Seriously, what exactly makes it golden? Gold is shiny and relatively soft as far as metals go. It's very expensive, and an object of desire in most cultures. So how in the name of bullion did the golden rule get named the golden rule?
Cause let me tell you, it's not shiny and its not pretty! It's not relatively soft; it is exceptionally hard! I mean Chinese arithmetic hard! In fact the last thing on the planet I would call golden is the rule formerly mentioned as golden.
I think it should be called the "stinking impossible I can't stand it rule." Or the, "are you kidding me this is not possible rule!" Or the, "why don't you just cut out my guts and set me on fire rule!"
And on top of the fact that I don't want to keep the rule, there is an equally high probability that I'm not gonna get it in return if I do keep it. I mean it's like the more I try to keep the hardest rule in the world the less others have to!
Think about it, if I do for you what I wish you would do for me it is highly likely that will probably think I don't need you to do anything for me! And that stinks, right?
And listen, if I just keep on keeping the "Rule" I am gonna wind up worn out and wasted. And who knows if anyone will ever come along and treat me the way I want to be treated? Right? Not to mention it will probably cost me all of my gold. It should be called the gold-less rule for crying out loud!
But wait...that's what Jesus did. He came and He gave and He gave and He gave and He died. Sacrificed. Crucified. Despising the shame the Bible says.
And so the root of the root is this, Jesus said, "take up your cross and follow me." He said, "love others the way I love you." He said "my followers will obey Me."
So the question that haunts me is this, do I even try to live by the rule...do I try to keep the Rule in hopes of getting it kept toward me, or will I keep the Rule in order to please and obey Jesus?
A long time ago I learned that a "rule" is a measuring stick consisting of a strip of wood, metal or plastic with a straight edge that is used for drawing straight lines and measuring lengths.
And so with all of the above in mind, how do we measure up to the Rule?
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Who's blind?
There is a stretch of street I travel with growing frequency. Along that street are two large planters full of beautiful orange flowers. I know this because a blind girl showed them to me the other day.
I was stopped, against my will, at a traffic light the other day. As I sat there delusional that I was wasting my very valuable time I happened to notice two people stopped along the sidewalk.
They caught my glance because of the way they seemed to be entangling their hands, holding them nearly shoulder high. Suddenly they began to walk together up the street and with her white cane tapping ahead of her I realized that she was blind. It seemed her companion was holding her hand more in communion than in aid.
I sat in admiration at the bravery and will she possessed to be out and about in spite of her challenge.
And then, without warning she came to an abrupt halt and thrust her face into the flowers that filled a very large planter. She seemed to be enjoying smell of the flowers and the feeling as they caressed her face.
I was as much surprised by the presence of the flowers as I was her actions. I had never noticed the flowers before, but she did. She then just as abruptly pulled her face away and continued her journey only to repeat her actions as she came to the second planter. I had never noticed the second planter either.
As I sat and reflected on that scene this morning these thoughts came to me... to what am I more blind than the girl who could see, to what am I more deaf than the boy who cannot hear?
I want to be focused on where I'm going, but not at the expense of where I am. I want to find what I'm looking for but not at the expense of whom I see.
I am thankful to a blind girl who helped me see the flowers.
I was stopped, against my will, at a traffic light the other day. As I sat there delusional that I was wasting my very valuable time I happened to notice two people stopped along the sidewalk.
They caught my glance because of the way they seemed to be entangling their hands, holding them nearly shoulder high. Suddenly they began to walk together up the street and with her white cane tapping ahead of her I realized that she was blind. It seemed her companion was holding her hand more in communion than in aid.
I sat in admiration at the bravery and will she possessed to be out and about in spite of her challenge.
And then, without warning she came to an abrupt halt and thrust her face into the flowers that filled a very large planter. She seemed to be enjoying smell of the flowers and the feeling as they caressed her face.
I was as much surprised by the presence of the flowers as I was her actions. I had never noticed the flowers before, but she did. She then just as abruptly pulled her face away and continued her journey only to repeat her actions as she came to the second planter. I had never noticed the second planter either.
As I sat and reflected on that scene this morning these thoughts came to me... to what am I more blind than the girl who could see, to what am I more deaf than the boy who cannot hear?
I want to be focused on where I'm going, but not at the expense of where I am. I want to find what I'm looking for but not at the expense of whom I see.
I am thankful to a blind girl who helped me see the flowers.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Bye Definition.
It has occurred to me that one of the hardships of life is learning to live with how differently everyone defines the same words.
Some might remember the spectacle when a former president wanted to defend and define his use of the word, "is." And while we found that quite ridiculous we are all guilty of something very similar. Only what we do... may in fact be a whole lot worse.
My son Jonathan has been quietly demonstrating a reference for the word Love. He keeps correcting himself when he uses the word love when he realizes he should be using the word like or enjoy or appreciate. I want to learn to do that too.
The problem is that we use the word love with our own unique definition attached. The phrase, I love chocolate, is a great example. "I love chocolate" really means I love the pleasure and sensations and satisfaction I get from the taste of chocolate, the sweetness of the sugar with which it is mixed, the texture of it as it melts in my mouth, the smell of chocolate as it mingles with the other ingredients.
The phrase I love Chocolate really has nothing to do with how you feel about chocolate but everything to do with how chocolate makes you feel.
What about "I love you?" Could it be that when we use the words "I love you" the emphasis is actually on the "I" instead of the "you?"
Jesus lived out the words I love you in their purest and most powerful expression. For Him it was not about what He derived from us but what He wanted to give to us. He gave to us His holiness in everything He did. He gave Himself to others in every word, every action, and every miracle.
