Right in our Own Eyes

For whatever was written in earlier times was written for our instruction . . .  (Romans 15:4)

Now these things happened to them as an example, and they were written for our instruction . . . (1 Corinthians 10:11)

The story in Judges 19 about the priest’s concubine is one of the most grisly, bloody and repugnant stories in Scripture. If it’s been a while since you’ve read it, let me quickly summarize what happened.

The concubine got tired of living with the priest and she left to go back to her father in Bethlehem. The priest followed her and wooed her to return home with him. She agreed, and while they were on their way, night fell and they decided to lodge in the home of a hospitable fellow in a town belonging to the tribe of Benjamin. But during the evening some “worthless fellows surrounded the house” and demanded the homeowner give the priest to them for sex (19:22). Instead, the homeowner threw his own virgin daughter and the priest’s concubine out the door for the mob to gang-rape all night. Meanwhile, he and the priest continue eating and drinking in the safety of the home.

The next morning the priest found his concubine dead on the front door step. Wanting vengeance, he cut her body into twelve pieces and sent them to the twelve tribes of Israel, inciting them to come and attack the Benjaminites.

As I said, it’s a grisly, gory story. One might wonder why it’s even in the pages of Scripture. But read a little longer and a little deeper, and the reason becomes – at least for me – much clearer.

The account that begins in chapter 19 concludes in chapter 21. You can read the narrative yourself, but the last verse of the last chapter provides the key to understanding this incident. Indeed, that last verse provides the key to understanding the entire book of Judges, as well as the entire length and breadth of Biblical and post-Biblical history itself.

“In those days there was no king in Israel; everyone did what was right in his own eyes” (Judges 21:25). You’ll find the same refrain elsewhere in Judges – 17:6; 18:1 and 19:1.

Chapters 19-21 in Judges are a fear-provoking picture, a frightful warning of what happens to a nation, and to individuals, who do what is right in their own eyes; who hold to the form of religion, but deny God’s authority over their lives. St. Paul talks about this in the first chapter of his letter to the church at Rome (Romans 1:28-32). He also writes about it to his protégé, Timothy, in 2 Timothy 3:1-5.

God warned Israel – and by extension – humanity, including you and me – of the disastrous, grievous and bloody consequences that fall on nations and on individuals who adopt the behavior of those who turn from God.  You can read other graphic examples in places like Ezekiel 16, Psalm 106, and Deuteronomy 28. Child sacrifice. Unrestrained sexual sins. Ruthless murder. Hatred toward parents, spouses, children, neighbors, and others. Even King Solomon, despite his great wisdom and early close relationship with God, descended into the horrific practices of his godless pagan culture (1 Kings 11:1-13).

God called Israel from slavery in Egypt to be His special and prized possession. He gave them rules by which they should live and through which they would prosper. But the whole of old Testament history, including chapters 19 through 21 in Judges, demonstrates how even God’s chosen people can go very wrong when they turn from God. And of this, too, Scripture assures us: What happened to them will happen to any nation and to any individual “who does what is right in their own eyes.”

St. Paul wrote to the church at Galatia words we ought to take to heart: “Do not be deceived. God is not mocked; for whatever a man sows, this he will also reap. For the one who sows to his own flesh, will from the flesh reap corruption, but the one who sows to the Spirit will from the Spirit reap eternal life”(Galatians 6:7-8).

If we ignore his warning, and the lesson of Judges 19, we do so to our destruction.

Why Do We Say It?

Therefore Pilate  . . .  summoned Jesus and said to Him, “Are You the King of the Jews?” Jesus answered, “Are you saying this on your own initiative, or did others tell you about Me?” (John 18:33-34)

 

Why do we believe Jesus is King? And Lord?

Because our parents told us it’s so?

Our teachers? Pastors?

Books we’ve read?

Homilies we’ve heard?

 

Or do we believe Jesus is King,

and Lord,

because we’ve met Him.

Because we know Him.

Because we speak with Him.

 

Believing in Jesus is not the same as

believing Jesus.

Trusting in Jesus is not the same as

trusting Jesus.

 

Which is why

what the Lord asked of Pilate

He asks also of you

and me:

 

“Do you call Me King,

and Lord,

on your own initiative?

 

Or because of what others have told you of Me?”

 

Rolling in the Dirt

But now in Christ Jesus you . . . have been brought near by the blood of Christ.  (Ephesians 2:13)

For 12 years, Odie was our family dog. Well, more accurately, Odie was my wife’s dog. I tolerated him only because Nancy loved him.

It’s not that our mixed Pug/Chihuahua was a bad dog. It’s just that he had no sense of hygiene. We could bathe him every day, but as soon as we let him out of the house, he’d find a spot where another dog had done its – uh – business, and roll around in it.

The thought of petting Odie after he’d been outside made me shudder. And when I had to touch him to attach his leash, I kept my hand at arm’s length until I found soap and hot water.

Nancy told me I was being silly.  “He’s a dog,” she said. “That’s what dogs do.” Well, that might be what dogs do, but that doesn’t mean I have to touch him after he’s done it.

Frankly, I’m glad I’m not a dog, rolling around in other dogs’ business. But every now and then, when I act like the Pharisee in Luke 18, thanking God I’m not like people I know who roll around in all kinds of dirt, the Holy Spirit reminds me how often I sniff the bushes. For example, when I give safe-harbor to resentment, anger, jealousy, frustration – and then let them fester, I’m sure I give off a stench as high as heaven’s throne. When I grouse at God because He doesn’t answer my prayers for family, health, finances, and an variety of other things, the answer to which I consider evidence of His love for me, I’m wallowing in mud. And though I don’t like to admit it, I need a spiritual bath more often than I take one.

