In the Diner

I am sitting here this morning waiting for my three eggs over easy, potatoes, white toast, and strawberry jam. The big storms over night have passed, and the air feels as wet as a shower, only without the refreshing part of it.

The radio is on today. It’s playing a country song called “Tomorrow.” It tells the story of a man who has been in some sort of relationship with a woman. He knows it’s bad, that they are not good for each other. They need to split up. But tonight, let’s have one last time. Tomorrow we will stop.

This is one of sin’s great lies. It’s why addictions never get broken. It’s why sinful relationships never end. It’s why procrastination rules the day.

“There’s always tomorrow. And tomorrow will be different. But today, it’s one last time.”

One person quipped about the addiction to the nicotine in cigarettes, “Quitting is easy. I have done it a million times.”

So it is with us. Quitting is easy. It’s staying stopped that’s hard.

And that’s why the grace of God in the gospel is so important. Paul reminds us in Romans 5 that where sin abounds, grace much more abounds, that where there is sin (no matter how much), there is always more grace. It frees us from guilt that our last time wasn’t.

But that grace does not leave us there. As Paul reminds us, the grace of forgiveness is not the same as permission. “May it never be” that we should “sin so that grace can abound” (Romans 6:1-2). No, indeed the grace that saves is also the grace that teaches (Titus 2:11).

Some of us are slow learners. We have played the “one last time” card over and over again. And, in one sense, that’s okay. God’s grace is big. Bigger than our most recent “one last time.”

But for all of us, it is time to graduate. There will always be sin to deal with in our lives so long as we live in this fallen world.

But by God’s grace, we can be freed from sinful patterns of living and find hope in the gospel that Jesus died to free us from the chains of bondage and to walk in newness of life (Romans 6:4).

In the Diner

Things are picking up now. The noise has increased.

When I first got here this morning there were three of us, and Vicki the waitress. (I doubt she prefers “server.”) Now the judge is here, Ernie, and a few others.

Compared to last year this time, there are some empty seats.

Two regulars passed away this year. One was a Korean War vet. He was a court officer here in the city in his retirement. He always sat the third seat from the end at the counter. Every day when he left he would get a couple of pieces of bread to feed to the birds outside. About a year ago he lost his lower leg to diabetes. Earlier this year, he passed away.

Richard just passed away last week. He always sat in the very end seat at the counter. He always bought a paper that got passed around after he read it, and he played a little pocket video poker game quite often. He would help out with little things like cleaning the bathrooms and mopping the floors. I think it was in exchange for his coffee. He had gone in the hospital around Thanksgiving time with some pain. I am not sure if they ever figured out exactly what was wrong.

A few other regulars are no longer regulars. Job situations changed from their close place of work next door to a place on the other side of town. So rather than coming in and hanging around for a cup of coffee throughout the day, they don’t come at all. (Though having written this, I see him sitting in the back booth. First time in months that I have seen him in here.)

Of course there are some who got miffed at various things in the diner. They no longer come. In some ways I say, “Good riddance,” though a people conscious pastor probably shouldn’t say stuff like that.

All of which reminds me of the passing of time and the passing of relationships. I knew all these people to one degree or another. I knew them because we came to the same place at the same time.

And now they are no longer here.

It’s only me.

What will another year bring? Who will come into our lives? Who will pass out of them?

Only God knows. We will soon find out.

And perhaps a year from now we will sit here and wonder where So-and-So is, or what happened that That-Guy-Over-There.

So redeem the time. Make the most of every opportunity.

One day it will be the last.

In the Diner

It was a first this morning.

A purse-snatching. (Not my purse, mind you. I always keep that close to me.)

It was taken right off the counter.

Right in my line of sight.

And I missed it.

I saw the guy walk past out the door, and a few seconds later I hear, “Where’s your purse? … That guy took it.”

So we went after him.

Caught up with him in the alley a couple of blocks away.

He claimed he thought it was his mom’s. “She forgot it and sent me up there to get it.”

I said, “Don’t lie, man. You know that wasn’t your mom’s.”

I later told him, “We live here. Don’t ruin our neighborhood by doing this stupid stuff.”

I felt a bit like Barney Fife … and Rick Simon all in one. We caught the guy but couldn’t do anything with him.

He left before the police showed up because we didn’t call until he was actually walking away. The response time was actually pretty quick though … probably less than two minutes after the call was made.