When Jesus used the word love He was not talking about how He felt, He was talking about what He was and what He was going to do for others, for us.
I am sure He enjoyed fish, and honey. I am really sure He liked figs! But He only loved His father and He loved us.
So the next time you tell someone you love them, make sure you are talking more about them than yourself. Make sure your actions are going to prove that you love them and not how they make you feel.
Make sure the phrase I love you means you are intent on making their life better, more beautiful, more holy, and more wonderful. Make sure you are not looking for some selfish feeling of importance that you can manipulate them into giving you. Make love about their security not yours. Make love about caring and compassion and actions not indulgence and consumption.
I have said many times, "I love Oreos"...but that means I like to drown them in milk and crush them with my teeth...you would not want to be my Oreo! And I don't want to be yours!
But I really do want to learn how to love others...do you?
Some might remember the spectacle when a former president wanted to defend and define his use of the word, "is." And while we found that quite ridiculous we are all guilty of something very similar. Only what we do... may in fact be a whole lot worse.
My son Jonathan has been quietly demonstrating a reference for the word Love. He keeps correcting himself when he uses the word love when he realizes he should be using the word like or enjoy or appreciate. I want to learn to do that too.
The problem is that we use the word love with our own unique definition attached. The phrase, I love chocolate, is a great example. "I love chocolate" really means I love the pleasure and sensations and satisfaction I get from the taste of chocolate, the sweetness of the sugar with which it is mixed, the texture of it as it melts in my mouth, the smell of chocolate as it mingles with the other ingredients.
The phrase I love Chocolate really has nothing to do with how you feel about chocolate but everything to do with how chocolate makes you feel.
What about "I love you?" Could it be that when we use the words "I love you" the emphasis is actually on the "I" instead of the "you?"
Jesus lived out the words I love you in their purest and most powerful expression. For Him it was not about what He derived from us but what He wanted to give to us. He gave to us His holiness in everything He did. He gave Himself to others in every word, every action, and every miracle.
When Jesus used the word love He was not talking about how He felt, He was talking about what He was and what He was going to do for others, for us.
I am sure He enjoyed fish, and honey. I am really sure He liked figs! But He only loved His father and He loved us.
So the next time you tell someone you love them, make sure you are talking more about them than yourself. Make sure your actions are going to prove that you love them and not how they make you feel.
Make sure the phrase I love you means you are intent on making their life better, more beautiful, more holy, and more wonderful. Make sure you are not looking for some selfish feeling of importance that you can manipulate them into giving you. Make love about their security not yours. Make love about caring and compassion and actions not indulgence and consumption.
I have said many times, "I love Oreos"...but that means I like to drown them in milk and crush them with my teeth...you would not want to be my Oreo! And I don't want to be yours!
But I really do want to learn how to love others...do you?
Friday, September 10, 2010
small small world
A friend sent this to me back in 2001...I just came across it while looking for something else...assuming it is accurate... I hope you take a moment to reflect on your world view and focus!
If we could shrink the earth's population to a village of precisely 100
people, with all the existing human ratios remaining the same, it would look
something like the following:
There would be:
57 Asians
21 Europeans
14 from the Western Hemisphere, both north and south
8 Africans
52 would be female
48 would be male
70 would be non-white
30 would be white
70 would be non-Christian
30 would be Christian
89 would be heterosexual
11 would be homosexual
6 people would possess 59% of the entire world's wealth and all 6 would be
from the United States.
80 would live in substandard housing
70 would be unable to read
50 would suffer from malnutrition
1 would be near death; 1 would be near birth
1 (yes, only 1) would have a college education
1 would own a computer
When one considers our world from such a compressed perspective, the need
for acceptance, understanding and education becomes glaringly apparent.
The following points are also something else to ponder...
If you woke up this morning with more health than illness...
you are more blessed than the million who will not survive this week.
If you have never experienced the danger of battle, the loneliness of
imprisonment, the agony of torture, or the pangs of starvation...
you are ahead of 500 million people in the world.
If you can attend a church meeting without fear of harassment, arrest,
torture, or death...
you are more blessed than three billion people in the world.
If you have food in the refrigerator, clothes on your back, a roof overhead
and a place to sleep...
you are richer than 75% of this world.
If you have money in the bank, in your wallet, and spare change in a dish
someplace ...
you are among the top 8% of the world's wealthy.
If your parents are still alive and still married...
you are very rare.
If you can read this message, you just received a double blessing in that
someone was thinking of you, and furthermore, you are more blessed than over
two billion people in the world that cannot read at all.
Someone once said: What goes around comes around.
Work like you don't need the money.
Love like you've never been hurt.
Dance like no-one's watching.
Sing like no-one's listening.
Live like it's Heaven on Earth.
If we could shrink the earth's population to a village of precisely 100
people, with all the existing human ratios remaining the same, it would look
something like the following:
There would be:
57 Asians
21 Europeans
14 from the Western Hemisphere, both north and south
8 Africans
52 would be female
48 would be male
70 would be non-white
30 would be white
70 would be non-Christian
30 would be Christian
89 would be heterosexual
11 would be homosexual
6 people would possess 59% of the entire world's wealth and all 6 would be
from the United States.
80 would live in substandard housing
70 would be unable to read
50 would suffer from malnutrition
1 would be near death; 1 would be near birth
1 (yes, only 1) would have a college education
1 would own a computer
When one considers our world from such a compressed perspective, the need
for acceptance, understanding and education becomes glaringly apparent.
The following points are also something else to ponder...
If you woke up this morning with more health than illness...
you are more blessed than the million who will not survive this week.
