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Those Who Mourn

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Today is my grandmother’s birthday. She would have been 87. She passed away 10 days ago. I was in my kitchen with my sister when I got the call from my mother telling us that our Abuela (grandmother in Spanish) had passed away. After getting the news, I immediately packed my bags and drove up from New York City to Massachusetts to be with my family.

As a therapist, I often tell people that there is no “right” way to mourn. I, for example, like to keep busy when confronted with grief. So as soon as I got to Massachusetts, I set out to help my mom and her siblings with the funeral arrangements. I picked out a cemetery plot, went to flower shops, compiled photographs, and took on the job of keeping my cousins up to date with funeral information. But after a while there was no more work to be done. All of the funeral arrangements were made and there was very little that could keep me busy. That’s when I noticed the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. It came with the realization that I would soon see my grandmother for the first time since her passing.

When I got to my grandmother’s funeral, I made a point to stay as close to the back of the room as possible and away from her open casket, making sure that everyone had tissues and that the program was running smoothly. But as the service drew to a close, I started to become honest with myself. Perhaps keeping busy was not how I mourned at all. Perhaps it was how I avoided mourning. So I took a deep breath for the first time, walked up to my Abuela’s coffin, and looked at her as she lay resting. And I wept. As I did, I felt the arms of my siblings and cousins envelop me, and we wept together.

As I think of that moment, I am reminded of the words of Jesus:

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted (Matthew 5:14, NIV).

I always thought that the “comfort” that Jesus was referring to was the eternal comfort of when we all get to live with him in heaven. But I know now that those words were meant for us here and now. I know because I sure saw a little bit of heaven in the arms of the ones I love.

Jael Amador writes from New York, New York.

The post Those Who Mourn appeared first on Answers for Me.

Read more at the source: Those Who Mourn

Article excerpt posted on en.intercer.net from Answers for Me.

Bethlehem – Part 3

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Accident or Miracle?

Photo: Andrea Danti

All Americans were saddened in the Christmas season of 2006 when Gerald Ford, our 38th President, passed away at the age of 93. People from both sides of the aisle really respected Ford for coming to power at a very difficult time and bringing healing and a new sense of hope to our country. Pardoning Nixon was a wrenching, perhaps disastrous, political decision . . . but it was really the only way for America’s completely dysfunctional, scandal-consumed government to get a fresh start and survive.

President Ford was the only Vice President and President to get into the White House accidentally. He was never elected to either position. He was appointed VP when Spiro Agnew had to resign in 1973; a year later, when Nixon followed the same ignominious trail, a lowly congressman from the obscure 5th District of Michigan abruptly found himself living with his wife Betty and four kids at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, D.C. West Wing had a story like that once, but this is real, and some of us lived through that very poignant time. 

There’s a devout Christian pastor named Nick Twomey who serves his Lord at a medium-sized church, also in Michigan, and there’s nothing very spectacular about it. The only point of interest is that when he was a teenager, his high school girlfriend was named Madonna Ciccone, who grew up to become a pop singer who usually doesn’t use her last name. Quite a story—and it illustrates the sometimes accidental nature of fame. 

I tell these two stories to contrast them with the brief life story of this Baby born in a stable in Bethlehem. Because there are many people in the world today who consider the Christmas story a sweet, touching, entirely human string of accidents. 

Jesus was born, in their secular thinking, to a girl who wasn’t married. We usually call that an accident. He was born into poverty, which is very common but not something anybody would choose. When he was 12, his parents flubbed up and accidentally left him at the temple in Jerusalem for three days. And for the next 18 years, he lived such an uneventful life even the best of scholars don’t know a single thing about him. 

Then he began to preach and teach. He was pretty good at it; many people listened. Some of the things he talked about are rather well-known even today. But he foolishly, or accidentally, antagonized the religious establishment of his day. He said the wrong things at the wrong times. He didn’t know when to keep His mouth shut. He accidentally healed people on the Sabbath when he should have waited until sundown. Finally, he riled the religious right to the point where they contracted a hit on him; they got him crucified on a Roman cross. 

End of story. To those who believe in accidents but not in miracles, that is definitely the end of the story. Jesus was a Gerald Ford politician who only got a partial term of power, and whose time in office was cut short because . . . he was only there accidentally in the first place. 

Now, do I believe this? Not for two seconds! I’ve already mentioned that we who are Christians reject entirely the “accident” motif; we have the word of the angel Gabriel, who says to the shepherds: I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; He is Christ the Lord. 

Moments later the skies are filled with an angel army which tells Planet Earth that what is happening is not an accident, not a blip in the space-time continuum, not an aberration or an anonymous moment of teen promiscuity. No, the arrival of this baby is heaven’s proclamation of good will to us, the announcement of an intergalactic rescue plan. 

I’d like to backtrack from this billboard-in-the-sky moment and go to a much quieter encounter, this one between one angel, Gabriel, and one confused earthling named Joseph. In Matthew 1, right after Mary has told her boyfriend that the blue plus sign in her e.p.t. test came out positive but not an accident, heaven’s #1 angel comes to Joseph and has this to say: Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a Son, and you are to give Him the name Jesus, because He will save His people from their sins. 

And here’s what I want for us to realize. Heaven comes to Joseph and tells him four things. One, Mary’s pregnancy is legitimate; it’s heaven-designed; it’s not an accident. Two, she will have a son. Three, God in heaven has already designated the name of Jesus. Mary and Joseph never went through a list of names, because the name had already been assigned. Four, this Son, Jesus, will grow up and succeed in a salvation plan yet to unfold. 

In other words, not only is Mary having a baby not an accident, this is all part of the most concise, precise, grand, intricate, perfect, pristine, holy, galactic plan ever put together. Jesus being born on planet earth is something that was not conceived in the back seat of a car, or in a bedroom while Mom and Dad are away. This was conceived in the highest courts of heaven, and conceived there even before Adam and Eve ever sinned, creating the need for the plan. 

It is sometimes suggested that Eve took the apple from the tree, and that this act of rebellion threw heaven into crisis mode. Oh no, what shall we do? I have read literature portraying this as an unexpected time of turbulent fear among the angels of heaven. What was going to happen? Was this new world doomed to be lost? But notice what Paul tells us in Ephesians 1. Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For He chose us in Him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in His sight. In love He predestined us to be adopted as His sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with His pleasure and will. 

So there was a salvation plan before Creation Week; there was a rescue plan, an adoption plan before Creation Week. By Genesis chapter three, a plan conceived long before has already been explained to Adam and Eve. 

Hollywood actor Bruce Marchiano was contracted back in 1994 to play the part of Jesus in a four-hour multi-million-dollar miniseries based strictly on the book of Matthew. They went to Africa to film, and Marchiano, a very devout Christian, just immersed himself in the role. It was a wrenching time for him emotionally; he came out a changed man. But he writes in his book that he caught a glimpse of a Jesus who was in full control all the time. He said what he said because it was right; He healed people at certain times because it was part of his plan. And Jesus went to Calvary because he came here to go to Calvary. To redeem us was his unassailable role; it could not be altered. That’s one reason why Jesus was almost a bit impatient with Cleopas and his fellow disciple as they walked in discouragement to Emmaus on Sunday evening after the crucifixion. “Why are you distressed?” Jesus asked them. “The Lamb of God came to give His life, and that’s what He did. This is all part of the cosmic plan spelled out in the prophetic writings of Isaiah. Every salvation puzzle piece is perfectly in place.” 

I don’t want to belabor this point, but I want to give us one more morsel to think about. We sometimes debate and discuss the issue of Christ’s nature; was it fallen or unfallen? Could Jesus have sinned? The Adventist Church takes the position that he indeed could have sinned; the many temptations in Matthew 4 and in Gethsemane seem to indicate that. But we also have here in the Christmas story a clear declaration by the angels that this baby WILL save us; he will not fail; there is no possibility of failure. He will go to the cross and win. In John 14:30, Jesus says calmly to His disciples, speaking of Lucifer: The prince of this world approaches. He has no power over Me. He has no hold on Me says the NIV. So I cannot speak to the impeccability of Jesus’ nature, but I can gratefully proclaim the immutability of heaven’s eternal plan. Let’s never forget that God does not lose. Jesus does not fail. Heaven does not surrender. And this Baby being born was not just part of God’s biggest plan; Jesus was God’s biggest plan. 

Verse 15, as we return to the midnight choir concert in the fields outside Bethlehem. When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.” They saw this incredible thing, the sky lighting up, the thunder of many voices singing. But now it’s dark again. The moment is over. The glory has faded. And what do they do? They act upon the miracle which has come to them. 

All through Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John there were people who saw or experienced miracles. Some responded; others just walked away. But praise the Lord for these shepherds. They were given this rare privilege of receiving the announcement, and their response was the right one. Let’s go check it out. Let’s go see. The Adventist commentary points out that there is a special blessing for those who hear this kind of proclamation and who then act upon it. 

