Vacation

Ken Sipley will be on vacation for the next two weeks, so there will be no new posts during that time.  Please feel free to re-read some of your favorites, and let him know what you think.

It All Begins with Prayer

It All Begins with Prayer

Acts 1:12-14

            It all begins with prayer.  Everything of value begins with prayer.  Jesus knew this.  That’s why he left his followers occasionally and went off by himself to pray.  He knew he needed to communicate with his Father.

            For generations the children of Israel prayed to be freed from the captivity and tyranny of Egypt.  God heard their prayers and called Moses to lead them to freedom.

            For generations—centuries—Israel prayed for God to send the promised Messiah to lead them to a brighter future.  Finally, in God’s own time, Jesus was born—the Messiah God had promised, even if he wasn’t the one Israel expected.

            When the disciples tried unsuccessfully to heal a boy with an unclean spirit Jesus told them, “This kind cannot be driven out by anything but prayer.”

            When Jesus asked in Gethsemane if he could avoid the torture and death he knew lay ahead of him, it was undoubtedly communion with his Father that gave him the strength to endure.

            When Jesus said farewell to his disciples, he told them to wait in Jerusalem for the gift of the Holy Spirit.  While they waited, Luke tells us they devoted themselves to prayer.  We know what happened—Pentecost and the change from disciples to apostles.

            Several times in his letters Paul tells his readers he is praying for them.  Often he  asks for prayer for himself and his companions.  He understood the value of prayer to the success of his ministry.

            James tells the believers to whom he writes (James 5:13-15) to pray for the one who is sick, anointing the person with oil and asking God for healing.

            Prayer.  Nothing happens without prayer.  We can have the best of intentions.  We can work diligently to bring about the results we want.  We can recruit the greatest minds to solve problems.  All these are good, but without prayer, they won’t accomplish much.

            Do you want to see your church grow?  Pray for God to open up opportunities for members to witness to God’s saving power and God’s efficacy in changing lives.

            Do you need leadership for your youth programs, your women’s association, or your men’s group?  Ask God to speak to those whom God would call to lead those ministries.

            Are you running out of Sunday school teachers; or, conversely, do you have teachers but no classes for them to teach?  Ask God to raise up committed Christians to teach, and to instill in people the desire for Christian education.

            It all begins with prayer.  Setting loose the worker bees in your church won’t do it.  They’ll only burn themselves out droning away at the task you’ve set them to. 

It all begins with prayer.  Developing elaborate plans to bring people into the church, or starting leadership classes, or opening up new Sunday school classes or study groups will fall flat unless sufficient preparation time is spent in prayer, asking God for direction and blessing.

It all begins with prayer—and not just by the minister or ministers.  God wants a praying people, and that includes all of us.  No matter what we do to earn a living, our calling as Christians is to pray—pray constantly and deeply for whatever need your church has.

It all begins with prayer.

Everything Happens for a Reason

Everything Happens for a Reason

Romans 8:18-28

            “Everything happens for a reason.  Sometimes good things fall apart so better things can come together.”

            So said that eminent philosopher, Marilyn Monroe.  Yes, I know, we don’t usually think of her as having had thoughts this deep.  Part of that is because of the image Hollywood created for her.  Part of it is our natural prejudice.  We believe anyone that glamorous can’t be smart as well.  How wrong we can be!

            We might also have a difficult time believing she said this because we know things didn’t turn out so well for her.  Despite her glamor (or perhaps because of it) her life story is not a happy one.  Still, the quote is attributed to Marilyn Monroe, so we have to accept that at some time, in some set of circumstances, she did say it.

            Many people say, “Everything happens for a reason.”  It’s a way of finding meaning in difficult situations.  When it seems things aren’t going right for us, someone will try to cheer us up by telling us there must be a reason for the tough times we’re going through.  Trouble is, when we’re in the midst of those tough times, it’s hard to see anything good about it.  Someone saying there must be a reason doesn’t usually make us feel much better.

            Paul was trying to help the Christians in Rome see that the suffering they were forced to endure might mean that God was working in and through their difficult circumstances.  In Romans 8:18, we hear Paul saying, “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.”  Whatever happens to us in times of trial will be surpassed by what God has in store for us in the future. 

