Do you have the virus?

I’m not talking about the flu or this year’s strain of Coronavirus. I’m talking about the malady called “Must Be Right.”

Christians have a biblical mandate to be and do right before God and man. But too many of us have adopted the world's standard of polarized conduct toward those who differ from us.

So, we become not only aggressive but, at times, abrasive. As Bible-believing Christians…

We are right about the doctrine of salvation by faith alone.

We are right about the inerrancy of Scripture.

We are right about the sacredness of life.

We are right about the biblical standards of sexual conduct.

These are all foundational issues, for sure. But in our thirst for "rightness," have we lost our capacity for kindness? James 2:13 warns, "For judgment will be merciless to one who has shown no mercy; mercy triumphs over judgment."

Speaking to the Pharisees in Matthew 9:13, Jesus quoted His Father: “Now go and learn what this means: ‘I DESIRE COMPASSION, RATHER THAN SACRIFICE,’ for I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”

I’m not saying we should sacrifice doctrinal purity or moral clarity on the altar of “let’s-all-just-get-along.” I’m simply arguing that there’s a place for kindness.

Yes, our view on any given issue might well be more “right” than someone else’s, biblically speaking. But if we can’t be kind, does it matter?

Jesus never shied away from speaking, doing, teaching, and preaching what was right. But He always led with kindness.

It’s important to be right, for sure.

But let’s first be kind.

Okay. I admit it.

A blog about thankfulness on Thanksgiving might be too on the nose. But I have a question I've been wrestling with that I'd like to ask you.

Are you thankful—or merely thank-ish?

By definition, someone who is thankful is—well—full of thanks. So much so that thankfulness oozes out of your pores. Thankfulness is a resident of your heart, not merely a visitor.

But many of us live at a different level—one I’m calling “thank-ish.” Here, we occasionally enter moments of gratitude. But it’s not our sweet spot, not something we think we need to work on. We treat thankfulness like a distant vacation spot—a nice place to visit for those who don’t mind going the distance.

Every time you genuinely thank someone, there’s a bit of humility involved. Thanking someone else acknowledges they did or said something that you could not or did not do yourself. Something that leaves you in their debt. In a strange way, it makes the other person larger. We don’t like feeling smaller—so maybe that’s one reason we’re not more thankful.

Other reasons?

• Many of us are so preoccupied with trying to survive that saying thank you feels "optional." It just doesn't make it onto our radar screens.

• Also, some of us grew up in homes where parents didn't model thankfulness well. That's no excuse—but it is an explanation.

• Then, many of us suffer from a sense of entitlement we don't even recognize in ourselves. Why say thanks for what you feel is owed you?

• Finally, some of us treat the Bible like we treat church, like we treat our entire Christian lives: "We get to it as best we can whenever we can. And that's good enough."

Except, it isn’t.

1 Thessalonians 5:18 commands,

In everything give thanks; for this is the will of God for you in Christ Jesus.

That's the standard: "In everything!”

So, I ask again. Thankful or thank-ish--which are you?

P.S. Thanks for reading this blog! I'm grateful for you!

It was supposed to be a relaxing evening at church, singing favorite songs. Instead, the lyrics of a hymn I hadn't heard in years plagued my soul.

Take time to be holy, speak oft with thy Lord;

Abide in Him always, and feed on His Word.

Make friends of God’s children, help those who are weak,

Forgetting in nothing His blessing to seek.

As the music to this old hymn soaked my soul, a barrage of uncomfortable questions fired at me.

• I take time for Hulu—but do I take time to be holy?
• I take time for football—but do I take time to be holy?
• I take time for walks, work, the web, friends, books, and dinner out—but do I take time to be holy? How much time?

What kind of priority is holiness in my life—and yours? With eternity in the balance, these are hardly idle questions (are you squirming yet?).

In 1 Peter 1:16, God commands—doesn’t merely suggest—“Be holy, for I am holy.” But perhaps you wonder, what does it look like to be holy? And what's the payoff? Verse two of the hymn implores us…

Take time to be holy, the world rushes on;

Spend much time in secret, with Jesus alone.

By looking to Jesus, like Him, thou shalt be;

Thy friends in thy conduct His likeness shall see.

Hebrews 2:4 warns, “Without holiness, no one will see the Lord.”

Ephesians 4:24 compels us, "put on the new self, which in the likeness of God has been created in righteousness and holiness of the truth."

Bottom line: Hymns might not be your thing. But holiness ought to be.

Verse four of William Longstaff’s hymn says it best:

Take time to be holy, be calm in thy soul,

Each thought and each motive beneath His control.

Thus, led by His Spirit to fountains of love,

Thou soon shalt be fitted for service above.

Lord,

Forgive us for wanting to be happy more than holy. 

Help us hunger for the thing you want most in our daily lives—holiness.

Help us settle for nothing less—or be captivated by anything other.

In the holy name of Jesus, we pray,

Amen!

Many deemed last week’s election “the most important of our time.” We Christians said/heard that over and over.

But whether you loved—or loathed—the results, there's a much more critical initiative whose outcome is yet to be determined.

I’m not talking about the House of Representatives. I’m talking about your house. And mine. I’m referring to America’s need for revival—which always begins at home. Clearly, no political power can bring that about. Nor can any federal program save us from decadence and deadness.

We need revival, plain and simple. The only question is, do we see the desperation we are in—and will we take the required action? In other words, will we cast our vote for a nationwide revival or merely mutter against the evil of our culture?

Of course, no revival ever came about because of a vote. True revival is a God thing, so my metaphor is imperfect at best. But Bob Cook underscores, “Revival always starts with the repentance of God’s people.” Your house. My house. Not the neighbors’.

So, in a limited and sobering sense, every believer is casting a vote. Our lack of confession and repentance are votes against revival. But by contrast, our willingness to do business with God and confess sin as His Holy Spirit shines His unfailing flashlight in our souls—a vote for revival.

The ballot on this is before us. Are you voting? Or are you going to “sit this one out?”

Therefore, repent and return, so that your sins may be wiped away, in order that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord; 

-Acts 3:19

Fall is a sober spin on beauty.

When out for a walk, I never tire of fingering brightly colored leaves in my hand. The hues are so intense that they seem more like a Photoshop project gone wild than a display of unedited nature.

But even as I cradle those leaves in my palm, I’m reminded of beauty’s brevity. Were I to scoop up any of those leaves and take them home, by nightfall, they would be curled, and by the following day, their intensity faded.

Whether a sunset, a full moon, or a newborn's face, beauty is fleeting. You can't package it, extend it, or in any other way preserve it. Not for any length of time. And that is the maddening thing about beauty.

Perhaps a culture like ours that seeks to "own" and "collect" merely exacerbates the problem. With the click of a mouse, we can have almost anything we want delivered to our doorstep in 48 hours—or less. So why shouldn't Amazon Prime likewise be able to deliver beauty that lasts?

But beauty doesn’t work that way. It is the unique gift of our creating Creator. He makes a new batch of beauty—every single day. Which is a really good thing because sin is in the business of destroying beauty.

Here’s the plain truth. You can’t own beauty or capture it. You can only:

• Thank God for it.
• Enjoy it for what it is.
• Worship the Giver, not the gift.

In the end, maybe the brevity of beauty is the reminder we need of the splendor of heaven, where we will at last gaze upon our beautiful Savior. In His kingdom, there will be nothing but beauty—a beauty that never fades.

He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.

Ecclesiastes 3:11