If you have never experienced the danger of battle, the loneliness of
imprisonment, the agony of torture, or the pangs of starvation...
you are ahead of 500 million people in the world.
If you can attend a church meeting without fear of harassment, arrest,
torture, or death...
you are more blessed than three billion people in the world.
If you have food in the refrigerator, clothes on your back, a roof overhead
and a place to sleep...
you are richer than 75% of this world.
If you have money in the bank, in your wallet, and spare change in a dish
someplace ...
you are among the top 8% of the world's wealthy.
If your parents are still alive and still married...
you are very rare.
If you can read this message, you just received a double blessing in that
someone was thinking of you, and furthermore, you are more blessed than over
two billion people in the world that cannot read at all.
Someone once said: What goes around comes around.
Work like you don't need the money.
Love like you've never been hurt.
Dance like no-one's watching.
Sing like no-one's listening.
Live like it's Heaven on Earth.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
moon trance
The silver moon makes its ride, across the velvet sky
And casts its magic spell, upon the rolling tide
Beneath its glow and silent draw its powers work their charm
the ocean full with depths unknown can't help but come along
So is the power of a woman’s love upon a poor man’s heart
with all the strength of his iron will her wooing he can’t stop
And casts its magic spell, upon the rolling tide
Beneath its glow and silent draw its powers work their charm
the ocean full with depths unknown can't help but come along
So is the power of a woman’s love upon a poor man’s heart
with all the strength of his iron will her wooing he can’t stop
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Ticked off
Ever been ticked off: annoyed, bothered, offended? It happens. Big stuff little stuff by people we know or will never know. It almost seems inevitable that someone somewhere sometime is going to join you in a rubbing the wrong way match!
The truth is I have done it and I have had it done. It's no fun. Sometimes the sting lasts for a moment and sometimes we build a monument to it in our minds and make a really huge deal out of it!
One time, hundreds of thousands of seconds ago, I got into a tick match with someone. I said something they did not understand so they said something I didn't appreciate so I said something they did not appreciate and poof. It was over. Bridge burned, line cut, toilet flushed. I had done it. I let my fumble fingers create pixels formed into letters that were fatal. A friendship died, a relationship ended, an association dissed!
It left me wondering. Could the whole thing have been avoided? How and if can it be repaired?
It also got me thinking about ticks...the tick of a clock, a second. A tick mark, which is a small mark beside an item on a list. And of course there is the very small parasite. The point being they are all small.
It made me realize I want to be a person who has more time than a second, more space than an ink mark, and that is not so easily bugged.
What if we all became just a little less likely to strike a match, pull the plug, or press the lever. What if we were not so quick to jump to a conclusion that feels more like an amputation? Which is what follows the tick, the off.
So the next time you're down to your last tick, make sure you stop before the off.
The truth is I have done it and I have had it done. It's no fun. Sometimes the sting lasts for a moment and sometimes we build a monument to it in our minds and make a really huge deal out of it!
One time, hundreds of thousands of seconds ago, I got into a tick match with someone. I said something they did not understand so they said something I didn't appreciate so I said something they did not appreciate and poof. It was over. Bridge burned, line cut, toilet flushed. I had done it. I let my fumble fingers create pixels formed into letters that were fatal. A friendship died, a relationship ended, an association dissed!
It left me wondering. Could the whole thing have been avoided? How and if can it be repaired?
It also got me thinking about ticks...the tick of a clock, a second. A tick mark, which is a small mark beside an item on a list. And of course there is the very small parasite. The point being they are all small.
It made me realize I want to be a person who has more time than a second, more space than an ink mark, and that is not so easily bugged.
What if we all became just a little less likely to strike a match, pull the plug, or press the lever. What if we were not so quick to jump to a conclusion that feels more like an amputation? Which is what follows the tick, the off.
So the next time you're down to your last tick, make sure you stop before the off.
Monday, May 24, 2010
The Setting Sun
The setting sun calls to the colors
Like a mother to her young
come hide with me for the evening
and I will set you free with the dawn
k.i.hucks
Like a mother to her young
come hide with me for the evening
and I will set you free with the dawn
k.i.hucks
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
deeper still the love of God
deeper still the love of God
when I have reached my end
when the depth of hurt and harm
like an ocean raging
deeper still the love of God
as sorrow takes my breath
when death like an icy tide
wins the war we're waging
deeper still the love of God
when all my hope is gone
and like spilt water on the sand
is drunk with endless wanting
deeper still the love of God
no strength for holding on
caring not where I land
for there He will still be holding
k.i. hucks
when I have reached my end
when the depth of hurt and harm
like an ocean raging
deeper still the love of God
as sorrow takes my breath
when death like an icy tide
wins the war we're waging
deeper still the love of God
when all my hope is gone
and like spilt water on the sand
is drunk with endless wanting
deeper still the love of God
no strength for holding on
caring not where I land
for there He will still be holding
k.i. hucks
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Eternal Salvation
It's stated in so many different ways...perseverance of the saints...once saved always saved...security of the believer. These are the three ways with which I am most familiar. It also seems to me that there are three people who obsess over this.
The first is the parent or grandparent of a rebellious child holding tenaciously to the hope that though their child is living on the road to hell, that the decision they made when they were eight years old is going to miraculously snatch them from the fires of hell at the very last moment.
The second is the person who believes their salvation is dependent upon their perceived ability to live right. They have an imaginary line drawn in their mind and as long as they don't cross the line, or cross it too far they will still go to heaven. For them grace means God grades on a curve.
