by jphilo | Nov 4, 2013 | Church Newsletter Columns
Therefore, brothers, be all the more diligent to confirm your calling…
2 Peter 1:10
Gratefulness. It’s a quality God’s been cultivating in me ever since his Holy Spirit started to rooting out my tendency to complain occasionally. Or maybe I should say often. All right, daily. To be perfectly honest, hourly. Even minute-ly, to coin a new word.
Compliments of the inner nudging of the Holy Spirit, which can leave my innards a bit bruised and battered (Oops…complaining again!), I am learning to recognize and thank God for his many graces: a loving husband, good health, travel safety, a warm house, financial stability, friends, our children doing well, the cutest grandson in the world, and unexpected career opportunities.
In fact, my capacity to recognize God’s grace and practice gratefulness has increased so much that the other day I interrupted my prayer time several times administer self-congratulatory pats on my back.
About the time the pat-a-thon ended, a radio report mentioned polio outbreaks among Syrian refugee children and in Somalia. My mind flashed back fifty years to my school gymnasium, where my classmates and I took sugar cubes tinted pink with polio vaccine from a tray, put them in our mouths, and savored the sweetness melting on our tongues. Tears came to my eyes, and I wept for children in Syria and Somalia, where fifty years after the first polio vaccines were administered in our country, war has halted such programs in theirs.
The Holy Spirit used that news report to reveal the shallowness of my gratitude. Had I ever thanked God for being vaccinated for polio? For living in a country peaceful enough to offer basic health care to children? For the school where the vaccine was administered? For a safe and healthy childhood? No, I had never thanked God for his avalanche of grace throughout my life.
The Holy Spirit kept rooting around, nudging me to go deeper until I finally asked, “Why? God, why have you given so many gifts to one so undeserving? Why have you opened so many doors? Why have you provided so many resources and opportunities? God, what are you calling me to do with this great bounty?”
With that question I reached the place God wants his children to find: beyond grateful. In that place he reveals how to use his gifts as the means for his redemptive work. To use them to draw near to the brokenhearted, to minister to those crushed in spirit next door and around the world.
So a few weeks from now, when the loved ones at your table reflect upon what they’re thankful for this Thanksgiving, challenge them–and yourself–to go beyond grateful and ask God to reveal what he’s calling you to do with his gifts.
He may call you to give shoes to barefoot people in the Congo, send Christmas boxes to needy children, support missionaries in Latvia. Who knows? One day, he may call you to deliver polio vaccines to children in war torn countries like Syria and Somalia. Because God’s people go beyond grateful, he does amazing things through them and his gifts.
Photo Credit: www,freedigitalphotos.net
by jphilo | Sep 30, 2013 | Church Newsletter Columns
We give thanks to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,
praying always for you,
since we heard of your faith in Christ Jesus
and the love which you have for all the saints;
because of the hope laid up for you in heaven,
of which you previously heard in the word of truth, the gospel.
Colossians 1:3–5
Sometimes, I don’t like being a grown up. Last week, when it was time to say good-bye to dear South Dakota friends and head home, was one of those times. A piece of my heart remained with them as I climbed in the car and drove away from the little town filled with people who loved and supported us during the early years of our very sick baby’s life.
But I had to leave because another piece of my heart lives in Iowa, in the town where Hiram and I raised our kids, where we have many friends who supported us during the trials and joys of life for almost three decades. Other bits of my heart are scattered all over the country and the world, wherever beloved rellies and friends now live. And every year, my heart cracks anew as I say final good-byes to dear ones God used to bless my life before he called them home.
With each good-bye, a bit more of my heart chips off. These good-byes makes it impossible to hold onto my foolish childhood belief that everyone who populated my secure world and loved me would be with me forever. Life…and death…continually prove that my childhood belief isn’t truth. The truth of the matter is this:
People change.
People move.
People die.
In the shadow of that reality, my grown up self longs for and seeks after Someone who is true and loving and secure. Someone who never dies. Someone who can repair my heart, and the hearts of all who seek Him, for eternity. Who can that be but Christ, the One Paul calls “the hope of heaven?”
Christ is our hope on earth and in heaven. He is hope a person can cling to when saying good-bye. Hope to share with those God uses to bless our lives. Hope to encourage us to pray for those we love who don’t yet know Him. Hope to makes mature believers rejoice, knowing they are drawing ever closer to the Hope laid up for them in heaven.
Hope to make us eager to join Christ and the cloud of witnesses surrounding Him in a heaven where there are no more tears.