I went after him for a few more blocks but too much time had passed so I didn’t see where he went. I have to admit the thought crossed my mind about whether or not he was packin’. When I saw someone in the distance, I slowed down and ducked a bit behind the corner of a building. It was a different guy though,

In the end, the purse was returned, and the keys also when they fell out of his pocket. He ended up with a new pack of cigarettes and an inhaler. (That’s a strange combination now that I think about it.)

Now to get some work done …

In the Diner

I was sitting in the diner this morning in my customary seat by the door, having a conversation, when I saw the shadow of a customer leaving and speaking loudly enough for almost everyone to hear. I didn’t catch the exact comment, but it was something along the lines of the service “driving off all the loyal customers.”

Now, truth be told, I don’t see this guy in there very much. And I find the service very good. Too good, in fact, most often. The coffee cups are never empty, and rarely get to half empty. Only once have I waited some lengthy amount of time for my food to come.

Here’s the funny part: A few minutes later this disgruntled customer came back in the door, walked back to his table, picked up something he forgot, and then left again.

I thought, It must be a little embarrassing to make a big show in leaving and then have to come back and get something you forgot.

It reminds me how easy it is to speak without thinking fully about what we are saying. And how embarrassing it is (or at least should be) to go back and try to undo something we should have though twice about to begin with. Of course some never bother to go back and try to undo it.

Several years ago, on a particular blog, I saw a post about something the late Jerry Falwell had said. (He wasn’t late then.) A few seconds later, Google had informed me what Falwell had actually said, and it wasn’t what he was accused of saying.

Several people commented on the inaccuracy, and the post mysteriously disappeared without a word. Never an apology. No correction. Just silence. The post had been out for several hours, been seen many times no doubt, and yet there was no “I got it wrong.” Those who never googled it were left believing it was true.

But it wasn’t.

I have seen in on other sites as well, often times repeated multiple times. These are things that are demonstrably false, and easily discovered. But some adoring saps will read the blog and praise the author, not having the discernment (and apparently not having google either) to recognize that some things simply aren’t true. And other things have another side.

Here’s my advice: Think carefully before you speak. Because your words don’t taste good when you have to eat them.

Saying dumb things about something or someone merely makes you look like a buffoon. On sure, you will have a few people who hang on every word, and congratulate you.

But most will just roll their eyes at you. And a lot will have a chuckle, just like I did this morning.

In the Diner

It’s pretty crowded today. So much so that I can’t really overhear conversations. Which means I am alone with my own thoughts. Well, those and Mark 7:14-23.

I am still stewing in my mind about an conversation this morning with a guy who is going through some really tough times. I have talked to him a number of times over last year or so. Today was the most explicit, frank conversation.

He says, “What do I do now?”

I had the chance to explain the gospel to him, trying to give him hope that being a good person wasn’t good enough. Sure it makes your friends and family happy, and makes the world a better place to live in. But it doesn’t do much beyond that.

The good news is that Jesus was good enough, and he died for us, both to reconcile us to God and secure our eternity as well as to give us a new paradigm for living in this world.

But I am stewing because I felt inadequate to explain it in a way that make sense to a guy who is actually looking for another answer.

I know there is always tension for us “gospellers” between the “here and now” and the “there and then.” People take the attitude that “I will worry about the ‘there and then’ when it gets here. Right now I need to get through today.”

I feel like one of my greatest weaknesses (which feels somewhat like trying to pick the saltiest drop of water in the oceans) is talking to people who don’t have a church background or even a religious background. The concept of God as a personal God who has something to say about life is foreign to them.

This is the case with people now more than ever before.

And I feel like I don’t have the categories in my mind for it. I have church/Bible/Jesus categories that make sense to people who share those categories.

But I feel lost in trying to talk to people who don’t share those categories. And most people don’t.

Which means I gotta figure it out.

In the Diner

Smoking and money.

That’s the topic du jour.

Smoking because tomorrow begins the statewide smoking ban in public places. A lot of people are complaining. I won’t mind it. I tolerate it for a lot of reasons—mostly because I am here to meet people and I actually get more done here than I do at the office. Funny how that works.

Money because churches want money. When you start going, it won’t be long until someone shows up at your house wanting to know how much you make and how much you can pledge to the church.

At least that’s what I am overhearing.

The echoes the number one complaint I have heard from people over the years about church.

It reminds me of two things:

1. Too many churches are all about the money. I overheard someone the other day talking about being at a church service where the plate was passed five times. Needless to say, the conversation was not conveying a positive image of church.

2. Too many people want a Jesus who stays out of their pockets. It reminds me of the rich young ruler who, at the words of Jesus about having eternal life, went away saddened because he owned much property (Mark 10:22).