Verses 16-18: So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the Baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen Him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this Child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them.And right here I think you and I find something that is starkly relevant for us in this church we all love. What does this mean for us today? They spread the word concerning what had been told them about this Child. 

Our Survival Depends Upon It

And friend, I was seized by this reality. The most important ingredient in our survival and growth here at this church is the challenge that we must go to others and tell them about Jesus. The shepherds saw Jesus and went and told someone else. And there have been times when someone here had a very vivid and real encounter with Jesus Christ, and a little time later, they brought by the hand a new person, a different person, someone not yet in our ranks, and brought them into this building and said: See? I told you. I have found a Friend so precious; He’s all the world to me. 

We all have social connections with people who do not truly know the Christ Child as their Savior. We could say more than we say; we could share with more power than we do. We could exercise more intentionality than we do. If you spend time here in December going around in your cul-de-sac giving out Christmas cookies, you will probably be struck by the embarrassing reality of how little we know about people living less than 100 feet from our front door. We know some names, but not all. We have neighbors who are fellow believers, and we have no true communion with them as we should. 

Think what would happen if every single person here, by the end of next year, found and brought to church just one other person. And just having babies doesn’t count, even though I applaud that missionary plan as well. I know that multi-level marketing schemes prove that we can’t double our church every single year, but I think we could definitely do it during the year that begins a few days from now. If these shepherds, who were basically shiftless thieves and tax cheats, could do it, you and I with our M.D.s and Ph.D.s can surely do it too. 

Now we move on to Scene #2 in this story. Verse 21: On the eighth day, when it was time to circumcise Him, He was named Jesus, the name the angel had given Him before He had been conceived. When the time of their purification according to the Law of Moses had been completed, Joseph and Mary took Him to Jerusalem to present Him to the Lord (as it is written in the Law of the Lord, “Every firstborn male is to be consecrated to the Lord”) (Exodus 13:2), and to offer a sacrifice in keeping with what is said in the Law of the Lord: “a pair of doves or two young pigeons.” (Lev. 12:8) 

I’m a bit embarrassed to tell you this, because I frankly do not know all of the ways of the Lord. But it was God’s rule for Israel that if a young woman had a baby boy, she was unclean for a week. If she had a baby girl, she was unclean for two weeks. Another gender inequity is that the long-term purification schedule for the mother of a baby boy was 33 days, for a girl 66. And the assigned gift for a poor family, instead of being a lamb, was two doves. And this is what Joseph and Mary brought. 

It’s sweet to think that Mary, who received this Baby directly from heaven, now comes to the Temple to give Jesus back, in a sense. To present him to the Lord. We have baby dedication services here at church where we do this very same thing. But I would like to impress upon all of us as we head into the new year the wonderful Bible challenge to bring back to God’s house the things we receive from God. 

If you have gotten talents from God, bring them here. If you have gotten children from the Lord, then it is right and proper to bring them here. You owe God that. If God blesses you with a good income, part of that income should come to this temple’s coffers. I don’t say that for myself; I say it because it is what the Bible teaches. 

I am so moved when an economically challenged person here who is barely hanging on by their fingernails still gives back to God out of the blessings they have gotten from him. I know someone whose entire income is less than their rent; they are upside-down before the month even begins. And yet they come on Sabbath and bring a dish of food. Isn’t that amazing? And here Joseph and Mary, who have received this miracle Baby from God, come to the temple and give him right back. 

Someone has suggested that Israelite families essentially paid these two doves to the temple as ransoms, as it were. Rather than sacrifice their firstborn children, they were permitted to “buy them back” with this sacrifice of a lamb or a pair of doves. Some people here have paid in the five figures to bring their baby home from the hospital; how much would you be willing to give the Lord for the gift of your child, were he to ask you for it? But it is inspiring to think of Joseph and Mary, ransoming this little Baby who would someday ransom the entire world with His blood. In her book, The Desire of Ages, Ellen White observes that some no-name priest held this little Baby, maybe the tenth one that day, amid all the sacrifices and blood and altars and this huge, legal system . . . and had no idea in the world that this one unique, heaven-sent Baby was going to fulfill it all, supercede it all, bring their entire edifice of legalism, of works, of blood to a crashing conclusion at the cross. Like people in Michigan who went to the polls one day back in 1948 to vote for a young Michigan State football hero and World War II vet . . . and never dreamed that young Jerry Ford would one day be President of the United States. 

Now to Scene #3, and this is very touching. One of my favorite people in the Bible comes into the story now. There’s an old woman named Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. It’s not entirely clear if she was 84 years old or if she had been a widow for 84 years. One way or another, she had been around for a long while; her hair was gray. And what I like is this: even at the age of 84, or maybe 104, she was always at church. She never skipped church! As we head into the new year, I invite all of you to be like this great old gal of the Bible. She never left the temple, it says in verse 37. But before we get to her, there is another old prophet we want to read about. 

Verse 25: Now there was a man in Jerusalem called Simeon, who was righteous and devout. He was waiting for the consolation of Israel—in other words, he was waiting for this exact moment, the arrival of the Messiah—and the Holy Spirit was upon him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not die before he had seen the Lord’s Christ. 

And as Simeon holds Baby Jesus in his arms, he says with beatific joy: Lord, now let Your servant depart in peace. He was willing to lay down to his rest, because he had seen the arrival of his Messiah. This is the Child. This is God Himself. This Baby will save all of us. Our rescue is absolutely assured at last. 

Verse 30: My eyes have seen Your salvation, which You have prepared in the sight of all people, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to Your people Israel. And then this great old man says to God: okay, let me go to sleep in peace. I saw what I’ve waited all my life to see. Somehow God made sure that Simeon was at the temple that very day. 

So here are these two old, faithful saints. They waited for years, for decades. There may have been talk through the years of closing the church, or folding, of quitting. People then were tired of waiting for prophecies to come true, just as we sometimes are. They got weary of commuting to the temple each Sabbath. But they kept coming. And God went out of his way to keep them alive long enough so that they could have this rare, sweet experience. They got to hold the Redeemer in their arms, and know he was their Redeemer. 

We’re told in the Bible, Deuteronomy 19:15, that all important matters should be established by two witnesses. And here these two old, faithful, reliable voices tell the world: Here He is. This Baby is the hope of all mankind. We saw it with our own eyes. If you don’t want to believe me, then believe them. But here at Christmastime, this one Baby is still the One. He is still our Savior, our only hope. 

There’s a hard moment for you moms to think about. Simeon, holding Baby Jesus, promises the salvation of our lost world. That’s wonderful. But then he quietly says to Mom in verse 35: [But] a sword will pierce your own soul. In the Message paraphrase: A figure misunderstood and contradicted—the pain of a sword-thrust through you. In 33 years, Mary will watch her little boy up on the cross, dying for all of our sins. She’ll stand right there and hear the nails going in, sense the agony of her own flesh and blood. 

This sword, we’re told by the Greek experts, was a rhomphania—a large battle sword. Not a machaira, a small dagger. No, this is a major weapon of heartbreak; in fact, it’s the same word used for the sword of Goliath. Mary is going to have her heart broken by the sacrifice on a hill far away. 

I want for us to close by going back to the announcement by Gabriel. A Savior has been born TO YOU. And then this: He is Christ THE LORD. 

Please stop with me and think carefully about what “Lord” means. Television sometimes uses that word carelessly; let’s not make that mistake. Jesus is our Lord. He rules over us. Jesus rules in a holy and complete way in our lives and in the life of this church. 

I was talking to someone last week about surrendering his life to Jesus Christ. And I made the point that if Jesus did create us, and then did come to earth and die on the cross for our sins, then him being Lord is plain reality. In legal terms, we owe Jesus loyalty in a de jure sense—legally. By rights. It may be fun; it may not be. We may enjoy it; we might not. You might have a personality that loves church and worship, or maybe you don’t. Frankly, it doesn’t matter. Jesus is our Lord. He deserves all that we can give; He deserves our worship and our time and our offerings and the gift of our children. He deserves the powerful, dedicated functioning of this church right here. He is Christ the Lord. 

And Simeon says to Mary: You are so blessed; you’re favored above all women. But there will come this sword moment. Your heart is going to break partway through this process. In the end, the world will be saved . . . but you’re going to cry one Friday afternoon. 

Maybe you and I will have some hard times too. Maybe a rhomphania of loss, of pain, of death will happen to us. Christianity may mean a sword for us too. But it does not matter because Jesus is our Lord. He came to save us from our sins, and both Anna and Simeon give a testimony which rings through the centuries. We have seen the Christ Child. Shall we pray? 

Lord God, in one of our final Sabbaths of this year, we bow before Jesus as our Lord and Savior. We accept the sure word of these two great saints of old, that you are the Baby sent from heaven. And like the shepherds, we want to take this good news and now share it in a tangible way with some precious person in our lives. Make us effective heralds of your love, we pray. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

______________________________

Submitted by David B. Smith. Better Sermons © 2005-2008. Click here for usage guidelines.

Read more at the source: Bethlehem – Part 3

Article excerpt posted on en.intercer.net from Better Sermons.