God does not only call us to be good. God calls us to be holy (1 Peter 1:15,16). And the difference between being good and being holy – as I see it, anyway – is like the difference between the sun’s brilliance at noon and the most distant star’s glimmer at night.

For as long as Odie lived with us, he never changed. He rolled in the dirt every time I let him outside. But everyone born into God’s family through faith in Christ’s death for our sins and His resurrection for our justification, everyone is called to be different. That is why when the bushes whisper their temptation, the Holy Spirit empowers us to stay away.

But – and this was the most exciting part – even when we get caught in the bushes and pollute our hearts, Jesus never holds us at arm’s length. The Savior always calls us back into the house, clutches our dirty souls close to Himself and with deep love, grace and mercy, cleanses us with His blood.

On that we can count. Of that we can be sure. Oh! What a Master He is. What a Friend. What a Savior.

Unwilling to Offend

No man cometh unto the Father but by Me. (John 14:6)

 

In our pluralistic culture which insists

one religious view is equal to another,

where it is offensive –

in some cases, nearly criminal –
to say Christ is the only one in all creation,

the only one in heaven, on earth, or under the earth

 who can open heaven;

that Jesus is fundamentally and inherently superior

to any other religious faith

or secular, humanistic philosophy  . . .

 

The culture would have a legitimate point,

a compelling argument,

a  persuasive proposal,

were it not for the undeniable

bodily resurrection

of Jesus.

 

Raised from death

through His own power,

and lifted to the right hand of the Almighty’s Throne,

it is not Moses who will judge the living and the dead.

Nor Muhammad. Nor Buddha.

Nor any other revered religious leader

or author of some secular,

humanistic philosophy.

 

 

It is Jesus the Messiah, Jesus the Christ,

Who will judge us from that Throne,

and from that Throne will return to earth;

this time not as a meek, humble servant,

but as an invincible, terrifying warrior

whose sword will be red

with the blood of His enemies.

 

 

It is not culturally savvy or genteel

to say otherwise,

but if we who should speak 

remain silent

in this culture,

countless souls will be lost to eternity

who might have been rescued
by those who knew how to save them,

but were unwilling to offend.

 

Which Gate Will it Be?

There is salvation in no one else; for there is no other name under heaven that has been given. . . by which we must be saved (Acts 4:12).   

Predictably routine. That’s what the passengers thought of a 1995 Northwest Airlines flight across the Atlantic from Detroit to Frankfurt. Many of the 241 passengers spent their time reading or watching the in-flight movie. Some walked along the aisles, stretching their legs. Some fidgeted in their seats trying to find a comfortable position to sleep or doze. Hours passed slowly. Another bag of pretzels. Another cup of coffee, until the long-awaited announcement broke over the intercom: "Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has turned on the fasten seat belt sign. Please return to your seats and secure your belongings . . ." the voice droned on.

 

That was when their predictably routine flight turned unpredictable. As the plane made its approach to the airport, an embarrassed captain clicked on his microphone and announced that they were landing at the wrong airport. In fact, they were landing in the wrong country.

Federal Aviation Administration officials immediately set out to learn the error occurred. Why had European air traffic control relayed incorrect course headings to the jumbo jet?  Why did the flight crew fail to cross-check their position on cockpit navigation instruments?

 

Whatever the reason for the mishap, investigators quickly determined that no one purposely led the plane astray. The whole thing was simply an embarrassing accident. A potentially serious one, but an accident nonetheless.

 

When I first read this story so many years ago, I wondered if there is a spiritual parallel between this story and the way many people travel through life. Now, 17 years later, I am convinced of it.

 

 If we believe the polls, most people expect to arrive safely in heaven when their life is over. However, if we believe Scripture, many of these same people will be horrified to discover they have landed in the wrong place (see Matthew 7:21-23). Air traffic control accidentally misdirected the Northwest flight, but Satan purposely misdirects humanity, transmitting deceptive course headings to anyone naive enough to follow. How many people have followed his directions?

 

- All religions lead to the same place.

- There is no absolute truth.

- God is a creation of superstitious minds.

- We are all gods - or can become gods.

- Jesus Christ was a great teacher, but certainly not God

        in the form of a man.

- Christ’s virgin birth and physical resurrection are myths.

 

Flight 52 innocently followed the wrong signals to the wrong airport. Likewise, those who navigate their lives according to Satan’s directions - whether in innocence or by design - are guaranteed an arrival far afield from the heavenly destination they seek.

 

Investigators also asked why the cockpit crew failed to follow standard operating procedure by regularly checking the plane’s position with cockpit navigational instruments. That simple check would have uncovered their error in time to change directions. Instead, the crew blindly trusted the information fed to them by others.

 

Similarly, many people seem content to travel through life blindly trusting their ultimate destination to friends, teachers, parents, Hollywood - instead of regularly cross-checking their position on the navigational instrument (the Bible, and, for Catholics, the teaching authority Christ gave the Church) to ensure safe passage to the heavenly kingdom.

 

            Beware of false prophets who come to you in sheep’s clothing, warns the Lord Jesus, but inwardly are ravenous wolves (Matthew 7:15). I am the way, and the truth, and the life, Christ declares. No one comes to the Father, but by Me (John 14:6). In speaking of Jesus, the apostle Peter adds, There is salvation in no one else; for there is no other name under heaven that has been given. . . by which we must be saved (Acts 4:12).    

      

Except for the inconvenience endured by the passengers, their friends and  families, no harm resulted from Flight 52's error. But the same will not be said for the final journey all humanity takes.

