Sunday, May 26, 2013
Saturday, April 13, 2013
Pastor Anthony Evans tells about the night that darkness descended on New York City during the blackout of 2003. It was a chaotic night, you may remember. Evans happened to be there that night. Manhattan, including Wall Street and the United Nations, was completely shut down, as were all area airports and all rail transportation including the subway.
There was one exception to that darkness. Evans happened on a restaurant where people were lined up to get hot food. He reports that in this dark situation there was this one place with all this light and joy and music and laughter and excitement. He went over to the assistant manager and said, “Mister, I don’t understand. It’s dark everywhere. The airport is right over there and it’s dark. My hotel is right over yonder and it’s dark too. Everything is dark, and yet you are lit up like a Christmas tree. How can this be?”
The manager said, “It’s really fairly simple. When we built this [place], we built it with a gas generator. We’ve got power on the inside that is not determined by circumstances on the outside. Even though there’s nothing happening out there, there’s plenty happening in here.”Anthony Evans goes on to say, “When you accepted Jesus Christ, He came into the inside. So what’s happening on the outside shouldn’t determine whether or not you’ve got a lighthouse on the inside. What’s happening out there shouldn’t determine your joy. God has given us a generator of life and liberty in our souls – through our relationship with Jesus Christ. We don’t have to live our lives determined by life’s circumstances.”
Monday, December 17, 2012
"Once upon a time there lived a fisherman and his wife. Their home was a humble two roomed cottage with a tiny garden and a well. Every day the fisherman would go out in his little boat and in the evening bring home his catch, sometimes good, sometimes poor. This was their livelihood. But the fisherman's wife was discontented. "Why should I have to live in this hovel? Is it too much to expect a decent home with water and electricity and a kitchen? I wish I was a lady." Her continual grousing made the fisherman quite miserable. One day, something happened which changed their lives. The man caught a strange and beautiful fish which startled him by speaking. "Please thrown me back into the sea and I'll grant whatever you wish." The fisherman thought a bit and then replied, "So be it. I wish my wife was a lady and lived in a proper house with water, electricity and a kitchen." When he returned that evening he found that his wish had been granted, and his wife was very pleased. But as the months passed she began to grumble again, "Is it too much to expect something better than this pokey house? I wish I was a Duchess, with a mansion and servants and a carriage. Why did you ask for so little? I'm sure the fish meant us to do better than this." Driven by her complaints nagging, the fisherman tried to contact the fish again and rowed his boat to the spot. No sooner had he called than the fish appeared and agreed to his request. But the duchess was still not satisfied. Within a month she was grumbling and complaining again. "I wish I was a queen, go and see your fish again". And so he did. Life in the palace was luxurious, but the fisherman's wife, now a queen, wasn't content for long. "What I would really like" she said, "would be to be God. I'm sure your fish will understand that this is what I wanted all along." When the man returned from his last visit to his fishy friend, he found no palace on the shore, no mansion, not a house. Not even his little old cottage was there. But then he heard crying, and noticing a cave in the cliff face, he went closer. Inside it was fashioned into a rough stable. There were 2 oxen and a donkey. And in the manger a little baby lay crying." The fisherman's wife had her wish. The wife in our rewrite of the story had, of course, forgotten what God is like in this world, in human flesh. She'd forgotten about Christmas and Passiontide. She'd forgotten about the manger and the cross. She'd forgotten that our God is a God who comes and who identifies with his people, and especially with the poorest and the most humble of people It is so easy to forget what it cost Jesus to come to earth as one of us.
[from Rev. Richard J. Fairfield: http://www.rockies.net/~spirit/sermons/a-ad04su.php]
Saturday, September 1, 2012
A young woman was shopping at the grocery store with her precious 2-year-old daughter. Predictably, the moment they turned down the cereal aisle, the little girl started clamoring for the sugary cereals that were located right at cart-eye level. “No, no,” her mother said. “We’re not buying those today.” Naturally, the little girl began to plead and whine. The mother took a deep breath and said, “Now, Monica, don’t get upset. We only have ten more items on our list and then you can go home and take a nice nap.”
