Author: firstdelray

Acts 16:7, 8 (Common English Bible)

            From the Riverside Church pulpit of New York City, Harry Emerson Fosdick began a sermon, “Even in ordinary times few persons have a chance to live their lives on the basis of their first choice.”[i]The sermon was preached in 1944 and remains as timely today as it was then. A distinguished preacher, Fosdick’s sermons reached a broader audience than the Riverside Church. Once identified as one of America’s towering religious leaders, pastors from around the nation would travel to New York City to be coached toward more effective preaching in their own pulpits. Quite simply, Fosdick would teach that effective preaching met the pressings needs of the person in the pew. That morning in 1944, Fosdick did exactly that in grand fashion. His starting point was a common human condition – having to do the best we can with our second and third choices in life.

            Fosdick found a natural place to begin in the sixteenth chapter of the Book of Acts. The apostle Paul, along with his traveling companions, most urgently desired to take the Gospel of Jesus Christ to Bithynia, “but the Spirit of Jesus wouldn’t let them.” Declaring the Gospel of Christ from a pulpit square in the middle of Bithynia was Paul’s first choice. Denied his first choice, Paul traveled to Troas instead. And a vision appeared to Paul in the night: There was a man of Macedonia standing before Paul, urging Paul, “Come over to Macedonia and help us! (Acts 16:9)” Paul had not planned that! Paul had not intended to go to Europe. It would be a stretch to say that Europe was Paul’s second choice – so focused he was on Bithynia. Paul had not considered a second choice. But a second choice is what Europe became.

            Well, wanting Bithynia and getting Troas is a familiar experience, declared Fosdick. Each of us set our sights on our own Bithynia and there is nothing wrong with that! Perhaps it is pursuing an education at a particular college, aspiring to a particular career, or entering a deeply meaningful and fulfilling relationship with another person. Casting our sights on something purposeful demonstrates hopefulness and energy and joy in living. But for many of us, our expectations are disappointed. Our eyes are directed toward Bithynia and we find ourselves in Troas.

            Paul was not permitted to enter Bithynia, to have his first choice in life and in ministry. And his response to receiving second best is instructive to us. Paul did not slump in defeat and disappointment. Paul was not immobilized by despair. A man from Macedonia came to Paul in a dream and urged him, “Come over to Macedonia and help us!” And when Paul received this vision, he went immediately to Macedonia, concluding that this is God’s call and claim upon him. In this brief and simple act of obedience, Paul changed to course of the Christian faith! That is because Paul’s ministry in Macedonia set in motion particular opportunities that resulted in nearly two-thirds of our New Testament. Paul believed that if God led him to Troas instead of Bithynia, there must be something in Troas worth discovering.

Joy,           

Genesis 2: 22 (New Revised Standard Version)

Joy,

Acts 9:3-5 (Common English Bible)

            Originally recorded by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band on their 1994 album, Acoustic, the song, Bless the Broken Road, has since been recorded by multiple artist including Melodie Crittenden, Selah, Jamie Slocum, and Carrie Underwood. The highest-charting rendition is by the country music group, Rascal Flatts, who released the song in November, 2004 winning a Grammy Award for Best Country Song. Here is a moving message that describes how the process of getting over a past relationship can eventually lead to a deeper love. Every lost love is described as a star, which, collectively, all point the way to the present love: “Every long lost dream led me to where you are. Others who broke my heart they were like Northern stars, pointing me on my way into your loving arms.”

            I imagine a similar song was sung in the heart of the apostle Paul, a song that remained there until he took his last breath – a song of discovering, on the Road to Damascus, his one true love, Jesus Christ. In the Book of Acts, Paul self-identifies his love for God and his disdain for those who would corrupt the faith as he understood it. Chief among those Paul hated were followers of Jesus. With authority from the highest level of the Jewish faith, Paul traveled extensively, arresting “persons who belong to the Way (Christians)” and placing them in prison. Such was Paul’s passionate hate for Christians we may assume that his faith was one of considerable “brokenness” as he traveled one road after another, spewing out murderous threats against the Lord’s followers.