Bethlehem – Part 1

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Journey to Bethlehem

Photo: James Stedidl

I don’t know if any of you have ever had the experience of helping to deliver an over-eager baby. Taxi drivers have helped bring a new life into the world; so have flight attendants. There have been missionaries who were pressed into service as midwifes on crowded buses and trains in overseas lands, where someone had to donate a piece of shoelace to help tie off the umbilical cord.

Of course, I know that many of us have had the deeply spiritual experience of watching our own children miraculously emerge into this world. I can tell you this about my own personal experience; I absolutely became a believer in creation, in the miracle power of God, in the divine imprint upon people, in our heavenly Father’s care for each of us. I can never be an evolutionist or an atheist after participating in the birth of a baby. 

In December, much of the world is somewhat tenuously connected to one particular maternity ward story. Luke 2:6, 7: While [Mary and Joseph] were [in the Bethlehem stable], the time came for the Baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a Son. In the world’s terms, that’s a pretty commonplace story. A young female went through nine months of gestation. Her abdomen got swollen; her monthly cycle came to an end. She had morning sickness. Her water broke. She had labor pangs. She pushed and squeezed the hand of her fiancé. And it happened just like every other time: at the end of the story, there was a little Baby lying in a manger. We sing a Christmas carol which suggests that while the cows mooed and there was baa baa baa from the sheep, sweet little Jesus never made a peep. Well, that isn’t true. This was a very real Baby. He was covered with blood and vernix; there was the afterbirth set to one side. Someone cut the cord. Someone stopped the bleeding. Jesus was circumcised on the eighth day, we read in verse 21. 

And just one more thing. One more tiny detail. This Baby being born means that you and I can someday leave this world of heartache and go to heaven. You see, I believe in the totality of the Christmas story. I embrace all of it. Do you believe today that Baby Jesus can save you and your family from your sins? Is that your Christmas commitment? 

We who are Adventists do not bargain away a single part of this miraculous story. We believe in the virgin birth; we believe Gabriel came down and spoke to the shepherds. We accept that the angel choirs sang. We believe the wise men came. Everything. And we especially believe that there was something completely different, completely revolutionary and world-changing when this one little Baby was born on our alien planet. We believe it when the angel says, He shall save His people from their sins. 

To Be Continued

We’re going to spend a couple of brief holiday weeks journeying together through the Luke chapter 2 story. You know, In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. Etc. Sometimes we pastors foolishly decide that we should be able to get enough for one good sermon there. Well, what I found in my studying is that this wonderful saga is a story for the ages. It can’t be told in a hundred sermons. It can never be exhausted. It is a miniseries without end. Please don’t get impatient if it hangs over into January. 

A classic Adventist book called The Desire of Ages has several chapters dealing just with the Christmas story. And I think Ellen White is completely correct in this observation: “The story of Bethlehem is an exhaustless theme. In it is hidden ‘the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God.’ (Romans 11:33) We marvel at the Savior’s sacrifice in exchanging the throne of heaven for the manger, and the companionship of adoring angels for the beasts of the stall. Human pride and self-sufficiency stand rebuked in His presence. Yet this was but the beginning of His wonderful condescension.” Meaning that the Christmas story reaches its powerful climax at Easter and the Cross and the Resurrection. 

Philip Yancey has a line in his book, The Jesus I Never Knew, where he puts it this way: “The God who came to earth came not in a raging whirlwind nor in a devouring fire. Unimaginably, the Maker of all things shrank down, down, down, so small as to become an ovum, a single fertilized egg barely visible to the naked eye, an egg that would divide and redivide until a fetus took shape, enlarging cell by cell inside a nervous teenager. ‘Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb,’ marveled the poet John Donne. He ‘made Himself nothing . . . He humbled Himself,’ said the apostle Paul more prosaically.” 

As we move through this classic story, I hope you will find your own family faith reaffirmed. It is a wonderful thing to be fully Christian all year long, but especially during this season. Our Adventist faith takes Christmas from a shallow, cynical, greedy, fatiguing, commercial Ponzi scheme – and magnifies it into the most eloquent and important theme in the universe. I pray that this will be your experience here during the Christmas season. 

Verse one and two again: In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) Right away, people who are cynics find a place to hang their doubts. Historical records – meaning, non-biblical – often corroborate things we find in the Bible. But the truth is that this particular census seems to be difficult to pin down. Secular chronicles don’t appear to have this 4 B.C. project listed in their archives. However, it is true that Caesar Augustus did achieve a major administrative overhaul of the entire Roman system, and perhaps this census was simply tucked into the larger endeavor. And there are records of various censuses being performed in various parts of the kingdom. Egypt did them every 14 years, and we have historical records of each of the ones done between 20 A.D. and 270 A.D. In Syria, which contained Judea, it’s probable that the same format was used. 

Another head-scratching issue is that this Quirinius, governor of Syria, definitely did run a census in 6 A.D., which we find mentioned in history and also Acts 5. But that’s ten years too late for this Christmas story. So scholars have argued that Luke must have simply flubbed this part of the story. But it appears that even before the birth of Jesus, Quirinius might have had another previous term as governor or military leader in that territory, and would have been authorized to organize a census during the exact time of this story. 

Here’s the interesting thing. Again, many students have dismissed this part of Luke’s story and said, “Well, he’s a doctor, not a historian; he simply got this part wrong. Let’s move on.” However, documents coming to light just within the last century or so show that Caesar Augustus had done three surveys: one in 28 B.C., then 8 B.C., and 14 A.D. And, considering that there was such political turmoil in Syria and Judea, the 8 B.C. census might have taken several years to really put some teeth into . . . which would mean that it was being collected right at the time this story took place. So as we study God’s Word here, and have questions – not that I think any of you stay awake at night worrying about when these taxes got collected – there’s solid evidence that God has protected the integrity of His Word. 

Here’s the larger point. Luke, a medical doctor, graduate of Loma Linda University, goes out of his way to paint a picture of a very secular world. People working, tending to their businesses, paying taxes. Forcing themselves to be obedient to secular governments. Tipping their hats to the Romans. In other words, living daily lives. And into that mix of secular, 40-hour workweeks, with commuters and IRS withholding and the rough and tumble of everyday life . . . God invades. This story comes right into the world. This isn’t a sterile, fly-by spiritual mission. A young girl gets pregnant. Her boyfriend is a carpenter. Her uncle is a priest. Her aunt is also pregnant. People are traveling; motels are full. 

This story tells me that God wants to come into the lives of this church’s doctors. Into the experience of our lawyers and teachers and dental hygienists. Our stay-at-home moms. And those who struggle to get by on their Social Security check. People raising kids. People who have to come to a Food Bank to keep the cupboard from going bare each month. The Christmas story, Jesus entering our world, happens right in the thick of dust-covered reality. One commentator put it cryptically this way: “God is the Lord of history.” This is My Father’s world. 

Verse three. And everyone went to his own town to register. Now, it was odd to make people do that. The Romans generally knocked on your door and got you where you lived, not where you used to live. However, a Roman-mandated census carried out in Egypt did follow this rule; you commuted on a camel back to wherever you were born. And it’s also been suggested that King Herod, who was the boss of this particular Judean region, might have decided that doing it “by tribes” was the most efficient way, and that the rule of returning to your tribal homeland was his doing. 

In any case, this had Joseph the carpenter going from Nazareth back to Bethlehem. This was a three-day trip. It would be like us driving from California back to Illinois in order to file our tax returns. But a lot of people were on the roads at this time because of this rule hanging over their heads. 

Now, Joseph had to go, of course. As the IRS puts it, he was the head of the household. How about Mary? Some records indicate that all Palestinian women 12 and older had to do the same thing; Mary was also of the family of David and so Bethlehem would have been her town as well. However, most scholars think that it was sufficient for women to simply pay the tax without having to make the journey. 

Why, then, did she go? Well, two reasons. First of all, she was eight months and three weeks pregnant. I’m sure she wanted to be near Joseph. To stay home alone in that very pregnant state might have caused more gossip than there already was. But notice something very interesting. The Old Testament prophetic book of Micah was written 700 years before the birth of Jesus. And what do we find predicted in chapter 5?  But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel, whose origins are from of old, from ancient times. The Living Bible: You [Bethlehem] will be the birthplace of my King who is alive from everlasting ages past! 

So a Roman king demands a census. The underlings put out this rule that you have to go to your hometown. Joseph and Mary just happen to be from Bethlehem. She happens to be pregnant and ready to deliver right at this time. She goes there and Jesus is born in the very place where heaven decreed it seven centuries earlier. 

Again, do I believe this story? Do I accept these details as of divine inspiration? You bet I do. I put my life on the line with this story right here, and with the fact that this Baby was born in Bethlehem where and when and how He was supposed to come into our world. 

