For the fun of it

“The glory of God is man fully alive.”

St. Irenaeus

BERT HEALY

“But, still, remember folks.”

WACKY

“Smile, darn ya smile.”

from Annie

These girls bring it

Tonight, the final curtain closes on the Red Barn Theater's (RBT) production of Annie. Since June 9, the rest of my cast mates and I have been driving up to “the Barn” for rehearsals and, for the last nine nights, performances. Tonight's show will mark number ten. With only one exception, we've been honored with standing “O's” every night. (Personally, I'm of the opinion that no matter how Daddy Warbucks, Hannigan or Rooster do the orphans save us every night. They're just so dang cute who wouldn't give a rousing ovation for them?) Hannah C, who plays Annie, has done just an outstanding job along with her fellow orphans from the New York Municipal Orphanage.

I'm the mug in the middle

For me, I've had the blessing of playing Rooster, my first real villain role. In '08, I was blessed to play Fagin in the RBT's production of “Oliver!” and in '09, Mayor Shinn in “Music Man”. Fagin is a thief with a heart of gold and Shinn is but a blowhard. But Rooster? There's just nothing redeeming about him (okay, the audience loves the Rooster – when in doubt, crow louder is my motto). But in the end the crowd loves it when he, Lily and Hannigan get their comeuppance.

The long and short of it is I've had a lot of fun.

SCENES FROM "THE GREEN ROOM"

We're just getting into character...

She's the cat's pajamas

Having fun is why I do community theater. I'm not in it for the money (“Wait, there's money in this?”). I don't do it for the acclaim of the folks who attend the fellowship of which I serve as pastor (Um, they are wonderful people but they are just not community theater kinda folks). I do it for the fun of it and because it helps my heart come alive. I suppose being a person of a religious persuasion I should have some spiritual reason for allocating so much time and money to playing around. “Building relationships” or “witnessing opportunities” are reasons that probably could pass muster if I had to defend them before a board of overseers. Gratefully, the leaders I work with and am submitted to are not wired that way. I've never asked for their blessing but they have never insinuated that I needed to. No, I'm in it just for laughs.

And for the people. I love to make people laugh both on stage and behind it. I love the people I get to work intensively with for nearly five weeks running. Donna/ “Lily”, the woman who plays my cohort in crime, is just so much fun to be with. Long before we make our big entrance in Act 1, Scene 7, we've already had our fill of laughs out back. The fact that she is so doggone beautiful means I just look better standing next to her.

Between scenes in "the green room"

The “green room” (in stage terminology, the place where actors hang out before and in between scenes) for this show happens to be the large grassy area behind the Barn. Every night at my invitation ten minutes before the show opens the majority of the cast gather together to pray for God's blessing on our performance as well as for each other. For the rest of the night, the 8-10 plastic chairs in this same area are full of members of the cast visiting, talking, sharing things light and, at times, not so light. I love to hear people's stories and, as in previous shows, I've heard bits and pieces of some of my cast mates' journeys. Only one or two refer to me as “Pastor Jeff.” Most of them call me “Jeff” or “Rooster” (which I want to believe is a term of endearment for them and not villainy). For a lot of them I'm probably the first (or only) pastor they've ever known in this way. (I'm not inferring that their pastor or priest is uncaring or indifferent; it's just that they probably don't hang out with him as they do with me.)

Tonight is strike, always a melancholy moment for me. A world is disassembled and put away for good, never to be replaced. I'll part company with the fedora I've loved sporting these past nine nights. In Red Barn tradition we'll sign the wall and then say our good-byes. And that's the hardest part of this whole thing. Sure, I'll bump into them at Wal-Mart or chat with them from time to time on Facebook, but we won't have opportunity of sitting in chairs in the Green Room again for a long time – really, if ever. People move away, get married, take other jobs, get away from theater. Case in point, before this show I hadn't worked with Kevin/ “Burt Healy” since Music Man ('09), Nancy/ “Ms. Hannigan” and Donna/ “Lily” since The King and I ('07). So, you never know when this might be the last hurrah together. That's what I'll miss the most when the stage is swept for the last time and Billy, the house manager, turns the lights off: chatting informally in the “green room” with some wonderful people I love, waiting for our cue to go out on that stage and make 'em laugh.

It always does my heart good. And in that I think God is pleased.

One small touch

“When the apostles in Jerusalem received the report that Samaria had accepted God’s Message, they sent Peter and John down to pray for them to receive the Holy Spirit. Up to this point they had only been baptized in the name of the Master Jesus; the Holy Spirit hadn’t yet fallen on them. Then the apostles laid their hands on them and they did receive the Holy Spirit.” Acts 8:14-17, The Message

Most people who read this passage of Scripture are drawn to it because what they think it has to say about their particular version of pneumatology (i.e., the study of the Holy Spirit and spiritual things); whether Luke is saying that Holy Spirit-infilling normally is a separate event following salvation or this was a solitary “out of the ordinary” kind of experience for a decidedly out-of the-ordinary event. (Whichever way you choose to answer that usually says more about your personal convictions about these things than it has to do with the story itself). But what gets my attention is the descriptive statement, “Then the apostles laid their hands on them...” In that small gesture, something of incredible significance is occurring right before our eyes but if we're not paying attention we'll totally miss its import.

