Thine is the Kingdom, the Power and the Glory

Can you guess what series the pastor concluded yesterday? Although some ancient manuscripts lack this closing in Matthew 6, a benediction typically ended the Jewish prayers of Jesus' day. To hear a series that investigates, phrase by phrase, the prayer model Jesus gave his disciples reminds us to pray with brains engaged. In days of uncertainty, upheaval, and fear, my heart soars when I think about God's kingdom, power and glory.
The kingdom is His alone; He rules as the sole sovereign; nothing and no one else have sovereignty. Actually, sovereignty poses a real stumbling block for us as Americans. Even as believers in Christ, we have that "pull yourself up by your own boot straps" mentality somewhere in our minds. Yet Colossians 1:13-15 says, "For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the son he loves, in whom we have redemption,^£ the forgiveness of sins. He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. ¹⁶For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him. ¹⁷He is before all things, and in him all things hold together."
While I can read these verses, I can have severe memory loss about kingdom living some days. So I ask God to remind me that nothing threatens his kingdom because of God's power.
The Greek word for power used here gives us our English word for dynamite. Before we start thinking about Fiona's explosions as seen in "Burn Notice," think about the place to find God's power. Visible in the church that depends on the Scripture, this power changes the very hearts of people. In the 1800s, Charles Spurgeon issued a statement timely for today. He said that the church is here to proclaim the gospel, not to entertain. The apostle Paul wrote "For Christ did not send me to baptize, but to preach the gospel—not with words of human wisdom, lest the cross of Christ be emptied of its power."
That brings us to the third word of this benediction, glory. Unless your grandmother said, "Glory be," this word does not find its way into your vocabulary or thinking. Yet when Dave and I took a ride through our area on the ATV, words other than glory would not suffice. In Psalm 19:1, the psalmist says, "The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands." And in this season of sapphire skies and bronzing leaves, we can glimpse God's glory. But beyond the sterling qualities of the physical world, we see that another glory goes to God for the work he does in us. Paul, writing in 2 Cor says, "And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect^£ the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit." What more can be said than "Amen"?

O Father, You Are Sovereign

Several years ago a dear friend introduced me to the hymn,"O Father, You Are Sovereign." Written by Margaret Clarkson in the 1980s, the hymn writer affirms God's hand in all the affairs of life. The first verse looks at the creation, a Genesis approach to the power of the Word. Verse two defies the deist idea that God wound the universal clock and then walked away, leaving men's minds to keep the world running. Instead, as the disciples marveled, "Even the winds and waves obey Him"; nature submits to the power of the Word. Verse three strikes personally as it considers what C.S. Lewis wrote about in The Problem of Pain. What does God accomplish in the anguishes that accompany this life? Again, the power of the Word transforms pain and grief. Finally, without having answers to everything that assails us in this life, we trust and worship the One we know possesses all power.

O Father, You are sovereign
In all the worlds You made;
Your mighty Word was spoken,
And light and life obeyed.
Your voice commands the seasons
And bounds the ocean's shore,
Sets stars within their courses
And stills the tempests' roar.

O Father, You are sovereign
In all affairs of man;
No powers of death or darkness
Can thwart Your perfect plan.
All chance and change transcending,
Supreme in time and space,
You hold your trusting children
Secure in Your embrace.

O Father, You are sovereign
The Lord of human pain,
Transmuting earthly sorrows
To gold of heavenly gain,
All evil overruling,
As none but Conqueror could,
Your love pursues its purpose-
Our souls' eternal good.

O Father, You are sovereign!
We see You dimly now,
But soon before Your triumph
Earth's every knee shall bow.
With this glad hope before us
Our faith springs forth anew:
Our Sovereign Lord and Savior,
We trust and worship You!