Paul places the Roman believers’ troubles in perspective.  He says that all creation is waiting for God’s future, and not waiting patiently, but groaning as if in terrible pain.  Our suffering is merely a part of the universal suffering that will continue until Christ’s return. 

Even our prayer life can suffer as a result of this creation-wide trial.  Paul spends several verses assuring his readers that the Spirit understands the trouble we often have communicating in prayer, and intercedes for us before God’s throne.

Let’s go back to the second part of Ms. Monroe’s quote.  Remember?  She says, “Sometimes good things fall apart so better things can come together.”

Is this reassuring?  Does it help us to know that when our lives—or a significant part of them—crash and burn it may be clearing the way for something better?  Can we be sure that whatever lies ahead will be an improvement?  Don’t we know people who lost their jobs, their home—practically everything in the last recession—and haven’t yet seen the light at the end of the tunnel?  Isn’t this just a rosy-colored lens we look through to convince ourselves that something better must lie ahead.

Perhaps.  Perhaps not.  We know there are people who hit a major bump in life and never overcome it.  Whether it’s an economic downturn, an incurable disease, or the loss of a loved one, there are situations that look hopeless.  How do we see God’s hand here?  Can we see God’s hand here?

We must remember above all else that we serve a God who goes through the troubled times with us.  God is there, even in the worst situations we can imagine, right beside us, sharing them with us and giving us the strength to pull through.

Completing the Work

Completing the Work

Matthew 28:16-20

            I love to wander through gift shops looking at wall plaques.  I never buy any.  If I bought all those that catch my attention, the walls of our house would be covered with them, and my wife would be furious.  Instead, when I see one I really like, I copy down the message, then find a way to use it in a sermon or blog.

            On a trip this summer I came across a message that really spoke to me.  Rabbi Tarfon said, “You are not obligated to complete the work, nor are you free to abandon it.”  I quickly reached for pen and paper.

Might God have said to Jesus, “You are not obligated to complete the work, nor are you free to abandon it?”  We know that’s likely what happened.  Jesus certainly didn’t finish God’s work while on this earth, but he never abandoned it either.  In Gethsemane, when he prayed that, if possible, the torture and death he faced could be avoided, his Father might have said in reply.  “No, it’s impossible.  You are not free to abandon the work for which you were sent.”

            Jesus himself may have said words to this effect before his ascension.  The gospel writers give us differing versions of those last days.  They only show us snapshots of that time, and not a full picture.  Was Jesus enjoying what he knew was his limited time with his closest followers?  Did he try to give them as much advice as he could cram in before his departure?  Certainly both might be true.  We can imagine those times, but we can’t have full knowledge of what happened.

            Matthew tells us Jesus met his disciples for the last time on a mountain in Galilee, where he gave them his final instructions.  He let them know in no uncertain terms that they were to carry on the work he had begun.  We learn from Luke that they were told to wait in Jerusalem for the gift of the Holy Spirit.  There they would receive a more complete idea of what they were to do.  Matthew tells us that Jesus gave them marching orders before he left them.  The disciples were to go into all the world, preaching and teaching the things he had imparted to them, baptizing and making disciples.

            They could not possibly anticipate what that would entail.  They certainly couldn’t anticipate what the gift of the Holy Spirit might be.  I imagine it didn’t matter to them.  All that mattered was the sadness they felt at losing their Master, and a vague idea of the work he had given them.  We find out from Luke (in Acts) how that work progressed during the early part of the first century.

            The disciples did not complete the work Jesus had given them to do, nor did they abandon it.  In many cases their endeavors cost them their lives—given willingly in God’s service—but they never stopped doing the work to which they were called.

            Down through the ages this message has been transmitted.  “You are not obligated to complete the work, nor are you free to abandon it.”  Apostles, martyrs, church leaders, ordinary Christians, rank upon rank, have taken up the challenge and the work, knowing they would not complete it, but could not abandon it.

            Now it is our turn.  We are the latest of those who have taken up Jesus’ challenge.  We have been given a work to do.  We know it will not be completed in our lifetime unless Christ returns before we die.  We also know we can’t plan on that.  Assuming that there will still be plenty to do after we’re gone, we soldier on, serving in our part of the vineyard, willingly spending our lives in God’s work, without a thought of abandoning it.