The third person is someone who for whatever reason believes that arguing and presenting hypothetical situations of either extreme actually helps the people listening. It would seem that they are either interested in appearing to be spiritually superior or trying to rationalize their own sin.
One error in this discussion is that we often equate baptism and church membership with salvation instead of the life that continues in obedience and seeks to become more and more like Jesus as a part of the personal relationship they have with Him. However, the proof of one's salvation is not their recollection or record of the event in the past. The greatest evidence of salvation is not a memory of the experience but the demonstration of the effects!
The whole discussion reminds me of a faulty syllogism I remember from college. Many things are green, grass is green, therefore all green things are grass. Saved people make professions of faith, Billy made a profession of faith, and therefore Billy is saved. It is obvious that both conclusions are wrong.
However, the security of one's salvation is not a topic for hypothetical discussions or arguments. One's salvation is so precious that it should only be thought of and discussed in regard to the ongoing relationship that you have with Jesus Christ. Salvation is a sacred and holy connection between you and God. No thought need be given to what might constitute the failure of it, but rather only the efforts necessary in making it even more precious and apparent in your life.
No time should be given to debating how far a person can go before they lose their salvation. Rather prayer for Christ to win in their life regardless of their past confessions is what is demanded.
Here are what would seem to be the most basic tenets regarding the eternal nature of salvation.
Jesus gives eternal life.
ESV John 3:16 ¶ "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.
ESV John 5:24 Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life. He does not come into judgment, but has passed from death to life.
In its most basic understanding Salvation is believing that Jesus Christ is the powerful and eternal provision made by God for humanity...from the thief on the Cross to you and me...faith in who and what Jesus did for us changes our eternity. He did an eternal work to provide eternal life for those who have an eternal need! Salvation... is... eternal life. By its very nature the work of salvation is eternal in its effects. Where there is no eternal effect there is no eternal salvation.
But they made a decision...
Jesus said the kingdom of God is like four soils. (Mark 4) Jesus gave us this as the clearest metaphor for of what is observed in life. The point seems to be that the lack of genuineness in someone's confession is not an indictment on the ability of God to save or keep saved. The genuineness of a person's decision is measured by the lasting effect of the gospel upon their life.
This parable is not about the one sowing: Jesus. It is not about the viability of the seed: the effectiveness of the gospel. It is about the condition of the heart and whether or not it is capable of sustaining lasting faith. Three of them do not and one of them does. The problem arises when we want to apply the literal germination-time- frame of seeds and the typical growing season of common grain to the complex mystery of faith in the mind (heart) of a human.
It might take four weeks, four months or forty years for the genuineness of someone's faith to be revealed. But the ability of someone to attend church on a regular basis and live within the moral frame work of the religious community does not equal faith or genuine salvation. Our freeze dried, micro waved, time-lapse photography perception of life skews our understanding of eternity and the Spiritual realm of God.
From God's perspective He sees our encounter with the gospel. He sees the genuineness of our response. And He sees the ultimate revelation of its authenticity all in one single frame. The confusion for us is our perception of time as it relates to our observations and not the true spiritual condition of an individual. The length of time someone is able to pretend does not negate the fact that they were pretending.
So what about sin?
We are saved from the penalty of our sin. On the cross Jesus took the penalty of our sin. I am trusting Jesus' death on the cross to be sufficient for all of my sin, past, present, and future.
The issue for a person who is abiding in Jesus Christ is not that they might sin too much but that they sin at all. Because of the deep confidence I have in the blood of Jesus to atone for my sin the question is not how much can I sin and still be saved but rather because I am saved how little can I sin.
Seriously, would you believe that someone loved you if their actions demonstrated that their only concern was to see just how much they could indulge themselves regardless of how much it would cost you?
Someone said it this way, "a believer lapses into sin and loathes it, a lost person leaps into sin and loves it."
The church member or person who confesses to be a Christian who goes off into sin and self-indulgence has not lost their salvation; they are demonstrating the faultiness of their confession and existence of their religious facade.
For the believer in Jesus Christ they should regret their sin, repent of their sin, seek to avoid sin, but never live in fear that the occurrence of sin in their life means they are no longer saved. The security of the believer is in their relationship with Jesus Christ and that He maintains their redemption as we reside in the relationship with Him.
Read these words again ESV John 5:24 Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever hears my word and believes Him who sent Me has eternal life. He does not come into judgment, but has passed from death to life. If you are experiencing this then the thought of losing it should be the furthest thing from your mind. If you are not experiencing this, you might not have anything to lose.
The first is the parent or grandparent of a rebellious child holding tenaciously to the hope that though their child is living on the road to hell, that the decision they made when they were eight years old is going to miraculously snatch them from the fires of hell at the very last moment.
The second is the person who believes their salvation is dependent upon their perceived ability to live right. They have an imaginary line drawn in their mind and as long as they don't cross the line, or cross it too far they will still go to heaven. For them grace means God grades on a curve.
The third person is someone who for whatever reason believes that arguing and presenting hypothetical situations of either extreme actually helps the people listening. It would seem that they are either interested in appearing to be spiritually superior or trying to rationalize their own sin.
One error in this discussion is that we often equate baptism and church membership with salvation instead of the life that continues in obedience and seeks to become more and more like Jesus as a part of the personal relationship they have with Him. However, the proof of one's salvation is not their recollection or record of the event in the past. The greatest evidence of salvation is not a memory of the experience but the demonstration of the effects!
The whole discussion reminds me of a faulty syllogism I remember from college. Many things are green, grass is green, therefore all green things are grass. Saved people make professions of faith, Billy made a profession of faith, and therefore Billy is saved. It is obvious that both conclusions are wrong.