No more sorrows.
No more pain.
No more broken hearts.
No more good-byes.
And no more grown ups.
Just children of the Father, His saints reunited with one another and worshipping God’s Son forever and ever.
Amen.
by jphilo | Aug 30, 2013 | Church Newsletter Columns
Do you not know that those who run in a race all run,
but only one receives the prize?
Run in such a way that you may win.
1 Corinthians 9:24
Hot, HOT, H-O-T! It’s the only word to describe the weather as August draws to a close this year. For that reason, my morning walks commenced before dawn every day this week. I felt quite virtuous trudging down the road, flashlight in hand. So virtuous I almost reached back to pat myself on the back. But I refrained, knowing the effort would add to the little sweat mustache already growing on my upper lip.
Still my self-congratulatory state of mind persisted until I reached the top of the skate park hill and prepared to descend, only to see every member of the high school cross country team running up the hill. One after another, young men ran up the hill and back down. My admiration for them grew as they nodded hello to me, encouraged one another, reached the bottom of the hill, then turned around and began running up it again.
Those young men were Paul’s 1 Corinthians 9 word picture come to life. All ran, knowing that only one could win the prize on race day. Even so, they ran up and down that hill, determined to win. In the half-dark. On the hottest day of the summer. Long before their school day began. Sweat dripping down their faces. Breathing harder and harder with each crest of the hill.
Our paths diverged when I reached the skate pond. I walked on, thinking about those determined young people and pondering Paul’s words. He wasn’t talking about training to win a foot race. The word picture was an analogy about training to live a victorious spiritual life as believers. The word picture got me to wondering about my fellow believers at Grace Community Church.
What if we pursued faith training with as much determination as the high school cross country team demonstrated in that hot, August dawn? What if we exercised our spiritual muscle by rising early every day to pray? If we set aside time to meet with other believers to sweat our way through thorny theological issues? If we read God’s word, revisiting hard doctrines until we understood them?
How strong would our faith become? What obstacles could we overcome, confident of Christ’s strength at work through us? What rivers of compassion would flow from our hearts? How would God use such dedicated people to further his kingdom? And what would he say when we arrive at the finish line, out of earthly breath, dying to fall into his arms?
Home. You’re home now.
Those are the words I hope to hear when my race ends. The hope of that prize is what makes me rise early to read God’s word. It’s what motivates me to fellowship with other believers and share the gospel throughout the week. It’s what I pray for you during my morning walks: That when I reach my true home in heaven, you’ll be there, too.
by jphilo | Aug 2, 2013 | Church Newsletter Columns
Those who are in the flesh cannot please God.
However, you are not in the flesh but in the Spirit,
if indeed the Spirit of God dwells in you.
Romans 8:8–9
I’m back from a memorable gathering at Family Camp in the Idaho mountains. For a week, close to 40 rellies gathered to work, worship, and play together. From daytime sandbox fun near Hammock Haven, to nightly board games in the Nerd’s Nest, to cooks preparing meals in the camp kitchen, three generations of family members rubbed elbows day after day.
One morning, a spunky four-year-old wanted to “help” knead dough in the kitchen. After washing her hands, she climbed on a wooden stool. Her grandma stood behind her, placed strong hands over her granddaughter’s small ones, and guided her through the process. “Push in with the heels of your palms, pull them out, then turn the dough and push again.” While the little girl didn’t quite master the art, her motions grew smoother with practice, and her grandma was pleased.
While they worked the dough, I thought about Romans 8:1–13, which I’d been studying all week. Could my imperfect efforts to live according to the Spirit can possibly please God as much as this spunky child pleased her grandma? Later, I reread the passage, and a phrase in verse 8 supplied the answer: Those who are in the flesh cannot please God. Therefore, I reasoned, believers can please God because they live in the Spirit rather than in the flesh.
Woohoo! Our Father is pleased when I, and other believers, try to live in the Spirit. He is pleased by our inadequate efforts and fledgling desires to choose rightly, to become more like him, and to do the work he has prepared for us.
Like a grandparent teaching a child to knead bread, the Father washes us clean when we mess things up. When our hands falter, his Spirit places strong hands over our weak ones and guides us. Day by day, he takes us through the motions of righteous living. Over and over, he reminds us to watch his Son and practice his ways until they become part of us. Until we are able to do his work in his way without hesitation, without the slightest thought of turning away. Until we learn to put to death daily the deeds of the old body and live more fully in the Spirit.
