Category: Thursday Thought

Expectations.  And prayer meetings.  If your experience is anything like mine, they rarely go together.  Our prayer meetings are almost entirely predictable.  To the point of….dare I use so harsh a word…. boredom?   Expectations and prayer meetings don’t go together in the same sentence, let alone the same gathering room at church.    In my opinion, this is one of the biggest reasons our prayer meetings are attended by handfuls—rather than “room-fulls.”

Sure, we know that Scripture calls us to prayer.  But on a chilly winter night, with a warm supper settling in our gut, there’s little motivation to go out to prayer meeting—where we can reliably expect pretty much the same requests every week.  Monotony dressed up as ministry.  We don’t expect God to show up, so we don’t either.  

But what a difference it makes when expectation is in the atmosphere.  Twice, it has been my privilege to visit the Brooklyn Tabernacle in New York and attend their Tuesday night prayer meeting.  If you’ve never been there, you’ll have difficulty believing my assessment.  The auditorium is jammed before the prayer meeting begins.   And when it does, instead of jumping into requests of the Almighty, it’s an intense time of praise.  Songs of praise.  Prayers of worship.  This is what they do most. 

They pray for the world…for missionaries…for persecuted Christians in a specific country.  They pray for lost people.  And—most refreshingly of all—they pray with expectancy.  These people fully expect that when they return the following week, they’ll hear a report on how God intervened in a situation—perhaps supernaturally—to work His will. They expect to hear testimonies from people who’ve just come to faith…and they do!

Who wouldn’t want to be a part of something like that?  Who could possibly stay home and turn down a front row seat to the arena of the Almighty, doing what only God can do?

Every church, of course, has its own culture, its own flavor and style.  But to the extent that our prayer meetings continue to lack a sense of expectation—great expectations—we will continue to see a lack of participation.

I, however, am hoping for more.

The second most important book on your shelf.  What would that be?  When it comes to living a consistent Christian life, a world atlas might just be the second most important book on your shelf. Right next to your Bible, of course. Did my suggestion surprise you?  Give me a moment to explain.

You see, there's a problem with our evangelical worldview.  For many of us, there's very little “world” in it.  While on paper, we agree to the urgency of what we call the “Great Commission,” most of us suffer from a great omission.  We simply do not know—or much care—about the rest of the world.

I have had repeated conversations with otherwise intelligent believers who assume Africa is one big country.  There is no concept of the fact that Africa contains 54 independent nations.  No grasp on the fact that Africa is so massive, that inside its borders, you could easily fit the United States, China, all of Europe…with plenty of room to spare.

Yet having traveled to more than 30 countries, I myself still struggle with a myopic view of the world.

“So what?” you say.  Why the big harangue?

The big deal is if we hardly even know where people live, we'll hardly even care about them. Out of sight…out of mind.  

But it was Jesus Himself who told us “Go into ALL the world and preach the gospel.”  Jesus went out of His way to remind us to go out of OUR way and care about “the uttermost parts of the world.”

In a day of Google Maps and Google Earth and GPS screens, there is no reason—and certainly no excuse–for being a geographically ignorant American.

Though Christ's concern is primarily about people, we cannot—and must not—ignore their place, whether Judea, Samaria, or the uttermost parts of the earth.  Their place, after all, is inextricably linked to their plight.  And the plight of people—wherever they live—is always at the heart of Christ.

Hospitals.  They're no fun when you're sick—but remarkably instructive if you're healthy.

Recently, my wife went into the hospital for kidney surgery.  So I spent four nights sleeping out in the waiting room, and countless hours observing.  I've come away with three lessons I'm trying to hang on to.

Lesson #1: Everybody is hurting—from something.

Hospitals, of course, are filled with the sick, the broken, the bleeding.  There isn't a hallway you walk down that doesn't offer some kind of evidence of intense personal pain. 

Yet this is also true of life, itself. Everybody's hurting over something.  The problem for most of us is that because life isn't labeled a “Hospital” we often fail to see the pain in front of our face…in the face in front of us.

Lesson #2: The best care is team care.

I'm intrigued at the clusters of doctors and nurses in the hallway, talking about this or that patient and what they've attempted so far—and what they think might be most beneficial next.  These very smart people have learned that the smartest among them is not sufficient for the mystery of human hurt.  It takes a team.

Same is true in the body of Christ.  Galatians 6:2 calls us to “Bear one another’s' burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ.”

Lesson #3: There is indescribable beauty in the humility of serving.

Over the past five days, I have witnessed countless acts of kindness from nurses and doctors and technicians.  There is little glory in cleaning up human waste…or changing bloody dressings. Frankly, I was caught off guard at the beauty I saw in the humility of this selfless service. 

