Author: Jon Gauger

“Went to a funeral this weekend,” I told my friend Jack, who walked in fiddling with the brown beret he’d just removed.

“Sad business, funerals,” he offered gently—uncharacteristic for Jack.  Like a Jack I’d never known.

"Being a graveside service, the preacher had to keep things short," I reported.

“Good for him.  When it’s forty and windy, nobody wants windy preachers” (Jack was back).

“Saw something that made me wonder a bit, though."

"What's that?" inquired Jack.

"After the service, the pastor offered the crowd a copy of the Gospel of John in an easy-reading translation."

"Good for him.  But why the wonder?" Jack asked.  "That's the kind of thing we should be doing at funerals.”

“Two of the takers were what I’d consider—well— unlikely.”

“Meaning?”

"Last people on the planet I'd expect to take a gospel home with them.  One was a lesbian, and the other was a guy who’s been in and out of prison.”

There was a gleam in Jack’s eye as he countered, “I seem to recall a guy in the Bible running around imprisoning Christians.  Happy to see them killed, really.  Not what I’d call a likely convert.  But he ended up writing most of the New Testament. Then there was that drunken slave ship captain back in the 1700s—language that peeled paint off a wall.  The guy ultimately gave us the song, Amazing Grace. And who would have believed the ruthless ‘hatchet man’ for president Richard Nixon would end up born again?  The way I see it, God has a long history with unlikely people—they're some of His favorites."

With that, Jack plopped the beret back on his head, nodded slightly, and with a twinkle in his eye, let himself out the door.

Got any “unlikely” folks in your life?

Why did the pilgrims come here?   Really.

Don't bother looking for the answer in most school textbooks. Don't ask the growing ranks of revisionists. Instead, ask the Pilgrims.

They speak clearly and unequivocally in a document known as the Mayflower Compact.  Written and signed just ten days after anchoring at Plymouth Rock, this charter is regarded as the first document to establish self-government in the New World.  It begins: "In the name of God, Amen."

Note that the very first sentence in that very first governing document acknowledges God.  Not a god.  Or a force.  Or religion.  God.  Doesn't quite jive with a growing secular assessment that these were mostly just folks searching for economic opportunity.

The second paragraph opens with the reason the pilgrims came:

“Having undertaken, for the glory of God, and advancement of the Christian faith, and honor of our King and Country, a voyage to plant the first colony in the northern parts of Virginia…”

Catch that? “The glory of God and advancement of the Christian faith.”   They didn’t come to advance a pluralistic culture.  They came for the advancement of the Christian faith.

It doesn’t take a doctoral candidate studying early American literature to discover the facts.  But if ever there was an inconvenient truth for today’s revisionists, it’s found in the Mayflower Compact.  Read it for yourself—it’s only 166 words. As you do, take a moment to thank the Lord for the faith of America’s founders.

God grant us their courage, their faith, their commitment to advancing the Christian faith. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

 

 

 

Is it just me, or are we steadily adding syllables to expressions that work just fine without them?

Example. I overheard heard college administrators talk of the need for alternative classroom methods in this age of Coronavirus. They mentioned “new modalities for teaching.” Means the same thing as modes—but “modalities” adds three syllables.

Up until recently, you might have described a powerful event as “transforming.” No longer. We’ve moved on to “transformative.”

“Health” is out. “Wellness” is in.

I understand that times and sensitivities change. But why do they always change for the longer?

You used to go to the hearing doctor. Now it’s “The Center for Auditory Wellness.”

Many of us still remember doing a job interview down at "Personnel"—three syllables. That died years ago in favor of "Human Resources"—five syllables. This one gets me—Human Resources. Did they anticipate a day when we might offer Animal Resources, as opposed to human? Or perhaps Robotic Resources?

As I poke fun at our collective culture (no doubt I'm also guilty of this silly syllable stacking), I offer a caution. Let's take care lest this pseudo-intellectual drivel ooze into our spirituality.

Jesus says, "They think they shall be heard for their much speaking” (Matthew 6:7). Adding syllables and words doesn’t add to our godliness or spiritual fervor—but often bloats our pride.

Jesus calls us to humble ourselves, like a child. Kids say what they say clearly and simply. It’s time we learned from them.

Vietnam, 1968, Lai Khe (northwest of Saigon).

In the signature dank and darkness known only to jungles, infantry platoon Sargent Russ Caforio stepped warily.  Their mission was to set up an ambush along a known enemy route.  “There were ten of us,” he recalls. “We carried Claymore mines, M-16’s, grenades, a Starlight scope, and a radio."

That, and something much less flashy. “We also brought a spool of thin filament, similar to a fine fish line, which we strung around the perimeter of our ambush site about 100 feet out.”

A low tech surveillance tool, it was surprisingly effective.  "If that line got broken" (an enemy soldier leaving their sequestered position), an alarm I carried would go off."  But did it?

"About 10 pm, the alarm went off. I turned on the Starlight scope and surveyed the field across the route spotting hundreds of Viet Cong soldiers.  I prayed for wisdom and called for indirect fire support. I had our forces fire a ring of 81mm shells in a circle around me every 10 minutes all night until 6:30 the next morning.  That was a night of intense prayer.”