Where are we going? From whom are we taking our course headings? Are we making frequent life corrections according to the Book, or are we navigating according to the popular philosophies of the hour? These are much more than mere academic questions casually considered over a Frappuchino. One day each of us will roll to a stop at the final gate.

Which gate will it be? 

Daddy! Daddy!

Some of you may be able to identify with my past. You were rejected by your dad. Or mom. Or maybe even both. I hope what I have written here will help you deal in your own way with the great love of God for us, despite the rejection we may have experienced as children.
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. . . but you received a spirit of adoption, through which we cry, “Abba, Father!” (Romans 8:15)

1962. I was 12. I watched with my younger sister and a few adults as the justice of the peace married my mom and Tommy. They’d dated for several years after my first father deserted us. Now, at last, I’d have a father like all of my friends. I’d have someone to call ‘Dad.’

As the Justice finished the ceremony with the words, “I now pronounce you man and wife,” all of my pent-up and long-awaited excitement was about to explode. I bolted toward him and shouted, “Hi, Dad!”

I tried to leap into his arms. But he didn’t let me get that far. As I leapt toward him he held out his arms and kept me at arm’s length. He laughed nervously and said something about my being too heavy. I remember his face. I knew, even at 12, he didn’t know what to do with me or with the moment.

I didn’t know what to do either. I so wanted to call him “Dad” – to at last have a father. Yet he held me at arm’s length. Nervous. Hesitant. Unsure what to do next.

That was fifty years ago. I’m sure I will never forget it.

During the last decade, perhaps longer, that memory has returned with some regularity. I’ve thought of it often during my prayer time as I watch another scene unfold – this one in my imagination. I see myself led by my guardian angel through an enormous splintered wood door that opens from this life into the next. He takes my hand and we move toward a light, a light so bright I am surprised each time I see it that it doesn’t hurt my eyes.

I know intuitively where he’s taking me. In a few moments I see the border of a throne materialize within the light. Moving closer, I see the One who sits on that throne. And with pent-up and long-awaited excitement about to explode inside me, I drop the angel’s hand and race toward the Light, my arms outstretched. And I hear myself shout again and again, and yet again, “Daddy! Daddy!”

“Daddy!”

What happens next happens each time I visit that scene. My heavenly Father leans forward, bends low, and swoops me into His arms. And He hugs me so close I can hear His heart beat. I feel His warmth. His strength. His embrace.

And I hear Him whisper in my ear, “Welcome home, Richard. Welcome home.”

Oh! How I long for that day when what is now only imagination will be forever palpable love.

Do You Have to Ask?

This imaginative scene grew in my mind a few years ago. I revisit the imagery often during my time in prayer. I hope as you read this you will find yourself better comprehending the great love of Jesus for you.  This essay also appears in my third book, Learning to Lean.
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If you address as Father the One who impartially judges according to each one's work, conduct yourselves in fear during the time of your stay on earth; knowing that you were not redeemed with perishable things like silver or gold from your futile way of life inherited from your forefathers, but with precious blood, as of a lamb unblemished and spotless, the blood of Christ. (1 Peter 1:17-19)

Sometimes when I meditate on the crucifix suspended on the wall opposite my chair, my mind transports me to the place and time of my Lord's last hours.

It happened again this morning as I fingered a Rosary bead and thought about what Catholics call a "mystery of the Rosary" -- the flogging of Jesus.

As I let the image form in my mind of Christ standing at the whipping post, His hands tied above His head, I suddenly found myself standing at that very post. Only now it was my hands tied above my head. It was my back laid bare. It was my life that was about to end.

I turned my head and saw the Roman soldier standing a few feet away -- although I knew in the depths of my spirit it was Satan in the form of the soldier. He held a Roman whip -- strands of leather tied at the handle, each studded with chips of bone and rock. And he was readying himself to strike my back, to tear at me without mercy for the many deep and dark sins I committed in my life.

I turned away and winced in anticipation of the blow.

But it never came.

Instead, I sensed a presence move between me and the whip. The lash tore into flesh. A visceral groan spread into the dust-filled air.

And then Satan growled, "Get away from him. His sins have made him my property. He belongs to me!"

The voice behind me said quietly, but with palpable authority, "No, he doesn't. He belongs to me. I purchase him with my blood."

"Get away," the soldier hissed. A moment later the lash fell again, striking with a fury that terrified me. But the Presence moved closer, so close I felt the warmth of his body. He wrapped his arms around me, to protect me even more from the whip that fell again and again.

And again.

I heard each fall. I felt his body shudder with each blow. His blood splattered across the back of my neck. Some dripped from his shoulder onto mine.

Still tied to the post, I turned to see who it was protecting me. And when I saw Him, I could do nothing else but ask, "Lord, why are you doing this for me?"

He looked into my eyes and whispered, "Do you have to ask?"

Jesus, Please . . .

This essay is adapted from an essay in my latest book, Learning to Lean. I hope you find it an encouragement for your own relationship with Christ.
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Having bought a linen cloth, [Joseph of Arimathea] took him down, wrapped him in the linen cloth and laid him in a tomb that had been hewn out of the rock. Then he rolled a stone against the entrance to the tomb (Mark 15:46).

My imagination took me to the tomb. I sat against a tree and looked at the massive stone covering the cave's entrance. Several yards in front of me four guards sat around a fire. They joked. Told stories. Passed the time as they waited for the sunrise, and with it another squad of soldiers who would take over the watch so they could get some sleep.

I glanced at the sky. Lots of stars. I pulled a blanket tighter around my shoulders and looked back at the stone.