Philip if he had lived in the "old" West

Like a lot of biblical writers, Luke is known for his economy of words. Case in point is his comment describing the after-effect of Philip's ministry in Samaria. Philip shows up practically out of breath from running away from Jerusalem where at the moment a young zealot by name of Saul is rounding up the Christians there following the death of Stephen. But instead of keeping a low profile, he gets up on a stump, preaches Jesus and is used by the Lord to heal many paralyzed individuals as well as exorcise demonic spirits from many others. And all Luke will say about these remarkable things is: “So there was great joy in that city” (v. 8). He clearly was not a 21^st century writer who would have relayed this story in far more dramatic fashion.

When it happens in the Bible it's a big deal

In like manner, he relays what happens when Peter and John show up to confirm the rumors they had been hearing in Jerusalem that Samaria had received the word of God. Luke doesn't bother to bring us into the moment of what their follow-up entailed but I infer that it involved some conversations with Philip and at the very least, having a meal or two with these new Samaritan believers. Whatever they saw was confirmation enough that the rumors were true, that there were now Christ-followers in Samaria and so at Philip's urging they prayed for these new believers in Jesus to receive the Holy Spirit. And what happens next is a “whoa” moment in Scripture because in sacramental fashion, Peter and John, both law-abiding Jewish men lay their hands – probably for the first time - upon redneck, lowlife Samaritans. The moment is awe-ful, fateful and rather humorous all at the same time.

Most of us who have grown up in church or at least are familiar enough with our Bible, know enough to understand that Samaritans in Jesus' day were considered inbreds by the rest of the Jewish population of that region. Though once upon a time they had been part of the family, following the end of the Northern Kingdom in 722 BC much of the population had been deported. The current denizens of Samaria were the descendents of a mixed bag of people who had been planted there by later foreign kings to work the land. Ajith Fernando has this to say about the centuries old schism between the two groups:

"Dude, what are you doing?"

Animosity toward Jerusalem among the Samaritans had deep historical roots. They were refused a share in rebuilding the Jerusalem temple (see Ezra 3:7-4:5), so they erected a rival temple on their hill, Gerizim. The Judean ruler John Hyrancus destroyed this temple and conquered Samaria in the second century B.C. When the Romans conquered Palestine in 63 B.C. they liberated Samaria from Judean control. (Acts: The NIV Application Commentary, p.273)

That all adds up to a lot of bad blood. No wonder the woman at the well in John 4 is incredulous that Jesus, a Jew, would even bother to talk with her. No wonder, at another time James and John asked Jesus for permission to call hellfire down on a bunch of inhospitable Samaritans (Luke 9:53-54). And yet a year or so later here is the same John back in Samaritanland, along with Peter, ready to bless their ancient foe with the blessing of the Father that had been given to them. I wonder at the moment if he was amused by the irony of it all?

But in that gesture, that laying on of hands, Peter and John are declaring that these Samaritans are equals, members and participants in the new covenant with Jesus Christ. Whether or not they had the theology of it all worked out at that moment isn't clear but by laying their hands on them it can only mean that ultimately they will reach that conclusion. Of this particular episode in the history of the Church, John Stott says,

More radical than this

...the Samaritan schism had lasted for centuries. But now the Samaritans were being evangelized, and were responding to the gospel. It was a moment of significant advance, which was also fraught with great peril. What would happen now? Would the long-standing rift be perpetuated? The gospel had been welcomed by the Samaritans, but would the Samaritans be welcomed by the Jews? Or would there be separate factions of Jewish Christians and Samaritan Christians in the church of Jesus Christ? The idea may seem unthinkable in theory; in practice it might well have happened. There was a real 'danger...of their tearing Christ apart, or at least of forming a new and separate church for themselves' [quoting Calvin]. (The Bible Speaks Today: The Message of Acts, by John R.W. Stott, p. 157)

I'm sure at the time in the Jerusalem church there were some who longed for the old rift to be healed. I'm also sure there were others who would allow the Samaritans to come back in on a probationary status while pedigrees could be checked out. But here in one fell swoop it is the apostles' assessment that these distant “cousins” were in fact now “brothers and sisters in Christ” and should be respected and welcome as such. I wonder how quickly the Jerusalem Jewish “pure-breds” embraced their “mudblood” relations? Based on the previous conflict between the Hebrew Christians and the Hellenized Christians (see Acts 6), probably quickly in some places and not so quickly in others. So for Peter and John to act as such not only did it show spiritual insight but also demonstrate moral courage. Had they held back it very well could have meant, the development of a new and subtle schism in the Body as, to use Michael Green's words, “converts from the two sides of the 'Samaritan curtain' found Christ without finding each other.” Indeed.

