21, KJV).
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span><i>In
the centuries that followed, the books that spoke about Jesus have
flowed by the thousands, and yet still the world is not full of
them. In many, perhaps most, of those books Jesus remains the
misunderstood Messiah. Misunderstood, not because he had been obtuse
or obscure, but because the wisdom he spoke and embodied was not,
could not be grasped only through the intellect. The wisdom Jesus
was could only be comprehended through relationship with the Word
who had become flesh. </i><b>John: The Gospel of Wisdom</b><i> </i><span style="font-style: normal;">by
Michael Card</span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGzIEcsJ4mWTqtUusGDwDSMlpGwleMNwjtzbnGqpiCk8-o0OJuf0HTj9J5g2U-XZIoBgfShRRmq6lmcM_zH3gHYkyZ_uJWyx25MGe8OKE6u4QmIT4gax3Q94_ZEqoRymtJzqVNXi0ZgTyB/s1600/Red+Book+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="650" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGzIEcsJ4mWTqtUusGDwDSMlpGwleMNwjtzbnGqpiCk8-o0OJuf0HTj9J5g2U-XZIoBgfShRRmq6lmcM_zH3gHYkyZ_uJWyx25MGe8OKE6u4QmIT4gax3Q94_ZEqoRymtJzqVNXi0ZgTyB/s400/Red+Book+3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm hoping Christ is writing his story in my life</td></tr>
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<br />Pastor Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00504340352764693959noreply@blogger.com0