Verse five: [Joseph] went [to Bethlehem] to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. We all know this story. Some scholars suggest that Mary and Joseph were already married by this time; why, then, does Luke still portray her as just engaged to him? Well, there’s no way to know for sure; however, here’s what Matthew has to say in chapter one after Joseph had his dream visit from the angel. [Joseph] took Mary home as his wife. But he had no union with her until she gave birth to a Son. So if there was a marriage, it was not consummated, as we say, until after this Bethlehem story. Which is why Luke, perhaps, still describes this as an engagement, not a marriage. 

Now, we’re adults and can speak openly about these things. I have had the unexpected experience of performing a wedding for a couple where the bride was already “showing.” And you know, you minister to people where they are. But here is a woman traveling with her boyfriend, it seems, and she is hugely pregnant. The Living Bible puts it: She was obviously pregnant by this time. 

A news item came out back during the holidays of 2006. An exceptional Christian film entitled The Nativity Story, which tells this Christmas drama in glorious detail. It starred a young New Zealand actress named Keisha Castle-Hughes, who was only sixteen and plays the Virgin Mary in this great Bible story. Two days before the opening, the news dribbled out that this high school kid . . . was pregnant. She was going to have a baby. 

So what does the entire world immediately know? Well, there’s a boy somewhere in this equation, and someone on the movie set didn’t chaperone things as well as they might have. We all know that. Virgins do not get pregnant. If a young girl is pregnant, it’s as plain as our biology textbooks that a romantic episode came first. Actually, the Internet tells us that the boy’s name is Bradley Hull, they’ve been dating for three years, and here we are. But this film about a virgin was going to have its international debut in the Vatican, the Holy See. So a spiritual center which proclaims the Virgin Birth had to tell this young movie actress, “Please don’t attend. You’ll embarrass us.” 

Of course, the Catholic Church proclaims two doctrines all their own. One is called the Immaculate Conception, which suggests that Mary was not only sinless in her own life but that she was miraculously kept from ever having even a sinful nature of her own, avoiding what the Church of Rome calls “original sin.” Which enabled her to pass perfection along to her Son. The second teaching is that Mary experienced “perpetual virginity,” that she never did have sexual relations with Joseph or anyone else. They explain the Bible verses about Jesus’ brothers and sisters by suggesting that these were half-siblings from a prior marriage Joseph had had. 

Well, we are Protestants and there is no biblical warrant for either of those ideas. However, in our own circles, liberal theologians in recent years have said to the rest of us: “You’re going to have to let this virgin-birth fantasy go.”  Actresses who play Mary can’t get miraculously pregnant, and neither could Mary herself. That part of the story is just plain not true. The earth is not flat and virgins don’t have babies. A baby comes from egg and sperm, and biology reigns supreme. 

I don’t want to get us sidetracked on this part of the story, but I want to say one thing. We who are Adventist Christians either believe in miracles or we don’t. If the Holy Spirit cannot move upon a young virgin girl and bring the Savior of mankind into this world, then there is also no such thing as Jesus feeding the 5000 with one lunch. No healings. No lepers cleansed. The story of Lazarus coming out of the tomb is pure fantasy. Jairus’ daughter coming back to life: false. The widow’s son being raised up: not true. Eutychus, who fell out of a window, died, and was raised up by Paul: total fabrication. And of course, the resurrection of Jesus Himself is just masterpiece theater, literary fiction. Not to mention our resurrection on the final day of triumph. 

Today it is entirely possible for a virgin, by way of science and centrifuges and in vitro techniques, to have a baby. If the powerful God of all this universe couldn’t do it, then the testimony of the Bible, the sure word of the prophets, and the entire Christian faith collapses like a house of cards. I don’t want to be overly dramatic, but logic dictates this train of thinking. If you honestly do not believe in miracles . . . then what are you doing here? 

Fortunately, we do believe in miracles and we believe in the integrity of God’s Word. If Isaiah, Matthew, and Luke, all writing under the protection of the Holy Spirit, say that a virgin conceived, then a virgin conceived. I heard a pastor once suggest in a sermon that God could have made Joseph have that baby if He had wanted to!  But let’s accept the Bible story just as it reads. 

Two quick points. First, this is just one more evidence that God sent His own Son into the most humble of circumstances. Not just to a poor girl and a carpenter boyfriend. Not just into poverty and a stable. But with this cloud of illegitimacy hanging over not just this story but the entire 33 years. Jesus heard the word bastard His entire life. He was sympathetic to people who were ridiculed and teased and harassed, because that was His daily lot in life. 

Who’s is He?

And one more thing. I think about Joseph, who has his girlfriend come to him with this incredible, unbelievable story. I’m pregnant, but I didn’t do anything. I mean, what kind of a fool does she think he is? His heart is broken. He’s torn between love and disbelief and anger. In his kindness, he decides to dump Mary, but do it quietly; otherwise, she could conceivably be stoned to death. But then he has a dream one night where an angel says to him, “Joseph, hang in there. This incredible story is actually true.” Do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a Son, and you are to give Him the name Jesus, because He will save His people from their sins. 

But let me pose this question. Would any realistic man believe his girlfriend’s story? No. Not a chance. What about it, guys? I wouldn’t. You wouldn’t. And even after an angel dream, you might think, fifty-fifty, that your own hysteria, your obsession with this crazy, wrenching tale caused the dream. It’s likely that even here at Month #9 as Joseph led his hugely pregnant fiancée over the dirt roads to Bethlehem, he was still thinking: What kind of fool am I? 

The baby is born and Dad still has these mixed emotions. That’s not my kid. Doesn’t look like me. He looks like Benjamin the Blacksmith. I wonder which of my friends did this? 

And all at once, shepherds come to the front door of this little stable. They were in the fields, tending their flocks. Suddenly an angel came to them and said: “This is the Baby. The Lord has come. Go to Bethlehem.” They heard an angel choir saying the same thing. 

And maybe for the first time in the last nine months, this fragile young man, who has wrestled with doubts and with suppressed anger, has his faith confirmed. No one could have known this story. This can’t be a plant or a coincidence. There must actually be such a thing as miracles and heavenly gifts; God in heaven must actually have a plan to rescue this lost world, and God chose his girlfriend to carry the King to term. What a transforming moment that must have been. 

And here’s where we come in. I want for us to think about the shepherds some more next Sabbath, but here were some men who took this story and brought it into town. They had an encounter with heaven; they acted upon that gift. They came to Bethlehem to worship, and in the act of worshiping I believe they brought a renewed faith to Joseph, the father of our Lord. 

We all know people who toy with, or struggle with, the Calvary story. They know it by heart; they’ve lived with it for the proverbial nine months of gestation. But it’s never come to birth in their own life; they’ve never owned it for themselves. Sometimes they come here to church, but they’re always observers, not citizens. Along with Joseph and the rest of Nazareth, they said with a shake of the head: “Man, I don’t know.” 

I have visited in my office with sincere seekers who are sometimes with us here, and yet do not believe in the story of the Cross. And I think what is needed is for more of us to really be like those shepherds. We need to burst through the door of their doubts and say with fire in our voice: “We saw an angel in the fields and we believe his message. We heard a choir sing, and the things you have doubts about are being proclaimed in the heavens. This is a story you can believe.” 

Just in recent weeks I have had desperate phone calls come my way. People call up in the midnight hour and pour out their tales of woe, their overwhelming grief. The tumult in their lives are taking a toll. And it’s my assignment at that moment to be a shepherd, to say, “Hang in there despite these trials. There are angels all around us, already paving the way for the new avenues of service you’re going to travel. I have seen the star in the sky.” 

If we build here an unshakable community, a home with lasting convictions and corporate backbone, sure in our beliefs, who can ever measure how many people will come to embrace our Christmas story in all of its glorious fullness? Shall we pray? Lord, thank You for this story of a journey to Bethlehem. Help us to never cut the trip short; may we always believe that it began in heaven, not in Bethlehem. May Christmas be a Christian experience for us, not a commercial one. We ask this in the name of the living Christ Child and our eternal Savior, Amen.

______________________________

Submitted by David B. Smith. Better Sermons © 2005-2007. Click here for usage guidelines.

Read more at the source: Bethlehem – Part 1

Article excerpt posted on en.intercer.net from Better Sermons.

Fighting – Part 6

By

I Can Do It Better!

Photo: Byron Moore

A kid was entertaining himself one day with that classic old game of tossing a baseball up in the air and then hitting it. And he was waxing eloquent to himself on what a great hitter he was. “There’s nobody like me! I can hit anything. Ain’t nobody can get me out.” He lobbed the ball up and took a mighty swing. Whiff. “That’s okay. Strike one is all. I’m the greatest hitter in the world! The fans in the stands are screaming for me. Stevie! Stevie! Stevie!” Whiff. Even now, the rhetoric continued. “No problem, baby. Greatest hitter in the world. Game Seven, the World Series, bottom of the ninth, fans on their feet . . .” Whiff. 

There was just the slightest reality-check pause. He needed a paradigm shift of some kind. Suddenly the kid picked up the elusive baseball, looked at it, and a great big smile crossed his face. “I’m the greatest pitcher in the world. Untouchable! There’s nobody like me . . .”