One small step that changed everything

In 1969, when Neil Armstrong stepped upon the moon for the first time he uttered the now famous line, “That's one small step for [a] man, one giant leap for mankind.” It wouldn't be too much of a stretch to say that when Peter and John laid their hands on these new believers, Samaritans the lot of them, it was one small touch for these men, one giant embrace for the Church universal – the first of many more embraces to come (see Acts 15). That kind of change would take generations to get into the milieu of Jewish disciples. Acceptance of Gentile believers would take even longer. But great shifts in perspective always begin such – a small seed, a small step, a small gesture made that in time results in great good. As Fernando puts it,

It is providential that through the ministry of leaders from the Jerusalem church the Samaritans received the Spirit. It helped maintain the unity of the early church...It helped [the new Samaritan Christians] begin their life as Christians with an attitude of warm love toward their traditional enemies. Perhaps somewhere in this process, they repented of their attitudes of animosity toward Jerusalem. For the Jerusalem Christians too, it was important that the authenticating sign of the conversion of the Samaritans took place when the apostles were there and through their mediation. Accepting Samaritans to their fold also involved some major attitude shifts on their part. Therefore, clear evidence that God was in these events was necessary. (Acts: The NIV Application Commentary, p. 273)

One thing is for sure, as they leave town everyone has undergone change. The Samaritans have been blessed with the Holy Spirit – a blessing, as it has already been pointed out, mediated by the Jewish apostles. But Peter and John leave changed as well for on their return journey to Jerusalem they stop in many a Samaritan village to share Jesus there (8:25). It's a brand new day for everyone, the first of many new days to come for all believers everywhere.

Jesus is not ju ju

ju·ju noun \jü-(ˌ)jü\

1 : a fetish, charm, or amulet of West African peoples

2 : the magic attributed to or associated with jujus

Source: Merriam-Webster Free Online Dictionary

“Anyone who won’t shoulder his own cross and follow behind me can’t be my disciple.” Jesus as quoted in Luke 14:27, MSG

People who like to write about spiritual growth and formation like to quote guys like Bonhoeffer who once wrote, “When Christ calls a man he bids him come and die.” I've come across this wonderful little nugget now and again over the years in devotionals, commentaries and treatises of inspirational value. In eleven words Bonhoeffer captured the essence of what it means to be a follower of Jesus: He's the boss, I'm not; even though I like to be blessed, I choose to follow him even when it appears I am being cursed; Jesus isn't my co-pilot – he's the pilot period. And that means contrary to what I may have heard elsewhere, “just add Jesus” is not a formula for the blessed life. He is not a good luck charm or ju ju that we rub when the cards are down.

As a volunteer chaplain at the Barron County Justice Center, I have heard plenty of stories of woe and despair over the years. I try and listen with a discerning ear and be a voice of God in their personal turmoil. “In my distress I called to the LORD; I cried to my God for help (Psalm 18;6, NIV)” the psalmist prayed. I have prayed many a prayers with contrite prisoners and not a few times handed over my handkerchief to them that they may have something to wipe away their tears other than their shirt sleeve. But for some of them, when the storm passes as far as I can tell they return to life as they know it. There's a reason they call it “jailhouse religion” after all. 

I think of a woman who came to Christ at the JC a year or so ago. She was a “lifer” (as the guards refer to some of the inmates there) – someone who is doing life at the Justice Center six months at a time. She was from our town and we had known each other for several years. When she needed a gas voucher or help with her rent, she'd usually come around and share with me some hard-luck story from her life. Frankly, I often helped her for the sake of her young daughter who through no fault of her own was captive to her mom's whims and impulses. When she was locked up again, a guard had actually prayed with her to receive Christ and asked me to see her. As skeptical as I was that she was on the level, when I sat down with her in P.V. 2 I saw something in her eyes that persuaded me that something real had transpired; that this was perhaps a true spiritual conversion that had occurred. We met regularly for the next several months. Her revocation hearing was coming up and she was hoping the judge would sentence her to a center that specialized in the treatment of those struggling with addictions. Instead, he sentenced her to seven years in prison. We had met shortly before the hearing and I reminded her that no matter what went down in that courtroom, God loved her and was for her and if it was her lot to go to prison he would go there with her. While she agreed with me her voice lacked conviction. And when the judge threw what part of the book he could throw at her, she called it quits with this “Jesus experiment.” A day or so later I was informed by the Director of Inmate Services that she no longer wished to see me.

I find her story a good example of what shallowness of soul we disciples at times reveal when the poop hits the fan. Like Job in our despair we cry out, “Oh, that I had someone to hear me! I sign now my defense – let the Almighty answer me...” (31:35, NIV). You know the old saying, “Be careful for what you wish for because you may get it”? Well, he gets more than he bargains for as God shows up in the storm and takes him to task: “Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man; I will question you and you shall answer me” (38:2-3, NIV). In my mind, I can't read that without imagining Elihu taking a few precautionary steps back from Job lest lightning strike him as well. For several chapters running, Jehovah lets Job have it:

“Where were you when I created the earth?” (v. 4)

“...who took charge of the ocean
    when it gushed forth like a baby from the womb? (v. 8)

“Can you find your way to where lightning is launched,
    or to the place from which the wind blows?” (v. 24)

“Can you catch the eye of the beautiful Pleiades sisters,
    or distract Orion from his hunt?
Can you get Venus to look your way,
    or get the Great Bear and her cubs to come out and play?” (v. 31-32)

(all verses from The Message)

And on it goes like the sound of Luther's hammer as he pounds his theses to the Wittenburg Door the sum of it saying to Job – or anyone else who finds himself in Job's shoes – there's way more going on then we know or guess in the workings of this universe but at the heart of it is a God who is intimately involved in everything from mountain goats having their kids (39:1) and hawks making their lazy circles in the sky (39:26). If he knows the whereabouts of the wild donkey in the wide-open places (39:5) and the eagle in her rocky crag (39:28), he certainly sees you and me at our particular address of perturbation. Like Job, we, too, want our day in court so that all things may be explained to us. But that's the irony of his story: he's never given an answer for the reasons for his troubles. He never learns that his plight was all about a bet between Jehovah and Satan. It's like a Charlie Daniels' song come to life, but instead of the devil coming down to Georgia he'd come to the land of Uz and Jehovah had put all his chips on Job that in the end he would still be standing.

