If you’re a parent, you’ve probably found yourself saying it. If you ever had a parent, you probably heard it, and maybe more than once. Do what you’re told. Maybe you can even recall the phrase, because your father said so. As those contaminated with a sinful nature, we generally are tempted to react negatively to such edicts. As those created with a free will, it is almost instinctive to resist letting someone else be “the boss of us.” But have you ever thought about how such words, when spoken of/by a benevolent authority figure, can actually bring comfort, security, even expectancy?
The writer to the Hebrews wrote in chapter 12 that Jesus, for the joy set before him, “endured the cross, despising its shame, and [then] sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.” What kept him focused through all of that torment? How was he able to persevere in the midst of such grave temptation? No question, Jesus anticipated one phenomenal outcome of his finished work was “bringing many sons to glory.” (Heb. 2:10) So we often conclude it was mainly because of His great love for us. But I would contend that the gospels also strongly suggest another motivation: He lived to please His Father.
Consider just the events that transpired from Palm Sunday to his resurrection. As he made his way through the crowds, even as he listened to their shouts of ‘Hosanna’, he was aware that these accolades came from people with all kind of agendas for him. Maybe you can relate to that part of the journey—the temptation to meet everybody else’s expectations along the way to following Jesus.
But because He lived to please His Father, it was His Father’s agenda that held Jesus’ attention. When pressed by unbelieving Jews as to his true identity, He answered: “I am not of this world…He who sent me is reliable, and what I have heard from Him I tell the world. When you have lifted up the Son of Man, then you will know that I am the one I claim to be, and that I do nothing on my own but speak just what the Father has taught me…I always do what pleases Him.” (John 8: 23-29)
Hundreds of years before that final week, the prophet Isaiah had already hinted at what was to come. “It was the Lord’s [Father’s] will to crush him and cause him to suffer, and though the Lord makes his (Jesus’) life a guilt offering, he will see his offspring and prolong his days, and the will of the Lord [Father] will prosper in his hand” (Isaiah 53:10)
So what might that final memo have looked like?
To: Jesus
From: Your Heavenly Father
Re: Things to accomplish during this week
1) Ride into town, not on a mighty stallion, but on a lowly donkey.
2) Curse a fig tree for not bearing fruit, and do it within earshot of your friends so they get the point.
3) Clear the temple of the money-changers and call these merchants a bunch of “robbers.”
4) Continue publicly debating the chief priests, the teach ers of the law, and the church elders, while fully aware that they are weighing every word, in order to find some reason to arrest you.
5) Endure the same political posturing with the Pharisees,the Herodians, and the Sadducees.
6) Receive a PDA (public display of affection) from a woman with a “past,” only to have its merits questioned by none other than Judas Iscariot. His PDA will follow.
7) Break bread with your best buds and remind them that the next time you drink wine with them, EVERYTHING will have changed. Oh, and even after three years of in tense ministry with them, sadly behold their clueless expressions.
8) Visit the garden of Gethsemane, pray in agony as your very best buds fall asleep.
9) Get arrested, falsely accused, humiliated, stripped, beaten, convicted and nailed naked to a tree. (And the world will call it “Good” Friday.)
But one more thing, Son.
10) Because You will have chosen to “humble yourself and become obedient to death – even death on a cross”, y journey’s end you will be exalted to the highest place and given “the name that is above every name, so that at your name, [Jesus,] every knee will bow, in heaven and on earth, and every tongue will confess that you, Jesus, are Lord of all, to the glory of God the Father.”
So fellow artists and disciples of Jesus, I ask you: With all the different voices clamoring for your attention, what keeps you motivated? Whose agenda keeps you focused and fulfilled? Might each of us find more and more delight in just doing what pleases our Father simply because He said so. As followers of Christ, it is the only path to victory and true joy. After all, He was just doing what He was told.
