Category: Thursday Thought

Misconceptions. They’re all around us.

My dad recently sent me an article highlighting just a few of the things we believe—wrongly.

Misconception: People use only 10 percent of their brains.

The Truth:  PET scans and MRI scans show activity in all parts of the brain, though perhaps not simultaneously.  So it's certainly not accurate to say we utilize only 10% of our brains.

 

Misconception: The Great Wall of China is the only man-made object visible from the moon. 

The Truth:  Standing on the moon, astronauts cannot observe one single man-made object.  In fact, astronauts testify that the Great Wall of China disappears from view earlier than much larger man-made structures such as cities, highways, and even large ships.

 

Misconception: If you cross your eyes, they may get stuck.

The Truth:  Crossing your eyes is a (weird) choice you might make.  But eventually, even if they appear to become crossed, your eyes' muscles will get tired and return to their normal state.

 

You and I believe misconceptions about lots of things—including God.  May I suggest a couple of spiritual misconceptions to which you might be clinging?

 

Misconception: God is tired of hearing me confess the same sin.  There’s no point to it.

The Truth: There are no limitations of any kind on the good news of 1 John 1:9, “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”

 

Misconception: I should be further along in my spiritual journey.  So God must be angry or at least frustrated with me.

The Truth: “The LORD is gracious and merciful; slow to anger and great in lovingkindness” (Psalm 145:8). 

 

Misconception: If I were a decent Christian, I wouldn't struggle so much with my habit/sin/thought life.

The Truth:  “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore, take up the full armor of God, so that you will be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm” (Ephesians 6:12-14).

 

Misconceptions may be all around us.

But there’s no need for them to be in us. 

 

“But speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in all aspects into Him who is the head, that is, Christ.”       -Ephesians 4:15

 

(Thanks for the article, Dad!)

Before you pack away the last of the lights and ornaments…

Question: How many lawn decorations does it take to celebrate Christmas?

A few blocks away lives a family that graduated from the more-is-better school of Christmas decor.  With the kind assistance of my wife, we tallied the plethora of plastic persons adorning their lawn.  We counted:

• 13 Frosty the Snowman characters
• 17 carolers
• 40 candy canes
• 39 toy Soldiers
• 11 giant lollipops
• 3 giant candles
• 7 angels
• 3 camels
• 5 sheep

These were all large-scale plastic pieces.  Wonder where they store them all.

Question: How many Santas does it take to celebrate Christmas?

On Main Street, two towns away is a yard committed to Saint Nick—in a big way.  Imagine a lawn lit up by large plastic Santas—the old school kind–many of them four-feet tall.  Not the blowup models of today that shrink down into a tiny storage space.  These are the big guys popular in the 60s and 70s. 

Now imagine having 86 of those large Santas glowing. Yep, 86.  We confirmed it with the homeowner, who confirmed she had more that were not set up. 

If lights are your thing—how many do you really need? I read about a family in LaGrangeville, New York, that set up more than 600,000 lights on their lawn.  More than half a million!

Question: How many Saviors does it take to celebrate Christmas?

One.

That’s Jesus.

Is He your Savior?  He can be. 

What better way to start the new year!

 

And there is salvation in no one else; for there is no other name under heaven that has been given among men by which we must be saved.

 —Acts 4:12

The baby.

The one in the manger.

Just who was He?

When He was born, opinions ranged from “the son of a nobody from a nothing town” to “the Son of God come from heaven.”  After a three-and-a-half-year public ministry that included feeding the 5000, giving sight to the blind, hearing to the deaf, and raising the dead back to life—opinions changed little.  To many, Jesus was still nothing more than the son of a nobody from a nothing town.

Two thousand years later, it’s still the same. We just can’t seem to agree on who Jesus is. 

Recently, some friends posted on Facebook their adventures with a pair of smart speakers.  One speaker sits on a kitchen counter, while the other resides in their home office. 

Alexa in the kitchen was asked, “Who is God?”

