Category: Thursday Thought

What would have happened if Jesus never came?

What if there had been no announcement of “Joy to the world,” no “Angels from the realms of glory,” and no occasion for a “Silent night”?

Here are ten ways life would be different if Christ never came:

• No potential for a truly abundant life. We’d have to settle for mere existence. In John 10:10, Jesus declared, “I came so that they would have life, and have it abundantly.”  But without Jesus, there’s no such thing.

• No access to God in prayer. In John 14:13, Jesus declared, “And whatever you ask in My name, this I will do, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son.” We would never have this promise—because we couldn’t ask in Jesus’ name—if He hadn’t come.

• No hope for supernatural peace. We’d have only the flimsy veneer offered by our shallow culture. But in John 14:27, Jesus assured us, “Peace I leave you, My peace I give you; not as the world gives, do I give to you.”

• No possibility of forgiveness. Ephesians 1:7 points out, “In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of our wrongdoings, according to the riches of His grace.” Unless Christ had come, we could kiss all that goodbye.

• No chance to become righteous. 2 Corinthians 5:21 says of Jesus, “He made Him who knew no sin to be sin in our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.”

• No one to rescue us from what Paul called, “the body of this death” (Romans 7:24). Jesus said of Himself, “For the Son of Man has come to seek and to save that which was lost.” Apart from Christ, we would still be lost. All of us.  

• No reason for hope. 1 Peter 1:3, “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who according to His great mercy has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.” But if Jesus never came, there’d be no hope for hope.

• No spiritual armor. We couldn’t put on the belt of truth or the helmet of salvation—Nor would we have the breastplate of righteousness (Ephesians 6:17). In fact, if Jesus had not come, we would have no armor of any kind.

• No “Great Commission.” In fact, we’d be OUT of commission. We would have no calling, no gospel, no possibility to make disciples—because we ourselves wouldn’t be disciples!

• No possibility of reaching heaven. We simply would not have a way to get there. The Jesus who did come said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except by me” (John 14:6). Without Jesus, though, there’s literally no way.

Without Jesus, nothing would resemble anything of the faith that is everything.

Thank you, Lord, that Jesus did come, that we can sing joy to the world, that sin and sorrow no longer reign—all because Christ came “to make His blessings flow far as the curse is found.”

That’s what I call a Merry Christmas!

He was a fugitive on the run, desperate for a place to hide.

The 38-year-old man had escaped a prison sentence for aggravated assault and resisting a public official. Fresh out of options, he noticed a life-sized nativity set and seized on a moment of inspiration.

When no one was looking, he stepped right into that nativity scene posing as someone adoring the Christ child. That’s when an onlooker of no less stature than the town’s mayor walked by.

At first, he was impressed by how “lifelike” the figure was. But then the mayor realized it was all a fake and asked the man to step away from the nativity scene.

The man refused, claiming that the nativity was his home.

That’s when the mayor contacted the local police, who quickly identified the guy as a wanted fugitive and hauled him away. It all happened just last weekend.

Oddly, this story is hardly an isolated incident. The world is full of folks pretending like they fit in with Jesus.

For thousands of years, people have shown up in churches where Jesus is worshipped. They’ve sung songs about Jesus, heard sermons about Jesus, maybe even bowed their head as people prayed in Jesus’ name.

But they don’t actually know Jesus as the leader of their life, the forgiver of their wrongdoing (sin). Apart from that kind of connection with Jesus, they are—spiritually speaking—fugitives!

Is that you, by any chance, faking your friends and family into thinking you and Jesus are okay? Well, Jesus isn’t fooled. Nor is He okay with that.

The Bible says of Jesus in 1 John 5:12, “Whoever has the Son has life; whoever does not have the Son of God does not have life.”

There’s no use hiding or pretending with Jesus. Stop trying to fool yourself and others. Instead, receive the gift of God, eternal life, through Jesus Christ.

If you openly declare that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.

-Romans 10:9

SOURCE: https://www.euronews.com

Unlikely. Unexpected.

That was my reaction to the announcement that ABC would be airing a Kevin Costner TV special exploring the birth of Jesus Christ, “like you’ve never seen it before.” So, we watched it—every minute of it.

Part drama and part documentary, the program, between scenes, offered viewpoints from an array of sympathetic experts, including Francis Chan.

The dramatic portrayal of the aged Simeon chuckling as he lays eyes on the infant Jesus is pure delight. Yet when he turns to Mary with the prophetic utterance, “a sword will pierce even your own soul,” we shudder at her agony and can almost taste the salt of her tears.

The two-hour production isn’t perfect, of course. Though Costner does a credible job hosting, at one point, he offers the possibility of some entirely unbiblical reasons for the coming of Christ. And though Costner is bold enough to connect the crucifixion of Christ with His birth, the word sin is never mentioned as the reason for it all.