The winds bluster outside today, but the Holy Spirit calms my heart, confident in God's sovereignty. May you find peace in the knowledge of Colossians 1:15-17

¹⁵We look at this Son and see the God who cannot be seen. We look at this Son and see God’s original purpose in everything created. ¹⁶For everything, absolutely everything, above and below, visible and invisible, rank after rank after rank of angels—everything got started in him and finds its purpose in him. ¹⁷He was there before any of it came into existence and holds it all together right up to this moment. ¹⁸And when it comes to the church, he organizes and holds it together, like a head does a body. He was supreme in the beginning and—leading the resurrection parade—he is supreme in the end. From beginning to end he’s there, towering far above everything, everyone. The Message

Humility, a Prized Possession

Last night Dave and I enjoyed a webcam visit with Brent, Becky, and Austyn Grace, with the free addition of audio from Uncle Bryan, on skype from Honolulu to Georgia! Zeus, the huskey-shepherd mix we "dog sat" for this summer captured Austyn Grace's heart. Imagine how deflating for us to get on the webcam, say "Hi Austyn Grace," and hear back, "Hi Zeus." Nothing like a taste of humble pie! But who can take offense at that adorable blond cutie? We laughed at her child-like desire to ask about the dog instead of her grandparents. As we grow up, other relationships prove more challenging.

Whether through ignorance, weakness or deliberate fault, we sin against each other repeatedly. Retaliation, in a myriad of forms or offering the grace of forgiveness follows. And those resulting actions dictate mental, physical and spiritual consequences. The sad truth, that we sin in thought, word and deed against both God and man, afflicts us all. The good news of the Gospel says that in genuine sorrow, we can turn to the Father repeatedly and find in Him One ready to absolve us once again. Easier to say than to practice.

Timothy Keller, pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church in NYC, spells out some specifics about forgiveness that I find helpful. He begins with my need for humility, then what he calls "emotional wealth," and concludes with a biblical look at the character of forgiveness. Obedience comes before feelings. In Luke 17:3-10 Jesus illustrates this: "If he [your brother] sins against you seven times in a day, and seven times comes back to you and says,'I repent,' forgive him" Actions and disciplines, not feelings, underscore forgiveness. I promise not to exact the price I determine from the one who has wronged me. The apostle Paul echoes the idea in Ephesians 4:32 when he writes, "Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you." The fact that learning to forgive is difficult does not absolve us from working at the task, perhaps by starting by seeking a bit more humility this very day.

Ode to my Brother

In the evening of a long-ago September 23rd, my Dad came to my aunt and uncle's home to announce the news to me: I had a baby brother. Elated, my Dad expected my response to match his joy. Alas, I ran from the room in tears because my five-year-old heart still held steadfast to my desire for a baby sister! Mom had had a hard go of labor and delivery, and my Dad, thrilled to have a son to carry on the family name, could have spanked me right there! Foolish little girl. One of my greatest earthly gifts arrived that night, even if my stubbornness prevented me from seeing it then.
With five and a half years separating us, we grew up quite like only children. My senior year of high school matched Ken's year of entering seventh grade, giving us different interests and friends. That year we changed high schools, moving from one that played soccer to one that played football. Ken and I spent an entire weekend of TV football watching while he taught me the rudiments of the game I had not understood at all. We would watch a specific play and Ken would ask, "What cheer should the 'dumb' cheerleaders use now?" Ken explained, "The players hate it when you girls are yelling 'Hold that line,' while our team is trying to score a touchdown!" While Ken lived to play football, basketball and baseball, I attended college eight hours away and never saw any of his high school games. When he played in an alumni game one fall, I finally got to cheer for him from the sidelines. The summer after eleventh grade, Ken served as a groomsman at my wedding, but our worlds were seldom tangent.
Adulthood brings a shortening of the gap in years, and for that, I will always be thankful. Ken moved to Maryland to job hunt after he finished his degree at Rochester Institute of Technology; he moved in with Dave and me and then cared for our apartment while we lived in Wisconsin. No more the little brother who pestered me, he and I had conversations that explored lots of uncharted water about life and love. He met Sandi, the love of his life. About a month after their wedding, the four of us stood in a cold cemetery and buried our Dad, age 59. Together, Ken and I made trips to South Carolina when our Mom received her diagnosis. Like Dad, she had cancer but she died at age 66. Ken and I often kidded her -- and each other -- about her having knitted a hot pink layette for her first grandchild and then welcoming six grandsons.
I have gotten over the fact that you were not a baby sister, Ken. I treasure you with each passing day and wish you a terrific birthday.

Oh, the Complexities

I stand in amazement at the complexities of what may appear as elementary as the leaves I collected the other day. Whether the name of the tree, the veining, coloration, or the degree of curling, the diversity merits careful study to appreciate the complexities of an autumn leave. Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892) expressed the implications of a simple sight seen in nature when he wrote "Flower in the Crannied Wall."

FLOWER in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies;—
Hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
Little flower—but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is.

