It was the day we had been looking forward to for months, and it dawned hot and beautiful. The music was rehearsed. The vows were memorized. The preacher was prepared. The punch was mixed. The gowns and tuxedos miraculously fit.
The sanctuary was air conditioned, but the fellowship hall was not, so we had to put the cake in the refrigerator to keep the icing from melting!
A lot of money went into the day: dresses, tuxedos, invitations, travel, decorations, cake, flowers, and a hundred other little things, along with gratuities for the organist, the guitarist, and the pastor. Then, in a blur of whites and pastels, veils and patent leather, it was over. The crowd was gone, the cake was eaten or put away, the leftovers wrapped and stored.
All for what? Forty-five minutes of ceremonious pageantry? A couple of hours with friends and family?
Of course not. What it was all for was to show how important commitment is.
That’s why we put so much into weddings. Not to show off the bride. Not to build a monument to the prosperity of somebody’s family. Not to satisfy the wishes of a mother who didn’t have a nice wedding herself. Not for the romance, or the presents, or the party.
A wedding is a showcase for a life-changing, life-long commitment, and that’s why we make such a big deal of it: we don’t want the commitment to be made haphazardly or without solemn forethought and intentionality. By the way, that’s also why more and more pastors are requiring three or four months of pre-marital preparation. After all, a wedding lasts a few minutes: a marriage is supposed last a lifetime.
Commitments are critical to our growth as God’s creatures, because we become what we're committed to.
Whenever you make a commitment, at that moment you don’t yet measure up to it. For example, when I received Jesus as my Lord and Savior, I barely had a minimal grasp of that commitment: all I knew is that I was giving my life to Jesus. Yet, to this day, forty-four years after I was born again, the commitment I made continues to draw me further on. The fact that I committed to follow Jesus keeps pulling me higher up and further into His plans for me.
I could not do it on my own, without the accountability of commitment. I probably wouldn’t give of myself, or strive to serve God, or put my wife and family first, if I hadn’t promised God I’d try to do so, and hadn’t asked for His help. The commitment I made is what keeps me growing.
That’s why God expects people to keep making commitments. It is only as you keep growing that you stay effective and productive in your relationship with Jesus! It is only as you make solid, Spirit-led commitments that you grow up into them.
Are you committed to following Jesus? Is it time for a fresh commitment to Jesus, to your church or to your family?
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Thursday, March 16, 2006
HYPOCRITES IN HEAVEN?
In all my years of ministry, I have talked with lots of people about heaven, and asked them if they wanted to go to heaven when they die. In all those conversations, only one person ever told me he didn’t want to go to heaven. When I asked him why didn’t want to go to heaven, he said something like this: “I don’t want to go be with all those hypocrites forever.”
Amazing! At first I was shocked. Then, I began to wonder: are there hypocrites in heaven?
To answer that question, we need to consider what people mean when they say “hypocrite.”
That word commonly refers to someone who says one thing and does another. It’s typically used to describe folks who come to church on Sunday, and seem to be pretty saintly in the sanctuary; but who then spend the rest of the week sinning like those who never go to church at all.
Unfortunately, that definition of “hypocrite” disregards the Biblical nature of the church. God’s Word doesn’t define the church as a saint museum, but rather as a sinner hospital. There’s no better place for sinners to be than in church, because that’s supposed to be the place we gather to learn of God’s mercy, forgiveness and healing. That includes you and me.
Jesus encountered the same problem in His earthly ministry. His infant church was comprised mostly of people formerly famous for sinning, but who were now forgiven and striving to overcome sin. Jesus was accused of having a hypocrite-filled church back then, so it shouldn’t surprise us if the church is accused of the same thing today.
But that’s the church.
Heaven’s going to be different: perfectly different. All the sin that plagues the church, that we Christians struggle to overcome, will be completely wiped away in heaven. Gone. Erased. Forever.
When you accept Jesus as your personal Lord and Savior, at that moment, God delivers you from the eternal penalty of your sin. Then, as you grow in your faith and begin to obey God, He delivers you from the power of sin, so that little by little, you sin less and less. Finally, when you die, He opens heaven to you and delivers you from the presence of sin.
Free from sin’s penalty – that’s salvation, or “phase one.”
Released from sin’s power – that’s spiritual growth, “phase two.”
Delivered from sin’s presence – that’s heaven, “phase forever.”
If you are a Christian, right now you are in “phase two,” still striving to defeat sin. But when you die, you will enter into complete and sudden victory in the heavenly presence of God.
Heaven will be filled not with hypocrites, but with former hypocrites, those who were once very imperfect sinners, saved by grace and welcomed into heaven by God’s astonishing mercy.
If you’re willing to look humbly at your own sin instead of glaring proudly at the sin of those around you, there’s always room for forgiveness with Jesus. There’s still plenty of room in heaven, and lots of room in church!
Amazing! At first I was shocked. Then, I began to wonder: are there hypocrites in heaven?
To answer that question, we need to consider what people mean when they say “hypocrite.”