As any of you who have ever been shopping with a small child knows, once a child gets settled into a good temper tantrum, particularly when that child is strapped into a shopping cart where everything she passes is attractive but out of reach, well...things tend to go from bad to worse. A few minutes later, the small child lunged out of the cart and managed to snag a bag of Chip’s Ahoy cookies. Her mother deftly removed them from her hands, and the shrieking began. The mother took another deep breath: “Monica, calm down. We’re almost done with the shopping list, and you can go home and have a nice long nap.”
Finally, the woman brought her cart to the check-out line. The little girl’s lungs were going full strength, and her face was a deep shade of red. And as her mother put her items on the checkout counter, the little girl saw the candy bars that are so thoughtfully placed right where a child can reach them. After wrestling a bag of Skittles out of the hand of her distraught daughter, the woman repeated her mantra: “Monica, settle down. There’s no need to get upset. We’re all done shopping now, and you can go home and have a nice, long nap.”
As the woman pushed her cart toward her car, a man came up to her. “Excuse me,” he said. “I know we haven’t met; but I heard you and your daughter in the store, and I just have to commend you on your patience with young Monica.” The woman looked blankly at the man, then smiled. She held out her hand: “I’m sorry, there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding. My daughter’s name is Julia. My name is Monica, and it’s nice to meet you.”
Friday, August 31, 2012
We conducted a three-phase experiment at Rockford College, and used over 100 college graduates who were preparing for youth ministry.
In the first phase, we took a young volunteer from the room and blindfolded him. We simply told him that when he returned, he could do anything he wished. He remained outside the room while we instructed each audience member to think of a simple task for the volunteer to do. When the volunteer returned, they were to shout their individual instructions at him from where they sat. Prior to this, we privately instructed another person to shout a very specific task at the blindfolded volunteer as though it were a matter of life and death. This person was to attempt to persuade the blindfolded volunteer to climb the steps at the back of the auditorium and embrace an instructor who was standing at the door; he had to shout this vital message from where he sat in the audience. The volunteer was oblivious to all instructions and previous arrangements. The volunteer represented our young people, the audience represented the world of voices screaming for their attention, and the person with the vital message represented those of us who bring the message of the Gospel to youth. The blindfolded student was led back into the room. The lecture room exploded in a din of shouting. Each person tried to get the volunteer to follow his or her unique instructions. In the midst of the crowd, the voice of the person with the vital message was lost; no single message stood out. The blindfolded student stood paralyzed by confusion and indecision. He moved randomly and without purpose as he sought to discern a clear and unmistakable voice in the crowd.
The second phase: we told the audience about the person attempting to get the volunteer to accomplish the vital task. At this point we chose another person from the audience to add a new dimension. This person’s goal was to, at all costs, keep the volunteer from doing the vital task. While the rest of the audience was to remain in their seats, these two people were allowed to stand next to the volunteer and shout their opposing messages. They could get as close as they wished; however, they were not allowed to touch the volunteer. As the blindfolded volunteer was led back into the room, the shouting began again. This time, because the two messengers were standing so close, the volunteer could hear both messages; but because the messages were opposed to each other, he vacillated. He followed one for a bit, then was convinced by the other to go the opposite direction. In order for young people to hear our message we must get close to them. Even then, there are others with opposing messages who also are close enough to make their messages clear. Sometimes they are peers, relatives .The main lesson: only the close voices could be heard. Even though the volunteer took no decisive action, at least he heard the message.
The response to the third phase was startling. In this phase everything remained the same except the one with the vital message was allowed to touch the volunteer. He could not pull, push or in any way force the volunteer to do his bidding; but he could touch him, and in that way encourage him to follow. The blindfolded volunteer was led into the room. When he appeared, the silence erupted into an earsplitting roar. The two messengers stood close, shouting their opposing words. Then, the one with the vital message put his arm gently around the volunteer’s shoulder and leaned very close to speak directly into his ear. Almost without hesitation, the volunteer began to yield to his instruction. Occasionally he paused to listen as the opposition frantically tried to convince him to turn around. But then, by the gentle guidance of touch, the one with the vital message led him on. A moment of frightening realism occurred spontaneously as the one with the vital message drew close to the goal. All those in the audience, who up to this point had been shouting their own individual instruction, suddenly joined in unison to keep the volunteer from taking those final steps.