Still, the production is well done and largely (refreshingly) biblical. More than that, it is reverent. Jesus is frequently referred to as the Messiah or Son of God. And the producers go out of their way to emphasize that Jesus came for all people—Jews and Gentiles. Regarding the death of Jesus, Costner states that there are many— “myself among them”—who believe that Jesus didn’t stay dead.

When you consider the extreme polarization of our culture, the vitriol dominating so much of public discourse, the “Christmas wars” that have been waged against any mention of the name of Jesus, Kevin Costner’s production is an extraordinary thing. Nor should we treat lightly the fact that ABC gave two full hours to platform the biblical account of Christmas.

We Christians are quick to criticize, quick to complain, quick to see ourselves as victims. But this is a moment to savor and celebrate. Thank you, ABC. Thank you, Kevin Costner!

“She will give birth to a Son; and you shall name Him Jesus, for He will save His people from their sins.”

–Matthew 1:21

I will bless the LORD at all times;

His praise shall continually be in my mouth.

 Psalm 34:1

This verse makes perfect sense on a Sunday morning. But what about when life stinks?

Just a couple of years into his marriage, my friend Rick noticed his wife exhibiting signs of mental struggles. But she was too young for anything serious, right?

Walking alongside Rick the mile-and-a-half commute from Moody to the train station, he shared often. About how his wife's condition grew so bad that she had to be hospitalized and then institutionalized.

Rick went on to live most of his life as a single dad, though he was still married. He did not enjoy dinner conversations or quiet walks with the woman he loved. He did not take romantic vacations with her or explore fun new places to dine together. Anniversary celebrations meant nothing

Remarkably, as Rick and I shared that walk over the years, he had nothing but kind words and gratitude for his wife. He spoke glowingly of her as if she were a combination of supermom and supermodel. He praised God and was genuinely thankful for her, always believing she might improve.

What a picture of Psalm 34:1, “I will bless the Lord at all times; His praise shall continually be in my mouth.” What a contrast to the negative self-talk we often “sing.” Our complaining chorus resounds with lyrics like “Life stinks. I’ve been ripped off. I don’t feel like praising God.”

If that's the wrong self-talk, what's the correct version? It goes like this: "I can choose to praise God even when life around me is falling apart." Just like Rick. Now, there might be some sour notes along the way (I'm sure Rick had his darker moments), but if you stay at it, you can make new habits of praise to God.

 

How to Make This Self-Talk YOUR Self-Talk

First, choose to believe this lifestyle of constant praise is normal and doable. Stop telling yourself it isn’t.

Second, tell God you want to live this way. Ask Him for His help.

Third, the very next time something rotten happens to you, quote this verse out loud. It has often put me in a much better mood—immediately!

Fourth, do this again and again. Let it become a lifestyle.

 

Pray It

O Lord, You know my tendency to whine. But I want to learn to “bless the Lord at all times.” I want Your praise to “continually be in my mouth.” Would You help me replace whining with praising? I believe You will make sweet music out of my life as I learn to praise You—no matter what. Amen.

 

You’ve just read an excerpt from Jon’s new book, Powerful Self-Talk from the Psalms (releasing December 6). If you’re tired of all the negative messages trashing your personal peace, this is for you!

https://www.amazon.com/Powerful-Self-Talk-Psalms-Biblical-Mindset/

Praising God, giving Him glory—it’s optional, right?

It's something we do on Sunday mornings or when we hike up mountains or saunter down a beach at sunset. Praise is the thing you do when you feel especially close to God or grateful for something He's done— like a Thanksgiving family gathering, right?

Yes, but…

Psalm 29:2 says we are to “Ascribe to the LORD the glory due His name.” Nothing was mentioned there about our mood or happiness quotient. Nothing to suggest that giving God glory is contingent upon our satisfaction with our circumstances, the weather, or the Almighty Himself. It just says, "Ascribe to the LORD the glory due His name."

Truthfully, many of us have assumed an “optionality” to praise. We do it when we feel like it. And pat ourselves on the back for having done so.

But consider…

• When the library book is due, you'd better bring it back.
• When the rent payment is due, you'd better deliver!
• Term paper due? Best get it done before your grade takes a hit. 

If you've ever forgotten to pay your utility bill or missed a mortgage installment, you know what happens. Your obligation becomes "past due"—and often there's a penalty!

How much more, then, is it incumbent upon us to give God the glory due His name? Come to think of it, how much glory do you suppose is due His name?

• Glory for illuminating our Milky Way galaxy with a hundred billion stars…
• Glory for creating massive mammals (blue whales grow longer than 100 feet and weigh 200 tons!) as well as infinitesimal insects like mites, aphids, and fairy wasps
• Glory for creating human babies who start walking and talking in merely one year
• Glory for sending Jesus, the perfect Son, who lived a perfect life only to die so we could be perfectly forgiven

There is more glory due His name than there are pages to assemble a list.