            During one of his campaigns to eradicate the “Christian menace,” Saul traveled a road to Damascus where “suddenly a light from heaven encircled him.” That road would become the place where Saul’s confidence in his own righteousness would be shattered. Falling to the ground, a voice thunders from heaven, asking Saul why he was following a road of hatred – a hatred of such intensity it aroused fear among the people. “Who are you, Lord?” asks Saul, whose name would become Paul. The reply would forever change Saul, both his name and the direction of his life. The “Northern star” of his passionate Jewish faith directed Saul down a road that was chosen by God to point him into the loving arms of Jesus.

            “This much I know is true,” announces the song, “That God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you.” For years upon years, Saul pursued a passionate love for his God, a love that was misdirected. Saul was lost, yet he kept pushing through, unaware that God was gathering all the brokenness of Saul life for a grand purpose. “I’d like to have the time I lost and give it back to you,” sounds the second stanza. We hear this in Paul’s writings in the New Testament, Paul regarded everything before Jesus as of no value. Yet, “It’s all part of a grander plan that is coming true.” The Road to Damascus would become Saul’s “broken road” where everything would now change. God blessed that broken road and led Saul straight to Jesus. God will do the same for us.

Joy,      

Philippians 4:8 (Common English Bible)

            Happy People, a song recorded by the country group Little Big Town, features positive lyrics that both evoke feelings of joy and well-being as it encourages kindness and a positive approach to daily life: “Happy people don’t cheat. Happy people don’t lie. They don’t judge, or hold a grudge, don’t criticize.” Supported by a driving percussion rhythm, the memorable lyrics sound a poignant note of the choices each of us are called to make daily – the choice to collapse beneath the hurt and brokenness that may come our way or the choice to rise above the fray of disappointment and positively move forward as best we can, “Here’s to whatever puts a smile on your face. Whatever makes you happy people.”

            These lyrics offer sound counsel for living. It is the same counsel offered by the apostle Paul to those living in Philippi, “…if anything is excellent and if anything is admirable, focus your thoughts on these things.” Paul does not address the external circumstances the people may be facing. In fact, those external circumstances are very difficult. There is a constant threat of persecution for their faith and quarrels among the spiritual leaders of the church are tearing at the fabric of their community. Yet, these difficulties, though serious, are not to be determinative for the life of Christians. Followers of Jesus Christ do not “react” toward what is happening all around them – they “respond” positively, confident in the presence of the risen Christ working through them for the reconciliation of the world.

            The difference between “reacting” and “responding” to daily life, and all each day brings, is considerable. Those who “react” give power to the circumstances of life for which they have little control. It is a power that will determine if the day will be filled with defeat or victory, sadness or happiness. The decision is made for us. But those who “respond” to daily life reserve that decision for themselves. For Christians, that decision is grounded in the certainty that, come what may each day, we belong to God. It is that knowledge that creates joy regardless of the circumstances we may find surrounding us.

            Paul asks that we “focus” our thoughts. That is an intentional, purposeful decision, not a reactive one. Paul then proceeds to identify the qualities that are to occupy our minds and shape our character as a people of God: “all that is true, all that is holy, all that is just, all that is pure, all that is lovely, and all that is worthy of praise.” We are reminded that the course of our life need not be directed by what happens to us but, rather, how we chose to face daily challenges. Little Big Town concludes their song, Happy People, “Well life is short. And love is rare. And we all deserve to be happy while we’re here.” Paul wants us to know that the decision is ours.

Joy,   

God invites, but never compels his people to join him in honoring his name and in carrying out his purposes.  We send our R.S.V.P. to the Father’s invitation by praying daily, as the Christians of the first century did.

“He wakens me morning by morning, wakens my ear to listen like one being taught.”

Psalm 23:4 (Common English Bible)

            Few would disagree that our present age may be identified as one of insecurity. The recent presidential election in the United States has unmasked a starkly divided nation – the division largely one of how best to protect our way of life in a world that grows increasingly more hostile each day. Behind the rhetoric and rancor of the political right and left is an unrest that is driven by a disillusionment of our modern world. Present in France, Great Britain, Greece and multiple other nations is a spirit of revolt and revolution that is occurring right here in our own nation. Everywhere, it seems, is a feeling that we are no longer secure. We are vulnerable and, if we let down our guard, the world can get at us. People the world over have become weary of being tossed about by conflict, terror and uncertainty. Nations are looking for some haven where they can once again experience a new calm.