At dawn, Russ and his platoon finally broke ambush and returned to base camp, a very thankful group of men. At my request, Russ shared some pictures. 

I surmised it had to feel creepy wading through jungle swamps, insects, parasites, and every make and model of Asian critters in those waters. His reply:

“We never knew what the next step would bring in water or jungle or what we might find in our fatigues. Lots of leeches, snakes, booby traps. Not much different than our daily walk!"

One last detail.  This entire drama played out just six-tenths of a mile away from base camp.  Lesson: Trouble is never far away. Better watch our daily walk!

As for Russ Caforio, I invite you to join me in saluting this great American veteran.

 

 

 

 

This morning it was fire-engine red, eye-catching and full of fall’s finest. This afternoon, that same leaf perches on my desk curled and brown and surprisingly brittle.

That any living sprig could possess color and life so late in the season—as this leaf did— surprised me.  To the point, I had to pause my morning walk and snap a picture of the thing.  Even the stem was striking (this, after many nights where the temperature dropped into the lower 30s).

But sunset tells a different story, a sadder tale if you want my opinion.  Not to get melodramatic (we are talking about one small maple leaf here), the shriveling process offers a visceral reminder to us humans.

Like my beautiful leaf, you and I are here only for a season. 

That our Designer typically gives us so many more days to live does not alter the stark warning from the maple leaf: we are only for a season.  The sense of scale is vastly different.  A lucky leaf might live for eight months, while lucky humans might survive eight decades. 

But again, it’s only for a season. Isaiah 64:6 whispers that eventually, “We all do fade like a leaf.”

Making plans makes sense.

Having goals is good.

But remember—it’s all only for a season.   

Adults reading familiar Bible stories:

Predictable. Safe. 

 

Kids reading familiar Bible stories:

Unpredictable. Vulnerable.

As a young mom, Lynnette recently revisited the story of Moses with her four children. Together, they pondered the dramatic moment where baby Moses was set afloat on the Nile river with nothing more than a homemade basket to protect him.  The kids expressed an intriguing range of concerns.

SADIE (Age 4): That’s scary, because of crocodiles.

JOSIE (Age 12): Wait! Is the Nile brackish?  Because crocs are saltwater reptiles, right?

CALEB (Age 8): Crocodiles are a worry.  But did you know that the Egyptians dumped their waste into the Nile and then turned around and DRANK the same water?  That’s a bigger worry.

SADIE (Age 4): Whoa. Yeah. So I am NOT going to be living in Bible times. I don't need anyone killing ME as a baby.

It’s easy to read those Bible stories as we adults have perhaps a hundred times or more—and fail to think through this kind of stuff.  And you gotta love the kids' blunt honesty.

When Lynnette’s children progressed through the story of Moses and arrived at the miraculous parting of the Red Sea, Caleb commented, “Not sure I would have faith enough to walk through, even if I was seeing it.”

I'm thinkin' Caleb's right.  

Isn’t God good to give us teachers—like little children?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Goodbye watermelon.

Goodbye swimming pool.

Goodbye lawn chair.

Fall comes at an exorbitant price.

For me, one of the sadder summer losses is crickets.  They speak peace to the troubled night and calm to the cacophony we call early morning.  But as I take my sunrise walks in the second half of October, the cricket symphony decrescendos dramatically.

A few courageous critters sill scrape their wings and make the music.  But as early morning temperatures dip into the upper 30s, the insect orchestra reduces to a few brave soloists. 

When I hear one now, I smile big and walk gently toward the source of the sound, trying for a louder listening experience.  Inevitably, I find the crickets go mute.  You can't blame them for being terrified at the vibration of something hundreds of times their size.

Still, a few—a very few—can yet be heard.  The season is late.  The landscape is dark, and the conditions are cold.  But they sing anyway.

These hearty crickets are a metaphor for the lifestyle required of Christians on the front edge of the end times. Meaning—the season is late.  The spiritual landscape is dark.  The conditions are cold—and getting colder.  But we're called to "sing" anyway.

So let us:

• Sing the love of Jesus.
• Sing the great gospel story.
• Sing the glorious hope of heaven.
• Sing so that a cold world in dark darkness can find the hope and joy that is Jesus.

Let us Sing!

 

It’s one of the funniest lines—that never gets a laugh.

I refer to the safety demonstration from a flight last week:

• This aircraft is equipped with six emergency exits…
• Your seat cushion may be used as a flotation device…
• Smoking in the lavatories at any time is prohibited…

Then the flight attendant rattles off this disturbing scenario: “In the event of a sudden loss in cabin pressure, oxygen masks will drop down automatically.  Reach up and pull the mask to your face—and breathe normally.”

Think about it.  What could possibly cause a “sudden loss” in cabin pressure?  A bullet through the fuselage?  A blown out window?  A severed tail?

There simply is no scenario that would result in a sudden loss of cabin pressure  that would allow any sane and sober person to “breathe normally.”