There’s a disturbing little story in the book of Mark, chapter nine, which speaks volumes to anyone in God’s family who has ever been in an argument. Jesus and His twelve disciples were hiking from Galilee to Capernaum, and for some reason the disciples kind of hung back; they walked fifty yards behind Jesus in Maxwell Smart’s infamous “Cone of Silence.” They were talking about something they didn’t want Him to hear. That’s really brilliant, by the way—trying to hide something from Jesus.

When they got to the house they were going to be staying in, Jesus did something He often seems to do; He asked them a question He already knew the answer to. Something along the line of, “Cain, where’s your brother?” 

In this episode, He asks them: “By the way, what were you guys talking about all the way over here?” In fact, “What were you arguing about?” Either Jesus was using His divine prescient knowledge, or their voices had increased in intensity and volume to the point where it was obviously some contentious issue.

Well, the men began to shuffle their feet in the dust and to look at their watches or out the window to see if any planes were going by. The Bible says, “They kept quiet.” In the King James: “They held their peace.” And the fact was that they had burned up this entire expedition arguing about one simple question: Which of them was the greatest?

That seems to us like an odd argument, maybe. I don’t remember ever sitting in our fellowship hall and having that be the point of discussion: who’s the greatest person at this table? Most of us, when we were kids, sometimes got into wrestling matches, and if you pinned someone to the ground, you wouldn’t let him up until he stated for the record: “You are greater than I.” I used to have Sabbath-afternoon wrestling competitions with my children, and of course, it was easy to beat them when they were six and I was 40. But it seems like a strange, dysfunctional thing to openly talk about with your friends: I’m better than you are.

Now, in the case of the disciples, they were probably discussing with an eye toward the question of which of them should have the greatest position in this earthly government, this Jesus cabinet they were so sure was about to be inaugurated. But the fact was, they were talking about greatest positions because each one thought he was the greatest. Their opinions of self were the source of every conflict. 

And we all know how Jesus sat the guys down, called a little kid in, and said to them: “If anyone wants to be first, he must be the very last, and the servant of all.” In other words, if you think you’re great, that’s proof that you really aren’t.

Think about the Bible stories where tensions and disagreements have come because people thought they were superior. Absalom and David. Esau and Jacob. David and his brothers. Joseph and his brothers. The established converts in the Christian church versus the newcomers who were thinking of joining.

Jesus clearly teaches that we need to turn this kind of thinking on its head. “The first shall be last.” “Put others before yourself.” “Do unto others.” But in fact, the quiet unstated idea of—I am the greatest—is always hiding in the shadows of our spiritual soul.

There’s a classic story out there, and unfortunately, this is one of the rare ones the Internet can’t back up as being fully reliable. Almost always, I can search out and verify a story’s validity, and this time I couldn’t seem to do that. So I’m going to give it to you with that caveat. If it’s an urban legend, then it’s a well-meaning one. 

Many years ago, as the story goes, an elegantly dressed woman got out of her automobile (or it might even have been a carriage) outside a four-star hotel, struggling with her finery and parasol. Standing by the hotel’s front entrance, she saw a nicely dressed man of African-American heritage, so she immediately yodeled over to him: “Oh, boy! Boy! Come here.” She gestured rather impatiently, and the man immediately walked over. 

“Yes, ma’am?”

And she went: “Help me with my bags.” She pointed at a couple of large suitcases.

Without any protest, he gave a little bow and said: “Yes, ma’am. Certainly.” He picked up the two bags, carried them into the lobby and set them down at the front desk. This snooty lady came bustling up behind him, adjusting her flowery hat and trying to keep her pet poodles in line. And she said to him: “Thank you.” Reaching into her jeweled handbag, she pulled out three silver dimes. “Here you are.” You can tell this story happened a long time ago.

But this quiet gentleman shook his head. “No, ma’am, that’s all right,” he said, and he walked away. 

But the story wasn’t over. Moments later someone who had seen this aborted thirty-cent transaction came over to the brassy lady. “Don’t you know who that was?” he scolded her. “Lady, you just made Booker T. Washington carry your suitcases!”

Now again—this story might be apocryphal. But in case it’s true, what just happened here? This woman made some assumptions. She was arriving at this nice hotel; he was just standing there. She was a high-rolling guest; he was obviously an employee. She wore the skin tone of the privileged upper crust; the color of his skin probably indicated that his parents had been slaves and he was still part of the servant caste of society. This dark-skinned man was either going to carry her bags or cook her dinner. All these things seemed obvious, and it seemed equally obvious that she could think to herself: “I am greater than you.” So by all the math that she was aware of, her giving him thirty cents for carrying her bags in . . . well, that was just about right.

But the story still isn’t over. To her credit, this woman, now that she knew the score, felt terrible. How could she have been so insensitive? She was very chagrined and embarrassed. She was willing to learn a lesson and admit she had been wrong. So she sought out the famous Dr. Booker T. Washington, who had an honorary doctorate from Dartmouth College, who was one of the leading black educators in the country, a guiding light at Tuskegee Institute, an honored guest in the White House, first African-American ever to be on a postage stamp. Of course, he was staying at the hotel, probably in the presidential suite. But when she tried to offer him a stuttering apology, he graciously shook his head and gave her a warm smile. “That’s perfectly all right,” he said. And now get this: “I enjoy helping my friends.”

Again, I don’t know if this story is true, but it is entirely consistent with everything else we know about this great American. He was a man who responded to abuse and discrimination and the unstated putdown of “Boy! Boy! Here’s three dimes. Get the bags” . . . by calling this woman a friend.

That’s a very nice anecdote, true or not—and it reminds us that most of the time, grace and gentle answers are not how we handle potential fights in the parking lot of the hotel. Or of the church. We’ve been saying in this sermon series: we live in a world of conflict, and have the added dilemma of often liking it that way. We enjoy the tumult of division, of having “our” side and “their” side. It’s almost fun to be insulted, because then you can be mad and nurse your anger.

Here is the premise suggested in God’s Word and addressed so wisely by Jesus. Very often, conflict comes, not only because we don’t agree with the other person, but because we feel so superior to them. That woman in the fancy dress and pink umbrella saw this unassuming man with the dark skin standing at the front door of the hotel. He must be a doorman. He must be making 45 cents an hour. He must be the kind of person who would be obsequiously glad to get her three shiny dimes. Being called “boy” and getting ordered around would be a small price to pay in exchange for thirty cents.

But now look at it from Booker T. Washington’s point of view. He was a famous, leading thinker, a man who had shaped public opinion and been Teddy Roosevelt’s guest in Washington, D.C. In terms of intellect and achievement, he was many stratospheres above this racially foolish woman with her tacky clothes. But instead of pointing out to her how he was so superior, he simply said: “I enjoy helping my friends.” Even this red-faced woman who hadn’t yet had the privilege of learning all things about the human race was potentially his friend. And Washington’s quiet, diplomatic answer honored God’s kingdom.

I want to take us to the book of Romans this morning, where we find a gentle reminder of this very principle. There’s so much tension in our world today, and a dose of heaven-sent humility would go such a long way toward reducing it. Here’s what Paul writes in chapter 12, verse 10: Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves. And this is nice in the King James: In honor preferring one another. In Genesis 13 Abraham said to his nephew, Lot: “Go ahead. You take the prime real estate. You take the green valley; you take the fertile soil and the suburban neighborhood with plumbing and cable TV wires already strung in from the Sodom Satellite Network. I’ll take this thorny, hilly spot over here. It’s all right.” The man who clearly was greater in every respect was willing to be treated as though he were the inferior partner. Out of the abundance of God’s blessings in his life, and out of an ongoing security in his relationship with that faithfully providing God, he was safely able to go second.

We’ve been pulling bits and pieces from different Bible versions and paraphrases. Notice here what it says in The Message: Practice playing second fiddle. 

Have you ever competed for the highest “chair” in an academy orchestra? I know what it means to play second fiddle; in fact, I know what it’s like to play last fiddle. Instead of being first chair, they used to put my chair behind the curtain, or, if possible, clear in another room and I’d see the conductor over closed-circuit TV. I’ve been told more than once that the quieter my playing, the better . . . until I was essentially “bow-synching.” But I also know the slightly sinful joy of moving up from third chair to second, from second to first. Of getting the highest score on a test. Of wanting to be valedictorian. Of wanting your child to be valedictorian. Of wanting your grandchild to be the prettiest baby in the worldwide Adventist Church. Of wanting my house to be as big, square-foot-wise, as the church member who just bought one last month. Of wanting to own a new such-and-such-model car because all of my friends have them now. But how many battles could be averted if we would only be willing to sit in that second chair in the orchestra and let somebody else be “better”? Even if in our hearts we know they aren’t better, can we go along and let them sit in the first seat?

A web site by a Paul Gear makes some interesting points about conflict among God’s people. Philippians 2:4 is a good verse for that discussion: Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.

Here’s his comment about that: “Selfish ambition is the attitude of wanting to make it to the top—wanting to be better than everyone else.” Now get this. “Conceit is the attitude of thinking you already are better than everyone else. God’s prescription for the unity of His people is humility. Humility is described here as treating others as our superiors, or considering others as better than ourselves.”