Then -- all at once, like an explosion -- light burst from around the edges of the boulder and shattered the darkness. The guards scrambled to their feet. One quickly grabbed his sword and held it at the ready. The others grabbed theirs.

And then, with my mind's eye, I watched the stone slowly roll to the right. I felt the ground groan and shudder under its weight. And I stood up, in anticipation.

But as quickly as the light appeared, it vanished. And a man dressed in a robe -- its glow fading even as I watched --the man walked from within the cave and stood a few feet beyond the opening. He looked at the guards, and they fell back in terror. They tossed their weapons away and fled toward the trees.

When they were gone, Jesus looked at me. His expression hadn't changed. I could see His face. Still Calm. Gentle. His eyes soft. I wondered why the guards fled.

I watched myself hesitate, and then walk toward Him. As I drew near, I bowed on my knees. It was then I saw His feet beneath the robe. And the scars. I sat on the dirt and stared at them.

And that was when I realized the Lord was bending toward me. In a moment He sat in the dirt in front of me. He took me into His arms, and held me.

And He held me.

And He held me.

Squeezing me into His chest, He held me.

I rested my head on His shoulder, and looked down His back. I could see the scars from the whip that sliced His skin at the whipping post. They covered His neck, shoulders and back as far as I could see down His robe.

Scars that should have been mine.

And I whispered, Jesus, please. Help me love You always.

Arise My Darling . . .

This essay appears in my latest book, Learning to Lean. I hope you find this an encouragement:

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Prefiguring Christ and His Church, Solomon wrote:

[My beloved groom] . . . . says to me,"Arise, my beloved, my beautiful one, and come! For see, the winter is past, the rains are over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth, the time of pruning the vines has come, and the song of the dove is heard in our land. The fig tree puts forth its figs, and the vines in bloom give forth fragrance. Arise, my beloved, my beautiful one, and come! (Song of Songs 2:9b-13).

I'd read this passage dozens of times during the past 35 years of my journey with Christ. But only recently did its message nearly overwhelm my emotions as I connected it with others I'd memorized.

Jesus said, In my Father's house there are many dwelling places. If there were not, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back again and take you to myself, so that where I am you also may be (John 14:2-3).

St. Paul added, Indeed, we tell you this, on the word of the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will surely not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself, with a [shout], with the voice of an archangel and with the trumpet of God, will come down from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. Thus we shall always be with the Lord (1 Thessalonians 4:15-17).

Sometimes, when I read promises like these -- and especially like that from the Song of Songs in which my Groom calls me His "beloved," His "beautiful one" -- I can almost hear the Lord shout. I can almost hear the trumpet. I can almost see myself in His presence, His arms drawing me to Himself as He whispers: Arise, my beloved, my beautiful one, and come with Me. The vines in blossom are giving off their sweet fragrance. Winter is past. Come with Me to the place I've prepared for you. A place without tears, or fear, or sorrow. A place without separation, or death.

Arise my darling, my beautiful one, and come along.

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No Turning Back

I published this in my latest book, Learning to Lean. I think the message is important enough to repost it here. I hope you find it a worthwhile read.
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And to another [Jesus] said, “Follow me.” But he replied . . . “I will follow you, Lord, but first let me say farewell to my family at home.” To him Jesus said, “No one who sets a hand to the plow and looks to what was left behind is fit for the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:59-62).


In the years – decades, actually – I’ve been a Christian, I’ve often pondered what it really means to follow Jesus.

I’ve learned through those years that no one can follow Christ without God’s grace to enable a person to even desire to follow. That’s why Jesus said, “No one can come to Me unless the Father who sent Me draws him” (John 6:44).

But I’ve also learned through those years that once drawn, following Christ means actively growing in our obedience to His commandments. After all, can I honestly say I follow Christ if I don’t steadily work at doing as He did and speaking as He spoke?

Following Jesus means living as separated to God as possible within the limitations of my sinful nature. Following Him means developing a habit and pattern of prayer, Scripture study and service to others.

But this past weekend our parochial vicar preached a homily that, I think, gets to the root of the question about following Jesus. That root centers around a heart-change brought about by a personal – and ongoing – decision to commit oneself to the journey of following Christ.

Our vicar said it this way: How can I follow? How must I follow? Before you know how or why, decide today to do it and not look back.

The uncommitted heart can know nothing.

The committed heart will find every door opened, every secret revealed, every grace supplied. For it is only by following the King of Kings and Lord of Lords with an undivided heart that you will find true and lasting peace in this life, and bliss beyond compare in the life to come.

Our priest’s words resonated with me, and remind me -- even as I write this – of Elijah’s challenge to the people on Mount Carmel: “How long will you hesitate between two opinions? If the Lord is God, follow Him; but if Baal, follow him” (1 Kings 18:21). The vicar’s words also remind me of a worship chorus I've sung for many years: I have decided to follow Jesus. No turning back. No turning back. Though none go with me, still I will follow. No turning back. No turning back.

Lists of how-tos and how-nots are good and necessary things to help people learn how to follow Christ. But without an underpinning, an undergirding . . . a foundation built upon a decision and growing commitment to follow Him, all our lists will eventually fade into lifeless routine.

Oh, Lord, grant us grace to fully commit to follow you.

What Goes Around . . .

It often seems what goes around comes around. Like the subject of this blog post. I originally posted it in June 2011, but was reminded of the principles embedded in the post after a recent conversation about Scripture with someone from my church. In fact, my post of a week ago (here) was in response to that conversation.

But I now repost the June 2011essay to reemphasize my conviction that God gave us Holy Scripture as a means to guide us into a deeper relationship with Him. Part of that guidance into intimacy is rooted firmly in the faith that within holy writ God said what He meant to say, and that He meant what He said.