Pastors who lease private jets (or own them) do not do the church any good when it comes to the money issue. It is hard to imagine a pastor whose schedule is so packed that commercial flights are too inconvenient. Perhaps more time spent at his church loving the people in the community would be a step in the right direction.

But I digress at the same time I show my judgmentalism.

It reminds me that we, as the church, need to be careful about how we present the money issue to unbelievers. I have no problem preaching the lordship of Christ over money. I believe that giving is an important part of corporate worship. It is why we still take a public offering instead of having boxes in the back.

But the church needs to be careful about how it talks about money, particularly to outsiders.

In the Diner

It’s different in here this morning.

The radio is off and the silence is deafening in an eerie sort of way. It’s not a bad thing necessarily. It’s just different. I can hear the juice machine like a small waterfall. I can hear the voices back by the kitchen. I can hear the hum of the compressor in the refrigerator. This is the first time in all the years I have been coming here that I recall the radio being off.

To make it worse, I got here late and someone was in my booth. I had to sit in another booth (until he left and I could move back to mine).

And on top of that I have a different waitress. I know her well. She normally works the afternoon shift. I actually had to order this morning. Usually I order with “Yes,” because it’s the response to “The usual this morning?”  I couldn’t even just say “the usual,” because she doesn’t know what that is. She even brought me cream. I haven’t cream in coffee in close to twelve years probably.

And so now I am thinking about tradition, and how uncomfortable it is to change things.

It reminds me that most people in our churches aren’t traditionalists for theological reasons (whether that’s right or wrong is another issue). They are traditionalists for comfort reasons.

When we change something and they don’t like it, they often have no reason other than “It’s just not the way we do things.” What they mean is “We have always done it another way.” They don’t have a verse for it. They are not principle conservatives. They are just comfortable.

How do we address this kind of traditionalism in our churches?

I think it must be by careful and consistent teaching, by gradual change where possible, and by just changing things when the time comes. If you don’t teach you will create confusion and discontent. If you change too fast you will create anger and resentment. If you wait until everyone agrees, you will never do it. People will not naturally leave comfort until they see a need for it, or until they are forced, or both.

So we as leaders have to know why we are doing things—either why we are maintaining traditions or why we are changing them.

We have to communicate why we are doing things. Remember, a leader’s most powerful public tool is his teaching ministry. In the NT, teaching is the primary means of leadership, from Jesus right on through the apostles. That hasn’t changed. When you want someone to do something, you have to convince them to do that.

And sometimes, it’s good just to change for no reason. Sometimes. Not always. But sometimes.

So I changed today. I came in almost an hour later than normal. I sat in a different booth (for about fifteen minutes). And I am either enjoying or enduring the silence—I’m not sure which yet.

In the Diner

“Pastor, you know I smoke. You gotta pray for me.”

This was said to me by someone heading out the door, with a cigarette in hand. (By the way, if you are around me after I have been in the diner, be reminded that the smell of cigarette smoke emanating from me is the price I pay [along with $4 for “the usual"—three eggs over easy with white toast, strawberry jam, coffee, and tip] to get these insights from the diner. It is not my habit.)

First, I think, why would that even be brought up? No one say, “Pastor you know I wear red shirts. You gotta pray for me,” or “Pastor you know I drink cold water when it’s hot outside. You gotta pray for me.”

But this is different. There is something that tells us that something is wrong that prayer is needed for. 

Secondly, my thoughts are drawn to Ed Welch’s excellent book, Addictions: Banquet in a Grave. This is the most significant, clear, and theological treatment I am familiar with on the topic of addictions. It is a must have book.

Welch argues that addictions are worship disorders.

So how do we pray for addicts? And how do addicts pray for themselves?

Praying for freedom from addiction is too small a prayer.

We need to be praying for a new kind of worship, a worship that will have only one Master—Jesus; a worship that will bow to no other.

Yes, addictions are real. They are sometimes physiological (in the body) and sometimes psychological (in the mind), or sometimes both. And sometimes we cannot be sure which it is.

Yes, addictions are hard habits to break. That’s why people don’t break them.

The truth is that addictions can be broken a number of ways, all involving a transition of worship, but not all involving the Creator God and Savior of the universe.

Remember, we are all worshippers by nature. Romans 1:23 teaches us that people who don’t worship God haven’t stopped worshipping. They have actually exchanged the worship of God for the worship of something else—they have exchanged the Creator for a created thing.

When a person worships their family more than their use of alcohol which is destroying their family, they will find a way to stop drinking … until the time that they being to worship alcohol  more than their family.

