Category: Thursday Thought

Do small acts of kindness really matter?

Do they make any real difference?

Does God actually take note of them?

I know the Sunday School answer, of course. I know the theological rubric. (I’m a Moody grad, an ordained minister).   Still, I sometimes wonder. Do you?

Dusting off old memories

This weekend, I attended an Awana “Historic Walls of Fame” event.  We were there to celebrate what God has done in establishing a Bible club now attended weekly by 2. 3 million kids in more than 100 countries. 

When the program was over, I met with someone I hadn’t seen in decades: my very own Awana leader.  Chuck was also my Sunday School teacher—a kind and patient man. Week after week, he listened as I recited verses, or demonstrated mastery of knot tying.   We sat there, dusting off old memories

Then through squinted eyes, Chuck asked, “Hey, Jon, do you remember the time I took you to a Blackhawks game?”

Did I remember? 

As a kid, I won a contest he sponsored at Awana and the prize was an outing to a Chicago Blackhawks game.  He picked me up at home, drove me to the old Chicago Stadium, bought us tickets for the Hawks game.  What a night– the drama on ice, the roar of the crowd…the magic of being there.

Did I remember after more than four decades?  Of course!  I thanked Chuck for his kindness then—and his faithfulness in being a great Awana leader and Sunday School teacher.

Rare and privileged moment

Not everybody gets that kind of opportunity–to reconnect over a kindness shown decade ago.  So it was a rare and privileged moment we shared.

It all makes me glad for heaven—and it should you, too.  For there, every word of encouragement, every thoughtful gesture, every bit of kindness will be seen…and reviewed…and rewarded.

Kindness matters. 

Now.  And for eternity. 

What does courage look like? 

Chiune Sugihara is a name most of us have never heard of.  Yet this man, born in Japan in 1900, is a soul who embodies Christian courage. 

Joining a Christian fraternity at his university, Chiune became proficient at learning languages—English, German, Russian—launching him into a career with Japan’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs. 

Bombing Raid 

In 1939, his government placed Chiune at the Japanese consulate in Kaunas, Lithuania.  There, he met a Jewish man who had recently fled Poland after a bombing raid had taken the lives of his wife and children. 

It was then Chiune realized there would be no stopping Hitler’s war from the borders of Lithuania.  He was determined to help the Jewish people living in Lithuania to escape by way of Japan.  Yet the Japanese government rejected Chiune’s proposal. What then?

Conscience Demanded

After praying and talking the matter over with his wife, Chiune did what his conscience demanded. The record shows that on July 31, 1940, he began writing transit visas—by hand—at a rate of 300 people per day.  Witnesses say he worked long hours, took only short meal breaks, and wrote as rapidly as he could. 

Word spread.  On September 4, the Japanese government closed the consulate, ordering Chiune back to Japan.  But he stayed up all night before he was to leave, writing visa after visa. 

"Cannot Write Anymore"

At the station where he was to depart, a crowd of Lithuanian Jews surrounded his train, begging for more visas.  There, he handed out those he has written overnight stating, “Please forgive me.  I cannot write anymore.”   Yet once on the train, he wrote still more visas, tossing them out the open window as the train slowly picked up steam.

No one knows exactly how many people were saved by his courage.  Estimates range from six thousand to ten thousand.

Chiune did what God called Him to do: save lives.   

And that's what courage looks like. 

A comfortable chair, a scenic backdrop—and an all-absorbing book.  That’s what Diana and I call ultimate relaxation. 

Reading is a hobby my wife and I share with gusto.  She reads a wide range of devotional books, historical fiction, cookbooks, and a lot about the British monarchy (she could probably earn a haul on Jeopardy).  I read biographies, westerns, action novels (think Clive Cussler), mysteries (John Grisham, Agatha Christie, Arthur Conan Doyle) plus Christian writers like Tim Keller, Kyle Idleman, Charles Spurgeon, and J.C. Ryle. 