In recent months there have been individuals from our fellowship who have traveled through the valley of the shadow. Each has been touched by suffering and each has written eloquently about their observations there.

Justin & Tara

Justin used to be our youth leader at Refuge. In 2008, he and his wife, Tara, moved to Kansas City so that he could attend school at the International House of Prayer in Grandview. A few years ago Lyla came along and during the last year joy was added to joy when they moved to south-western Colorado and Tara conceived again. And then the first ultrasound revealed that there was something very wrong with Harper. After several tests their doctor concluded that she had a condition referred to as Trisomy 18 (see What is Trisomy 18?), a rare genetic disorder. Without going into a lot of details, the long and short of it is that T18 is a condition that is incompatible with life outside the womb. Most T18 babies die in utero or shortly after childbirth. But of course, God is God and as long as there is life there is hope. And so they prayed and set all their friends and family to praying. Who knows, we all agreed, perhaps God intends for Harper to live.

But she didn't live. A week or so ago, she died. Faced with such an overwhelming loss, these are the words they penned the day Harper died:

Justin:

The ultrasound that we received yesterday morning revealed that our little Harper Rose went home to be with Jesus sometime on Monday afternoon or evening.  For those of us who believe in the name and work of Jesus we have a living hope that we will go to be with her when we pass from this age to the next.  Harper will forever be our daughter and we will live forever with her in the coming kingdom of God.  We do however mourn this temporary loss and are still going through the pain of saying goodbye.

Tara:

Our little angel, Harper Rose, was born at around 10:30 am. She weighed 2 lb. and was 13 inches long. She had many of the characteristic traits of T18 including the cleft palate and elongated head, but she was beautiful. She looked like she would have had a gentle spirit. She had dainty little hands and feet and penetrating eyes. We had the opportunity to spend several hours with her small frame and see God's design in her. We had a wonderful team of photographers from "Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep" come and take pictures shortly after her birth. And our wonderful nurse Skyler helped us get moldings of her hands and feet.

We are so grateful for our little girl, and we're so grateful that she did not have to suffer but rather went straight from mommy's womb to Jesus' arms. We miss her, and would have loved to have her with us in this life, but we know her's is a far, far better existence then what we know here. 

Precious in his sight

I read these words four days before our youngest graduated from high school. Whatever stress I was experiencing due to graduation and party preparations paled in significance to what Justin and Tara were experiencing as they were preparing to say good-bye to their youngest for the last time. And yet their words reveal a depth that is deeper than whatever chorus they like to sing when they gather at their local fellowship. They speak of the certainty that this reality – that we can see, and hear and touch – is but a shadow of the greater reality that is about us.

Pam

Or consider Pam. She and her husband, Dave, are members of our fellowship who live and serve on the La Coutre Oreilles Indian Reservation near Hayward, Wis. Late last year Pam was diagnosed with breast cancer. She chose to have a mastectomy and then undergo months of chemo. During that time she regularly posted at her CaringBridge site and I found that she speaks with an eloquence that is far louder than her actual, quiet voice. A few weeks before her last treatment and her doctor pronouncing her with a clean bill of health she wrote:

I am writing this at the dining room table watching a whirlwind of snow blowing around our windows, even while the icicles on the eaves drip steadily as they melt. Blowing snow and dripping icicles seem to contradict each other. Spring is here. You can feel it in the heat of the sun, but winter lingers on.

This contradiction reminds me of a conversation I had with my daughter, Jaynee, not long after we started chemo. We were sitting at the dining room table (obviously a popular spot in our house) after lunch chatting, and I reminded her how merciful God had been to us. Her response, “Yeah, getting cancer is merciful,” in her most sarcastic 13-year-old voice. I reminded her that the cancer was caught early. That we had a good prognosis. Her response, “It would be more merciful not to have cancer at all.”

That makes perfect logical sense to the world. God allowing me to have a potentially deadly disease does not seem the most merciful choice. But God teaches us not to judge things with the eyes of the world--to look beyond the logic. It’s not an easy lesson to learn. Most of us respond with fear, rejection, dismay to any source of pain, suffering or uncertainty. In the natural part of us, we can’t always see God doing a good thing. Maybe we don’t even want to see God use suffering to produce a good thing. It seems wrong somehow that the God we love and who loves us allows us to suffer when he can reach down and stop it in a heartbeat. Looking back in my journal from the early chemo days, I find a lot of honestly desperate pleas to God for life and reassurance. Now, one sentence that I wrote stands out to me, “The testing is hard; the product is the Lord’s.”

Oswald Chambers writes, “However much we know God, the great lesson to learn is that any moment, he may break in ... all of a sudden God meets life.” 