When a person worships sobriety more than drunkenness, they will find a way to stay sober.

When a person worships saving money more than spending it, they will find a way to quit spending $7.50 a pack for cigarettes.

They are not sick. They are doing what worshippers do.

And that’s why I think the sickness model of addictions is inherently hopeless. It wrongly diagnoses the problem and puts the hope for fixing it in the wrong place.

Only a worship model can bring true hope.

In the Diner

It’s pretty quiet again this morning. Not many people here this morning.

One of the regulars died over the weekend of a sudden heart attack. I spent quite a while talking to him on Thursday. He had been snowblowing later that day. Then he died, apparently outside on his way to the car to go somewhere. He was probably in his sixties, I guess. I heard about it Saturday night.

Sometime ago he and I had a conversation about church and the gospel. He knew about Jesus and the facts of the gospel. I am not sure that he knew him though.

He was in good health, so far as I knew. But he’s gone now.

We must never forget how short life is, and how unexpected death can be. Our life could be over in a hurry. So could the lives of those around. So teach us, Lord, to number our days.

One of the reasons I come here is for visibility. Everything I do here, I could do in my office, except have someone bring me more coffee, and talk to people. And that’s why I come. I am not a great conversationalist. But I want to be known by people in the community and the only way to do that is be seen in public and be meeting and talking to people. Of course that might sound strange, like a politician who goes places just to be seen.

But I am not running for anything. I don’t think I am on an ego trip. For me, I want to be known as the pastor. I want people to see me and think about the church and about the gospel. I want that to be the catalyst for conversations of all types.

I say all that because I see another man I just met last week. He approached me at my table to ask me to pray for him. On Wednesday, he will be having his sixth or seventh surgery in the last eighteen months. He is scared. Understandably so.

He approached me because he knew I was a pastor. He goes to church somewhere, but promised to come and visit our church sometime.

So I pray for him—not just for his health but for his soul as well.

I think it is important that Christians be seen being Christians, that they be known as church-going, Jesus-loving Christians.

Your job might prevent you from setting up shop in a restaurant somewhere. But it won’t prevent you from oozing Jesus from every pore of your existence.

Jim Berg says, “If we are not known to be God-loving believers by our obvious extravagance for the Lover of our soul, why should those who follow us bother with Him either?” (Changed Into His Image, p. 219).

So for the sake of the gospel, be visible as Jesus-loving people.

In the Diner

It’s quiet today. Only a few people here.

I just had a long conversation (mostly listening) with someone who lives fairly close by who was talking about their car getting shot up a few weeks ago. Apparently the neighbors are part of a pretty big family with a lot of issues, to put it mildly. The neighbor’s house had the windows shot out. One boy was hit in the throat. He’s not yet 21. He might never get there. And there are still bullets in the car somewhere.

How do you minister to people who live like this? How do convey the message of hope in Jesus in the midst of people whose hope is pulling the trigger before the other guy does? How do you preach Jesus to people who think life’s problems can be solved with a .45?

I don’t have a lot of answers. The problem is real, even if it never gets to guns. The hopelessness that invades jobs, bank accounts, marriages and families, and life in general is all over.

No doubt many have just accepted that this is life the way it is. It is risk that they no longer think about. They just play the hand life dealt them, and they play with a decided lack of enthusiasm. It’s just the way it is. 

I, like most of my readers, live in a decent neighborhood. For me, these problems are usually at least a short drive or a medium walk away. For many of you, they are even farther away. I don’t know what it’s like to hear gunshots in the streets outside my window. I don’t know what it’s like to make sure my children don’t sleep on an outside wall, just in case.

But many do.

And I know that these are people that desperately need the message of Jesus. They don’t need the message of white middle-class lifestyle and Republican (or Democratic) politics. They don’t need messages about how more faith will help them escape poverty. They don’t need to hear about how Jesus can give them a better sex life. They don’t need exegetical lessons about minute details of Hebrew or Greek.

No, they need much more than these simplistic platitudes.

They need to see how the message of the Bible is the only thing that can explain everything in life, that can truly make sense of the world we live in.

They need to hear that Jesus is the only hope.

So we, in our preaching, we must be concerned about more than the text. Lest that sound like heresy to some, let me quickly add that we must not be concerned about less than the text.

Relevant preaching and teaching is not about slick marketing campaigns complete with billboards, slick invites, great videos. It is not about concordance preaching—doing a word search to find a verse that may address something we want to say. It’s not merely talking about Jesus.