Right now, I'm reading a book by puritan Richard Baxter. I’m learning that any title by this guy is a book worth devouring.  I was struck by a grid he created for choosing—or rejecting—books we allow on to our shelves. Allow me to quote him verbatim.  Baxter advises:

Make careful choices of the books which you read.  Let the Holy Scriptures ever have preeminence. While reading, ask yourself:

1. Could I spend this time no better?

2. Are there better books that would edify me more?

3. Are the lovers of such books as this the greatest lovers of the Book of God and of a holy life?

4. Does this book increase my love to the Word of God, kill my sin, and prepare me for the life to come? 

Now by these standards, I’m afraid some of my reading choices would come up short. What about you?

Really, it all comes down to an appetite for readiness.  Are we hungry for the Lord’s return?  Do we desire Him enough to ready ourselves for Him? I’m reminded of a sobering perspective from 1 Peter 4:7:

The end of all things is near; therefore, be of sound judgment and sober spirit for the purpose of prayer.

Here’s to good reading—all year long.  Quality books whose pages turn us toward Christlikeness, not mere entertainment.

One of the many reasons most of us dread a trip to the dentist is that the news we get there seems disproportionately negative. Whether it’s a simple dental cleaning (“You need to floss more”) or an X-ray (“that spot suggests a problem”) a dental exam is rarely a good news kind of experience.

Open Wide!

May I play the role of the dentist-you-dread for just a moment?  Open wide–we’re about to take an exam based on a discomforting hypothesis of mine.  Simply stated, it goes like this: Most of us Christians have a long list of stuff we claim is important, but apparently isn’t.

For most of us, that list includes things like prayer, Bible reading, sharing our faith.  Your list may vary slightly. But a survey from the Evangelical Alliance suggests that nearly one-fifth of Christians do not even have a fixed prayer habit.  And for those born after 1980, that figure climbs to nearly one-third.

Have not told another person about Christ

42% admit they have a hard time setting aside any regular time for Bible reading or prayer.  The study says—quote—”In practice, only half are managing to do this.”

A Lifeway survey shows 61% have not told another person about how to become a Christian in the previous six months. And 20 percent actually admit they “rarely or never pray for the spiritual status of others.”

Little Anticipation of Following Through

In other words, these things we claim are important to us are really not that important.  (I told you this examination wasn't going to be fun!).

Like friends who haven’t connected for a while and glibly say, “We should have lunch together,” we mean well, but have very little anticipation of actually following through on spiritual disciplines.  Yet merely claiming they are important somehow makes us feel better.

Just One Chance

Folks, we get one shot—just one (very short) turn—at this thing called life.  One chance to impact eternity.  One chance to store up for ourselves treasures in heaven. 

Those things ought to be important enough for us to do.  If not, we should drop the facade and stop claiming they are. 

“Have I got a story for you!”

When my friend, Jack, opens a conversation like that, he usually does. 

“Bob sounded upset.  I could tell.”

Jack was talking about his friend Bob, whom he has known for nearly 30 years.  For more than 20 of those years, Bob and his wife Betty were Jack’s neighbors. 

"If Only I Had More Evidence"

During those years, Jack and his wife, Deanna, tried to witness to them, and shared the gospel on several occasions.  But Bob is extraordinarily independent and convinced that God will somehow squash all of his freedom should he yield his life.  He once claimed, “If only I had more evidence, I could believe.”

But all was not well with Bob, who more than a decade earlier had suffered a heart attack.  The doctor thought perhaps Bob might require a stent or serious surgery.  He was heading into the hospital the next day. 

Anything but heart surgery…

Jack offered to come over and visit—and Bob seemed warm to the idea.  So he and Deanna jumped into their minivan and drove the 15 minutes to Bob’s home, praying that God might somehow use their visit. 

They talked routine things.  Trivial things.  Anything except the prospect of heart surgery.  And then it was time to leave.  I like how Jack paints the picture:

Seemed a bit cowardly

“We were all standing there and I told Bob that Deanna and I would pray for him that night as a couple.  But that seemed a bit cowardly.  So I swallowed hard and blurted out, ‘Hey, could we pray for you guys right now?’  Bob shrugged his shoulders.  Betty was equally quiet.  So we prayed right there in their living room, asking God to bless the doctors with unusual insight.”

Pretty cool, I thought. But Jack had more.

“The next evening, Jack got a call from Bob.  "He says, ‘Hey Jon, I think your prayers must’ve worked.  Doctor said I didn’t need any surgery.  Didn’t even need a stent!  So, uh…thanks a lot for coming over last night.  It meant a lot.’”