-tad
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Think About His Love
One of my favorite praise songs from yesteryear was entitled Think about His Love. Written by Walt Harrah, it spoke of the pursuing, relentless love of God. The part that always grabbed me was the final line of the chorus…great is the measure of our Father’s love. At this time of year, we often focus primarily on Jesus’ sacrifice, his suffering and death on behalf of a sinful world, a fallen creation. But at times, I allow myself to reflect on what His Father went through in those final days of Jesus’ earthly life.
We know from the scriptures that God’s spirit can be grieved, so let’s assume our Father God experienced profound pain, grief and loss over the slaughter of His Son at the hands of sinful men. This was, of course, despite the fact that He orchestrated it. Isaiah 53 says; “Yet it was the Lord’s [Father’s] will to crush him [Jesus] and cause him to suffer, and though the Lord makes his life an offering for sin, he will see his offspring and prolong his days, and the will of the [Father] will prosper in his [Jesus’] hand.” Jesus had to be a willing Isaac, but the Father had to be an equally willing Abraham, so to speak.
I once passed a church during the season of Lent which had a crude, wooden cross near the curb with a sign below quoting Lamentations 1:12. It read simply: Is it nothing to you, all you who pass by? As I drove by, the words began to impact me immediately. Why have I grown so casual about this symbol of God’s love for me? What kind of sacrificial act was this?
For a moment, my mind flashed back to the days of the Vietnam war. Vivid in my memory were the images from TV reports showing fathers of slain soldiers as they watched protests and flag-burnings. Think about it: even as they were burying their sons and daughters, who had been killed while trying to preserve those very freedoms, their children’s heroic acts were being despised. I was aware that I knew little of this kind of love. Soon after, I heard a story that helped me understand a little better. I can’t prove that it really happened. I only know it helped me get in touch with the measure of my Father’s love.
There once lived a man called “Big John” whose job it was to operate a mechanical drawbridge. Several times a day a train sped across this bridge carrying passengers safely across a deep and potentially deadly river. Big John’s job was crucial, of course, as the slightest delay in lowering the bridge to accommodate the oncoming train could mean certain derailment, hurling the train and its occupants to their death.
On one particular sunny afternoon, Big John decided it would be a delight to bring his young son, Little John, to the jobsite and allow him the thrill of watching him work.
Sure enough, the boy could not contain his excitement witnessing his dad in action, lifting and pushing levers which engaged the mighty gears as they empowered the bridge to open and close at Pop’s command. It was not difficult for Little John to realize that the fate of many lives lay in his father’s hands, and the lad was filled with pride. Someday, perhaps, he could be so important. Someday, he thought, people’s lives could depend on him. How exciting it all was!
About noon that day Big John and the boy sat down to lunch and talked about the possibility of Little John actually trying out the levers later that day. As they talked, time seemed to slip away, and only the loud piercing whistle of the oncoming 1:05 train jarred Big John back to reality. Realizing that the bridge remained in its UP position, he had only a matter of seconds to react to engage the gears, which could lower the tracks in time to greet the speeding train. As he quickly maneuvered the levers, he assured himself that, in fact, there would be enough time to ready the bridge.
Just then he heard Little John scream. The boy had apparently lost his balance on the walkway above the gear mechanism, causing him to plunge headlong into the grinding, steel machine. In a split second, the father torturously considered his alternatives: stop the whole process with a pull of a lever, thereby saving his son, while watching hundreds of passengers plunge to their death--or allow the gears to continue engaging the bridge. Big John knew the latter option would provide safe passage for the train’s occupants while at the same time ending his precious son’s life.
In his heart of hearts, he knew he had only one choice. With tears streaming down his face accompanied by the loud cry of a man gone mad, he held his hand steady, watching as the bridge slowly came into perfect alignment just seconds before the roaring train zoomed by, its passengers casually unaware of the sacrifice just made on their behalf. Some were sleeping, some played cards--others just gazed out the window as if nothing had happened. John could not bring himself to look downward at what had become of his precious boy, but instead stared intently at the blank faces in front of him. Is it nothing to you, all you that pass by?