However, the security of one's salvation is not a topic for hypothetical discussions or arguments. One's salvation is so precious that it should only be thought of and discussed in regard to the ongoing relationship that you have with Jesus Christ. Salvation is a sacred and holy connection between you and God. No thought need be given to what might constitute the failure of it, but rather only the efforts necessary in making it even more precious and apparent in your life.
No time should be given to debating how far a person can go before they lose their salvation. Rather prayer for Christ to win in their life regardless of their past confessions is what is demanded.
Here are what would seem to be the most basic tenets regarding the eternal nature of salvation.
Jesus gives eternal life.
ESV John 3:16 ¶ "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.
ESV John 5:24 Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life. He does not come into judgment, but has passed from death to life.
In its most basic understanding Salvation is believing that Jesus Christ is the powerful and eternal provision made by God for humanity...from the thief on the Cross to you and me...faith in who and what Jesus did for us changes our eternity. He did an eternal work to provide eternal life for those who have an eternal need! Salvation... is... eternal life. By its very nature the work of salvation is eternal in its effects. Where there is no eternal effect there is no eternal salvation.
But they made a decision...
Jesus said the kingdom of God is like four soils. (Mark 4) Jesus gave us this as the clearest metaphor for of what is observed in life. The point seems to be that the lack of genuineness in someone's confession is not an indictment on the ability of God to save or keep saved. The genuineness of a person's decision is measured by the lasting effect of the gospel upon their life.
This parable is not about the one sowing: Jesus. It is not about the viability of the seed: the effectiveness of the gospel. It is about the condition of the heart and whether or not it is capable of sustaining lasting faith. Three of them do not and one of them does. The problem arises when we want to apply the literal germination-time- frame of seeds and the typical growing season of common grain to the complex mystery of faith in the mind (heart) of a human.
It might take four weeks, four months or forty years for the genuineness of someone's faith to be revealed. But the ability of someone to attend church on a regular basis and live within the moral frame work of the religious community does not equal faith or genuine salvation. Our freeze dried, micro waved, time-lapse photography perception of life skews our understanding of eternity and the Spiritual realm of God.
From God's perspective He sees our encounter with the gospel. He sees the genuineness of our response. And He sees the ultimate revelation of its authenticity all in one single frame. The confusion for us is our perception of time as it relates to our observations and not the true spiritual condition of an individual. The length of time someone is able to pretend does not negate the fact that they were pretending.
So what about sin?
We are saved from the penalty of our sin. On the cross Jesus took the penalty of our sin. I am trusting Jesus' death on the cross to be sufficient for all of my sin, past, present, and future.
The issue for a person who is abiding in Jesus Christ is not that they might sin too much but that they sin at all. Because of the deep confidence I have in the blood of Jesus to atone for my sin the question is not how much can I sin and still be saved but rather because I am saved how little can I sin.
Seriously, would you believe that someone loved you if their actions demonstrated that their only concern was to see just how much they could indulge themselves regardless of how much it would cost you?
Someone said it this way, "a believer lapses into sin and loathes it, a lost person leaps into sin and loves it."
The church member or person who confesses to be a Christian who goes off into sin and self-indulgence has not lost their salvation; they are demonstrating the faultiness of their confession and existence of their religious facade.
For the believer in Jesus Christ they should regret their sin, repent of their sin, seek to avoid sin, but never live in fear that the occurrence of sin in their life means they are no longer saved. The security of the believer is in their relationship with Jesus Christ and that He maintains their redemption as we reside in the relationship with Him.
Read these words again ESV John 5:24 Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever hears my word and believes Him who sent Me has eternal life. He does not come into judgment, but has passed from death to life. If you are experiencing this then the thought of losing it should be the furthest thing from your mind. If you are not experiencing this, you might not have anything to lose.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
...decrease
warning...graphic content...short fiction...about a real event.
"He must increase and I must decrease"...those words had felt so right, so brave, so true. But as John sat alone in the dark those words were now fading as quickly as the day light from the narrow gap at the bottom of his cell door.
John had been sitting in jail now for almost a year. All of those who had looked to him as a spiritual leader and mighty prophet had diminished to two, the same two that he had figured were the two most likely to walk away. While he was still free he was not sure if they were followers or stragglers. But now there they were, week after week speaking to him through that narrow space at the bottom of the door.
That space had become his only connection to the world outside. His food came through that space, light came in through that space, voices came through that narrow gap the width of the door.
The tiny cell was more than torture to a man who had lived most of his adult life in the desert with the sky the limit, the wind in his beard and the taste of honey in his mouth. His conscience now questioned his memory. "Was that him, was it all a dream, is this a nightmare?" You know what it's like to wake from a dream and not be quite sure if it was a dream or reality? John was not sure if he ever woke up or if he ever went to sleep, he just knew that either way the nightmare never ended.
These two disciples had been his last contact with the one who must increase. The little bit of hope Jesus' message had brought to John, was now of little consolation. Darkness takes a lot out of a man.
John had no idea if it was day or night when he heard the guards at the door. Had he dozed off for a moment or night? He did know that the light from the torch was brighter than he could remember it being. For an instant a memory flashed of him sitting by a fire and the flames dancing with the evening breeze and the feeling of contentment that a warm fire can bring.
That glimmer was quickly shattered by the guards as they reached in and drug John into the passage way. The guards let their disgust be known as they got a whiff of the disgusting odor that filled the cell and clung to John as he lie on the ground. The guards could hardly believe that the frail body and matted hair belonged to the mighty John the Baptizer. The men could feel the frail flesh and bone as they lifted him to his feet to make their trip out of the dungeon.