The poet struggled with the enormity of the implications behind that flower coming out of a crack in the wall. Why? Because the flower had roots far deeper than Tennyson could see in his science versus religion struggle.

Looking from nature to music, I see another example of precision in study and timing. I recently joined the Garrett County Choral Society and currently find myself learning the correct German pronunciation for Bach’s Cantata 140, Sleepers, Awake. While we sopranos have the simplicity of half and whole notes that carry the chorale’s melody, the other three parts must scurry through an amazing fugue and get the pronunciation correct. The aid called cyberbass.com helps with the at-home practice. Go to the choral works of major composers, select the notes for a particular part and practice outside the weekly rehearsal time. The group then practices for 2 ½ hours each Sunday evening from early September until the December concert.

So what connects nature, music and health care? You may think this strange, but I believe the current rush to pass some kind of health care reform is dashing headlong without enough study, not to mention time to even read the various documents blowing through Washington at the present. Those who favor comprehensive health care for all have testimonials from doctors advocating this; the other side also presents doctors who vehemently argue in the opposite direction. Whatever your position, virtually all agree that the topic of health care comes fully stocked with complexities. These issues will, doubtless, require more study, time and practice than any Bach fugue because there are as many variations if the particulars as the leaves on the trees. Don’t the complexities of health care need careful study, clear articulation, and much debate before we legislate?

Colorful Reminders

As we drove up to Winding Ridge yesterday, I took this photo through the Jeep's sunroof.

Lately, autumn's colors pop more each day. I've even got the tripod set on the porch, hoping to capture the same scene as it changes daily. One day I'll post that moment of beauty that captures the essence of fall 2009. The season will flee all too soon, giving way to what the almanac promises: a hard winter. So each day's glimpse offers a taste of grace, most obviously in a visual offering.

Musically, I have recently joined the Garrett County Choral Society, where seeing grace notes reminds me of grace-filled sound bites. Yes, I do have to copy the syllable-by-syllable pronunciation of the German for Bach's Cantata140, but the harmonies of the chorale make the effort worth it. The 70-member group practices each Sunday evening for 2 1/2 hours simply to make music together.

Visual and auditory grace notes, because they demand our attention, can overpower other graces. My husband just took the time to print out each song that's on my iPod. Dave's computer skills grace me everyday. Last night he changed the profile photo for my college Divas' (Divinely Inspired Vivacious Affectionate Sisterhood) Facebook page. And a friend who's collected quotes for years mailed me a typed copy last week. To quote Luther, "The heart of the giver makes the gift dear and precious." Yet another friend from Bible study gave me a jar of her homemade cream, a cream that has given her the skin of a youngster!

Grace notes in music, small in notation and quick in performance, make a lush difference in a tune. Why don't we all purpose to "grace" someone this day? The apostle John reminds us, "From the fullness of His grace we have all received one blessing after another." (John 1:16)

Monday Musings

The changes occurring here on Winding Ridge remind me that weather proves unforgiving. The ferns' brilliant green gives way to yellow before turning brown and dying. As I meditate on yesterday's sermon, drawn from Matthew 6, I find myself comparing the effects of my ferns with the demise of relationships when I withhold forgiveness.

At the end of what we commonly refer to as he Lord's Prayer, God adds a sort of P.S., again bringing up the topic of forgiveness. Within the prayer, at verse 12, we pray, "and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors." Yet, in verses 14 and 15, the addendum comes as the Lord resurrects the forgiveness topic again. "For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses."

When people knowingly withhold forgiveness, such grievous pain results. As I harbor my hurt soul, anger develops, often morphing into slander and condescension. Yet I daily seek the Lord for His forgiveness of my sins, grateful for his mercy and grace that he lavishes on me. Why withhold from another the cleansing power that revitalizes? Pride, stubbornness and fear come to mind, and I dare not dismiss such character flaws. God's about the business of sanctification, conforming me into the likeness of Christ. This week must involve a fresh look at my life.

But what about cases where I need to forgive but am ignorant of the offense? Let me return to the fern illustration. When Dave and I returned from a trip this summer, we discovered a clump of fern fringed with some green but dead brown at its center. A mystery to us as to the cause, the damage testified to devastation at the center despite some green feigning life. In our human relationships the subtle distancing, the awkwardness of now infrequent conversations, the busyness that separates us may indicate the need to ask if something between us needs reconciliation. I must let go of my self-justifying because God has forgiven me everything and He calls me to live as His disciple. I have some soul searching to do this week, but Jesus has promised to walk with me through it.