Goose bumps appeared all over my body as students began to chant together, “Don’t go!” “Don’t go!” “Don’t go!” So many times I’ve seen the forces that pull our youth in different directions join together to dissuade them from a serious commitment to Christ. The chant grew to a pulsing crescendo, “Don’t go!” “Don’t go!” But the guiding arm of the one with the vital message never left the volunteer’s shoulder. At the top of the stairs in the back of the lecture hall, the one with the vital message leaned one last time to whisper in the ear of the volunteer. There was a moment of hesitation, then the volunteer threw his arms around the instructor and the auditorium erupted in cheers and applause.
When the volunteer revealed how he felt as he went through each phase, it became apparent that if our message is to be heard, we cannot shout it from the cavernous confines of our church buildings. We must venture out and draw close to those with whom we wish to communicate. If we really seek a life-changing commitment from our young people, we also must reach out where they are and in love, gently touch them and lead them to that commitment. We asked the volunteer why he followed the one with the vital message, the one who touched him. After a few moments he said, “Because it felt like he was the only one who really cared.”
[from Ken Davis, How To Speak To Youth, pp. 19-23]
Sunday, July 29, 2012
It was time for the annual cake sale at a Presbyterian church. Mrs. Billings always made
the most beautiful cakes and she was expected to make another one this year. However,
Ms. Billings was a very busy woman with the time she spent with her family and the time
she gave to her community. She put off making the cake this year, thinking she could
put it all together at the last minute.
When the cake came out of the oven, Mrs. Billings was horrified to see that the cake had
fallen. She didn’t have the time or the ingredients to make another one and she panicked.
Frantically, she devised an ingenious plan. She would find a way to "fix" the
cake...then she would be the first one to the sale and buy her own cake back.
Mrs. Billings looked around the room, trying to find something that she could use to
"prop" the cake back up, and then she found it. A roll of toilet paper was the perfect
size. So, she put it under the center of the cake and the cake looked perfect. She decorated
it bright yellow and took it to the bake sale. Then she stuck around until the bake sale
She was the first in line when the doors opened. She smiled to herself about how clever
she was. But then there was a terrifying horror crawling up from within her. She looked
at every single table there was no yellow cake! Someone had snuck in before the sale and
purchased it. The helpers couldn’t remember who had purchased it either because there
was so much going on.
She went home and felt absolutely horrible. That was it. They would find the toilet
paper in the cake, trace it back to her, and ban her from ever cooking ever again.
Mrs. Billings didn’t have a whole lot of time to dwell on her problem. She was going to a
reception that the Mayor’s wife was holding, and she was already a little late.
When she got there, Mrs. Billings almost died right where she stood, because there, at the
center of a brilliantly decorated table, was her bright, yellow cake. She debated all of her
options: grab the cake and run, change her name and move to Tahiti, call in a bomb
threat, or tell the hostess. It was a dead tie between calling in a bomb threat and telling
the hostess, when she decided to muster up the courage to tell the Mayor’s wife of the
horrors that awaited her inside the yellow cake.
As Mrs. Billings got up to tell the hostess about the cake, she overheard someone
complimenting the mayor’s wife. "That is simply the most beautiful cake I have ever
seen!" To which the Mayor’s wife replied, "Thank you, I made it myself." Mrs.
Billings then sat down and enjoyed her fruit salad.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Last night when I was reading my grandson to sleep, he couldn't bear to part with his big jeep. I promised that as soon as he was awake again, he would get to play with it. I was there when he woke up this mornng, and he scrambled joyfully to a sitting position, as he does most mornings. He said, "I get to play with my jeep when I wake up?" I said yeah. He looked around and said, "Did I wake up yet?" and it struck me that this is the most important question we need to ask ourselves every day.