Over the four decades I've read and studied Scripture, I've come to the conclusion that when the plain sense of Scripture makes common sense, we do not have to seek other meaning, unless of course the context of the passage clearly indicates the writer was using symbols, analogies or metaphors to describe a spiritual truth. I have lived my Christian life for 40 years by that principle, and following that principle has done me well. Indeed, it was that very principle that convinced me God was calling me into the Catholic Church.  You can read that story (here).

But because I continue to hear from people who remain confused about the value of Scripture because they run into people who question its historicity, reliability, divine objectivity, and eternal worth as a guide for life, I thought it good to revisit the subject.

Now, here is that earlier essay:
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[They examined] the scriptures daily to see whether these things were so (Acts 17:11).

Every so often I chance upon something written by a Christian which absolutely astounds me by its seductive and erroneous theology. Like an article in which the author -- a well-known Catholic author and speaker -- declared Scriptures which speak of God’s anger, or love, or mercy are metaphors, rather than statements of reality.

At first blush (and a very quick one, at that), such an idea might sound logical. After all, God is not human. But after that first blush disappears, it is clear to me the author has to play some very imaginative and disingenuous philosophical games to explain away each of the hundreds of verses in Scripture that speak of God’s love, compassion, anger, mercy, and so forth.

For example, is Psalm 103:10-14 a metaphor about God’s compassion, or does He really, in fact, have compassion on us? If we confess our sins (1 John 1:9), will God really be merciful to forgive those sins – or is that, too, a metaphor? When the Lord Jesus – who wept at the tomb of Lazarus (John 11:35), who angrily warned the Pharisees of their impending judgment (Matthew 23), and who whipped the merchants out of the Temple – when Jesus said to His disciples, “He who has seen Me has seen the Father” (John 14:9), was He using a figure of speech, or did He mean what He said – “the way I act is the way the Father acts”?

Did Moses use metaphors in Leviticus 10:1-2 when he wrote about the anger of God toward Nadab and Abihu (the sons of Aaron) when they sinned against Him and were struck dead on the spot? Did Moses use metaphors to describe God’s anger against sin when he wrote of the sudden deaths of Korah and his cohort after their rebellion against God (Numbers 16:25-33)? Did the writer of 2 Samuel use metaphors when he described how God’s anger burned against David for his sin with Bathsheba, and subsequently took the life of their first child (2 Samuel 12:9-14)?

And of course most of the book of Revelation tells us of God’s anger toward sin and His direct and repeated judgment upon a people who continue to shake their fists in God’s face. Are we to believe those many chapters are figures of speech, or are they dire warnings rooted in fact?

If the hundreds of texts written in Scripture declaring the love, mercy, anger and righteousness of God are simply figures of speech, then the warnings inherent in those same Scriptures about obeying God are without weight, and Hebrews 10:31 – It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God – is little more than a hiccup in what could be viewed as the fairy-tale of God.

In the beginning, Satan tried to get Eve to question God’s word when he asked, Hath God said? (Genesis 3:1). Unfortunately, he succeeded in his mission, and the rest of the story makes for sad history. It should not be a surprise, then, that the Psalmist asks the reader, If the foundations are destroyed, what can the righteous do? (Psalm 11:3).

The foundation of our Christian faith is the word of God. Catholic Christians believe God appointed Peter and his successors with the sole authority to interpret for us the Scriptures (e.g. Matthew 16:18-19; 1 Timothy 3:15). And so, St. Paul wrote to the Christians at Colossae: See to it that no one captivate you with an empty, seductive philosophy according to human tradition, according to the elemental powers of the world and not according to Christ (Colossians 2:8).

Let us then be ever vigilant to test any teaching about God and His word, to judge whether what is said is true according to our Catechism of the Catholic Church – or merely someone’s seductive philosophy.

 

I Tremble to Think

How sweet are Your words to my taste!
Yes, sweeter than honey to my mouth! (Psalm 119:103)

 
 

Every so often

and now and again

I’m challenged to my core

to question,

even doubt

the historical, spiritual and

the unalterable truth

of holy scripture.

I’m challenged to be guarded,

suspicious, hesitant,

lest its God-breathed

warnings and promises,

exhortations and challenges,

prove to be simply symbols and stories,

analogies and metaphors

of deeper truths known only

to the schooled.

 

And I wonder almost aloud,

is the Book all true,
or only part?

And if only part,
which part?

Have I set my course on a misleading path?

Have I lived as a Christian for 40 years

following myths and cleverly devised tales?

 

That’s where I was only days ago,

as I struggled with those musings wrenching my faith,

when I opened that Book to read my routine reading

and found the place I’d left off only the day before.

 

As I drank in the words,

the Holy Spirit hovered around me.

And touched me.

Physically.

He touched me.

My eyes watered as I read instruction
directed specifically at me

at that moment:

You, however, continue in the things you have learned and become convinced of, knowing from whom you have learned them, and that from [your earliest days of walking with Christ] you have known the sacred writings which are able to give you the wisdom that leads to salvation through faith which is in Christ Jesus. All Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness; so that the man of God may be adequate, equipped for every good work.

Glory to God!

Oh! Glory to God!

Thank you, Heavenly Father

for your God-breathed word
as simple to understand

as a child understands

his mother’s love.

 

It has been,

and forever will be,

my counselor,

my comforter,

my food,

my drink,

and light to my path,

 

I tremble to think

where I would be today

if I could not trust You

to say what You mean

and to mean what You say.