And how do we respond when “God breaks in.” I guess the only way that makes sense to me is to say, “God, I don’t know why, but I do know you. And I can trust you--for today and for tomorrow and for eternity really.” That doesn’t me I don’t struggle with fears about the future. I wish I could be a shining Christian example and say, “God, your will be done.” But honestly, I am more like, “God, don’t let this cancer come back, and I sure hope that’s your will!” 

How I have found God’s blessing in having cancer:

I evaluate the world differently. I am more merciful and less judgmental of others. I am more patient with the weaknesses of others as I walk in my own weakness.

I have learned to count my days and hours. “Teach us to realize the brevity of life, so that we may grow in wisdom.” (Psalm 90:12) I have become more discerning in my pursuits and activities. 

 Sin has become less attractive. I have gone through a deep time of repentance. I want to be in right relationship with Jesus. I see sin for what it really is--an attachment to this world that hinders our journey to the next.

I want other people to understand that there is no guarantee for tomorrow. I want them to be ready. I want them to sense the urgency, and put away the hinderances to their faith. I have a heart to reach out to others in a new way. I don’t want them to wake up one day with cancer or some other deadly disease and not be ready.

I am close to God in new, deeper ways, as I lean on him daily and trust him for my life. Cancer is like a wave. It leaves some people on the shore and carries others into the sea. But God, who controls the waves literally, is in control of the outcome. 

Had someone like myself, who has never experienced a sickness like hers, wrote those things my words would sound cruel or insensitive at best. But Pam can speak them with integrity because she has walked that path. She has been there and knows, like Job, that there is always more going on than we guess.

Dean Merrill, former editor of Christianity Today, once made what I think is an eloquent assessment of this world and its general screwed-upness, “This is not the Garden of Eden. It's not even next door.” To that conclusion Bible scholar Ajith Fernando adds,

God is powerfully at work both when the sun shines brightly and when the dark clouds loom over us.

We must, therefore, develop a theology of the fullness of the Spirit in the darkness. Such a teaching is not easy to grasp in this sensual, hedonistic world, which is afraid of suffering and does so much to avoid it. Yet the Bible tells us to anticipate suffering rather than avoid it. If we have a theology of the fullness of the Spirit in the darkness, we will eagerly seek the blessings we know God will give us through the darkness (Acts: The NIV Application Commentary, p. 266). 

So when bad things happen to good and godly people even though a cross dangled from their rear-view mirror in their car it's not a sign that God has somehow abandoned them. At the very least it means it's par for the course.

Bold as a lion

"But before all this, they will lay hands on you and persecute you. They will deliver you to synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors, and all on account of my name. This will result in your being witnesses to them. But make up your mind not to worry beforehand how you will defend yourselves. For I will give you words and wisdom that none of your adversaries will be able to resist or contradict. (Jesus in Luke 21:12-15, NIV)

To me, it's just like this...

The last two days my personal Bible reading has been from Acts 7, the account of Stephen's bold stand before the Sanhedrin. There he stands, a Martin Luther before the Diet of Worms way before Martin's time, before the highest court in the land asked to answer to the trumped up charges against him. This group of religious thugs who personally handled the murder of Jesus of Nazareth and who attempted to silence the apostles through the threat of violence not too long before now sit in judgment against him. In my mind, he's like Kirk before the Klingon High Council in Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country, an innocent man framed for the death of Chancellor Gorkon. There is death in the air and despite a pretense of a fair hearing, it's all window-dressing for a lynch mob. But Stephen is not intimidated by their scowls, their flowing robes, their murderous eyes, their aura of infallibility. He is unbowed.

He was a man bold as a lion

Every preacher worth his salt wants to be like him in that moment – if that moment should come. Fearless. Undaunted. A reckless desire to be found faithful regardless of the outcome. Like William Travis drawing his famous line in the sand, I hope to be found just as stalwart, just as stubborn if stubbornness is called for. The longest of the Acts' speeches (there are several of them), while I have read it before it's never really done much for me. After all, it is a sermon spoken by a Jewish man to a group of Jewish men in a message that is highly contextualized. “The Most High does not live in houses made by men” (v. 48)? No duh, says a 21^st Century evangelical in reply. But to those First Century guys who were the caretakers of the Temple and all it stood for these were fighting words. Living in a pluralistic society where my right to speak my mind is still defended by the powers that be, our circumstances could not be more different.

So why did Luke include it in his account at all? Why not just write, “Stephen boldly gave a defense of the gospel before the Sanhedrin which led to their finding him guilty of blasphemy”? I mean, he wasn't there. Maybe twenty years or more have gone by since Stephen's death and while it is significant to recall the particulars of the martyrdom of the first martyr of the Church of what benefit to us modern folks do we get from his final last words?

Here's a couple of things I get. First of all, if, in fact, a couple of decades have gone by since Stephen's death by the time Luke's hears the tale for the first time, the fact that there are still people around able to relate the gist of what he said that day is remarkable. Words last, (– well, at least some words do.) That speaks of an inspiration that comes from another Source than just the man himself. Secondly, he was no rube from the Diaspora despite the fact that's exactly how these angry men perceived him. He is eloquent, passionate, articulate – and his words are testimony to the fact that just as Jesus had promised they have reduced his accusers “to stammers and stutters” (Luke 21:15, Msg). In the end they strip off whatever legal veneer they had attempted to coat these proceedings with and do what they had purposed to do all along. Soon after, his life is taken but with the words of forgiveness for his persecutors on his lips as they attempt to silence him.