But if sanity and safety are to be restored in the middle of a crisis—in the air, on the ground—or in our spiritual lives—breathing normally is exactly what we must do.  Consider:

• There seems to be no end to Coronavirus, despite the efforts of the world’s greatest scientists. But breathe normally:  “The Lord will protect you from all evil; He will keep your soul” (Psalms 121:7).

• The election finds us tense—and getting tenser.  But breathe normally: “Behold the nations are like a drop from a bucket and are regarded as a speck of dust on the scales” (Isaiah 40:15).

• Our history is being rewritten—and none of it for good. But breathe normally: “For God will bring every act to judgment, everything which is hidden, whether it is good or evil” (Ecclesiastes 12:14).

• Our culture has traded truth for narrative and facts that “don’t fit” are discarded.  But breathe normally: “The LORD is my strength and my shield; My heart trusts in Him” (Psalms 28:7).

• In many cities, our streets are in flames.   But breathe normally: “Which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?” (Matt. 6:27).

• Our nation and our world reject and ridicule the very name of Jesus.  But breathe normally: “Behold, he is coming with the clouds, and every eye will see him, even those who pierced him, and all tribes of the earth will wail on account of him” (Revelation 1:7).

Feeling a sudden loss of cabin pressure?

Breathe normally.

“The Lord reigns” (Psalms 93:1).

 

Amen and Amen!

 

I sat in the Batmobile!

In case you missed it, the Batmobile made a stop in Hinsdale, Illinois.   But I was impressed by more than the car itself.  In an age of high crime and low trust, the dynamic duo simply left the Batmobile right on the street.  Neither Commissioner James Gordon nor the Gotham Chief of Police was on hand to guard the iconic vehicle.

What was it like to sit in the Batmobile, you ask?

Impressive, frankly.  From the bubbled Plexiglas windshield to the dash-mounted Detect-A-Scope, I was lost in the lore of Gotham City.  I grabbed the Bat Phone (see photo), desperately hoping to speak with the Caped Crusader.  But it was not to be.

How I wish Batman and Robin had shown up.  How I wish they would show up now! 

Isn't that what this world needs —a superhero?

We need someone ferociously fearless, unfailingly fair, and consistently courageous.  We need someone who is genuinely humble—not one who merely pretends to be.  And is it too much to ask that our Hero be kind to the core?

And here we leave the pages of DC Comics to ponder the ultimate Hero.  No Bat Phone for this champion.  He has better: uninterrupted communication with His Father.

Don’t look for a cape.  But He did wear a crown—made of thorns.

Don’t look for Him in the Batmobile.  You’ll see Him next on a white horse.  Given Covid-19, the election, the hurricanes, and national unrest, I don’t think Jesus can come soon enough!  Amen?

Then I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse! The one sitting on it is called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he judges and makes war. His eyes are like a flame of fire, and on his head are many diadems, and he has a name written that no one knows but himself. He is clothed in a robe dipped in blood, and the name by which he is called is The Word of God. And the armies of heaven, arrayed in fine linen, white and pure, were following him on white horses. From his mouth comes a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations, and he will rule them with a rod of iron. He will tread the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God the Almighty. On his robe and on his thigh he has a name written, King of kings and Lord of lords.

–Revelation 19:11-16

 

Should you wear a mask or not?

It’s the Coronavirus conversation guaranteed to generate as much heat as it does light.  But I wonder—would Jesus wear a mask?

Note that I’m not asking if masks are effective.  I’m asking if Jesus would wear a mask.

The short answer is yes. I think it's clear Jesus would wear a mask—whenever it was either required by ordinances or by His desire to "look out for the interests of others." On what basis do I make such a claim?  

When officials questioned whether or not Jesus paid the temple tax, He paid by producing a shekel coin in the mouth of a fish.  In other words—He submitted to authority.

Romans 13: 1-2 urges,

“Let every person be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God. Therefore whoever resists the authorities resists what God has appointed, and those who resist will incur judgment.”

Not a lot of wiggle room there, right? 

In I Peter 2:13,14, we're commanded,

"Be subject for the Lord's sake to every human institution, whether it be to the emperor as supreme, or to governors as sent by him to punish those who do evil and to praise those who do good.”

We miss the moral mark if we presume our “informed opinion” on an issue outweighs our need to obey the law—or allows us to set aside the conscience of another believer.  But this is precisely what's happening in many churches.  People who think masks are unnecessary are flaunting their "freedom."  Those who feel the need to wear masks are enormously offended.  I've known some to leave a church over the issue.

Personally, I can't stand wearing a mask.  I dislike the feeling of not being able to breathe as easily.  And the heat is no fun, either.  But this is where our American individualism needs the corrective of God's Holy Word, like Titus 3:1,2:

“Remind them to be submissive to rulers and authorities, to be obedient, to be ready for every good work, to speak evil of no one, to avoid quarreling, to be gentle, and to show perfect courtesy toward all people.”

That last phrase tells us where our hearts should be on this issue: "to be gentle and to show perfect courtesy toward all people."   

Jesus never asked for my opinion.

But He does ask for my obedience.