But what should we do about this? We don’t consider others as better. We think we are better. Our parents have told us so; our little man inside has told us so. Lucifer has told us so. It’s built in to think that we’re better than others; that’s a natural human defense mechanism. 

In his recent book, American Theocracy, economic and political analyst Kevin Phillips suggests that America is facing real turmoil over the fact that millions of evangelical and Pentecostal Christians wake up each morning, thinking to themselves: “We’re right. What we have convictions about . . . is right. What we know is truth. What we believe is correct. The goals we have are worthy. AND—they should all be implemented. This nation will be better off, and our non-believing neighbors will be better off, if our superior views find their way to Congress and are blessed by the Supreme Court.”

And even if you and I aren’t part of the Religious Right, we all have this inner sense of spiritual superiority. The beliefs we’ve carved out are right and good, and better than what is preached in the church across the street or even by that other Adventist church that is somewhat removed from us on the spectrum of spirituality.

That’s where the gospel of Jesus is a great blessing. We’re all equal at the foot of the Cross, and if we go there in our meditating, we realize that. The Bible is a great help here, because it teaches us over and over that others have equal value to God, that our prideful opinions are erroneous, that bragging is an offense to heaven. The Church is a wonderful resource in this matter, because we can see the gifts and talents and portfolios of others who are doing things for the Lord that we can’t accomplish. Week by week I come to this place and I discover other people doing things that I’m not very good at. Administrative skills I haven’t got; musical abilities I haven’t got; medical knowledge and expertise I haven’t got; financial acumen I haven’t got. If your eyes are open at all, being in a church should make all of us feel both valued and humble. 

In Romans 12, there’s a eye-opening observation made by Paul in verse 3: “By the grace given me,” he writes, “I say to every one of you: do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you.” And then immediately, he launches into a brilliant description of what we call the Body of Christ. Many members, one body. Many body parts, one body. Many unique functions, one body. Many and varied talents, one body. You can do this well; I can do that well. One body. You have a long string of talents; someone else may only look like they have one. One body. You like this kind of praise music; I prefer something else. One body. You have a certain conviction about the 1260 days in Revelation 12 or the presence of the prophetic gift in the church in these last days; someone else doesn’t see those views that way. One body. 

This Paul Gear goes on to point out that the Bible just never once extols the importance of self-esteem. “This is never regarded as a virtue in Scripture,” he writes. “In fact, it is just the opposite: self-esteem will only get in the way of the body of Christ. Christ asks the members of His body to esteem others as better than themselves.”

And the wise, balanced person deliberately takes this view. I mentioned how Dr. Ben Carson, brilliant brain surgeon at Johns Hopkins, sometimes encountered people who didn’t know he was a renowned M.D. There were lab techs who kind of said to this skinny black kid in surgical greens, “Oh, boy! Boy! Take this to the front desk. Here are three dimes for your trouble.” He encountered that. In Newsweek, the “My Turn” column was recently written by a black female doctor named Mana Lumumba-Kasonga. Her essay was entitled “My Black Skin Makes My White Coat Vanish.” In years of practice, nobody will believe she’s a doctor. They keep sneaking peeks at her lab coat name tag. Even after treating some people, they ask her: “When’s the doctor getting here?” There were actually black patients who said, “No, give me a real doctor. I don’t want you.” 

Back to Ben Carson, though—even though he was so much smarter than all the nurses, and probably making eight times as much, he carefully cultivated the attitude of valuing them. Some of these people had years of experience; he was kind of new. They knew hospital procedures; he was still having to feel his way along the maze of corridors. In his autobiography, Think Big, he writes this confession: “Because of their practical experience”—sometimes 25 or 30 years’ worth—“in observing and working with patients, they could teach me things. And they did.” Then he wisely adds this P.S. “There isn’t anybody in the world who isn’t worth something.”

Dale Carnegie, in his bestseller, How to Win Friends and Influence People, quotes Ralph Waldo Emerson, who says this: “Every man I meet is my superior in some way. In that, I learn from him.” 

By the way, Jesus doesn’t just encourage this attitude of humility because it will unleash the Church’s power and influence. He also nudges us away from self-esteem for our own sakes. Our own happiness and well-being is at stake if we fall into the dead-end trap of competing with others. There will always be a pastor out there with a bigger church than I’ve got; there will always be a professional with a bigger house than you’ve got. To feel good by comparing up and down the scale of affluence is always going to be a temporary high, like cocaine.

Speaking of drugs, it’s just slowly coming out why a certain San Francisco baseball slugger got himself into steroids. In May of 1998, the San Francisco Giants went to St. Louis for a three-game series, and a lean, trim, athletic, base-stealing player named Barry Bonds had to watch as “Big Mac,” Mark McGwire, got headline after headline. After a terrible players’ strike three years earlier, fans around the world now were transfixed as McGwire and Sammy Sosa were suddenly socking homers out of ballparks everywhere and chasing Roger Maris’ record. 

Now, in the ‘98 season, Bonds ended up with a sparkling .303 batting average, 37 home runs, on the All-Star team for the eighth time. He was in the middle of a lucrative $44 million, six-year baseball contract. He had more of this world’s goods than anyone sitting here today could possibly fathom. But all the headlines went to McGwire. The Cardinals came to the Bay Area to play in Bonds’ home town, and the media crush for McGwire was so frenzied they had to put crowd-control guide ropes around home plate when he took batting practice. Bonds saw the ropes, asked, “What’s this?” and just about exploded when he found out it was to control McGwire-mania. “Not in my house,” he said, adding a few expletives and threatening to tear the ropes down himself. Shortly after that he began his own destructive steroid descent into hell.

Today his life is basically ruined. He’s exposed as a cheat. When he finally hit homer #756 and passed up Hank Aaron, fans outside of the Bay Area turned away in disdain and spoke about asterisks next to the “record.” His going into the Hall of Fame is definitely in jeopardy. The river of steroids has made him abusive, misshapen, covered with acne, bald, and impotent. And all because someone else was getting headlines he thought should come to him.

Jesus says to us, “I want to set you free from that. I want to release My Church from the conflicts and the turmoil and the theological debates that all stem from the idea that Person A is better or smarter or more biblically astute than Person B.” C. S. Lewis has a wonderful line in his book, Mere Christianity, from the chapter entitled, very simply: “The Great Sin”—meaning, pride. Here it is: “If you really get into any kind of touch with [God] you will, in fact, be humble—delightedly humble, feeling the infinite relief of having for once gotten rid of all the silly nonsense about your own dignity which has made you restless and unhappy all your life. He is trying to make you humble in order to make this moment possible: trying to take off a lot of silly, ugly, fancy-dress in which we have all got ourselves up and are strutting about like the little idiots we are.” And he concludes that escaping from that vicious cycle, that Wall Street rat race of house competition and vehicle competition and job competition, is like a cold drink of water to a thirsty traveler.

Often some of you stay by in the afternoon and help us with one mission charity or another. Someone comes through our doors seeking help, and ends up next to you. And you might find yourself visiting with someone who, on paper, doesn’t have your resumé. You will likely have a better education, better job, and—obviously—a better-stocked pantry in your home. 

I want you to do two things, as a spiritual exercise. First of all, I want you to connect with that person. Find a way to personally say to them: “It’s so good to have you here. It’s an honor to have you trust us this way. You’re important to our church family.”

And then, secondly: just stop and realize something. That person is your superior in some way. They have survived hardships you might not have endured. They may have street smarts that you lack. They have coped with difficulties that might knock you flat on your face. Out of perhaps meager resources, they, too, have been generous in their community. Jesus and His disciples once watched rich millionaires give big gifts that scarcely made a dent in their pile of CDs and IRAs. Then a widow from the local food bank pantry crept in and put in her last two cents. Jesus had some very kind words to say about who was spiritually “great” that day in the temple.

So try to get the antenna of Jesus out and get a grateful sense of how you are sitting in the presence of this special, gifted person. Someone who comes in this afternoon might someday be one of the highest of leaders, worship champions, when we get into God’s kingdom. Some of our white-collar professions aren’t even going to be needed when we get to the New Jerusalem; I have it on good authority that all doctors, dentists, nurses, psychologists, and lawyers are going to be immediately unemployed upon our arrival in that Better Land. But people who have learned to care for others, who have shared cups of cold water, who have ridden a bus to get an A.A. degree at the community college, who have tutored kids in after-school programs . . . they may be generals and Cabinet officials in God’s eternal government, while your pastor is a humble and happy foot soldier.

And if any of us struggle with the fact of superior skills—if you have the highest IQ in the room and know it—then you do what Jesus did. On that Thursday night in the Upper Room, He was better. He knew it; they all knew it. He was God. He was their Master. He was their Leader. They called Him Lord, and they were right in calling Him Lord. But when it came time to wash feet, Jesus went ahead and did the humble thing. Even as a King, He acted the part of a servant.