Imitation

My husband has sprouted quite a beard since his November 2008 retirement. Its snowy whiteness and increasing length have garnered a number of stares. Remarks from older church ushers as well as younger children have linked Dave to Santa Claus. Earlier this summer two children entering Chik-Fil-A spotted Dave and softly questioned each other saying, "Ho, Ho?" In a recent bubble bath, our granddaughter even imitated Grandpa with her own version of a beard. Clever, eh? We find it endearing when children desire to mimic those they love.
How much our Heavenly Father must love it when we imitate the attributes He treasures: love joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control, just to pull from Paul's list in Galatians 5. Moving from a legalistic "I ought," that seeks to earn God's favor or aims to pridefully receive the praises of men, to a heart response of "I truly take joy in my Father," involves sanctification. Measuring the motives of the heart takes brutal honesty, the type the Puritans often displayed in their confessional prayers. The skill in burning away the dross from my heart takes me time and quiet. The Bible's admonition to "Be still and know that I am God," allows the Holy Spirit to purify the imitating I do of my Heavenly Father. And I want that for His glory and my good.

Don't Miss Jesus

Legalism twists our view of Jesus. Whether current news stories like Jaycee Dugard, or the horrible headlines from decades ago when Jim Jones' followers died together, we seriously misrepresent Jesus when we beat people over the head with laws. We often laugh at the arbitrary laws the Pharisees foisted upon first century Jews: A devout Jew could ride a donkey on the Sabbath but could not use a switch to move the animal faster because that would lay a burden on the donkey. One could only walk a certain number of steps on the Sabbath without transforming getting to worship into work, something forbidden for Jews following the law. Even today, some hotels in Israel have "Shabbat" elevators. On the Sabbath these elevators stop at every floor so orthodox Jews do not have to do the work of pushing the button for their desired floor.
Yet are we not as guilty of legalism? With shame, I remember students accosted for wearing no socks or guys forbidden to have any facial hair. The administrators surely could have looked into those individual faces and seen a need for a simple, "Good morning. How are things going?" I too have fallen into a posture that's placed law before grace, and I repent of it.
When I welcomed students into a Christian high school, I used to tell them that we were not an angel factory. Christian students and teachers would disappoint them many times over, whether out of ignorance, fear, control or anger. Jesus' followers don't always represent Him well. Please look to Jesus and model Him. I also warned students that although classes might often start with prayer or singing, and chapel occurred weekly, each student needed a personal encounter with the living Christ. Living on "borrowed light" will translate into personal darkness, a profound disappointment over a relationship that never really existed. I'd tell the incoming freshmen to make sure that in their years at the school they did not miss Jesus.
Whenever our love for God morphs into ways of impressing others or controlling them, we have lost grace, and we cause others to miss Jesus. Don't get me wrong. God is sovereign and will call His own. Scripture tells us that the Gospel will be an offense to some, but as my pastor has said, "Woe to us if we are that offense." If some misguided Christian has spoken venom to you, seemed terribly offensive and ungracious, please lift your eyes to the author and perfecter of our faith. Follow Him and don't miss Jesus.

Contentment

This morning's sermon, drawn from Philippians 4, again drew my attention to contentment. The Message puts Paul's comments on the topic this way: ¹¹Actually, I don’t have a sense of needing anything personally. I’ve learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances. ¹²I’m just as happy with little as with much, with much as with little. I’ve found the recipe for being happy whether full or hungry, hands full or hands empty. ¹³Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am. Why can I forget these verses and fall into discontent so easily?

A two-year-old finds contentment in the simply joy of a surprise evening trip to Brewster's for a child's ice cream cone. While there, and totally unplanned, Austyn Grace's best friend Carley pulls up with her mom and dad. The squeals of the two girls immediately rival a family reunion after years, not hours, of separation. Whether milk after an afternoon nap or an unexpected visit with a girlfriend, contentment seems easy for a child.
Fast forward to this Sunday afternoon's meltdown and I realize that even as children, we struggle to stay on top of contentment. A temporarily lost doll means anguish and a shorter-than-usual nap. Follow that with a bump on the head, a time out for refusing to listen to daddy, and a dunking of our toy pony in the toilet, and contentment vaporizes.
Am I that different from any two-year-old when I consider an adult approach to contentment? I read a Puritan prayer from The Valley of Vision, and again ask for the grace to gain a deeper understanding and a greater appropriation of biblical contentment.