Relevant preaching and teaching is about showing how the text itself is God speaking truth into our lives wherever we are. It must show how the revelation of God explains life—all of it, not just the good parts or the easy parts. And it must be understandable and applicable to the people who sit in front of us.

As I sit here, I am looking at a man about five tables away, engrossed in the Detroit Free Press. Why should he care what I have to say? Why should he care about Jesus’ teaching when he is reading about how close NW253 came to raining down on our neighborhood last week. And how will I show him how God, through the text, is speaking truth to him?

I am looking at a lady at another table. She is in her golden years. How does God speak to her through the text? Why should he care about the Bible when she is worried about whether or not her retirement income will last long enough for her money to outlive her?

I am thinking of a teenager with a gun in his belt. Why should he care about Jesus’ death when he is trying to avoid his own?

I am thinking of a marriage on the verge of divorce. Why should a husband and wife care about the love of God when they hate each other?

Why should anyone follow God when life is like it is?

We must show how God speaks to us through the text. The role of preaching is to make that happen.

Whether it’s the young man with a .45 looking for revenge, the worker with a newspaper looking for safety, or the retiree with a pension hoping to stay retired, God must be heard.

It must be loud and clear.

And we must be his voice.

And it’s not just the pastor’s job. It’s the job of every believer.

In the Diner

It was hard to find a parking place this morning. Good for business. Bad for people who don’t like to walk very far in the cold. I suppose I fit into both categories.

I am studying the life of John the Baptizer for Sunday’s message—along the lines of His Mission, His Message, His Martyrdom. I don’t normally alliterate my talks because it’s too hard and I think that sometimes it tends to manipulate the the story or passage based on words you want to use (or can think of) rather than preaching the story or passage itself. But this one came pretty easy.(That’s my homiletical digression.)

I look across the diner and see a bunch of people and think to myself, “What difference does John the Baptist make to them?” That is the question I must answer.

Billy Joel is on the radio. His “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant” is serenading us.

This song is a reminiscence of sorts about a high school couple, Brenda(r) and Eddie, who was “the king and queen of the prom.” They got married, started their life together, and then came the problems they weren’t expecting.

Then “they got a divorce as a matter of course.”

This song tells the story of millions who got married to their high school sweetheart or some other “like no one else” thinking that life was going to be one long weekend date with a house and furniture rather than the backseat of a car.

When life settles in, they realize that things aren’t quite what they thought they were going to be.

And they are totally unprepared for reality because they have been raised from birth with the idea that life is all about them. Pursue your dreams (most of which involved self-satisfaction). The whole world exists to make you happy and satisfied. And in that little apartment or big house they find that the person who used to make them happy now wants to be made happy above all else.

There is no teaching of self-sacrifice and self-denial. And life crashes rather quickly.

A divorce is the course for millions of couples.

Part of raising children and making disciples is to prepare people for the reality of life as a Christlike husband and a churchlike wife.

Premarital counseling can only do so much when parents have dropped the ball for twenty years already.

You see, being a godly husband or a godly wife doesn’t start with marriage preparations. It doesn’t even start with training to be a godly husband or a godly wife.

It starts with training to be a godly person in all areas of life, from toddler obedience and kindness to teenage humility and self-control.

You see, being a godly spouse is the natural extension of being a godly person. You won’t be one without the other.

Parents, we must start when our children are young, to prepare them for life by teaching them to be godly people, transformed by Jesus through the gospel, and living for something bigger than ourselves.

In the Diner

All is well since I am here.

At least that’s what one guy said when I came in. He apparently doesn’t know me well enough. But I promised to guard the door from my normal seat right next to it. But I warned them I don’t pay much attention.

I inquired about the Phillies-Yankees score since I hadn’t seen it this morning.

Kenny shouted out, “You got your laptop there. Look it up.”

I replied, “Too bad this isn’t an internet cafe, or I could.”

[By the way, all these “In the Diner” posts are actually written here, but not posted from here. Hopefully, that didn’t ruin your day. Since I don’t have internet access here, I post them when I get somewhere that I do have access.]

But it really isn’t too bad that there is no access here. In fact, technology silence is actually a good thing. Many have written on this before, and offered some good thoughts.

For my dollar, I am concerned about the level of connectivity in our world. I see people in church checking their cell phones for text messages and emails (and even sending them … and I am pretty sure they are not tweeting my message). I see teens who can’t bear to be separated from their phones. I routinely see people TWD (texting while driving). I recently drove behind a guy weaving all over the road. I pulled up beside him at a stop light (since I didn’t dare try to pass him). He was texting away. I hear of people sending several thousand text messages a month. I have never sent one. I don’t even know how. I don’t know what I would say if I did.