Chuck Colson used to be a big shot in Washington. His office was next to Nixon’s; he rode on Air Force One. He shaped policies that impacted the nation and the world. Then he went to jail for being a Watergate conspirator. As a brand new Christian there, he found out that he was actually a pretty ordinary guy, and that some of the quiet believers in the next cell over had a strength of character he could only stand back in awe and praise God for.

And he wrote later these humbling words: “It’s kind of hard to wash someone else’s feet . . . when you’re up on your own pedestal.” Shall we pray?

Lord, we’re in Your house today as a beautiful mosaic of talents and ideas. We bring different skills, different financial backgrounds, different passions and theological ideas to this holy place at the foot of the Cross. Please help us to see Calvary as the great leveler; help us to see our fellow believers as wonderfully diverse, equally valuable parts of one glorious and global Body. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen. 

______________________________

Submitted by David B. Smith. Better Sermons © 2005-2008. Click here for usage guidelines.

Read more at the source: Fighting – Part 6

Article excerpt posted on en.intercer.net from Better Sermons.

Fighting – Part 2

By

An Enemy Has Done This

Photo: Mark Aplet

A short story from many years ago tells about a man who moved into a new neighborhood. I don’t know why he did it, or what motivated him, but he began to quietly move behind the scenes and create division. He did something surreptitious that made Neighbor A angry at Neighbor B. He set up a smoke screen that caused Neighbor C to decide Neighbor D was a liar. He stole things from Neighbor E and somehow planted Neighbor F’s fingerprints on the screen door. For about six months he just laced the community Kool-Aid with poison, and before one year was out the whole town was completely dysfunctional. Everybody hated everybody. They had to change the locks on their doors; they sabotaged each other’s garage sales. It was a mess.

And the entire time, nobody realized that this newcomer was the straw that was stirring the drink of distrust. This twisted visitor just sat back in his lawn chair, watching the emotional carnage and smiling to himself, just as an arsonist sets a fire and then from a safe distance enjoys the blaze and the roar of the fire trucks and the angry smoke and futile spray of the hoses.

The Voice of Prophecy radio ministry once received a tear-stained prayer request from a distraught mother. It was just three lines long, and you could almost see her frustration in the handwriting. She said this: “My son seems to delight in conflict. He’s always trying to get people upset.”

Last week we talked about the stark reality that a lot of the battles in this world happen in churches. It’s been that way for two thousand years: people have fought about church teachings, about policies, about worship styles. And they’ve fought over the simple fact that other people, unlikable, unlovable, unsaveable people, are sitting two pews over. 

In addition to that, it does often look like we like fighting. We enjoy the conflict. We go out of our way to indulge in it; in fact, we might be addicted to it.

Most of you know where the famous “Love Chapter” is found in the Bible: I Corinthians 13. And here’s a verse that really condemns some of our attitudes: Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. I mentioned last Sabbath how in the political world, both sides seem to enjoy the other side’s mistakes and misfired shotguns. There was discord between two American speed skaters in the last winter Olympic Games, and the news stories seemed to always lead with the latest gossip: who snubbed who. Who refused to shake hands. Who called the other a traitor or a spoilsport.

Let me take you back to the very public, front-of-the-church fight we lamented over last Sabbath. An Emmanual Baptist Church—fictional name—had the senior pastor and the head deacon come to blows right in front of the Communion table. But let’s hit the pause button on our DVD players and ask this question: “Wait a second. Who wants this fight to happen? Who is enjoying this?” And of course, the answer is Satan. When we fight, he’s in delight. When we experience fireworks in our marriages, he and his imps set off a few of their own in celebration.

I want to take you to a New Testament parable this morning. And it’s simply amazing to me how powerful and how relevant the truths always are that we find in these rural fisherman-and-seed-planting stories Jesus used to tell. But in Matthew 13 there’s a little tale about a farmer and all his hired hands who have a field they’ve nicely plowed up and sowed with good seed. This is high-grade durum wheat: the primo good stuff. And then one morning the boss and all his help wake up, chug out there on their John Deeres, and lo and behold, there’s weeds coming up with the wheat. And I mean, bunches of weeds, not just a sprig here and there. There’s a whole Lord of the Rings Fangorn Forest of evil out there in the back forty, and the farm hands are up to their hips in the stuff.

And it’s very telling, the words Jesus puts in the mouth of this gentleman farmer. Five King James words: An enemy hath done this. 

So what’s going on here? These weeds didn’t get there by themselves. This discord, this battle, this assault on the peace and tranquility of Happy Hollow Farm isn’t just a random accident. An enemy came along at midnight to put those weeds there.

And it’s the same when you and I fight. It’s the same when an Adventist church is scorched with internal dissent. It’s the same when you and I deliberately climb into the ring of combat. There’s an enemy who wants us in there. An enemy who wants us to receive and give body blows and black eyes. Every time we fight, we play right into his hands.

Now, here’s a P.S. This isn’t to say that all arguments and board meeting debates in the world are Lucifer’s fault, and that we can just go around saying, “Well, the devil made me do it.” Sometimes we get into a pattern of blaming all things on the demon of discouragement and the demon of delinquency and the demon of daiquiris and doughnuts. We have friction in our families or in the workplace, and we pin the blame on the demon of attack e-mails. And that’s not fair or realistic. We’re responsible for our behavior in life, and we’re also responsible to resist the devil so that he’ll flee from us, as promised in James 4:7. But it’s clearly written down in the Christian farm almanac that if we don’t put up some fences and post a guard out in the field, Satan absolutely is going to come in at midnight with a weed-planting machine.

Let me give you the rest of the story of that mom who wrote about the sparring and scrapping of her kid. I said the note was about three lines long and I just gave you two of them. Again: “My son seems to delight in conflict. Always trying to get people upset.” And I think to myself, kind of instinctively, “Well, somebody should give him a good thumping. Stupid kid.” Well, maybe so, but here’s the rest of the sad, cryptic note: “He’s 11, has been sexually molested, in counseling for over two years.”

So that’s the whole story. This kid fights. He loves to fight. He’s addicted to fighting. Something sick, something hurt inside of him, compensates for his own heartache by getting someone else to share his pain. And we see right here a demonic power standing behind the curtain. Why does this boy like fighting? Partly because Satan set it up and sowed the seeds of conflict.

In his book, The Nature of Christ, Roy Adams addresses two theological issues that, for whatever reason, seem to trouble our denomination more than others. One of them is, like the title says, dealing with the issue of the inward human nature of Jesus Christ while He was on this earth. The question is this: did Jesus have a holy, sinless, unfallen nature, like Adam before he sinned? Or did He have a sinful, fallen, skewing-toward-evil nature like everyone here in the church this morning? 

In recent years there have been books published on both sides, magazine articles on both sides, forum gatherings on both sides. But the discussion and the debate has been going on for many decades now. It was hot in the beginning; it’s hot now. It was unsettled then; it’s still unsettled now.

The second related theological debate addressed in Dr. Adams’ book has to do with what is sometimes called “final generation” perfection. Will a last group of Christians, just before the second coming of Jesus, have such a close walk with the Lord, such an Enoch experience, that they themselves are completely sinless? Again, there have been books and compilations and discussion and maybe even some rock-throwings. “More heat than light,” as we say, with many, many column inches of space used up in the “Letters to the Editor” section of the church paper.

And the reality is this. These two questions simply cannot be solved or resolved. The Bible has verses that hint one way or another. You can look for your chosen POV, your point of view, and maybe find it if you look just on one side of the river. And I will say that entire schools of theology, with many attending perspectives, do flow from these streams right here, so the conclusions might be rather weighty. If you believe that Jesus had a sinful, craven nature just like we do, and that He lived in perfect obedience for 33 years, and He’s our example in all things, then it follows that you are perhaps going to teach the possibility of our reaching perfection as well in the last days. But in many years, decades, even more than a century now, people have gone round and round, sometimes very angrily fighting and accusing and casting aspersions regarding these extra-biblical questions that simply cannot be analyzed in a test tube. It can’t be done.

And here’s what Dr. Adams finally concludes, when all is said and done: “Clearly, the controversy that has consumed the church is completely unwarranted. We have wasted valuable time. And we have discouraged many. If the hand of the devil is not in this, then he is not alive.”

That’s quite an eye-opener, isn’t it? You know, the next time you or I are tempted to put on our boxing gloves and fight with someone else in this church, whether it’s about some Bible theory we have, or just the fact that we don’t like them, let’s do something. Just outside the boxing ring, there’s a shadow. Can you just barely make it out? Right there beyond the square of canvas is a shadowy figure. Lucifer is there as a cheerleader. When our friends cheer our pugilistic exploits, can we hear the faint voice of Lucifer’s angels in there too, saying go! go! go! Because Satan and his army celebrates when we get into the ring. And it doesn’t matter to them whether or not we win the debate. They don’t care about that at all. When we fight, whether we win or lose, Satan wins. It’s just like all the big Las Vegas hotel casinos covering bets on the Super Bowl. It’s New England by seven, but they cover both sides, Patriots and Giants, and take their ten percent cut, their vigorish, no matter what happens on the football field. 