Heart and Mouth Agreement

Heart and Mouth Agreement

Romans 10:9-10

My father was a great fan of the King Arthur legends.  He got me interested at a fairly early age, and I’ve never lost the fascination.  I remember reading once that there are still people in England who believe that King Arthur will return some day.  This belief is reflected and fueled by two literary sources:  T. H. White’s The Once and Future King, and H.G. Wells’ Perelandra, the middle book of his trilogy which begins with Out of the Silent Planet.

Arthur is not a king who is validated by history—that is, we have no written historical record of his reign.  His capitol, Camelot, is a vision of an ideal place to live.  In the musical of that name, Lerner & Loewe have Arthur describe a country where even the weather wouldn’t dare to be anything but perfect.  In the end, Camelot goes the way of all utopias, doomed by the foolish, selfish acts of humans; but while it lasts, it is beautiful. 

Several years ago I stumbled upon a copy of one of the great Arthurian books, Le Morte D’Arthur, by Sir Thomas Mallory.  It tells much more of the Arthur story than most people would ever want to know, but I am enjoying it thoroughly.   I keep it on my nightstand, and whenever I’m ready for bed before my wife, I read a few pages.  It isn’t the kind of book you can read quickly from cover to cover.  It must be sipped like a fine wine, not chugged like a can of soda.  In part this is because the story is a complex one.  In part it’s because the English is old-fashioned.  Many of the words different from those we use, and the text lacking in punctuation such as quotation marks.

Now that I’m nearing the end, I find myself slowing down, not rushing to finish as I do with most novels.  I already know the ending, so there’s no surprise waiting for me there.  Instead there’s the sadness of the destruction of a beautiful society, and I’m not ready to see that happen.

In the part I’m reading now, most of the Knights of the Round Table are off on a quest to find the Holy Grail (which they refer to as the Sangreal), the cup which Jesus shared with his disciples at the Last Supper.   Those of us who know the story know that only one knight, Sir Galahad, is pure enough to find the Sangreal, but as we follow different ones through their adventures, we enjoy their stories for their own sakes.  The knights frequently encounter holy men (hermits, monks, and others who are devoted to God’s service).  These men interpret their dreams and adventures, and give them advice on how to live better lives.

One such holy man gives one of the knights a piece of advice that we all should heed.  He says, “Look that your heart and your mouth accord.”  He wants the knight to be sure that what he says reflects what he feels.

Paul does somewhat the same thing in these two verses from his letter to the Romans.  He makes the point that belief and confession are both necessary and sufficient conditions for salvation.  We must confess and believe in order to be saved; and confession and belief are the only things we need to do to be saved.

But our hearts and minds have to be in complete accord.  We have to believe with our hearts and confess with our mouths.  One or the other is not enough.  It doesn’t matter which comes first (the order in verse 10 is the opposite of verse 9), but we have to do both.

Look that your heart and your mouth accord.  This advice is good for any course of action we pursue, but it is absolutely essential for our relationship with God.

Ozymandias

Ozymandias

Luke 12:13-21

I met a traveler from an antique land,

Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert.  Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read,

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:

And on the pedestal these words appear:

“My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”

Nothing beside remains.  Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Percy Bysshe Shelley, the author of Ozymandias, perfectly captures the image of one who thinks more highly of himself than he ought.  We see a king who was sure his reign would last forever.  Perhaps he believed his loyal subjects when they addressed him with those words:  you know,  “O king, live forever….”  Perhaps he had deluded himself into believing that he alone among humankind could cheat death.  Whatever his mindset when he ordered this statue built, it didn’t prevent him from going the way of all flesh. 

It is interesting that Shelley shows us only the statue lying in ruins, only partly visible.  There is nothing left of the king’s works.  All that can be seen is the pedestal with the inscription and the legs, and a head which conveys the frown and sneer of one who believes he has conquered the world.  “Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair,” Shelley has him say; but there are no works to look upon.  Except for the ruins of the statue, all that the observer can see is sand stretching endlessly.