Of course, we can’t complete God’s work perfectly in this life. But we can become more proficient and compassionate as the Father teaches us how to do his business on earth. Proficient enough to pass on priceless lessons to believers new in the faith. Compassionate enough to speak encouragement and hope when we fail.
Isn’t that what being part of God’s family is about? Rubbing elbows with believers of all ages and stages as we work, worship and play together in the service of our Savior.
Photo Credit: Stock.xchng
by jphilo | Jul 1, 2013 | Church Newsletter Columns
For if by the transgression of the one, death reigned through the one,
much more those who received the abundance of grace and the gift of righteousness will reign in life through the One, Jesus Christ.
Romans 12:7
Summer in Iowa is a time of abundance. Our neighbor’s sour cherry tree is covered with enough fruit for their family, our family, and the birds. Hiram and I are working our way through a two gallon bag of lettuce given to us by friends. Every week, we feast on fresh-picked strawberries from our CSA share.
But the abundance of summer garden produce pales compared to the abundance of God’s eternal grace described in Romans 5. Over and over, Paul reminds us of two things: the abundance of human sin and God’s abundant grace. He reminds us that have a choice: to walk in the path of sin, or to follow the path where God’s grace. Whichever choice we make leads to abundance. The first, to abundant sin. The second to grace abundant enough to wash away our sins through the sacrificial love of Jesus.
The love of Jesus demonstrates God’s abundant grace. His vast capacity to absorb darkness into his light. His ability to take what was meant for evil and turn it to good. Not just for some sins in a few lives here and there. But for every sin in the lives of all who come to know him.
God doesn’t force this life-giving grace upon us. But it is always present, as long as we live. Always available, hiding in the mundane circumstances of our lives. Present in the midst of challenge and sorrow. Waiting to be discovered in the unexpected compassion of friends and strangers. Breathing hope into despair.
God doesn’t use an invading army to reveal and deliver this abundance. He uses one man, his Son. And he doesn’t grant blanket absolution to everyone on earth. Instead, he saves us one-by-one. Then he initiates a tender, intimate relationship with each believer. Not an elaborate, one time ceremony, but a daily, quiet conversation. Not a lightning bolt, once-and-final change of character, but a process of sanctification that begins when a person gives his heart, once-and-forever, to the Savior who died so we might live.
God offers his children an abundance of relationship. A relationship that lasts a lifetime, an eternity. A relationship in which we are free to explore his character, delight in his presence and enjoy his gifts. Through that relationship, we see him more fully revealed. We come to know the God, the One-and-only who intimately, simultaneously, and eternally lavishes abundant grace on all who come to know him as Lord and Savior.
by jphilo | Jun 3, 2013 | Church Newsletter Columns
Wretched man that I am!
Who will set me free from the body of this death?
Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!
Romans 7:24–25
A snowstorm one week. 100° the next. I wish I could blame the discontent swirling around in my heart on the crazy weather. But this self-condemnation has more to do with my inward spirit than outward circumstances like snow and heat.
For several years, I’ve searched my heart and confessed my sins. Day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year, the same issues rise to the top of my daily sin parade. Day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year, I ask forgiveness and beg God to change my heart. To conform my mind to Christ. To give me His power to think, speak, and act in accordance with His will.
Every day, I fail. I judge others harshly. I brag about my accomplishments. I’m not satisfied with what God provides. I doubt His provision for tomorrow. I choose my agenda over His. I seek the approval everywhere but in God.
Some days, I epic fail. My actions and words hurt others because I consider only my own needs. I say unkind things to my husband, who is one of the kindest men on earth. I doubt God because my struggle with sin goes on. And on. And on.
In Romans 7:15, the apostle Paul describes a similar struggle: For what I am doing, I do not understand; for I am not practicing what I would like to do, but I am doing the very thing I hate. In the following verses, Paul piled up more ls and mes:
I do the very thing I do not want to do…
So now, no longer am I the one doing it, but sin which dwells in me…
For I know that nothing good dwells in me…
For the good that I want, I do not do…
I find then the principle that evil is present in me…
Wretched man that I am!
Finally, Paul asks a desperate question: Who will set me free from the body of this death?
When the apostle looks outside of himself, the answer comes: Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!…Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.
When the burden of our personal sin weighs upon our hearts, when the condemning Is and mes, hope can only come outside ourselves, when we look to the One who bore our sins and freed us from them (whether we feel free or not), when we rest in the certainty of His abundant forgiveness and grace.
Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.