You probably have no idea the level of atrophy that can happen to a man trapped in a cell the size of small walk-in closet for almost a year.
Even disoriented and weak by his abrupt departure from his cell, John had no delusions about what was going on. He had imagined this moment. He had hoped for a little dignity. Early on he had dreamed of Jesus actually setting him free somehow. But he knew what was happening, deep down he always knew it would.
The last words John heard was the guard whispering into his ear, "Herodias said "to let you know this was the happiest night of her life." The last thing he heard was the sound of the knife coming out of its sheaf. The last think he felt was the cold steeled tearing at the flesh of his neck.
But no one can imagine what John experienced next.
"He must increase and I must decrease"...those words had felt so right, so brave, so true. But as John sat alone in the dark those words were now fading as quickly as the day light from the narrow gap at the bottom of his cell door.
John had been sitting in jail now for almost a year. All of those who had looked to him as a spiritual leader and mighty prophet had diminished to two, the same two that he had figured were the two most likely to walk away. While he was still free he was not sure if they were followers or stragglers. But now there they were, week after week speaking to him through that narrow space at the bottom of the door.
That space had become his only connection to the world outside. His food came through that space, light came in through that space, voices came through that narrow gap the width of the door.
The tiny cell was more than torture to a man who had lived most of his adult life in the desert with the sky the limit, the wind in his beard and the taste of honey in his mouth. His conscience now questioned his memory. "Was that him, was it all a dream, is this a nightmare?" You know what it's like to wake from a dream and not be quite sure if it was a dream or reality? John was not sure if he ever woke up or if he ever went to sleep, he just knew that either way the nightmare never ended.
These two disciples had been his last contact with the one who must increase. The little bit of hope Jesus' message had brought to John, was now of little consolation. Darkness takes a lot out of a man.
John had no idea if it was day or night when he heard the guards at the door. Had he dozed off for a moment or night? He did know that the light from the torch was brighter than he could remember it being. For an instant a memory flashed of him sitting by a fire and the flames dancing with the evening breeze and the feeling of contentment that a warm fire can bring.
That glimmer was quickly shattered by the guards as they reached in and drug John into the passage way. The guards let their disgust be known as they got a whiff of the disgusting odor that filled the cell and clung to John as he lie on the ground. The guards could hardly believe that the frail body and matted hair belonged to the mighty John the Baptizer. The men could feel the frail flesh and bone as they lifted him to his feet to make their trip out of the dungeon.
You probably have no idea the level of atrophy that can happen to a man trapped in a cell the size of small walk-in closet for almost a year.
Even disoriented and weak by his abrupt departure from his cell, John had no delusions about what was going on. He had imagined this moment. He had hoped for a little dignity. Early on he had dreamed of Jesus actually setting him free somehow. But he knew what was happening, deep down he always knew it would.
The last words John heard was the guard whispering into his ear, "Herodias said "to let you know this was the happiest night of her life." The last thing he heard was the sound of the knife coming out of its sheaf. The last think he felt was the cold steeled tearing at the flesh of his neck.
But no one can imagine what John experienced next.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Five Days in Bolimbar, Burkina Faso 2010
Here is a very rough and sketchy account of the week...
Saturday...1:00pm local. We had been traveling for about forty eight hours with a 12 layover in Casablanca.
It was in the nineties and we were beat. We set up our tents and tried to rest a little...it was so hot we could not rest...we hung out until supper and when it finally got dark it cooled off enough for us to be able to get in our tents and rest...I was down for the count by eight o'clock...by God's grace it cooled off during the night. In fact it was chilly by sunrise on Sunday morning.
Sunday morning was beautiful. The service began around 9:00 and we had a great worship experience. I spoke in the service and God blessed the gospel. Some people responded.
After lunch we opened the clinic for a couple of hours to treat a few dozen people...it's a little like a trial run to see what happens and what needs tweaking.
I fully expected to be involved in Malaria treatment...I have a passion for it for obvious reasons. (In case you do not know I came back from Africa last January and became deathly ill with Malaria and or Dengue Fever.) After having raised so much money for treatments I just anticipated being involved in that part of the ministry... However, God had a different plan.
Quite by default I found myself in wound care with a couple of our ladies (Angela a nurse and Deanna a volunteer). All I know is that before I could come up with an excuse to get out of it I was holding the limbs of people with the most awful looking sores you can imagine. Almost everyone we treated had some kind of crater shaped sore. The sore descends through all the layers of skin into the flesh. They ranged in size from a pea to a couple of inches across. A few of them even larger.
The God-side of this is that I am usually very squeamish when comes to any kind of sore or wound.
So as I found myself serving in wound care I prayed daily for God to give me power to be strong and able to serve no matter what I saw. Believe me when I tell you He gave me strength because I am not comfortable posting the pictures of what I saw and helped treat.
We closed up shop around five Sunday afternoon and returned to our camp. Dinner was soon served and showers were had. When I say shower I really mean pour. Before we arrived they had built mud block shower stalls for us. Crude cement floors with mud brick and mortar walls. We used a large cup to dip water from a bucket and poured over our bodies as a means of washing. The biggest drawback was that if you leaned against the wall with a wet hand it came away dirty...so balance while pouring was a must.
Because of all the elements of our environment and circumstances most of us were ready for bed by around eight o'clock every night. I'm not sure I made it past 7:30 that first night.
We awoke Monday morning to a beautiful sunrise and temperatures somewhere around 65 degrees. Each morning we would meet at 7:30 for group devotions. The American team would offer a song of worship and then the African partners would offer one. Then a member of our team either American or African would share a devotional thought and then others would offer comments and insights. It was a great experience each morning.