That word commonly refers to someone who says one thing and does another. It’s typically used to describe folks who come to church on Sunday, and seem to be pretty saintly in the sanctuary; but who then spend the rest of the week sinning like those who never go to church at all.
Unfortunately, that definition of “hypocrite” disregards the Biblical nature of the church. God’s Word doesn’t define the church as a saint museum, but rather as a sinner hospital. There’s no better place for sinners to be than in church, because that’s supposed to be the place we gather to learn of God’s mercy, forgiveness and healing. That includes you and me.
Jesus encountered the same problem in His earthly ministry. His infant church was comprised mostly of people formerly famous for sinning, but who were now forgiven and striving to overcome sin. Jesus was accused of having a hypocrite-filled church back then, so it shouldn’t surprise us if the church is accused of the same thing today.
But that’s the church.
Heaven’s going to be different: perfectly different. All the sin that plagues the church, that we Christians struggle to overcome, will be completely wiped away in heaven. Gone. Erased. Forever.
When you accept Jesus as your personal Lord and Savior, at that moment, God delivers you from the eternal penalty of your sin. Then, as you grow in your faith and begin to obey God, He delivers you from the power of sin, so that little by little, you sin less and less. Finally, when you die, He opens heaven to you and delivers you from the presence of sin.
Free from sin’s penalty – that’s salvation, or “phase one.”
Released from sin’s power – that’s spiritual growth, “phase two.”
Delivered from sin’s presence – that’s heaven, “phase forever.”
If you are a Christian, right now you are in “phase two,” still striving to defeat sin. But when you die, you will enter into complete and sudden victory in the heavenly presence of God.
Heaven will be filled not with hypocrites, but with former hypocrites, those who were once very imperfect sinners, saved by grace and welcomed into heaven by God’s astonishing mercy.
If you’re willing to look humbly at your own sin instead of glaring proudly at the sin of those around you, there’s always room for forgiveness with Jesus. There’s still plenty of room in heaven, and lots of room in church!
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
YOU CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE!
I got one of “those” phone calls recently: a public opinion poll, the kind where they ask questions about political candidates. It was more than little entertaining. However, as I listened to the issues on the agenda of this particular pollster, I was reminded that our culture has obviously lost its sense of direction. We have completely severed the chains of our moral anchors, and we are utterly adrift on a stormy sea of rival opinions. We know neither where we are nor where we’re going.
It got me to thinking. And praying.
There was a time when the church served as the moral and spiritual conscience of our culture, not because it was perfect or pure, but because it called society without compromise to submit to Him Who is.
How did the church lose its moral influence in our culture?
It boils down to the fact that the church was asleep during those crucial times when the culture was making critical moral and spiritual choices. During the secularizing upheaval of the 1920’s, the sexual revolution of the 1960’s, the cultural relativism of the 1980’s, and the moral decline of the last decade, the church in western culture has done little more than wring its hands and pout.
Keith Green put it this way in one of his songs:
“The world is sleeping in the dark
That the church just can’t fight,
‘Cause it’s asleep in the light!”
What can be done to restore the church to its rightful place as the conscience of our culture?
It will never happen if we wait on the leaders of the church to make it happen. Indeed, the moral lapses of so many church leaders practically guarantee their inability to bring the needed changes. It has to begin with each of us. With me and you.
Admittedly, you can’t change the whole culture.
However, in the power of the Holy Spirit, here’s what you can do.
You can quit griping about the way things are, and start doing something about it, by bringing the moral imperatives of God’s Word to bear in your own life and in the public arena of decision-making and policy formation.
You can pray for your community and its leaders, and occasionally even attend a School Board or City Council meeting to say a word of Godly encouragement.
You can impact your sphere of influence: the people you know; the neighborhood where you live.
You can share God’s truth with others.
You can live God’s truth for them to see.
You can love people in Jesus’ name and demonstrate to them that He loves them very much.
You can show up where God’s presence is required.
You can stand up where God’s influence is needed.
You can speak up where God’s voice must be heard.
You can change your world, in the power of God: one choice at a time, one life at a time, one heart at a time.
You can. And you must.
It got me to thinking. And praying.
There was a time when the church served as the moral and spiritual conscience of our culture, not because it was perfect or pure, but because it called society without compromise to submit to Him Who is.
How did the church lose its moral influence in our culture?
It boils down to the fact that the church was asleep during those crucial times when the culture was making critical moral and spiritual choices. During the secularizing upheaval of the 1920’s, the sexual revolution of the 1960’s, the cultural relativism of the 1980’s, and the moral decline of the last decade, the church in western culture has done little more than wring its hands and pout.
Keith Green put it this way in one of his songs:
“The world is sleeping in the dark
That the church just can’t fight,
‘Cause it’s asleep in the light!”
What can be done to restore the church to its rightful place as the conscience of our culture?
It will never happen if we wait on the leaders of the church to make it happen. Indeed, the moral lapses of so many church leaders practically guarantee their inability to bring the needed changes. It has to begin with each of us. With me and you.
Admittedly, you can’t change the whole culture.
However, in the power of the Holy Spirit, here’s what you can do.