Alexa sidestepped the issue by saying, "Everyone has different views on religion.” 

Then Alexa was asked the question, "Who is Jesus?"  The kitchen speaker replied, "Many people have different views on religion."  But the office speaker answered by playing the hymn "O Victory in Jesus."  Apparently, even smart speakers made by the same company don’t quite agree about Jesus, either!

I couldn't resist joining the digital discussion, so I asked my smartphone, "Siri, Is Jesus God?"

Siri made no audible reply but listed links to three different articles.  Two of the articles clearly support the idea that Jesus is God.  The third link was a transcription of a National Public Radio interview titled, “If Jesus never called himself God, how did he become one?”

That got my tinsel in a tangle.  Jesus did, indeed, claim to be God!  He did not “become” God.  Isaiah 9:6 boldly states of Jesus, “Unto us a child is born.  Unto us a son is given…His name shall be called wonderful counselor, mighty God, everlasting Father, the prince of peace.”

Notice that the child—the baby Jesus, whose birth is foretold—is called "mighty God" and "everlasting father."

THAT is who Jesus is. 

Star Wars. 

Whether you love the iconic movie series or never saw a single film, stay with me.  See, there’s a life lesson or two in a Star Wars video game that has captured the attention of eight-year-old Caleb. I saw him playing the game with his dad. 

On the planet Tatooine, his dangerous mission was to destroy an elite enemy platoon. Using his controller, Caleb could maneuver wherever he wanted.  But wander too far, and the screen flashed, "Return to Objective."

As I watched Caleb exploring underground tunnels, one of his virtual commanding officers cried out, "We need you in the battle!"  But there was one other screen warning that gave me pause: "Firing a weapon makes you show up on enemy scanners."  Makes sense.

Watching lightsabers clash and flash and listening to the rumble of thermal detonators, reminded me that Christians certainly are in a spiritual battle.  But since "we wrestle not with flesh and blood," it's easy to get distracted.  Maybe, like me, you need the reminder, “Return to objective.”  But just what is our objective?

Jesus gave it to us in Matthew 28, "Go and make disciples."  Making disciples begins with lost people. So sharing Jesus with people who don't know Him—that is our objective.

But let’s not be pollyannish. We can and should expect a fight. Like the game warned, “Firing a weapon makes you show up on enemy scanners.”  But don’t let that stop you. 

There are rescues that must be made.

Are you on mission?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was the first walk in the first snow of the season. With the wet white stuff falling, I couldn't resist a hike around the one-mile paved track that arcs around a neighborhood park. The mesmerizing flakes tumbled onto turf not quite chilled enough to sustain much accumulation.  All the more reason to hurry up, get out, and enjoy.

A glance at the slushy stuff gave evidence that early as it was, I was not the first to start racking up a daily quota of 10-thousand steps.

After a few minutes, I subconsciously began studying the impressions in the snow left by fellow travelers. It was easy to distinguish which steps belonged to men and which belonged to women. 

You could tell which of the walkers felt regular shoes were okay versus those who decided it was time to put on heavy boots. The difference in tread was significant.

You could tell which people walked and which jogged. The joggers left a telltale skidding of their heels across the snow's surface.

You could even tell which pets were allowed to roam off-leash.  Their footprints were far from their owners'!

And of course, you could tell which direction people were walking.  On one leg of the path, there were five sets of footprints, including mine.  Four of us were walking in the same direction.  Only one person was going the other way.

Consider: not a single person walking that morning began their journey by deciding, "Gee, I think I'll leave some footprints."  But leave footprints they did.  Footprints revealing a surprising amount of information.

Like us.

We are all leaving footprints.  Our daily choices, words, and actions leave footprints—small and large.  What do ours say about us?

The question is not will you and I leave footprints for others who come behind us.  The question is, what do our footprints say about us, our character, and our walk with Christ?

 

The naive believes everything,

But the sensible man considers his steps.

— Proverbs 14:15

 

 

“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.