As painful as an account like this is, it truly pales in comparison to the horror that the Father witnessed as His innocent Son, who knew no sin, became sin for us and absorbed His wrath for us. I hope as you and I prepare for our role in retelling the story of Easter, we will be left with at least one significant takeaway: great is the measure of our Father’s love.
-tad
We know from the scriptures that God’s spirit can be grieved, so let’s assume our Father God experienced profound pain, grief and loss over the slaughter of His Son at the hands of sinful men. This was, of course, despite the fact that He orchestrated it. Isaiah 53 says; “Yet it was the Lord’s [Father’s] will to crush him [Jesus] and cause him to suffer, and though the Lord makes his life an offering for sin, he will see his offspring and prolong his days, and the will of the [Father] will prosper in his [Jesus’] hand.” Jesus had to be a willing Isaac, but the Father had to be an equally willing Abraham, so to speak.
I once passed a church during the season of Lent which had a crude, wooden cross near the curb with a sign below quoting Lamentations 1:12. It read simply: Is it nothing to you, all you who pass by? As I drove by, the words began to impact me immediately. Why have I grown so casual about this symbol of God’s love for me? What kind of sacrificial act was this?
For a moment, my mind flashed back to the days of the Vietnam war. Vivid in my memory were the images from TV reports showing fathers of slain soldiers as they watched protests and flag-burnings. Think about it: even as they were burying their sons and daughters, who had been killed while trying to preserve those very freedoms, their children’s heroic acts were being despised. I was aware that I knew little of this kind of love. Soon after, I heard a story that helped me understand a little better. I can’t prove that it really happened. I only know it helped me get in touch with the measure of my Father’s love.
There once lived a man called “Big John” whose job it was to operate a mechanical drawbridge. Several times a day a train sped across this bridge carrying passengers safely across a deep and potentially deadly river. Big John’s job was crucial, of course, as the slightest delay in lowering the bridge to accommodate the oncoming train could mean certain derailment, hurling the train and its occupants to their death.
On one particular sunny afternoon, Big John decided it would be a delight to bring his young son, Little John, to the jobsite and allow him the thrill of watching him work.
Sure enough, the boy could not contain his excitement witnessing his dad in action, lifting and pushing levers which engaged the mighty gears as they empowered the bridge to open and close at Pop’s command. It was not difficult for Little John to realize that the fate of many lives lay in his father’s hands, and the lad was filled with pride. Someday, perhaps, he could be so important. Someday, he thought, people’s lives could depend on him. How exciting it all was!
About noon that day Big John and the boy sat down to lunch and talked about the possibility of Little John actually trying out the levers later that day. As they talked, time seemed to slip away, and only the loud piercing whistle of the oncoming 1:05 train jarred Big John back to reality. Realizing that the bridge remained in its UP position, he had only a matter of seconds to react to engage the gears, which could lower the tracks in time to greet the speeding train. As he quickly maneuvered the levers, he assured himself that, in fact, there would be enough time to ready the bridge.
Just then he heard Little John scream. The boy had apparently lost his balance on the walkway above the gear mechanism, causing him to plunge headlong into the grinding, steel machine. In a split second, the father torturously considered his alternatives: stop the whole process with a pull of a lever, thereby saving his son, while watching hundreds of passengers plunge to their death--or allow the gears to continue engaging the bridge. Big John knew the latter option would provide safe passage for the train’s occupants while at the same time ending his precious son’s life.
In his heart of hearts, he knew he had only one choice. With tears streaming down his face accompanied by the loud cry of a man gone mad, he held his hand steady, watching as the bridge slowly came into perfect alignment just seconds before the roaring train zoomed by, its passengers casually unaware of the sacrifice just made on their behalf. Some were sleeping, some played cards--others just gazed out the window as if nothing had happened. John could not bring himself to look downward at what had become of his precious boy, but instead stared intently at the blank faces in front of him. Is it nothing to you, all you that pass by?