You can quit griping about the way things are, and start doing something about it, by bringing the moral imperatives of God’s Word to bear in your own life and in the public arena of decision-making and policy formation.
You can pray for your community and its leaders, and occasionally even attend a School Board or City Council meeting to say a word of Godly encouragement.
You can impact your sphere of influence: the people you know; the neighborhood where you live.
You can share God’s truth with others.
You can live God’s truth for them to see.
You can love people in Jesus’ name and demonstrate to them that He loves them very much.
You can show up where God’s presence is required.
You can stand up where God’s influence is needed.
You can speak up where God’s voice must be heard.
You can change your world, in the power of God: one choice at a time, one life at a time, one heart at a time.
You can. And you must.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
WHY SHOULD HE LOVE ME SO?
Formative. Almost determinative.
It’s one of my early childhood memories, the kind that take on foundational importance. The details are a bit fuzzy, but the core is solid.
This formative, almost determinate moment took place during my Dad’s first pastorate, in a little old church in Stilesville, Indiana. While they had hired him to preach, and that only part-time, mind you, it seemed like every job that somebody wasn’t already doing fell to him, whether he could do it or not. So it was that, even though he didn’t read music, he became the choir director, because he sang bass in a barbershop quartet. Even though he’d never done it before, he ran the youth group, because he had teenage sons. And even though he wasn’t a soloist, he sang a solo several times a month, because he had the nerve.
Maybe it was on a Sunday night – that’s usually when he got to (translation: had to) sing – when I heard the song that lately has come rolling back through my mind like an 18-wheeler.
Love sent my Savior to die in my stead.
Why should He love me so?
Meekly to Calvary’s cross He was led.
Why should He love me so?
And the refrain:
Why should He love me so?
Why should He love me so?
Why should my Savior to Calvary go?
Why should He love me so?
When I was eight, it was just another song my Dad sang, not so different from most: nice enough, to be sure; and the people who heard him sing it obviously liked it, even though, as Dad said afterward, it was just a little out of his range.
Forty-four years later, I have discovered it’s completely out of my range.
Musically speaking, the song is certainly not daunting; but then, unlike my Dad, I had lots of musical training. He saw to it that I did. But there is no training, musical or otherwise, that can put the event the song refers to within our range.
Why, indeed, should He love me so?
That’s a question that just won’t go away, if you’ve pondered the crucifixion of God’s Son. All the logic of theological expertise and all the wisdom of the wise leave us staring awestruck into the marred countenance of Unexplainable Love, incarnate from the Virgin Mary, crucified under Pontius Pilate, Who suffered and was buried, and on the third day rose again.
Why should He love me so?
I can’t describe it, except to point to the cross. I can’t figure it out. What did He see in me that would move Him to endure such horror, such unspeakable agony for my salvation?
Why should He love me so?
There are no words left to speak.
Why should He love me so?
There is only a life left to offer. Here I am, Lord. Take me. I’m Yours.
It’s one of my early childhood memories, the kind that take on foundational importance. The details are a bit fuzzy, but the core is solid.
This formative, almost determinate moment took place during my Dad’s first pastorate, in a little old church in Stilesville, Indiana. While they had hired him to preach, and that only part-time, mind you, it seemed like every job that somebody wasn’t already doing fell to him, whether he could do it or not. So it was that, even though he didn’t read music, he became the choir director, because he sang bass in a barbershop quartet. Even though he’d never done it before, he ran the youth group, because he had teenage sons. And even though he wasn’t a soloist, he sang a solo several times a month, because he had the nerve.
Maybe it was on a Sunday night – that’s usually when he got to (translation: had to) sing – when I heard the song that lately has come rolling back through my mind like an 18-wheeler.
Love sent my Savior to die in my stead.
Why should He love me so?
Meekly to Calvary’s cross He was led.
Why should He love me so?
And the refrain:
Why should He love me so?
Why should He love me so?
Why should my Savior to Calvary go?
Why should He love me so?
When I was eight, it was just another song my Dad sang, not so different from most: nice enough, to be sure; and the people who heard him sing it obviously liked it, even though, as Dad said afterward, it was just a little out of his range.
Forty-four years later, I have discovered it’s completely out of my range.
Musically speaking, the song is certainly not daunting; but then, unlike my Dad, I had lots of musical training. He saw to it that I did. But there is no training, musical or otherwise, that can put the event the song refers to within our range.
Why, indeed, should He love me so?
That’s a question that just won’t go away, if you’ve pondered the crucifixion of God’s Son. All the logic of theological expertise and all the wisdom of the wise leave us staring awestruck into the marred countenance of Unexplainable Love, incarnate from the Virgin Mary, crucified under Pontius Pilate, Who suffered and was buried, and on the third day rose again.
Why should He love me so?
I can’t describe it, except to point to the cross. I can’t figure it out. What did He see in me that would move Him to endure such horror, such unspeakable agony for my salvation?
Why should He love me so?
There are no words left to speak.
Why should He love me so?
There is only a life left to offer. Here I am, Lord. Take me. I’m Yours.
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