Glory is due. In fact, I dare say, it’s past due! So, I ask again. Are we giving God that glory—the glory due His name?

What’s keeping us from starting?

As a kindergartner in Romania during the Communist era, Cristina remembers her teacher asking, “How many of you kids go to church?” Brave Cristina stepped forward—alone. The teacher then reamed her out in front of the entire class. "Never, ever go to church again!" she demanded. Cristina protested, "But my parents go to church."

As often happens, word of Cristina’s brave classroom stand got around. A school caretaker named Natalie later approached Cristina quietly, asking her to sing a song from church. Natalie was curious—and hungry, for what she did not know.

Though Cristina may have felt a sense of residual fear, she nonetheless obliged the woman. As she sang, the message of that song struck Natalie's heart—an arrow of gospel truth. Among the words:

Someone knocked upon your door.

And no one opened it at all.

In the silence of the blackest night.

A Man stands there and weeps alone.

His face is nothing but deep wounds.

His chest is nothing but red blood.

 

Who are You, weary Stranger? Who are You?

Whose longing makes You roam?

For whom have countless lashes

Torn Your flesh without a pause?

What burden left that wound upon Your shoulder?

 

Later on, Cristina learned that, as the woman listened to her singing, she was so affected by the song's lyrics that she received Christ as Savior and was discipled in her faith. Years later, Cristina Olariu now manages a Christian radio station in Romania—and she's still singing songs about Jesus.

Here in America, you may have noticed it's becoming a bit more challenging to stand up and “sing a song” for Jesus. Spoiler alert: it's unlikely to get any easier.

Question: What is the song of your life saying about you? Is it a sweet melody of kindness and service toward your unsaved friends and neighbors? Do you sing a lyric of love for the lost—or a chorus of complaint about our culture?

People are listening! And sometimes, the best sermon is a song.

In speech, conduct, love, faith, and purity, show yourself an example of those who believe.

1 Timothy 4:12

 

Image by congerdesign from Pixabay

“Where are we, guys?”

At church orchestra rehearsals, I ask that question with alarming frequency. Keeping track of all the measures you’re not supposed to play can be more difficult than actually playing. I often joke, "If a piece ain't in 4/4 or 3/4 time, I'm not responsible for counting."

Muddying the musical waters is the fact that songwriting has evolved in recent times. There's no shortage of codas (confusing notations that direct you to play some—but not all—of a section of music). Plus, you now often encounter a pre-chorus, second chorus, post-chorus, turn, alternate ending, and on it goes.

Playing the French horn, as I attempt to do, comes with its own set of dangers. You might easily overshoot a high note and end up with a cracked tone (known in our circles as a clam or clinker). And even in the unlikely event you hit the right note, it’s shockingly easy to play the thing out of tune.

But there we were on Sunday—the orchestra regulars—rehearsing before the service. In one arrangement we worked on, the French horn part was particularly exposed. Meaning everyone would hear the mess if I messed up. Which I did.

But only when the actual Sunday service began did I look at that music with fresh eyes. It wasn't handed to me with a caveat—"You better play this perfectly or you're out!" It was given to me with a measure of faith that I would give it my best (which I did)—and that this would be enough.

Our conductor had assigned me the part not because I was somehow worthy or had earned it. He simply wanted it played. In a sense, that music was my assignment, my contribution to the song.

Maybe—like a lot of us—you struggle with performance-based issues: “I gotta do this right or I’m not worthy.”  How freeing to know that God isn’t demanding we play our part perfectly.

He expects us to give it our best, but at the same time (to borrow another analogy from David) God remembers that “we are but dust.” He’s not in the business of clobbering any of His followers with his conductor’s baton.

If you’re a perform-aholic who feels like you never perform well enough, God invites you to something better. Just wait for His downbeat and follow His tempo. Do your best, and then leave the rest with Him, knowing "He remembers our frame, that we are but dust."

 

Contrary to the TV commercials, America does not run on Dunkin'. Increasingly, it runs on bashin', as in bashing our political (or any other) opponents. Skepticism and snarkiness are now the aging parents of a toxicity no one could have imagined ten years ago.

Example. The very day we read about former Vice President Dick Cheney’s death, I saw a fellow train commuter’s phone flashing the headline, “Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.”  And to think decency used to draw the line. Apparently, we’re now celebrating death, folks.

Of course, the boulevard of beastliness is a two-way street. Conservatives rarely miss an opportunity to bash the “Dumbacrats.” Just this week, I saw a caption underneath President Biden’s photo describing him as “the most vile excuse for a politician in the history of the United States.” And on it goes.