Of Stephen, Sri Lankan Ajith Fernando writes,

The ministry of Stephen helped blaze new trails for the gospel, which has earned him the title “radical.” He opened the door theologically for the world mission of the church. We do not know whether he himself realized this, but he freed Christianity from the temple and therefore from Judaism. A short time later the church concluded that one does not have to be Jewish first in order to be a Christian. Though Stephen ended his life an apparent failure, though he did not see the fruit of his theologizing, God revealed later that his ministry had borne great fruit. The trail he blazed was later followed by Paul – the one who approved of his death (8:1) and kept the clothes of those who stoned him (7:58), but who later became the apostle to the Gentiles. (Acts: The NIV Application Commentary, pp. 247-48)

Those are reasons enough to remember what he said that day. It's not likely I'll be in a similar situation anytime soon. But if that time should come, I'm comforted by the fact that the Spirit of God promises to give me what words and wisdom I'll need to be as bold as a lion as Stephen was. And in the mean time, may the same Spirit who filled him and caused others to regard him as a man “full of God's grace and power” (6:8) fill me.

It's all in how you look at things

“Wings area an illusive fallacy. Some may possess them, but they are not very visible, and as for me, there isn't the least sign of a feather. Don't imagine that by crossing the sea and landing on a foreign shore and learning a foreign lingo you 'burst the bonds of outer sin and hatch yourself a cherubim.”

Amy Carmichael (as quoted in A Chance to Die by Elisabeth Elliot)

Like a lot a people in ministry, I read A LOT. Biography, autobiography, theology, philosophy, history, devotional – you name it, I tend to have an appetite for it. This past year some of the best stuff I have read is by a guy who is neither published nor, as far as I know, has plans to publish at any time in the future. Kyle Ashcroft is a former over-the-road trucker who had an encounter with Jesus, and just as Peter and John left their nets, he and his wife, Laura, a member of the Mille Lacs band of the Ojibwe, left their life in rural northern Minnesota, moved to Seattle and enrolled at Seattle Bible College. Thinking God's plan was to eventually send them back to Laura's tribe and minister to her fellow Ojibwe, to their surprise following his graduation from SBC they felt the call of God direct them to take up work in far northern Uganda where they have been serving for several years now.

Laura (with a baby named Laura)

I met the Ashcrofts in 2008 when they were on furlough. They spoke at Refuge and I immediately warmed to them. Kyle is a self-described redneck who loves Jesus and enjoys serving him – most of the time. Out of courtesy at first I asked to be put on their email list but now I eagerly await his monthly installments of his journal. If Amy Carmichael was still with us, I think she'd say Kyle is her kind of people. I know he certainly is one of mine. Amy lived at a time where many missionary journals home contained lots of flowery accounts of service in the field. She would have none of that. When she was serving in Japan she once wrote, “Last night as we splashed into pools and knocked up against posts (wind and rain made carrying paper lanterns impossible) I laughed and thought of the Romance of Missions. Throw a love-halo round us, as shining as ever you like, but don't, if you wish to be true, adorn us with one more romantic” (as quoted in A Chance to Die). I don't know if Kyle has ever read any of Carmichael's works - or even heard of her – but his journal entries home are a fresh, sometimes raw, account of how things really are “in the bush.”

Kyle and Laura at Refuge

Here's a few entries from his April journal to prove the point:

4/3/13:

Choda had hit something big with the lawn mower and bent the plate that holds the blades. He did not bring it to me right away and ran it with a terrible vibration until it would not go any longer. By now, besides the plate and blades being mangled, the bolts for the motor mounts had pulled through the frame and one of the carburetor mounting bolts had broken off. Fortunately I had a spare plate and blades. And was able to fix the other problems. Praise God!

Next we needed more sand so I hauled 2 trips from a neighbor. Pastor John went with which was fun. As we were finishing up loading the first trip one of the loaders started making fun of me. This is a very common problem for some reason here. However I do not like it and jack them up when they behave that way. After (seriously) straightening out this young man he apologized and all was well. John just chuckles in the background when I do this. I believe that the guys learned a valuable lesson. Be careful of who you fiddle with. The next one just might hurt you.

Finally I spent some time with Opio (one of our church members) about his plan to start a small business. That was really fun. Praise God!

4/6/13:

The guard house builders cannot seem to get straight and plumb figured out. I show them, explain to them, but when I leave and come back the wall has to be taken apart again. I think that it is one of those "slowly by slowly" things.

I am still feeling run down and in a somewhat sizable spiritual battle. I tried to work on a message for our first speaking appointment in the States. But after struggling for some time gave up.

4/13/13:

The guys are still quite crooked, but better. Praise God for that. The walls are now at least fixable instead of having to tear them down and start over.

John and I went to Katakwi for cement and some crates of soda for him. We had a good visit. I am really impresses at how far God has brought him since we first arrived. Praise God!