I think all this connectivity is not a good thing.

I don’t even have a regular cell phone plan. I have a pre-paid plan. If you have my number, you are one of the few, and if I answer your calls, you are one of the fewer.

Why? Because I have two phones and two answering machines. If you need me, leave a message and I will call you back. I don’t feel compelled to let you interrupt my dinner, my drive, my golf game, or my peace and quiet (what little I have).

Don’t fret … I talk on my cell phone all I want. And it still costs me less than $10 a month on most months.

I like Mark Driscoll’s line (I said his “line” … so back off). When someone says, “I don’t have your cell phone number,” he says something like, “You’re right.”

I have spent less time on the internet lately. I still read my blog list in the morning (BTW, my Google Reader is messed up and I can’t fix it … anyone have any help for me???). I still check the news, read a few sites here and there, check my existing plane reservations to make sure that I haven’t lost my seat assignments and that no better seats have opened up. But I estimate I have cut my connectivity by probably half. And truth be told, I could probably go half again and not miss anything of substance.

Let’s face it: Most of us could stand to spend more time in Face-to-Face relationships and less in Facebook relationships. If we don’t know what Matt Drudge posted in the last ten minutes, we will survive.

And whatever is going on at your favorite discussion site isn’t going to change your life.

You gotta change it. So shut the browser. Turn off the phone. And live for a change.

In the Diner

Things are quiet these days.

The long days of summer are shortening. The leaves have already started to change in a few trees. Before long the sweaters and coats will come out. The snow will fly. And then before we can blink, 2010 will be here.

The radio is on belting out “I would do anything for love.”

What a statement about the nature of humanity … We are looking for love and will pay any price to get it.

Unfortunately, very few people know what love is. Love is, for most, about feeling and falling (in love).

And people will sell their souls (and much less) to get it.

Sometimes a husband or wife will say, “I will do anything to get him (or her) to love me.” That is always a sign of idolatry. “Love” is more important than obedience. Obedience can be traded for “love.”

But love is not worth anything. Doing anything for love will get you problems every time.

I am reminded of John 4:10:  In this is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins.

Into this simple statement John packs a boatload of truth about the nature of love. We know love by looking at what God did. And he didn’t do “anything” for love. In fact, there are some things he refused to do—like overlooking sin, compromising his own holy character, allowing sin to go unpunished.

He rather took the initiative to confront sin, and to bear the cost of sin himself.

So next time you think about love, think about Jesus on the cross. That is real love.

But be warned: It may not feel good.

In the Diner

“Larry, if I commit murder, will God still save me?”

I am not sure what brought the question on, and I am pretty sure it wasn’t serious.

Someone from the back yelled out “No.”

I said, “Yes, absolutely.” Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to follow up on it.

The answer I wanted to give was that murder is how God saved us and gave us hope and a reason not to murder. His son was murdered in order to give us eternal life. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t deserve it. But people who would not control their anger and rage and live in submission to God hung him on a cross and took his life.

But it was not like our murders today—pointless cruelty and disrespect of human life. It was murder with a purpose—to save people who have no other hope.

A few nights ago, I was watching the news. Two consecutive stories were about murder committed by people younger than 18, murdering people that they apparently had no prior relationship with. I wish those stories were only once in a while. Unfortunately, it seems they are almost every night.

The murder of Christ frees us from the necessity to exact revenge on our own. I don’t have to kill anyone, no matter how mad I am. Why? Because I know God will deal with it for me. I can leave it in his hands. That’s what it means to hide yourself in God.

But I can only do that because I trust that “He who did not spare his own Son but delivered him over for us all … [will] with him freely give us all things” (Romans 8:32).

In the Diner

I am in the diner this morning thinking about men, women, marriage, knives, murder, and bars. Strange combination, eh?

On Monday night, a few blocks from my house and the church, a woman was stabbed to death, left in an office in a bar which was then set on fire. I heard the sirens that night and wondered what it was about, but was too tired to go find it. (On Tuesday, the Michigan State Police helicopter landed almost in my back yard during the investigation. My son loved it until it was time to take off and the noise was frightening to him.)

Reports are that the woman who was stabbed was in an abusive relationship with the man and he had threatened to kill her if she left.

It reminds me of just how bad people are at relationships. Men are not being taught to be men. Women are not being taught to be women. The basis of male/female relationships is so fundamentally misguided in our world that it can lead to things like this. Real men do not do this to women. Tough men are tough with themselves and tender with women.