            What is it that the Christian faith can provide in these troubling times? What impresses me in reading these few familiar words from Psalm 23 is the complete serenity of the one who walks through, “the darkest valley.” We are not told what is occurring in the Psalmist’ life when these words were written. Perhaps it was the death of a spouse or a child. Perhaps it is economic collapse or a diagnosis of a threatening illness. It does not matter that we aren’t told. It is enough to know that, whatever it may be, the experience is the darkest moment to be experienced in that particular life. Yet, the Psalmist is not disturbed or distracted by the news – the mood that prevails is one of tranquility. The clearly expressed reason is that God shows-up and the Psalmist notices. And that is enough.

            There is present a calm temperament in a life that walks closely with the Lord. Though there are challenges and storms in our day that would unsettle many, the Psalmist is equipped with an amazing power of detachment. The shepherd’s “rod” and “staff” are visible in the midst of the darkness – both signs and symbols of the office of someone who comes alongside the sheep to tend off predators and provide gentle guidance in the right way. The Psalmist never lost sight of God and because of this, felt protected and cared for. Life is faced – even when it is darkest – bravely and with buoyancy.

            That confidence can be ours as well. There is no more certain route to the recovery of serenity than through the discovery of God. The vulnerable life always clings to visible – and perishable – things of the earth, looking for guarantees. This is seen when someone announces that their hope for national security is in one candidate for president and not another. The invulnerable life rests secure in the invisible things, unruffled by the news of calamity because they have fixed their lives upon an unfaltering faith in an unfailing God. Rise each morning and repeat these words from the Psalmist. The power that is nurtured within will not change the external conditions of our world. But inner storms will subside as the presence of God is recognized. 

Joy,

Acts 12:16 (Common English Bible)

            Here is a story for everyone; a story of someone who tried and failed, but refused to give up. Peter was one of Jesus’ disciples. At a critical hour, he failed Jesus by denying him three times. But Jesus never failed Peter. Following Jesus’ resurrection, his continued embrace and love for Peter launched Peter into a preaching ministry of considerable zeal and devotion. Up and down the countryside, Peter gave witness to the power of the risen Christ to change lives. Peter’s primary exhibit for his testimony was his own life. Soon he found himself enmeshed by hostile forces and, finally, preached himself into prison.

            Prayers were made for Peter by the Christian communities that he started and were now growing, as a result of his preaching. One night an angel came to Peter, placed the prison guard into a deep sleep, released the chains from Peter’s hands, and opened the prison doors. An important detail of this miracle story is that the angel instructed Peter to place on his sandals. The angel was able to place the guard into a slumber, release Peter’s hands from the chains that held him, and open the prison doors. Yet, the angel holds Peter responsible for placing on his own shoes. Apparent in this small detail is that God will always do what we cannot do, but God will not do for us what we can do. Peter was capable of placing upon his feet his shoes.

            Peter, now freed from prison, goes out into the dark, hiding in the thickness of the night from Roman solders, and makes his way to a home where he hoped to be received and cared for. When Peter knocked at the outer gate, a female servant went to answer. Recognizing Peter, and overcome with surprise and joy, the servant runs back into the house with the grand announcement of Peter’s release. Yet, in her amazement and delight, she forgets to open the gate and let Peter into the residence. “Meanwhile, Peter remained outside, knocking at the gate.”  

            Peter does not shrug his shoulders and walk back into the night, commenting, “It’s no use.” Peter continues to knock. Peter is resilient. He will not give in or give up. By his persistence, Peter reveals the grandeur of his trust in God’s continuing presence and care. Many of us will stand – at some moment of our life – before a closed door. The closed door may be a job opportunity that never materializes, a romantic relationship that is never found, or an illness that lingers – health seemly more and more elusive. Before that closed door, life asks, “Will you continue to trust God in the face of bitterness and disappointment?” Peter stands before a closed door unafraid, determined to see it through. His strength is located in God’s fidelity, demonstrated in his past. That same strength is available to us when we stand before a door that is closed.