He told me that there has been a problem with one of his leaders who has left and taken some of the congregation with him. It is not good, but John has a very good handle on the situation and things are going to work out. There are many 'wolves' about and one must ever be wary. It is interesting that these 'wolves' do not go after the old, weak and poor, but the ones with strength and money.

The really bad thing the leader is one of our friends and we also know his family well. It hurts to see him bringing very big problems on himself and his family (his wife and children are still attending Usuk Worship Center). So it was a very productive visit. We also went over some of the usual operational issues that we have here.

Finally Peter came back for a visit and we had a very good time of discipleship. He is facing some very big challenges in his role in the local government. As a Christian he is trying to do right, but the whole institution is riddled with corruption, including his boss. So that turned out to be a vary productive meeting as well. This is something that I just love to do. Praise God! 

4/14/13: 

The mango tree church

We went out to Ayungabella today for church. This is the mango tree church. We were a little concerned as we have been getting a lot of rain lately. And sure enough we got stuck. But we were in sight of the church so it was no problem and we left it there. We were delighted to find a partially completed grass roofed building. Praise God! The roof was up, but not completed and the walls remain to be built. All 4 of our churches here now have their own buildings which they have built themselves. We are super happy.

The service was really fun and after we had a fellowship meal and a time of sharing. It was one of the better days in church in recent memory. Praise God!

Finally we dug the truck out and with a dozen pushers were on our way back home. We gained 1 passenger for the trip home, Wilbur the rooster (I name all the chickens we get). After reaching home Wilbur found a nice home (of course it will be a short stay) with Josephine.

What a good day.

I so enjoy reading these reports home. Though I've been to Uganda twice now, I've yet to get to Usuk. To say that it's off the beaten path would be an understatement. But how wonderful that God loves those people enough to send a couple from northern Minnesota to live, work, struggle, worship, teach, and pray among them. I always get the sense that regardless of the irritations of intermittent cell and internet service to say nothing of the daunting challenge of making disciples anywhere that life is good and that there are more “Praise God!”s in his vocabulary than the usual way God's name is evoked by many.

Milo and points of view

The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster is the witty tale of a bored little boy named Milo who one day comes home from school to discover that a tollbooth is sitting in his room as well as a small electric car. Getting in the car and dropping the complimentary token into the tollbooth he proceeds to have many adventures in the Lands Beyond. Along the way he is joined by the Humbug and Tock the Watchdog and at one spot in their journey they pull over to enjoy the view:

“Remarkable view,” announced the Humbug, bouncing from the car as if he were responsible for the whole thing.

“Isn't it beautiful?” gasped Milo.

“Oh, I don't know,” answered a strange voice. “It's all in the way you look at things.”

“I beg your pardon?” said Milo, for he didn't see who he had spoken.

“I said it's all in how you look at things,” repeated the voice.

Milo turned around and found himself staring at two very neatly polished brown shoes, for standing directly in front of him (if you can use the word “standing” for anyone suspended in mid-air) was another boy just about his age, whose feet were easily three feet off the ground.

“For instance,” continued the boy, “if you happened to like deserts, you might not think this was beautiful at all.”

“That's true,” said the Humbug, who didn't like to contradict anyone whose feet were that far off the ground.

“For instance,” said the boy again, “if Christmas trees were people and people were Christmas trees, we'd all be chopped down, put up in the living room, and covered with tinsel, while the trees opened our presents.”

“What does that have to do with it?” asked Milo.

“Nothing at all,” he answered, “but it's an interesting possibility, don't you think?”

(Alex Bings to Milo in “It's All In How You Look At Things”)

The strange boy (who grows closer to the ground the older he gets) is right. As we might say today, “attitude is everything.” During the last few years at Refuge we've experienced a handful of traumatic events: In 2011, we were robbed three times by the same individual; in 2012, not only did one of our core families experience loss when Steve was in a terrible motorcycle accident but also a water supply line to the men's room mysteriously came loose which led to the flooding of our basement; and in 2013, our insurance company dropped us like a hot rock on account of what happened in 2011 and '12. Though the police captured the thief and I have since met with him a few times before he left for prison and though we now have a new, wonderful lower level facility, still our deacons had to scramble to find a new insurance policy. And because of our recent claim activity we are now paying double of what we once did. Frankly, it's a little irritating. In fact, when Kyle says he had to “jack” some guy up recently, I've wanted to do the same to the kid who caused all the problems to begin with as well as everyone at our former insurance company for their rude and unprofessional dealings with us (seriously, when a customer service person tells you that she doesn't want to hear your complaint and offers to give you a web address instead, I was like Mr. Furious in Mystery Men wanting to yell at the lady, “Don't mess with the volcano...'cause I will go Pompeii on your... butt.” I refrained from doing so – out loud). But, for all that, if I hold on tenaciously to the big picture I am reminded that every set back we experienced in '11 and '12 has turned into a ministry opportunity or two. In fact, ministry hasn't pulled back at all. If anything, it's increased. I gotta think that this recent slap in the face will turn out much the same way. 

I believe the line is, "This little sucker just saved your life!"