Eyes to See

I still don't like wearing them. Never have. I always feel as if I am about to step wrong on the stairs or off the sidewalk. I feel like a toddler first learning to walk. But because I can no longer read without them, reading glasses have become a necessary part of my attire. I always carry them with me – usually in my shirt pocket.

That's where they were, in my shirt pocket, while my wife and I enjoyed our meal at a local Italian restaurant. It wasn't until an hour later, when we were about to leave, that my eyes started burning from strain and I put the glasses on.

Then it happened. Water droplets on my iced‑tea glass, spots of tomato sauce beneath my plate, creases in the table cloth – how did I sit at the table for nearly an hour and never notice them? Stains and wrinkles which blurred into non‑descript shadows suddenly shouted for attention. For a few moments I played with my glasses, shifting them on my nose, marveling at how different things look when you can really see.

And then I saw a disturbing spiritual parallel.

 

How many spots and wrinkles within the fabric of our lives do you think blur into unrecognizable shadows because we neglect to wear our spiritual glasses? When our Bibles lie closed on the bookshelf and we view our world through the filters of news broadcasts, sitcoms, movies and newspapers, is it any wonder that the crisp lines of God's "Thou Shalt Not" blur into "Maybe it's ok"?

The Lord Jesus is coming for a church without spot or wrinkle (Ephesians 5:27; 2 Peter 3:14), and He warned those who claim to have sight – but in reality are blind – to receive from Him salve to anoint their eyes that they may see (Rev 3: 17, 18).

If there ever was a time to see, it is now. If there ever was a time to acquire some salve, it is now. It is time we reopen His word and seek a clearer vision of His truth and not the culture’s.

Or will we be embarrassed at His return by unseen stains and wrinkles because we left our spiritual glasses in our pockets or closed on the bookshelf?

(See here and here for some suggestions about reading your Bible)

It Causes Me to Tremble

This appeared a few years ago on this blog. It also appears in my third book, Learning to Lean. Because this blog has so many new readers, I thought it wise to post it again. I hope it touches you as it did when I first wrote it.

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Sometimes It Causes Me To Tremble.
Tremble.

Tremble.

If his offering is a burnt offering from the herd, he shall offer it, a male without defect . . . He shall lay his hand on the head of the burnt offering, that it may be accepted for him to make atonement on his behalf. He shall slay the young bull before the Lord . . . . (Leviticus 1:3-5)

What sin haunted the man
who brought the lamb
to the altar
to die
so his sin could be
forgiven?

What went through his mind
as he placed his hand

on the head of the lamb

to transfer his guilt
to the one
without guilt?

Did his heart race
as he pulled the blade across its throat
and felt the lamb
shudder?

Did he avert his eyes
with remorse
as innocent blood
spurted to the dirt
with each heartbeat –
until it slowed

and then
stopped?

I would cringe to know
an innocent lamb
had to die
so my sins could be
forgiven.

Oh!

And what sadness haunted the Father
when we dragged His Lamb
to the cross?
What went through His mind
as our hands pressed thorns on
The Lamb's head
and our guilt transferred
to the one
without guilt?

Did the Father’s heart ache,
and heaven shudder,
as our whip
ripped across His Son’s back?
Did He
avert His eyes

as we drove spikes into His hands
and feet
and His blood dripped to the dirt
and then slowed . . .

and then
stopped.


I tremble.
Oh, I tremble
to know the Lamb of God
had to die

so I could live
forever.

But [Christ] was pierced through for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the chastening for our well-being fell upon Him, and by His scourging we are healed. All of us like sheep have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; but the LORD has caused the iniquity of us all to fall on Him (Isaiah 53:5-6).

My Jesus

I have called you by name, you are Mine (Isaiah 43:1)

I was the one lost.

Far from the flock.

And You left the ninety-nine

and sought me.

And found me.

And carried me on Your shoulders to safety.

My Jesus.

 

I was the one ravaged.

Torn by sin.

A demoniac.

Bound by Satan.

Naked, cold.

Alone.

Feared.

And You left the crowds on the other side of the lake

and sought me.

And found me.

And touched me.

And delivered me.

Clothed me with Your righteousness

and freed me.

My Jesus.

 

I was the one in the coffin.

Carried by friends.

Mourned by family.

Dead in my trespasses and sins.

And You left the throng

and sought me.

And found me.

And touched me.

And made me live again.

My Jesus.

 

I was the one by the pool.

Crippled.

Waiting for a sign.

For help.

For health.

And You sought me.

And found me.

And said to me, “Get up,”

and freed me.

And sent me on my way rejoicing.

Leaping.

Dancing.

Whole.

My Jesus.

 

O, my Jesus,

Many say I should not say,

“My Jesus.”

‘Our’ Jesus is more correct.

But O, Lord.

My Jesus.

They do not know how You sought me.

Touched me.

Freed me.

Healed me.

Loved me.

 

My Jesus.

My Jesus, I love thee.

I know thou art mine.

For Thee all the follies of sin I resign.

My gracious redeemer,

my savior art Thou.

If ever I loved Thee

my Jesus ‘tis now.

 

 

The last seven lines are from the hymn, “My Jesus I Love Thee,” written by William Ralph Featherston (d. 1873?)