We’ve become a nation plagued with an insatiable desire to categorize—and then demonize—our opponents. If we can merely label someone a “godless lib” or a “MAGA idiot,” we can then smugly associate them with all kinds of extreme beliefs and nasty assumptions. Naturally, we link them with the worst of their kind—and (oddly) feel no shame in stripping others of their individuality. 

But every person has a story. And when we deny them that story, we deny them their personhood. Ultimately, this bloodsport becomes nothing less than a license for character assassination.

To quote James, “These things ought not so to be.”

I'm not dismissing the fact that significant differences do exist. Nor am I advocating that when any political party—Republican or Democrat—takes an anti-God stance, we should look the other way.

But our culture is not our standard. Christ is. History records that He walked the paths of a politically charged era and did so with holiness, not snarkiness. Surely, He saw and felt injustice, extortion, and government oppression. No doubt these all pained Him.

But Jesus knew that back of it all was sin—on all sides, in all people. And He never let politics or culture distract him from His laser lock on lost people. This, then, is our model—holiness, not snarkiness. 

In the end, hell will be full of sinners from both political parties. So, let’s stop leaning on labels and start loving on people. Let’s look past their politics to their person.

Everybody needs Jesus. Do they see Him in you?

“But sanctify Christ as Lord in your hearts, always being ready to make a defense to everyone who asks you to give an account for the hope that is in you, but with gentleness and respect.”

1 Peter 3:15

 

Image by chiplanay from Pixabay

When you are six, learning to whistle is a big deal. When you are six, learning to snap your fingers is also a big deal. And may I remind you that when you are six, losing your first tooth is definitely a big deal?

So it was that we received spirited updates on all these major life events from Emma, who is indeed six years old. As we listened in person or on FaceTime, we heard her snaps grow louder and her whistle less airy. We watched as her tooth grew wigglier and wigglier.

But on FaceTime—or any time—nothing was wigglier than Emma herself. She bopped, blinked, and bounced in a blur. Keeping her inside the phone's camera frame was not possible. "Now you see her, now you don't" comes to mind.

Emma's eight-year-old sister, Ava, observed all of these shenanigans. Being much more of a cut-to-the-chase kid, her capacity for these antics had maxed out. One famous FaceTime conversation found Emma in the middle of her ants-in-the-pants performance when Ava blurted, "Will ya just stand there and talk?!"

We shared a good laugh, and while Emma did not settle down, a question settled on me: Does God ever feel that way about us?

Does He ever watch us crushing our jobs, rushing our lives, and want to say, "Hey, you! Will ya just stand there and talk?!"

But we're "busy," you see. Busy about too many things that won't matter six weeks from now, let alone six months or six years. And these things that don't ultimately matter keep us from the only things that do. Like prayer.

The King of kings and Lord of lords desires an audience with you. Every. Single. Day. With check-ins throughout the day!

Hey, you! Will ya just stand there (or kneel there) and talk?!

Seek the Lord and his strength; seek his presence continually!

– I Chronicles 16:11

 

Photo by Karoline Lewis on Unsplash

We waited at the counter—but nobody seemed to notice.

At a certain fast food Mexican chain (no names here, but their logo might feature a purple bell), we attempted to pay for our lunch. Mind you, we’d already placed our order at the kiosk, so as not to “trouble” any of the workers with—well, customers.

We might still be there waiting were it not for a crew member who stepped out of the restroom and saw us stranded at the counter. She took pity on us, then took cash from us.

We’ve had the same “you-folks-at-the-counter-don’t-exist” experience at a certain golden arched place and other “quick serve” restaurants. Maybe you have, too.

It doesn’t seem to matter whether you’ve committed the unpardonable sin of failing to order at the kiosk. The simple fact that you’re standing at the counter makes you invisible and—dare I add, undesirable—to the average “server.”

I understand the need to prioritize drive-through customers. But this campaign of coldness toward folks that stop in rather drive through is just odd. These restaurants pretend to welcome customers but prefer just to sell food—quite apart from any interaction with any customer. Ever.

Question: Is that how we treat guests at church? “Absolutely not!” you say. “We’ve got a welcoming team in the parking lot, a welcoming team at the doors and….” I hear you. But I’m asking YOU about YOUR attitude.

Are our churches just selling spiritual food, or are we—every one of us—interacting with every guest we see? Are we cocooned with comfortable friends—or are we actively seeking to engage a stranger?

I admit to struggling here. Sometimes, I’m friendly and outgoing. Other times, I ignore newer folks like they’re standing at the counter at a fast-food place. But…

You’re a server.

I’m a server.

Let’s be very careful that we don’t treat guests as if they’re invisible or undesirable.

“Do not neglect hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it.”

Hebrews 13:2