What’s the cause? I think we lay this problem at the feet of dads who have not taught their sons the gospel, and have not lived the gospel with their own wives. Sons see it, and see the world around them, and learn how to be men. And it’s not pretty.

The reality is that most relationships will never rise (or sink) to this level. It is doubtful that your wife will be found in a burning bar, having been stabbed by you.

But our potential for abusive relationships is still there.

We are fundamentally self-centered people. Our aim in life is to be satisfied, and we will use people to achieve that. Too often our marriages are built on this principle—that she (or he) exists to satisfy me. And so we use and abuse, subtly to be sure, but use and abuse nonetheless.

We don’t stab with knives. We do it with words. And then with silence. We don’t take the life out of them all at once. We take it little by little, day by day, destroying their spirit through unkind words and actions, through selfish desires.

We aren’t found in Kentucky after a nationwide manhunt like this man was. We aren’t facing prison time (for the third, and hopefully last time).

We go on about our lives, slowly sucking the life of those that God has entrusted to us to love and to care for in his stead.

The only answer to this tragedy is the gospel—that Jesus, in an act of real love, gave his life for the sake of petty, abusive, selfish God-haters, to redeem them from the penalty and power of sin over their lives. He does not abuse those who are his. He gives us what we do not deserve, and loves us in the midst of our many failures.

So men, love carefully and sacrificially—just like Jesus did. Honor your wives as fellow heirs of the grace of life.

Watch for the warning signs of subtle abuse—the kind that will not get the police to show up at your house on suspicion of domestic abuse, but will have effects that are just as damaging.

Love her like Christ loved the church. Give yourself for her to make her holy by the washing of water with the Word. Prepare to present her to Jesus with her being more holy and more godly because you were in her life (Ephesians 4:25-27).

And dads, remember that little eyes are watching. For the sake of the gospel, and generation of women yet to be married, teach them—by what you say and by what you do—teach them the gospel for relationships.

In the Diner

I am sitting here this morning listen to Jimmy Buffet sing about Margaritaville which made me start thinkin’ about drinkin’.

This coincides with my preparation for Sunday’s message on Matthew 6:13 praying for God to not lead us into temptation but deliver us from evil.

I will start with my conclusion: I am totally opposed to the use of alcohol (unless you have a cough or are preparing your arm for a shot). If someone asks me, I will tell them I do not think they should drink.

I think drinking is silly. I see no useful purpose for it, particularly given the variety of beverage options available to us today.

I think drinking is dangerous. I know many people drink moderately with no discernible affect on their lives (at least yet). They control it. I know that wine is like women, allegedly according to Luther. I have probably seen most of the arguments in favor of the beverage use of alcohol. And I agree with most of them.*  And I still think it is silly to drink.

I have seen the affects of drinking on personal lives, on families, on communities. I have talked to people who do not remember what happened last night because they were too drunk. I have talked to people whose spouse is ready to divorce them over their use of alcohol. I have talked to people who are in court-mandated counseling for their drinking.

And I have to wonder, Why take the chance?

I know … You are saying, “They weren’t drinking in moderation. They were drunk and we all agree that is wrong.”

And I still have to wonder, Why take the chance?

I do not think the Bible categorically condemns moderate consumption. I think some passages assume the beverage use of alcohol and say to control it. I think the Bible absolutely condemns drunkenness. I think it possible to drink without getting drunk.

I also do not think the Bible condemns jumping off a thirty foot wall into a three-foot pool of water. Flying through the air can be one of the most exciting, liberating feelings in the world. The view is great, and God created beautiful vistas for us to enjoy. You can do it without hurting yourself or your family.

But wisdom seems to say there might be a better way.

Now, of course, we can have all the discussions about the difference between our wine and their wine. And there probably are some, and perhaps not as much as many people like to argue.

I roll my eyes every time I see an evangelical talk about having an adult beverage with friends. It is like a badge of freedom, almost a flaunting of it. It reminds me of Jr High.

In the end, my argument about the beverage use of alcohol is not a biblical and exegetical argument. Which will no doubt cause some to question whether or not I am even a Christian, much less a fundamentalist.

My argument about the beverage use of alcohol is about plain old common sense. I do not think it is a sin. I just think it is silly and unnecessary.

No, you will not cause me to stumble if you invite me out to eat and have a glass of wine. So feel free to invite me out to eat.

I am not going to attack you or question your Christianity. I think you can be godly and have a glass of wine with your dinner.

I just think there is a better way.

