"To Him be glory forever": December 2017

Sunday, December 31, 2017

Learners

As Matthew's gospel draws to a close Jesus gives his disciples instructions to:

"make disciples of all nations,

baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,

teaching them to observe all that I commanded you."

To be a disciple is to be a student, or a learner. It is to intentionally seek to be with someone and to learn from them, to get good at whatever it is that they are known for being good at. While the word disciple is mostly used with churches, the idea behind it can apply to many different parts of our lives.

The gospels tell us that Jesus had many disciples while he lived and taught, more than just the twelve we often focus on. All of them spent time with him to learn what he was good at, which was following God with heart, mind, soul and strength. As he prepares to leave them, his final instructions are to continue doing just what he did, taking what they have learned from him and teaching it to new people who believe in him and what he did in defeating sin so that humans could know peace with God.

One of our primary tasks as disciples - followers of, learners from - Jesus, is to make other disciples. On the one hand it is a pretty clear-cut job assignment. We can’t pretend that Jesus didn't say what to do. On the other hand, it is a daunting task. We might ask ourselves: What do I really know about faith that I can teach someone else? Isn't making disciples someone else's job, like the pastor?

While we can find the basic idea of teaching other people to be overwhelming, the good thing is that there are many ways it can be done. In our home, as we teach our children habits of reading the Bible and prayer. One-on-one as we share with someone what we have learned as God proved to be faithful during a hard time in our life. As we help out in a program such as Dulce Community Awana. And we will find that as we help people grow in their faith, that we continue to grow as well.

Let's make 2018 a year of intentional growth as followers of Jesus. A year of personal growth in your own study of the Bible, prayer life and worship. A year of growth together as a congregation, so that we can continue to be a people following Jesus, bringing more of his presence and love to the people of Dulce.

Monday, December 18, 2017

We're Not So Different

Robin and I are currently reading the Old Testament prophet Ezekiel. Last night, as we read chapter 8, the word "abomination" loomed large. According to Ezekiel's testimony, the Lord Himself takes Ezekiel into Jerusalem and to the Temple, to show him what goes on there.

As Ezekiel witnesses the first abomination he is told something along the lines of "If you think that was bad, wait until you see what is coming up." This happens three times, culminating in the last abomination, which verse 16 describes like this:

"And he brought me into the inner court of the house of the Lord. And behold, at the entrance of the temple of the Lord, between the porch and the altar, were about twenty-five men, with their backs to the temple of the Lord, and their faces toward the east, worshiping the sun toward the east."

That last image is the epitome of contempt for God. Twenty-five men, at the singular place of worship for God, with their backs toward the Creator as they worship the creation. These are presumably Jews, who if they know nothing else of God know the first of the Ten Commandments,

"You shall have no other gods before me."

In the face of this provocation, this open hatred of God, God's response is:

"Therefore I will act in wrath. My eye will not spare, nor will I have pity. And though they cry in my ears with a loud voice, I will not hear them."

There are a lot of things that we might say about ourselves to show how different we are from the people of Ezekiel's day. To show how much more advanced or sophisticated we are. I mean, sure, we don't exactly follow all of God's ways in our daily life, but who does? Who is without error? Who doesn’t make any mistakes? In our efforts to rationalize our thoughts and behaviors we nearly stumble over our own feet in avoiding the word "sin."

Yet it is precisely that word that we have in common with the people of Ezekiel 8. We sin. We disobey God and try, again and again, to live as our own gods. And if that doesn't quite work we make our own gods and bow down to them, for their demands are exceedingly low and easy for us to meet.

And while we may want to believe that God's wrath is an old-fashioned and outdated concept, efforts to do that just add to our self-deception. His wrath is just as much a part of God's character as is His justice, His righteousness, His holiness, His peace, His mercy.

God's mercy. That is where we can truly be different from the men of Ezekiel 8. Before the day of wrath comes, and come it will, we can respond to the call found throughout both testaments of the Bible to repent of our sin and believe in God, a call made crystal clear in the New testament as we repent and believe in the person and work of Jesus Christ, who comes to save us from our sin.

We are not so different from the men of Ezekiel 8. In rejecting God our peril is great, greater than we can really comprehend. But in God's mercy, through faith in Christ alone as our Savior and Lord, our end can be as different as night is from day. Amen.

Thursday, December 14, 2017

...and Thankful

Thursday night, a bit after nine, and the house is quiet. Everyone else is in bed and probably asleep. It reminds me of last Thursday. I wasn't at home then but about 130 miles to the west, spending the night in a community center in Beclabito, NM. The five of us staying at the center had run either a marathon or a half marathon that day, with another one coming up the next morning, and so Thursday night we were focused on getting rested and ready for Friday morning. We were taking part in something called the Four Corners Quad Keyah and planned on running our same event on Saturday and Sunday as well. For me it meant four marathons in four days. From Thursday morning until I headed for home Sunday afternoon my plan was to either be running or resting.

After finishing the fourth marathon on Sunday I stopped to get something to eat on the drive home. I was at Lotaburger, awaiting a bacon green chile cheeseburger and posting about the event to a running group on Facebook. One person expressed her congratulations and asked how I was feeling. My reply was "Tired. Hungry. Happy."

Tired was to be expected, given all the running of the past four days. My plan to rest included having one more day of vacation and running much shorter distances for a few days. And I would seriously address the hunger issue as soon as my burger was ready.

And happy? The long weekend of running had ended much better than I had expected it to. I ran very well each day. I ran a bit faster than last year in conditions that were a bit worse. All-in-all it was a good end to the competitive aspect of running in 2017.

And while I easily felt those three things in response to the question, over the drive home and in the following days I realized that I had left something out. I also felt thankful.

I was thankful for my wife, who managed a complicated family schedule while I was gone. I was also thankful for her encouragement of my running over the year, and in particular the last two months when I focused on this event. I was thankful that my training had gone well and that this year has been relatively injury-free. I was thankful that many years ago I came into a sport in which I was physically and temperamentally well-suited for.

I could list a few other things related to last weekend that I am thankful for, but the point I want to make is that thankfulness requires an object. In some of the things above the object is quite clear. I am thankful for my wife's encouragement and I can tell her directly. But other things, say being injury-free? Do I thank my leg? Do I thank my brain for advising to back off when my hamstring acted up? Ultimately, the act of giving thanks extends outside of human existence, to God.

In February I am going to begin preaching through the Gospel of John, who begins with these words:

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made."

In the poetic language of John's prologue, the Word is another way of saying Jesus. Traced back far enough, everything we can see, know or experience comes from and through Jesus.

It is easy, and nearly second nature to see that the big things come from Him and to give Him thanks, things such as salvation, my wife and my family. I'm still working on the lesser things, the things I am tempted to think come from my own efforts and perseverance, such as last week's running event, or the heart that continues to beat steadily whether I'm running or blogging.

All things are made through Him, and all thanks and praise is due Him. Amen.