Each morning my responsibilities include a morning message to those who gather at the clinic for the preaching service. Monday morning was hard. I thought I had a great introduction prepared only to find out that I had miss understood the interpreter about an illustration and started with something about which no one from the village had a clue...so in the midst of trying to recover it all went pretty flat. But when things go flat you just move on and we did.
That day we treated dozens of people both in the clinic and wound care. Did I mention I don't do blood and gore? Each wound had to be scrubbed so that it would bleed again and then we would apply an antiseptic of some kind and bandage it. I held feet and legs and hands and arms while Angela scraped. Deanna prepared bandages and supplies for the patient to take home with them to redress their wound.
We would work all morning. At mid-day we ate lunch and then redirected for a while. The girls engaged in ministry to the children in crafts and stories and I would assist in various other places or try to take pictures of what was going on around us.
Each afternoon we would treat wound until around 3:00. At which time the Sun would have reach a point that exposed us to the direct assault of the afternoon sun. We would then pick up the benches and supplies and move to the opposite side of the building. We did that each afternoon. There is one thing you cannot compete with and that is the Sun in the sub-Sahara climate of Burkina Faso.
Tuesday Morning was again Sunny and chilly...up at six, coffee and oatmeal, devotion at 7:30, service at 9:30...every morning between the time I woke up and the devotion time began a big decision had to made...what would the sermon be?
Each morning I was all ears trying to hear what God was saying to me. What experience of the moment or the day before would he call to mind?
Tuesday morning he brought to mind the shrinking moon that I had observed the night before and so talked about the brevity of life and that we had been called to do one thing and that was give glory and honor to God by confessing the Jesus was Lord... I read Hebrews 9:11-14 and shared three things...Jesus came from a greater place...He did a greater work...and that Jesus could do us a greater good.
The day before a woman who was wearing a fetish, a necklace that she thought would help her eyesight. I told them that even if the fetish did her good her eyes would still close in death and that then, only Jesus could help her. About a dozen people came forward in the invitation.
The rest of that day was treating sores and wounds and pain...as much as any where I have ever been or seen...these people live in pain.
Wednesday morning I talked about our wounds and read from Hebrews 2:1-4. I shared that we all start out with wounds that get progressively worse. That much of what we suffer is not the act of God or demon but simply the consequences of our own choices. The final point was that we have a healer in Jesus Christ...he can heal our heart wounds.
What made this morning special was that I did not have my strong partner and interpreter Patrice. Because we had lost our transportation out of the bush he had to go negotiate new arrangements...needless to say we were praying for him! However with him gone I had to rely upon a much less experienced translator. He was petrified with having to try and keep up with me...I was worried that he would struggle to such a point that there would be no continuity in my thoughts and his translation...so we prayed...everyone prayed. The word was shared, the invitation given and more people came forward that morning than any other morning... when we live in a place where the need is God sized...God fills the space!
Wednesday morning was the morning that we met Adia. She is between 6 and 8 years old. Somehow she had fallen into the fire and burned the back of both thighs. She lay silent and motionless while we treated her. We gave her liquid Motrin, a shot of antibiotics and used a syringe barrel to let her sip water from a cup. She was the most pitiful sight I have ever seen in person. She was the bravest little soul on the planet!
Thursday morning was the beginning of the last day. Again God gave me an opening illustration about that was perfect...Joshua had made friends with a little boy. The little boy wanted to do everything that Josh did...it was so cute...I used Philippians 2:9-11 to teach that we have been created to imitate God. I shared four things...We were created in the image of God...we were created to imitate God: lift Jesus above everything, we are called to bow and confess the Lordship of Jesus...my final call was to not see us as anything but that they should give glory to God for the good they had received. While I preached God put a young man in a red hat on my heart...I went to him after the service, shared the gospel and he prayed with me to confess Christ. When I saw him later you could see in his countenance that something had changed...it was amazing.
Well if you have seen the video blog the rest of trip is pretty lame...packing, traveling, getting lost in the capital city because our bus driver refused to go fast enough to keep up with the lead car...not to mention he spoke only French and none of us on the bus could speak French...it was hilarious! But obviously we made it back.
Well this has gone so much longer than I wanted it too, but how do you cover so much in so little space. Thanks for reading. Please keep us in your prayers.
m.m.x.
kenn
Saturday...1:00pm local. We had been traveling for about forty eight hours with a 12 layover in Casablanca.
It was in the nineties and we were beat. We set up our tents and tried to rest a little...it was so hot we could not rest...we hung out until supper and when it finally got dark it cooled off enough for us to be able to get in our tents and rest...I was down for the count by eight o'clock...by God's grace it cooled off during the night. In fact it was chilly by sunrise on Sunday morning.
Sunday morning was beautiful. The service began around 9:00 and we had a great worship experience. I spoke in the service and God blessed the gospel. Some people responded.
After lunch we opened the clinic for a couple of hours to treat a few dozen people...it's a little like a trial run to see what happens and what needs tweaking.
I fully expected to be involved in Malaria treatment...I have a passion for it for obvious reasons. (In case you do not know I came back from Africa last January and became deathly ill with Malaria and or Dengue Fever.) After having raised so much money for treatments I just anticipated being involved in that part of the ministry... However, God had a different plan.
Quite by default I found myself in wound care with a couple of our ladies (Angela a nurse and Deanna a volunteer). All I know is that before I could come up with an excuse to get out of it I was holding the limbs of people with the most awful looking sores you can imagine. Almost everyone we treated had some kind of crater shaped sore. The sore descends through all the layers of skin into the flesh. They ranged in size from a pea to a couple of inches across. A few of them even larger.