___________________________

*No, it isn’t like caffeine, which I rarely drink either, except when I am at the diner, where it is the only choice. And it isn’t like overeating.

In the Diner

Pretty quiet this morning.

Mr. Wilson asked me about an article I am writing for the local paper. It’s done. But I keep forgetting to print it out to give it to him. Hopefully it will be a good presentation of the gospel that might be used by God to reach some people.

And Billy Joel is on the radio singing an appropriate anthem for modernity, including Christianity.

I don’t need you to worry for me ‘cause I’m alright.

I don’t want to you tell me it’s time to come home.

I don’t care what you say anymore this is my life.

Go ahead with your own life, leave me alone.

Many Christians have decided that their individual soul liberty should be individual sole liberty. They think that no one else has any right to speak into their lives. Oh, if you try, they will listen politely for a while. But they will leave, convinced that they are right, and that they do not need your advice. After all, they think, if you knew what they knew, you would see it their way.

They want the church because it salves their conscience on the weekend. They do not want the fellowship—the sharing of life—that comes along with it.

What a lack of humility it requires to refuse to listen to fellow believers. It denies the work of God through the body of believers. It denies that God may be at work in someone else’s life to teach them things that they in turn can teach you. And it denies them their place of ministry in the lives of fellow believers.

In an age of independence, we need to recover the biblical ideals of true fellowship that allows others to speak into our lives, and we must receive such messages with humble graciousness, grateful to God that he has placed us in a body of imperfect people who care about other imperfect people. They might be wrong when they speak into your life. But they deserve a thoughtful and discerning hearing.

It isn’t your life, not even if you write a really cool sounding song about it.

It belongs to God, and he has placed people in your life through the church that he intends to use to help grow you, to set you apart from a hostile world (which is what “sanctification” means).

We need to learn to have a “humble mind” toward other believers, not just to serve them, but to let them serve us, even when it gets personal.

In the Diner

Sitting here this morning reading a book on worship, while hearing Carrie Underwood wail in the background about her man (I don't know whether he is supposed to be her husband or her boyfriend) chatting up another girl in the bar, buying her drinks and "thinking he's gonna get lucky" while she vandalizes his car outside singing "Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats."

Perhaps he will ... though I won't hold my breath since a lot of men aren't terribly thoughtful in these matters.

I am reminded that this is the same Carrie Underwood that sings "Jesus Take the Wheel."

I have to wonder if she wanted Him to take the wheel of that "pretty little souped-up four wheel drive" she was vandalizing. Maybe if Jesus had taken the wheel, her boyfriend would be home with her, only involved in a sinful relationship with her rather than this other chick.

I remember reading people who spoke of the great testimony of Carrie Underwood singing "Jesus Take the Wheel." I remember people saying what great spiritual encouragement they got from that song, and how great it was that someone in mainstream country music was so open about their Christianity.

I remember thinking to myself, "What idiots ... Some people are so gullible." Of course, I would never say that publicly, since I like to keep such judgmental thoughts about sources of spiritual encouragement to myself. But privately, I admit to questioning the spiritual discernment of those who find food for their soul in Carrie Underwood.

Now, admittedly I don't know Carrie Underwood, her heart, or marital status, or her living arrangements, but please forgive me for wondering about the seriousness of her desire for Jesus to take the wheel. And please forgive me for wondering why people think that is a great testimony of a Jesus-centered life.

Whatever she might be, she ain't no Isaac Watts or Charles Wesley. She's not even Fanny Crosby or Ron Hamilton.

May God spare us from a Jesus who drives like that.

In the Diner

I was sitting here working this morning and in the midst of my concentration, I had kind of zoned out of the (rather dull) conversation elsewhere.

My ears perked up when I heard, "I am trying to watch my mouth because the preacher is here."

I confessed that I had no idea what the conversation was about.

But it reminds me of this: People in the world expect something different of believers, and recognize that certain things are incompatible with the little they know of Christianity. 

Playing golf over the years I have joined up and played with a lot of different people, most of whom had something in common: their expectations of their game far exceeded their ability, though it did not exceed their vocabulary. Of course, I have learned some rather creative ways to employ language.

But almost every time, when the conversation turned to occupations and they found out I was a pastor, an apology would come from the same mouth as the profanity had. Why? Because people in the world expect something different from believers, particularly pastors.

If I had a dollar for every apology I have heard on the golf course, I could play a lot of golf. Unfortunately, I don't have the dollar and I haven't played much golf in the last couple of years, though I hope to change that this year.

But back to the point, the world knows we are supposed to be different. So why aren't we?