Joy,

Hebrews 4:16 (Common English Bible)

            This is truly one of the great passages of the New Testament. In these few words we are reminded that Jesus is a source of tremendous power, the place we turn to when we need help. Jesus is not someone who is incapable of understanding and sympathizing with our struggles. Jesus struggled as we struggle, was tempted as we are tempted, and endured disappointment as we endure disappointment, without ever committing any sin. Jesus is full of sympathy for us because he fought, as we fight, on the battlefields of human life. There is remarkable authenticity in the sympathy Jesus has for us because he tasted the same bitterness of conflict and hateful evil forces that seek our defeat. Yet, unfailingly, Jesus emerged a victor. His strength is now our strength.

            It must not be forgotten that Jesus won battle after battle by using the same spiritual resource that is open to us – the spiritual power that comes from God in regular prayer. Jesus engaged no unnatural means to gain victory that is denied to us, no private miracle reserved only for God’s Son. He fought as we fight, standing where we stand, with the same resource that is placed in our hands – regular communion with God through prayer. Victory by any other means would have been of little value for ordinary people like us. The guidance Jesus offers us, and the encouragement we receive, is from someone who battled with no more than what is available to us.

            It is well to remember that temptation is not sin. Jesus was tempted – perhaps the best known moment is when he is on a mountain, with God, for forty days following his baptism. But Jesus did not sin. It is not sin to discover that in some unguarded moment an unkind word for another may come into our mind or an impulse wells-up inside us that isn’t our best self. A downward pull to our lower nature is not sin. It is sin to yield, when a loose rein is given to evil desires. And while we learn from Jesus’ example that temptation is not sin, we also learn from Jesus that temptation must drive us to our knees in prayer. Human strength and resolve to avoid sin is simply insufficient.

            The Gospels speaks often of the deep sympathy of Jesus. Whenever he was in the presence of human suffering or those who had been marginalized by others, the compassion of Jesus was powerfully exhibited. His sympathy stretched out and welcomed Zacchaeus, a dishonest tax collector, a woman caught in adultery, and numerous people afflicted with mental, emotional and physical disabilities. People were lifted and redeemed by his love and friendship. Jesus’ resurrection is a bold declaration that that same Jesus is present with us today, his sympathy continuing to stretch toward every one of us when we need help. And these few words from Hebrews remind us that Jesus sympathy – and strength – is sufficient.

Joy,

The following is from guest writer, Louis Sutton.

Bechir’s wrinkled dark skin and white hair were the only features that betrayed the fact that he was one of the oldest men in the Chadian town of Adre.  Otherwise his energy, his delight in life, his satisfaction and continual hard work surpassed even men half his age.  Bechir and I became good friends through my frequent visits to the local area governor’s house where Bechir would greet me at the door, offer me some water and a seat, then scurry off to notify the governor of my arrival.  Bechir was a servant in the governor’s house, a position he had held for perhaps 50 years.  He had served the French colonial governors who brought their fine china and wine to this end of the Sahara desert and he served the Chadian officials in the now old and run-down mansion.  He had served the good and the corrupt.  The dramas he had seen and the stories he told were amazing.  But was most amazing was his delight in what he did.  He loved serving.  He loved being a part of the bigger picture.  He counted it a privilege to do even the lowest of tasks.  The joy radiated from his face.

That same joy in service radiates from the words of the psalmist in Psalm 84 who called it privilege to take even the lowest of positions in the activities of the faithful.  The psalm was written by one speaking from experience.  It is attributed to the “sons of Korah” who were a portion of the Levitical tribes called upon for various services in the temple.  But perhaps the lowliest and most “mundane” of those roles was that of “doorkeeper”.  In this verse the psalmist’s point was that privilege and delight are found in even the lowliest of roles served for the greatest of causes.  For him service was not duty, not sacrifice, nor obligation, but a privilege.

So too our own service in the church, no matter what the role, is best understood not as duty but privilege.  It is a privilege to be a part of something bigger than ourselves, to serve something, and someone eternal and truly significant.  It is a privilege to make a difference, no matter how humble the task.  It is a privilege to serve in the company of others committed to the same truths and vision.  True, our service is crucial and needed.  The church couldn’t exist without our participation in its ministry.  But ultimately it is a privilege.  One to be embraced, entered into, and enjoyed.