Maybe It's Too Late

For the mystery of lawlessness is already at work; only he who now restrains [will do so] until he is taken out of the way.  Then that lawless one will be revealed whom the Lord will slay with the breath of His mouth . . . the one whose coming is in accord with the activity of Satan, with all power and signs and false wonders,  and with all the deception of wickedness for those who perish, because they did not receive the love of the truth so as to be saved.  For this reason God will send upon them a deluding influence so that they will believe what is false,  in order that they all may be judged who did not believe the truth, but took pleasure in wickedness (bold my emphasis) – 2 Thessalonians 2:7-10

Spiritual blindness. Descending from God upon us. A hardening of our conscience so we can no longer discern truth from lies because we chose not to believe truth when it was all around us. How else can we explain the way we dismiss, or make excuses for, the moral changes sweeping over us? How else can we explain our acceptance of what we used to call depravity and sin?

Even within the Church. Of all places.

I’m old enough to remember America of the 1950s and 60s. Our concept of morality today is nothing like it was then. For example, since 1973 we have killed – sliced apart piece by piece fifty-five million babies in the womb, sucked their body parts into vacuum containers, and not only are the majority of Americans – including those in the Church – silent about this horrific, description-defying holocaust, but we actually elect politicians who support and promote the mass killing.

What about marriage? For millennia upon millennia, as long as civilizations have existed there has never been such an assault on the sanctity (and what Catholics call the ‘Sacrament’) of marriage as we see overtaking us today.

And the Church’s response? Beyond some hand-wringing and statements of ‘disappointment’ to the press and to congregations, essentially nothing is done or said to lead the flock of God through the small gate and along the narrow way.

We look – okay, I look – for courageous and Christ-like leadership from our clergy, for guidance to the sheep how to meet these challenges in November. But again, silence. Compliance. Acquiescence to evil while precious few dare any longer to call it evil.  And so the hearts and conscience of sheep who follow their clergy walk through the wide gate and along the broad road. And the ears of those who call themselves after the Crucified Savior become dull of hearing.

It is not surprising to watch such things occur with non-believers. As St. Paul remarked, they are ‘dead in their trespasses and sins” (Ephesians 2:1). But for the grace of God, how can they act otherwise?

But how can such things happen in the Church? How can it be, as St. Paul wrote, that “[T]he time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine; but [wanting] to have their ears tickled, they will accumulate for themselves teachers in accordance to their own desires, and will turn away their ears from the truth and will turn aside to myths (2 Timothy 4:3-4)?

As for me, I believe we have just about turned the corner. Maybe it’s too late. But unless the Church – laity and clergy – take seriously our call from God to live as holy examples of Christ, to serve God on His terms and not on ours, to serve Him even when it is inconvenient to do so, I fear the prophecy of St. Peter will be fulfilled in my lifetime. Perhaps in the not so distant future:  “For it is time for judgment to begin with the household of God; and if it begins with us first, what will be the outcome for those who do not obey the gospel of God?(1 Peter 4:17).

Oh, God. Have mercy on us.

 

Living Until I Die

Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in Me will live even if he dies,  and everyone who lives and believes in Me will never die. Do you believe this?” (John 11:25-26)

 I met 19-year-old Lance Corporal Drew Taylor, USMC, in the early 1990s when he was a patient at our overseas Naval hospital. Drew had complained that he'd become clumsy, bumping into walls and tripping over his feet. He had also been getting severe headaches that awakened him during the night.

 His battalion physician ordered a CAT scan. Then he ordered an MRI to confirm the diagnosis. That’s when he was sent to our department where I worked as a nurse. The neurosurgeon scheduled Drew for emergency surgery to relieve the pressure on his brain resulting from his cancerous tumor but during surgery the physician discovered the tumor had wrapped itself around Drew’s brain stem. It could not be removed.

The surgeon told him only that he was being sent back to the States for further treatment to reduce the tumor. However, he told me Drew would be dead in six months. He asked me to accompany Drew on the Air Evac flight because he would need periodic intravenous antibiotic therapy until he reached the hospital in Texas.

Believing the Lord was giving me an opportunity to share Christ with this young man poised at the precipice of eternity, I agreed. It was not until later did I realize our journey across the Pacific was not designed so much for me to share my faith with Drew, but for Drew to share his faith with me.

Air Evac flights from overseas are not usually direct trips from one airport to another. We traveled three days before finally arriving in Texas. During that time he and I talked about many subjects. We spoke about his home life and how he had committed his life to Christ when he was a teen. But he seemed more interested in talking about his plans to return to college after his discharge from the Marine Corps and showing me photos of his fiancé. They planned to be married in nine months when his overseas tour was completed.

As I listened, I thought about the doctor’s prediction and I determined to not let this opportunity pass without talking more deeply about eternal things. A short while later I posed a "worst case" scenario for him to consider.

"What if the docs in Texas discover there’s nothing they can do for you?" I asked. "For example, how will you feel if they say you only have a year to live?"

Drew turned his eyes from mine and stared into space for a few moments. Then he turned back to look at me.   

"Well," he started slowly, "then I’ll just live until I die."

I don’t know why his response surprised me. Perhaps it was because I assumed he didn’t have a strong faith since he had not seemed interested in talking about spiritual matters. Perhaps it was because I myself had at the time difficulty dealing with imminent death. Whatever the reason, I pressed him further, "What do you mean, you will live until you die?"

Drew grew pensive. And then, with a firm and unwavering voice, he answered, "Whatever the Lord Jesus has for me to do while I am alive, I’ll do."

I leaned back in my seat and fell quiet as the conviction of this young man, twenty-five years my junior, washed over me. I had agreed to accompany him, expecting and planning to teach him about Christ during our journey. Instead, he taught me important lessons about life and death, about service and faith, and about how to "live until I die."

Drew never finished his overseas tour. He never returned to college. He never married his sweetheart. A few months after I left him in Texas he slipped into a coma and died a few days later.