Until the kingdom comes in its fullness, there will always be difficult people to deal with, stuff will break down and the most importune moments and you'll just have days that, like Alexander in the Judith Viorst story, are horrible, terrible, no good and very bad. As she says, “Some days are like that. Even in Australia.” So though the truck may be buried up to its axles in mud, with the help of some good pushers, you can be back on your way and who knows, maybe with a rooster for your evening dinner. God is good even on the bad days - even the ones that are terribly bad – and is able to give each of us a fresh perspective on the place he has called us to.

“...what we believe is that the One who raised up the Master Jesus will just as certainly raise us up with you, alive. Every detail works to your advantage and to God’s glory: more and more grace, more and more people, more and more praise!”

“So we’re not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace. These hard times are small potatoes compared to the coming good times, the lavish celebration prepared for us. There’s far more here than meets the eye. The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can’t see now will last forever” (Paul as quoted in 2 Corinthians 4:14-18, The Message)

Batting a thousand

I just like the picture

“Through the work of the apostles, many God-signs were set up among the people, many wonderful things done. They all met regularly and in remarkable harmony on the Temple porch named after Solomon. But even though people admired them a lot, outsiders were wary about joining them. On the other hand, those who put their trust in the Master were added right and left, men and women both. They even carried the sick out into the streets and laid them on stretchers and bedrolls, hoping they would be touched by Peter’s shadow when he walked by. They came from the villages surrounding Jerusalem, throngs of them, bringing the sick and bedeviled. And they all were healed.” - Acts 5:12-16, The Message

As I read these words recently, a different vignette from the apostles' story came to mind - the time when immediately following the death of Jesus they were hunkering down behind locked doors “for fear of the Jews” (John 20:19, NIV). At that time, even a young serving girl could provoke Peter into denying he knew the Lord. But no more. Not since the Holy Spirit had come and changed these men forever. By the time we get to Acts 5, I don't know how much time has elapsed since the Resurrection. Whether it's been a few months or a bit longer, those days of hiding are long gone. Now wherever they go people want a piece of them. Even Peter's shadow seems to have healing properties. From all over the city and the immediate surrounding area the sick and tormented are brought to them and in every case “all of them were healed” (v. 16). How exciting a season of ministry this must have been for them (there would be other seasons not so exciting that the Epistles seem to allude to) – to “bat a thousand” Every time they prayed, stuff happened, results were seen, people were blessed and “more and more men and women believed in the Lord and were added to their number” (v. 14).

In Acts 5, the apostles bat like  Roy Hobbs at Wrigley

In my twenty-one and a half years as a pastor, I have not lived through such a season - yet. Certainly God has answered prayer. Certainly there have been seasons where I had the feeling that ala blind Barimaeus in Jericho (see Mark 10) “Jesus was passing by” but I have never batted a .1000 - ever. Having said this, as I imagine this scene I get the feeling that the apostles were just as surprised as everyone else. It wasn't that long ago when a man stood before Jesus with his demonized son and reported, “I asked your disciples to drive out the spirit, but they could not” (Mark 9:18). Admittedly, that healing would have been a tall order for anyone. And while this occurred in pre-Pentecost days, I think these guys understood clearly enough that whatever power they were manifesting as they prayed over the multitude that were brought to them had come to them as a gift from heaven.

It was just like the "old" days

“And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age,” is the last thing Jesus said to his disciples prior to the Ascension (Matthew 28:20). I can't help but think on those days when people are getting healed left and right that they must have laughed together as it brought to mind the times when Jesus had been physically among them and had done the same (e.g., Luke 4:40). As good as his word, he was still among them by his Spirit and still working (see John 5:17). Just like he had said, he hadn't abandoned them like orphans; instead he was very much present and working wondrously through each of them. In fact, the best thing about this “red letter day” for the apostles was the certainty that just as Jesus was in the Father, they were in him and he, by faith, was in them (John 14:18-20).

A few posts ago, I shared about how during my recent ministry trip to Africa, Troy, one of the elders of our fellowship, and myself had prayed over about 45 ladies with HIV (see Ignorance really can be bliss). Recently I heard through our host that day that one of these women is now testifying of being healed. If that is the case, I'm happy for her and am honored to be a disciple who had placed his hand on her head and prayed the name of Jesus over her. I didn't prepare for that moment. I didn't engage in a long season of prayer and fasting. I wasn't feeling especially anointed or spiritual. I shared the Word and then gave an invitation for prayer. I really don't follow baseball, but as I figure it one “hit” out of 45 at-bats (AB) comes out to a .022% batting average (BA). Yeah, they don't give out awards for that. For the sake of those I pray for and for the glory of the Name, I wish I had a better batting average. But until then, I will continue to swing away 'cause you never know – today might be the day that I hit the long ball and some traumatized or severely ill individual bounces their way home like the beggar bounding into the Temple healed and set free (see Acts 3). Ultimately, though my results are a lot less spectacular than what happened through the apostles in the heady days of Acts 5, I concur with what John Wimber once said about these things: “Obedience to God’s word is the fundamental reason that I pray for the sick and receive prayer personally, even when I do not see healing as a result of those prayers. I decided long ago, that if one hundred people receive prayer and only one is healed, it is better than if none receive prayer and no one is healed.” But gee...it sure would be fun to hit a few more over the fence than I usually do. Sure God gets all the glory. I just need to be reminded from time to time that he is in me and I am in him (John 14:20). 

"Swing away, Charlie. Swing away."