Bob is still not a believer.  But I’m convinced he believes that Jack cares an awful lot about him. 

Someday, Bob will know why.

At least, that’s how Jack is praying. 

The wonder of children…is their sense of wonder.

At three years of age, Lucy is full of wonder.  But the Christmas season has a way of drawing it out, like nothing else.

Along with her three siblings, Lucy was intrigued with the idea of visiting a live nativity.  The Ponte Vedra Presbyterian Church of Jacksonville, Florida does it up big.  Think 8,000 square feet of big!  Think thousands of visitors walking about the streets of a recreated city of Bethlehem—some walls towering 20 feet in the air. 

Don't be frightened off by all the yelling

Hear the sounds of the sheep?  Don’t get too near the camel, please.   And don’t be frightened off by all the yelling.  Those are merely the voices of Roman guards reminding you to pay your taxes. 

As you snake your way through the crowded streets, passing by period-costumed artisans, merchants and beggars, it’s easy to travel back in time.  Easy to feel as if you are no longer merely reading Luke 2, but living it.

Little Lucy took in all of this.  And in whatever way three year olds process this much stimulation, she tucked it all away.  Yet it all came bubbling out a night or two later. 

From her car seat, she blurted out…

Her mother was driving the kids down the same road that led to the living nativity.  This was not their destination, but even in total darkness, Lucy somehow made the connection. 

From her little car seat, Lucy blurted out, “We are near Jesus Christ! He’s close to us! We are almost to where Jesus is!"

Come near.

She was right.

More right than she knew. 

The One who came at Christmas and called Himself the Good Shepherd still walks bleak hills on cold nights in search of lost souls.  Though you may at present feel far away from Him—He longs for you to come near. 

Acts 17:27, “God did this so that they would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from any one of us.

“We are near Jesus Christ!”

 

 

 

He is every teacher's nightmare—the pain of the preschool, according to my wife, Diana.  Just look for the boy grabbing toys away from others.  Or shoving kids in line.  Or hitting the child that ticks him off.  That's Garrett.

He plays too rough. Talks too loud.  Cares too little about anyone or anything other than himself. Having heard so many stories about Garrett, I was most interested in meeting the little tyke as I showed up with my camera bag. 

Like Herding Cats

My wife has a rich tradition of taking a Christmas class photo in front of a floor-to-ceiling wall mural that looks like a Bethlehem neighborhood.  Every child is dressed up in a costume that represents a character from the Christmas story and I was there to capture it all on my Nikon.

The outfits are adorable, but collecting 15 preschoolers and attempting to dress them up is like herding cats.  Fortunately, this was not the first rodeo for Diana, or her capable assistant teacher, Kathy,

Unusually Quiet

At last the kids were dressed and ready to head off to the photo room.  But Garrett was unusually quiet.  I saw him stare at the folds of the shepherd's robe hanging from his shoulders.  Saw him gawk at the sight of white angel wings and fuzzy halos.  Saw him ponder the sparkle of wise men who had come from afar.

And then the sweetest little voice sang a familiar refrain: “Go, tell it on the mountain…Over the hills and everywhere!”  It was Garrett.  Lost in the wonder. 

Ruffians and Ragamuffins

Consider: the most unlikely kid in the class was perhaps the only one who truly “got it.”  Yet isn't that the way it has always been with this gospel story of ours?  It's the ruffians and ragamuffins, the “tax collectors and sinners” Jesus called them—who often get it before the rest of us  so called  “refined” folks.

Aren’t you glad Jesus came for scoundrels–like you and me?

It's the one last Christmas gift he invites her to open.  It’s a small box.  Inside, a key.  It goes with the (CUE THE MUSIC) Lexus sitting in their driveway.  The one with the massive red bow on top.   She gives him a look, then a kiss (MUSIC SWELLS), and they roar off down the road happily ever after as the voice-over invites us to get in on the gift giving. 

Who DOES this?

Am I the only one watching these commercials wondering, “Who DOES this?!   Who gives their wife or husband a Lexus or Lincoln MKZ as a Christmas gift?

Answer: Enough to justify the ad campaign.