Many Scripture passages caution about an egotistic approach to life.  The author of Ecclesiastes speaks about the vanity of earthly pursuits.  Several of the psalms warn against putting too much faith in things that have no permanence.  Jesus told his followers that earthly treasure wasn’t worth accumulating.  The parable Luke relates is also an excellent warning.

Anyone who works the land knows the joy that comes with a bumper crop and the agony of a poor yield.  When the land produces plentifully, celebration is in order.  The man in Jesus’ story felt the need to do more than celebrate.  He had a storage problem:  his crop was so plentiful that his barns wouldn’t hold it all.  What should he do?

Those of us who are community oriented might suggest that he give what he doesn’t need for himself and his family to people who could use more food on the table.  Certainly this man would have more than one neighbor less well off than he.  Why not share the wealth so everyone can benefit from his fertile land?

The man obviously had no concern for his poorer neighbors.  Instead of sharing with them he decided on a building project.  He had his servants tear down his perfectly good barns and build larger ones; then he sat back to enjoy the prosperous life he felt he deserved.

We know what happened next.  Not just his soul but his life was required of him.  “Fool,” God said.  “Who gets to enjoy the plentiful harvest now?  Not you.”

I’m afraid there’s a little Ozymandias and a little of the man in Jesus’ story in each of us.  We want to accumulate as much as possible, set up our own little kingdom, and enjoy watching people envy us.  They may—but that’s not what counts in the eternal scheme of things.  What counts is what we do to serve our neighbors in Jesus’ name.  

Isn't That Just Like God?

Isn’t That Just Like God!

2 Kings 5:1-14

            Do you remember the story of Naaman?  He was the commanding general of the army of Syria.  The king held him in high esteem because he had led the army so successfully.  He seemed indestructible.  Nobody could best him at his chosen profession.  He was on top of the world.  Then he discovered he had leprosy.

            Today we don’t hear much about leprosy, or think much about it either.  It is a disease that has been contained.  There are medications that are so effective that the effects have been minimized.  No longer are lepers forced to live in isolation from the rest of civilization.  Gone are the days when they were condemned to live alone or with others so afflicted until they died.

            But in biblical times leprosy was feared—so feared that any skin condition was suspected of being leprous.  Any rash, any skin inflammation was cause to ban the afflicted person from all contact with others. 

And Naaman was a leper.

            There was in his household a young girl who had been taken captive from Israel.  She had occasion to say to her mistress, Naaman’s wife, that the prophet Elisha could cure her master.  Upon hearing the welcome news, Naaman did the only thing that made sense to him.  He went with a letter of introduction from his king to the Israelite king—who panicked.  He knew he couldn’t cure Naaman.  He was sure this was a plot hatched to give the Syrian king an excuse for going to war and conquering Israel.

            Elisha heard of the king’s dilemma and said, “Send him to me.  I’ll cure him in God’s name.”

            Here’s the best part of the story.  When Naaman came to Elisha’s house, the prophet didn’t even go out to see him.  He sent a servant to tell him to dip himself in the river Jordan seven times.  Naaman was furious, first at being ignored, and second at being given so simple a task.  But one of his servants persuaded him to try the cure—and it worked!

            Isn’t that just like God to use someone as insignificant as a servant girl to spread the good news?  We complain because we haven’t got the right skills, or the right opportunity, or the right clothes to do God’s work.  All she did was open her mouth in witness to God’s healing power.

            Isn’t that just like God to humble us when we are feeling too sure of ourselves?  When we think we’re something pretty special, God finds a way of letting us know we still have a few things to learn.  Naaman arrived at Elisha’s door with all the pomp of the greatest general in the region, only to find himself face to face with a servant who delivered an unpalatable message.

            Isn’t that just like God to give us a task that has absolutely no glamor at all?  Naaman was ready to do some mighty deed to impress God with his abilities.  Instead, through Elisha, God told him to take a bath.

            Isn’t that just like God to work in the humblest of circumstances, and through the humblest of people to bring about the results God wants?  The kings in this story were helpless to cure Naaman of an illness that would have separated him from his family, his profession, his friends—from all he held dear.  Servants delivered the messages that brought Naaman to the place where he could be healed.

            Isn’t that just like God to choose us, people with no special talents, no great abilities, to carry the gospel to the world?  Isn’t that just like God to equip us to do the work we are called to do?