There’s a caveat I want to add to our study today. Here it is. There are times when it may be appropriate to fight. It isn’t always a sin to be angry. Temporarily, that is. There are abuses that should make us mad and injustices that ought to create righteous indignation within us. Jesus saw the desecration, the selfishness, the materialism that was ruining the temple, His Father’s house, and it made Him angry. He was so righteously mad that He physically threatened the money tycoons with a whip. 

Jesus was in the church one Sabbath and there was a man with a withered hand. And standing all around were Pharisees and rulers; they loved the rules and the hierarchy and the status they got from being “Lords of the Sabbath” more than they cared about the suffering of their fellow human beings. And the Bible says in Mark 3 that Jesus “looked around at them in anger and deeply distressed at their stubborn hearts.” “You guys are killing Me. You care about these 613 laws; you care about keeping your robes clean on the Sabbath day. You care about your own sheep—since it’s a precious financial investment to you—and you rescue it from pain if it falls into a ditch on the Sabbath day. But right here, your own suffering fellow human . . . you don’t care about him at all. You’re killing Me.” And then, with holy anger written on His face, Jesus broke the Sabbath—from their perspective—and made that man well.

So it is not wrong to fight against evil. It’s not wrong to be angry at the right moment. But here’s what the Apostle Paul writes to his combative friends in Ephesus: In your anger do not sin. Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold (27, 27).

So if there’s a scandal here in the church, or where you work, it ought to make you angry. But let’s be cosmically aware that the devil is standing in the shadows. He planted those seeds of dissension, and he and his fallen farm hands are eager to water and fertilize their poisonous crops.

In his latest book, When the Enemy Strikes, by Charles Stanley, he points to this reality:  “The devil is a master at causing misunderstandings.” Doesn’t that underscore exactly what we’ve been saying? He doesn’t show his cards, but he’s just in the background, stirring the drink, fomenting anger.

C. S. Lewis’ classic, The Screwtape Letters, is an imagined correspondence between a senior devil and a junior imp in training, who still has training wheels on his bike. And here’s how Screwtape advises his protege, Wormwood, to quietly work on his assigned man as he walks into this very church building on a given Sabbath morning: “When he gets to his pew,” the older, wiser demon suggests, “and looks round him he sees just that selection of his neighbors whom he has hitherto avoided. You want to lean pretty heavily on those neighbors. Make his mind flit to and fro between the expression like ‘the body of Christ’ and the actual faces in the next pew.”

Lewis goes on to observe, as a devil, that most of us—it doesn’t matter what we say—believe inside that we are pretty wonderful people. The church is lucky to have us here. The people in the next pew are, in any great number of ways, inferior to us. We do accept Calvary salvation, but we just very barely need it. Not like those publicans and sinners sitting at the next table during potluck. That is our default attitude.

We mentioned last week that the cosmic, worldwide, continent-spanning church is a wonderful thing, a triumphant thing, an undefeatable thing. But here in this place, we have real flesh-and-blood people sitting five feet away whose actions disappoint us. People come late and leave early. They skip out on just being here and they skip out on the things they’re supposed to do while they are here. And Satan’s forces are sitting on our shoulder all the time, saying, “Look at that! Unbelievable! How you put up with them is a galactic mystery.”

Have you ever felt like your mind was almost haunted with that certain someone, that sparring partner? Have you ever mentally boxed with them while standing in the shower and then some more in your car on the way to work? You see, those thoughts aren’t just growing in your mind like innocent weeds. Somebody planted them there with purpose and malice aforethought.

So what can we do? If Satan is a practiced and invisible weed-planter, what hope is there for us?

Well, first of all, being Bible-studying, church-attending Christians takes away his invisibility. We know of his existence. We acknowledge it, and we confess his superiority to us. But we also fall to our knees at Calvary and ask Jesus for divine power and protection during the midnight planting season.

There’s a cute story in President Jimmy Carter’s spiritual book, Living Faith. Back in 1987, he was trying to write another book, entitled Everything to Gain, with a co-author, and the two of them simply were not seeing eye to eye. About 97% of the time, they shared similar perspectives, but on the other three percent, they just could not get on to the same page and the atmosphere there in the writing laboratory became rather frosty. It looked like they might have to call in the United Nations in order to get this dumb book finished. Unfortunately, the person he was co-writing the book with was named Rosalynn Carter. His own wife! Again, on about three percent of the manuscript she didn’t think he was getting it right, and he absolutely knew, as the commander in chief of the Carter household, that her feminine instincts were all messed up. It was literally to the point where it was about to threaten their marriage . . . and that’s no way for born-again, evangelical, Christian ex-presidents to sell a lot of books.

Finally, speaking of unsolvable conflicts, their editor said: “Look, you guys. Don’t kill each other. This is a good book just the way it is. On the three percent of the book where you just can’t seem to get on the same page, we’ll mark your paragraphs, Mr. President, with a ‘J,’ and yours, Mrs. Carter, with an ‘R.’” And that fixed it.

But there were still times when little things threatened to undo the harmony of their home down in Plains, Georgia. These were both strong-willed, successful, driven people, both used to the spotlight and to getting their own way. And one day, President Carter decided he really wanted for things to be better. He didn’t want to sense Lucifer in the shadows, hiding right behind the Secret Service, causing havoc in their marriage. So, with this Bible verse from Ephesians in his mind, he went down to his workshop and carved a little handmade plaque out of walnut, with this inscription on it: Each evening, forever, this is good for an apology—or forgiveness—as you desire. Jimmy. 

He gave it to her and said: “Just present this any time, no limits, no expiration dates, any time you think we need it.” And he writes in his book: “Boy, she sure has.” He got to know that piece of wood pretty good . . . and see, that is a biblical, heaven-blessed way of thwarting the weed-planting enemy who camps out in our backyards.

There are two other victory principles I want for us to embrace this morning. Here’s the first one. If the devil wants to plant seeds, let’s invite the other Farmer—the one who moonlights as a Carpenter—to nurture His crops in our minds and hearts instead. There’s a verse in First Corinthians 2 that says this: But we have the mind of Christ.

That sounds like an impossible goal, but Paul, the chief of sinners, says it’s what we need to desire and that it can actually happen. But how? How do we get the mind of Christ? We get it by reading His book and singing His songs. Every morning when I go for my jog, I have my little I-Pod, and I have to make a decision: what will I put into my mind for the next 30 minutes. I have the Bible on CD, and I have I Could Sing of Your Love Forever . . . and I have all of my pop albums from the 70s and 80s. What will I hear today?

How else do we get the mind of Christ? We get it by conversing with Him in prayer and going to the House where He and His Father dwell. And while we’re here in this building, we try to stay away from Screwtape’s suggestion that we focus on that aggravating person two pews over. There’s one thing I can promise you—speaking of fighting. If Jesus and Satan do battle, Jesus is always going to win. But we have to invite Him to be the planter and gladiator in our lives, and I don’t say that to be cute. Do we really feed on Him and on His thoughts? Do we set the alarm, not just during the frantic workweek, but also on the Sabbath day, so that we will actually get out of bed, get in the car, and come here to the church where the mind of Christ is what is presented during this hour?

Do we have lifestyles that are conducive to His thoughts growing and taking root inside of us? Some of you sitting here today go to the trouble of canceling other appointments and moving things around so that once a week you can get together with church friends and study the Bible. You have other things to do; you have bills to pay and aggravations of your own to deal with. But week by week, you get the mind of Christ in 60-minute doses. And I know it works because I can see the new look of peace on your faces. I see it. I experience it.

And then let’s remember that we can either advance Lucifer’s kingdom by fighting or advance Christ’s eternal kingdom by being peacemakers. There is such a thing as walking away from combat. It is possible. And every time we do that, every time we make a conscious decision with Christ’s help to turn the other cheek or bite back an angry word, we take a brick out of Satan’s castle, and we strengthen God’s government instead. 

Remember again the cosmic war theater where we are all players. Every holy act, every forgiving act, every angry word not said, every grudge deliberately sacrificed is a small but critical part of the foundation of God’s kingdom. We are here today in enemy-occupied territory; God and His ancient enemy are literally battling over every square inch of this city and this spiritual community. And every soft answer we give is wonderfully amplified into a shout of victory for the hosts of heaven.

Shall we pray?

Lord, you know all of the hidden desires of our heart. We’re here because we do want to bless Your kingdom and move this world toward it. But we also love the combat, the verbal skirmishes that just feel so good and which feed our fallen appetite for satisfaction. Please give us today a sense of which of those two battling desires is the lasting, eternal, heaven-blessed one. And give us the power to seek every day to find and love the mind of Christ. We pray in His transforming name, Amen.

______________________________

Submitted by David B. Smith. Better Sermons © 2005-2008. Click here for usage guidelines.

Read more at the source: Fighting – Part 2

Article excerpt posted on en.intercer.net from Better Sermons.

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