As painful as an account like this is, it truly pales in comparison to the horror that the Father witnessed as His innocent Son, who knew no sin, became sin for us and absorbed His wrath for us. I hope as you and I prepare for our role in retelling the story of Easter, we will be left with at least one significant takeaway: great is the measure of our Father’s love.
-tad
Monday, April 4, 2011
Trees Talk
As we begin a new sermon series entitled The Tree, I have been reflecting on the marvelous gift that this part of creation is to you and me. Consider with me the connection between the tree and the four seasons: summer, autumn, winter, and spring. Here in this one beautiful symbol of life we have all the stages, the actual rhythm of the human experience. And ultimately, we have the reminder that through the use of a tree, God’s redemptive plan for his fallen creation was accomplished, and we are restored, we are made right with Him.
I am reminded of the lyrics to one of my favorite Nicole Nordeman songs, Every Season.* Read along and see if you don’t agree that God’s creative handiwork has a language all its own.
Every evening sky, an invitation to trace the patterned stars.
And early in July, a celebration for freedom is ours.
And I notice You in children’s games,
in those who watch them from the shade.
Every drop of sun is full of fun and wonder.
You are summer.
I think of the summer of our days as the best of the best. And it’s not necessarily a confined season or stage of our life. It’s just when life is good, when we’re hitting on all cylinders, and all seems right with the world. This experience comes and goes, but when we’re in the middle of it, we don’t want it to end. It’s also a time filled with discovery and awe.
And even when the trees have just surrendered
to the harvest time.
Forfeiting their leaves in late September and sending us inside,
Still I notice You. When change begins
and I am braced for colder winds,
I will offer thanks for what has been and what’s to come.
You are autumn.
Personally, autumn is my favorite season of the year. The colors, the smells, the cooler temperatures, the activities unique to fall: they all remind me that just because something changes does not mean it can’t be beautiful or purposeful. And I have learned the longer I live, that something wondrous happens even in the process of dying—if I look for it.
And ev’rything in time and under heaven fin’lly falls asleep.
Wrapped in blankets white, all creation shivers underneath.
And still I notice You when branches crack
and in my breath on frosted glass.
Even now in death, You open doors for life to enter.
You are winter.
Having just been through one of the nastier winters in my
recent memory, I can honestly say this is probably my least favorite season of the year and of life in general. It is often used to describe that stage which precedes our own death, when we fall asleep and are no more. We hear the phrase the winter of our years. Actually, I usually greet the start of winter with enthusiasm. Certain elements, the snow, the warmth of a fireplace, even the beauty of dead trees and vegetation against a white backdrop intrigues me…initially. But then comes the waiting, the frustration of life slowed down, the lack of freedom, the lack of life, the sameness of it all. At times the bitter winds and uncertain conditions seem actually to oppose me in my journey, blocking my forward momentum. But then, it happens:
And everything that’s new has bravely surfaced,
teaching us to breathe.
And what was frozen through is newly purposed,
turning all things green.
So it is with You and how You make me new
with ev’ry season’s change.
And so it will be as You are recreating me,
summer, autumn, winter...spring.
You and I, along with all of God’s creation, are reborn, given a fresh start, awakened to life as it was always intended. Solomon once wrote: “Lo, the winter is past, the rains are over and gone; flowers appear on the earth, and the time for singing has come.” It reminds us that even the bleakest of periods in our lives have an ending point. God is always at work moving us forward. He has made seasons to illustrate the spectrum of our human experiences. And He has made trees, including the one that was used for His own son’s death, to remind us, that in whatever stage we find ourselves, He is at work for our good. Let the seasons speak to you. Let trees talk to you. And be reminded, God is not finished with you yet.
[Jesus] Himself bore our sins in His own body on the tree, that we, having died to sins, might live for righteousness—by whose stripes you were healed. 1 Peter 2:24 NKJV
-tad
* “Every Season” Nichole Nordeman © 2000 Ariose Music, Admin. by EMI Christian Music Publishing
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