 

Not Sweating the Price

According to car buying site Edmunds.com, in seven of the last twelve years, more luxury cars were sold in December than any other month.  Better deals come after Christmas, but if you're thinking your sweetheart needs keys to a new Mercedes under the tree, you're probably not sweating out the price.

To my scale of thought—and income–this is outrageous.  Over the top.  Extreme.

Yet…maybe it's a better metaphor for Christmas than I've given it credit.

How else can we describe the (indescribable) gift of Jesus at Christmas.  King of the Universe.  Owner of it all.  Inventor of water.  And babies.  And kisses. 

Outrageous!

Jesus, the wonderful counselor, mighty God, everlasting Father and Prince of peace is our gift.  And He came with the idea of giving one inexplicable gift—His own life…in exchange for ours.

Outrageous!  Extreme.  Over the top!  Makes even the most expensive Ferrari look like rusty trash by comparison.

However, the gift of salvation Jesus offers bears a striking resemblance to the car keys given in the TV commercials.  Unless you grab them and unlock the door, it's not much of a gift.

Have you opened the door of your heart to the gift of Jesus?

It was just a small pine bough there on the sidewalk.  But I was obliged to pick it up and take it to my office. 

I have always loved the smell, the look—even the feel of pine trees.  It must go back to my childhood at Christmastime. To this day, the smell of a pine tree brings back so many happy memories, and whenever I pass by a Christmas tree lot, I like to stand there and just sniff the air.

 

My favorite restaurant in the entire world is called White Pines and at home you’ll find a soap bar my wife gave me, whose fragrance is pine.  

Smelling Scrumptious

Every December, I walk by Chicago office buildings festooned with pine branches. Often, I stop and inhale the beauty.  But a recent walk in the rain confirmed a theory I have long held. It was drizzling and the smell of cut pine boughs wired to a fence was scrumptious.   Somehow, rain brings out the pine smell.  I don't know why.  I don't know how. I only know that it does.

Rain on Your Party

This Christmas, our hopes are high for family gatherings without strain, shopping without stress (and other highly unrealistic wishes).   The truth is it's probably going to rain on your party.  Not pretty fluffy snow.  Ugly rain.  Cold and yucky wetness.

Fragrance in You?

And it may all seem a bit disappointing.  But if you know Jesus, the unwanted rain can actually bring out His fragrance in you.  As 2 Corinthians 2:15 puts it, “For we are a fragrance of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing.”

When others see the real Jesus lived out in real problems, it makes for a remarkable fragrance in an otherwise stinky world.   I don't know exactly why.  Or how.  I only know that it does.

 

This Christmas…

• Plan on some rain. 
• Stay close to Jesus. 
• Enjoy the fragrance!

Confession.  I keep some contact names in my Outlook address book even after they have passed away.  A former boss.   A friend.  I just can’t bring myself to delete their names.  For example, there’s this guy I met in the pulpit of a church in Romania.

It was one of the first times I ever preached in Ploiesti, the oil producing town an hour north of Bucharest. Stefan (not his real name) stood next to me and translated the message with remarkable ease—despite my rookie ways. 

He Never Complained

Stefan was not a large man, but he had a huge heart.  His intelligence extended beyond linguistics into technology.  He had a responsible job, a beautiful wife, a baby boy, and it was a pleasure to get to know him. Every year when I visited Ploesti, Stefan would faithfully translate my sermon, never complaining when my sentences were too long. 

You can understand how I began to look forward to being with him—if only for a short time in his church.  We emailed some throughout the year between visits.

Impossible News

Then came the Sunday we headed off to church and I was informed Stefan would not be translating for me—ever.  A car accident.  You can imagine my shock.

This past November—more than ten years after the accident—I spoke in that same church.  There in the front row was this man’s widow, and seated next to her, the little boy that was now a young teenager. 

We met afterwards and I could not resist reminding the boy of what a great father he had.  Of how intelligent he was and—better than that—how humble he was.  The boy seemed to nod his head without much emotion.  Too young to remember. 

Their Deeds Follow Them

But not me.  I remember him.  And his wife remembers him.  And many others whose lives he touched remember  him, too.   That’s the way it is with those in die in Christ, for as John writes in Revelation 14:13, “their deeds follow them!”  

I cannot bring myself to hit the delete key on this man’s contact page.

Now you know why.