The God-side of this is that I am usually very squeamish when comes to any kind of sore or wound.
So as I found myself serving in wound care I prayed daily for God to give me power to be strong and able to serve no matter what I saw. Believe me when I tell you He gave me strength because I am not comfortable posting the pictures of what I saw and helped treat.
We closed up shop around five Sunday afternoon and returned to our camp. Dinner was soon served and showers were had. When I say shower I really mean pour. Before we arrived they had built mud block shower stalls for us. Crude cement floors with mud brick and mortar walls. We used a large cup to dip water from a bucket and poured over our bodies as a means of washing. The biggest drawback was that if you leaned against the wall with a wet hand it came away dirty...so balance while pouring was a must.
Because of all the elements of our environment and circumstances most of us were ready for bed by around eight o'clock every night. I'm not sure I made it past 7:30 that first night.
We awoke Monday morning to a beautiful sunrise and temperatures somewhere around 65 degrees. Each morning we would meet at 7:30 for group devotions. The American team would offer a song of worship and then the African partners would offer one. Then a member of our team either American or African would share a devotional thought and then others would offer comments and insights. It was a great experience each morning.
Each morning my responsibilities include a morning message to those who gather at the clinic for the preaching service. Monday morning was hard. I thought I had a great introduction prepared only to find out that I had miss understood the interpreter about an illustration and started with something about which no one from the village had a clue...so in the midst of trying to recover it all went pretty flat. But when things go flat you just move on and we did.
That day we treated dozens of people both in the clinic and wound care. Did I mention I don't do blood and gore? Each wound had to be scrubbed so that it would bleed again and then we would apply an antiseptic of some kind and bandage it. I held feet and legs and hands and arms while Angela scraped. Deanna prepared bandages and supplies for the patient to take home with them to redress their wound.
We would work all morning. At mid-day we ate lunch and then redirected for a while. The girls engaged in ministry to the children in crafts and stories and I would assist in various other places or try to take pictures of what was going on around us.
Each afternoon we would treat wound until around 3:00. At which time the Sun would have reach a point that exposed us to the direct assault of the afternoon sun. We would then pick up the benches and supplies and move to the opposite side of the building. We did that each afternoon. There is one thing you cannot compete with and that is the Sun in the sub-Sahara climate of Burkina Faso.
Tuesday Morning was again Sunny and chilly...up at six, coffee and oatmeal, devotion at 7:30, service at 9:30...every morning between the time I woke up and the devotion time began a big decision had to made...what would the sermon be?
Each morning I was all ears trying to hear what God was saying to me. What experience of the moment or the day before would he call to mind?
Tuesday morning he brought to mind the shrinking moon that I had observed the night before and so talked about the brevity of life and that we had been called to do one thing and that was give glory and honor to God by confessing the Jesus was Lord... I read Hebrews 9:11-14 and shared three things...Jesus came from a greater place...He did a greater work...and that Jesus could do us a greater good.
The day before a woman who was wearing a fetish, a necklace that she thought would help her eyesight. I told them that even if the fetish did her good her eyes would still close in death and that then, only Jesus could help her. About a dozen people came forward in the invitation.
The rest of that day was treating sores and wounds and pain...as much as any where I have ever been or seen...these people live in pain.
Wednesday morning I talked about our wounds and read from Hebrews 2:1-4. I shared that we all start out with wounds that get progressively worse. That much of what we suffer is not the act of God or demon but simply the consequences of our own choices. The final point was that we have a healer in Jesus Christ...he can heal our heart wounds.
What made this morning special was that I did not have my strong partner and interpreter Patrice. Because we had lost our transportation out of the bush he had to go negotiate new arrangements...needless to say we were praying for him! However with him gone I had to rely upon a much less experienced translator. He was petrified with having to try and keep up with me...I was worried that he would struggle to such a point that there would be no continuity in my thoughts and his translation...so we prayed...everyone prayed. The word was shared, the invitation given and more people came forward that morning than any other morning... when we live in a place where the need is God sized...God fills the space!
Wednesday morning was the morning that we met Adia. She is between 6 and 8 years old. Somehow she had fallen into the fire and burned the back of both thighs. She lay silent and motionless while we treated her. We gave her liquid Motrin, a shot of antibiotics and used a syringe barrel to let her sip water from a cup. She was the most pitiful sight I have ever seen in person. She was the bravest little soul on the planet!
Thursday morning was the beginning of the last day. Again God gave me an opening illustration about that was perfect...Joshua had made friends with a little boy. The little boy wanted to do everything that Josh did...it was so cute...I used Philippians 2:9-11 to teach that we have been created to imitate God. I shared four things...We were created in the image of God...we were created to imitate God: lift Jesus above everything, we are called to bow and confess the Lordship of Jesus...my final call was to not see us as anything but that they should give glory to God for the good they had received. While I preached God put a young man in a red hat on my heart...I went to him after the service, shared the gospel and he prayed with me to confess Christ. When I saw him later you could see in his countenance that something had changed...it was amazing.
Well if you have seen the video blog the rest of trip is pretty lame...packing, traveling, getting lost in the capital city because our bus driver refused to go fast enough to keep up with the lead car...not to mention he spoke only French and none of us on the bus could speak French...it was hilarious! But obviously we made it back.
Well this has gone so much longer than I wanted it too, but how do you cover so much in so little space. Thanks for reading. Please keep us in your prayers.
m.m.x.
kenn
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