St. Paul wrote to his readers in Rome, "Who are you to judge the servant of another? To his own master he stands or falls; and stand he will, for the Lord is able to make him stand" (Romans 14:4). I think of that verse now because I remember doubting Drew's 'salvation' back then. Why? Because he was not serving Christ according to the way I thought he should be serving Christ.

Talk about arrogance!

The Lord Jesus said, "As long as it is day, we must do the work of Him who sent Me. Night is coming, when no one can work" (John 9:4). I believe ,, in his own way (and not in 'my way') Lance Corporal Drew Taylor, USMC worked faithfully for Christ during his very short day.

I look forward to meeting him once again, at the end of mine.

White Noise and Jesus

This appears in my first book, We Believe: Forty Meditations on the Nicene Creed. I modified and post it because the message is so timely for this day.
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[Mary] turned around and saw Jesus there, but did not know it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?" She thought it was the gardener . . . . (John 20:14-15)

I’m such a light sleeper, I need “white-noise” to get a good night’s rest. That’s why I’ve slept with a box fan at my side of the bed for years.

During prayer one morning, as I meditated on the words, ‘Jesus Christ’ – I wondered how often His Name becomes white-noise in our spiritual ears. We hear ‘Jesus Christ’ so often, our subconscious mind seems to sometimes reduce it to just another word in our vocabulary, like “the” or “and.”

Jesus. Christ.

The early Church recognized something extraordinary about that Name which many of us may have forgotten. Or perhaps never learned: There is no other name under heaven given among men whereby we must be saved (Acts 4); prayers find their answer in that Name (John 14); the sick find healing through that Name (James 5); demons tremble at the sound of that Name (James 2); people are loosed from demon possession through that Name (Mark 3); at his Name every knee will bow and every tongue confess He is Lord (Philippians 2).

The New Testament uses dozens of synonyms to describe Him: Lamb of God, Son of God, Anointed One, Shepherd, Bread of Life, Alpha and Omega, King, Savior, Messiah, Prince of Peace . . .

And that Name has inspired men and women for two thousand years to live – and if necessary, die – for love of His Name.

So, why do people use the holy Name of Jesus as the punch line of a joke, or to voice surprise or anger, or to use as a swear word?

I have a theory. Satan understands there is eternal life in no other than Jesus. He knows forgiveness of sin is available through no other than Jesus. There is deliverance from his infernal grasp through no other than Jesus.

If Satan can deceive mankind into believing Jesus Christ is the stuff of jokes and swear words, few would believe He is Son of God, Lamb of God, Great Shepherd, and Light from Light.

When we say Jesus’ name in prayer and in reverential conversation, we join our hearts with all those in that great communion of saints in heaven and on earth. And we have the same privilege as they: to fall to our knees in homage to Him whose Name is above every name.

Holy Spirit, Help us recognize Jesus when He calls. Help us hear above the white noise the voice of Him who loves us so much that He took our sins to Calvary’s cross. Amen.

Better Now than Later

This is based on an essay that appears in my book, Lessons Along the Journey. I thought it might be good to post it again here.
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Seek the Lord while He may be found; call on him while he is near (Isaiah 55:6).

Smoke swirled through the streets of Jerusalem. A woman shrieked as the soldier pulled the blood-soaked sword from her husband's belly, and then thrust it into hers. Soldiers ripped babies from their mothers’ arms and flung them against stone walls. Devastation swallowed Jerusalem as the Babylonian army ravaged the city.

With grief clutching at his throat, Jeremiah wrote: “The favors of the Lord are not exhausted, His mercies are not spent; they are renewed each morning, so great is His faithfulness” (Lamentations 3:22-23).

Anyone looking over Jeremiah's shoulder would have screamed, “Are you mad? Blood pools in our streets. Children lie brutalized with their parents, and you talk about God’s mercies?”

It would have been a reasonable accusation.

But was the Jeremiah mad, or did he have something that I – and perhaps you – need?

Horatio Spafford could answer that question. His faith in God persevered despite the tragedies that ripped into his very being. Early in 1871, he lost his only son to illness. Four months later, the Great Chicago Fire destroyed his business. Two years later, his wife, and daughters booked passage on a ship bound for England. During the voyage, the vessel collided with another ship and sank. Spafford’s daughters were among those drowned.

Spafford immediately booked passage for England to join his grieving wife. When the ship reached the vicinity of the accident, he stood on the deck and wrote a hymn Christians around the world still sing. You might recognize some of the lyrics: When peace, like a river, attendeth my way/when sorrows like sea billows roll/ whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say/‘It is well, it is well with my soul.’

You can listen to the song here on YouTube.

Perseverance. Confidence in God. Devotion to our King despite tragedy. Mature men and women of faith understand there are no shortcuts to the kind of spiritual strength that keep us faithful despite personal tragedy. And that is why the Church teaches us such perseverance blossoms only through the grace of God as we seek Christ each day in the pages of Holy Scripture, listening for His voice in attentive prayer, worship, and -- if you are a Catholic -- regularly meeting Him at Mass and in the Sacraments.

It is not an either-or thing. It is a combination of each, a combination which gave spiritual strength, for example, to St. Terese of Lisieux who wrote just before she died at the young age of 24:

“Everything is a grace. Everything is the direct effect of our Father's love - difficulties, contradictions, humiliations, all the soul's miseries, her burdens, her needs - everything. Because through them she learns humility, realizes her weakness. Everything is a grace because everything is God's gift. Whatever be the character of life or its unexpected events, to the heart that loves, all is well.”

That’s the kind of relationship we all need with God. And that’s the relationship God wants with us.
Isn't it only prudent that we learn to seek God now, and not when life is crumbling?