Heavenly Father,

If I should suffer need, and go unclothed, and be in poverty,
make my heart prize Thy love,
know it, be constrained by it,
though I be denied all blessings.

It is Thy mercy to afflict and try me with wants,
for by these trials I see my sins,
and desire severance from them.

Let me willingly accept misery, sorrows, temptations,
if I can thereby feel sin as the greatest evil,
and be delivered from it with gratitude to Thee,
acknowledging this as the highest testimony of Thy love.

When thy Son, Jesus, came into my soul
instead of sin He became more dear to me
than sin had formerly been;
His kindly rule replaced sin’s tyranny.

Teach me to believe that if ever I would have any sin subdued
I must not only labour to overcome it,
but must invite Christ to abide in the place of it,
and He must become to me more than
vile lust had been;
that His sweetness, power, life may be there.

Thus I must seek a grace from Him contrary to sin,
but must not claim it apart from Himself.
When I am afraid of evils to come,
comfort me by showing me
that in myself I am a dying, condemned wretch,
but in Christ I am reconciled and live;
that in myself I find insufficiency and no rest,
but in Christ there is satisfaction and peace;
that in myself I am feeble and unable to do good,
but in Christ I have ability to do all things.

Though now I have His graces in part,
I shall shortly have them perfectly
in that state where Thou wilt show Thyself
fully reconciled,
and alone sufficient, efficient,
loving me completely,
with sin abolished.

O Lord, hasten that day.

Taken from ‘The Valley of Vision: A Collection of Puritan Prayers,’ edited by Arthur Bennett

Saying Goodbye

OK, so Zeus is only a dog, but Dave and I had to say goodbye to her yesterday. And I had grown attached to that pooch. We'd been dog sitting for her since July 2, and she is an easy dog to love, not perfect, but lovable. Now understand that she had "broken us in" by chewing a few heirloom photos that Dave hadn't yet scanned into his genealogy program Then she decided to chew off the cover of an album I had created as a remembrance of our 2004 trip to Hawaii. At least Zeus knew where she would eventually live.
Dave and I took two road trips with this travel-wise canine. She ate before and after the 11-hour journeys, drank sparingly, and used any patch of grass Dave found near the gas stations and restaurants we chose. She curled herself up on the back seat and rode contentedly. Not much barking at strangers and unbelievably tolerant of children, Zeus wasn't much bother for us at all.
Brent and Becky drove Zeus to Atlanta yesterday and put her on a cargo plane this morning, a non-stop flight to Honolulu where she'll rejoin Bryan and Stacey at their new home. Actually, Bryan's stuck in Dallas as I write, but he hopes to get home sometime before this day ends--on Hawaii time!
Zeus may teach me some things about saying good-bye. Life asks that I live graciously toward all I encounter. Rejoice in the time we have together but trust that God has each encounter and destination well in His control. Thanks for the lesson, Zeus. I hope to see you in Hawaii one day!

Grace, Earned Versus Unmerited

I had been reading Yancy's What's So Amazing About Grace earlier in the day and was struck by the disarming sweetness of it.Yancy says, "Grace comes from outside, as a gift and not as an achievement." Yet I can get caught in thinking and doing, assuming I somehow can earn God's favor. While my theology affirms the doctrine of unmerited favor, my life too often shows something very different. I fall into the Satan-made trap of performance, somehow trying to earn that which God has already conferred on me through the finished work of His Son.

So what traps snap upon me most? Oh, I can fall into any of the ones that the world tantalizes me with, whether brains, bucks, brawn, or beauty. A look at various people from around the globe demonstrates the universality of trying to earn grace. Ben Franklin kept a book of 13 virtues that he tried -- unsuccessfully -- to keep all his life. In Haiti, people cut themselves and then wallow through a mud pit until they can reach a cross stationed at the end of the pit.

Thus, my attempts to understand and appropriate grace create a real struggle in everyday life. Experiencing grace in a church setting, an antithetical as it seems, can prove very difficult. I find myself agreeing with Yancy when he describes finding grace in music, the beauty of the creation, and in love. As I sat on the back porch and watched my granddaughter raise her hands and simply take in the joy in her backyard, I think I took a closer step to grasping God's grace toward me. Just receive.