I now hear Christ's statement in Matthew 5:7 with fresh ears:  “Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.”

There's no glory…and certainly no fun—in visiting someone in the hospital.  Or someone shut in.  But it's the lifestyle we've been called to.   That's mercy.

With a view from a hospital corridor, those are my thoughts .

The Waldo Canyone Fire.  By the time it was finally put out last July more than 300 Colorado homes were destroyed.  One person was killed, with nearly half a billion dollars in damages.
 

Like any disaster, it's one thing to see it on the web…or watch it on your flat screen TV.  Quite another to be there.

On a recent trip out west, my wife and I decided to visit the ruins.  The scent of burning is still in the air, months after the last of the flames were silenced.

What we saw was beyond sobering.  Block after block of burned down homes, many concrete foundations entirely cleared of even a hint of blackened sawdust.  The sense of nothingness was oddly gripping, inducing an almost sacred sadness.

 Yet oddly, we saw random homes that were somehow spared the fury of the fire.  You drove down the street and a list of the houses went like this: Destroyed, destroyed, destroyed…spared.  

How?  What could possibly have prevented these places from lighting up like torches as the monster fire gobbled up entire neighborhoods like prawns on a platter?

Then…it hit me: this is exactly what judgment day will some day be like.  The majority of people whose names you've known and whose lives you've touched–their souls: destroyed.  Destroyed, destroyed, destroyed.  And then—miracle of miracles…this one spared.  Destroyed, destroyed, destroyed.  And then wonderfully, gloriously…that one…spared. Spared the fire and destruction of hell, an agony that will not cease.

And the questions again: How?  Why?

There can be only one answer: Grace.

There can be only one response: Go.  Go and share what Christ has done…and what Hell will do unless one is rejected and the other recieved. 

Recently we did a major home remodel and in the midst of the dust, discovered that our house's foundation had cracks in two places.  Damaging water was slowly leaking in.  We did not enjoy paying the price to have the foundations fixed.  But I'm so glad we did! 

How wish it were that easy to repair the cracks in the foundation of our Christian culture.  We see those "cracks" when we read study after study showing followers of Jesus divorce nearly as much as followers of the world.  We see them when we read that Christians visit pornography sites with disturbing frequency.  We see the cracks when we read scientific evidence that followers of Jesus are increasingly comfortable claiming to believe one way…but behave another.

My concern is two-fold.  One, we seem to lack a consensus that the cracks are truly severe.  And two, the few solutions out there appear to be rather surfacy: read this book…attend that webinar… download this resource.

I'm reminded of the street they recently resurfaced in our neighborhood.  A concrete barber of sorts shaved off the top three inches of concrete pavement.  I was intrigued that most of the cracks I had seen at the surface were still quite visible three inches down.  Supposedly, a fresh coating of asphalt will smooth over those cracks.

But there is no easy way to pave over the cracks Christians have allow to develop on the narrow road Jesus spoke of.

And if Christ followers are going to stand out from our culture–in a good sense–we will need to dig much deeper than surface level cracks.  We'll have to go down to the very foundations for vital repairs.

It's not pretty. It's not fun.  But it must be done.

For followers of Jesus, the time for band aid solutions is long past.   The course before us may be expensive.  But pay the price we must.  The cracks must be fixed. 

Lest "the narrow road" opened up by Jesus, become perilous for the very folks we invite to travel alongside us.

Last night I dreamed a horrible dream.  It has haunted me to the point where I can no longer delay sharing it.  Understand that I am not a prophet, nor do I claim to have the biblical gift of prophecy.  But…this is my dream.

I was in my own town.  Familiar streets and places.  Yet I was very far away.  It seemed like evening, but I couldn’t really tell. The sky was dark, but not black.  More of a strange gray greenish color.

As I walked around, I was surrounded by violence—and its evidence.  Broken things.  Broken relationships.  People using profanity to the point where printable language was merely the mortar between the bricks of their vulgar expressions.  

I heard people plotting vengeance…making violent plans.  My own life was threatened.  Though I hurried to leave, my shoes were mired in a landscape of brown ooze with a gripping power far greater than common mud.

When home at last, I shared the scene with my wife.  And one of us—I’m not sure who—quietly assessed, “This is the hand of God removed.” 

And then I woke up, deeply stirred by the dream.  I’m not suggesting that this is “a vision for all mankind.”  Yet it does seem like a reliable picture of what a society becomes with the hand of God removed.  Consider America:

• The debauchery that increasingly defines our sexual norms—it’s the hand of God removed.

• The ignorance and arrogance of our scientific community—worshipping the “natural” while deploring any worship of the God of the supernatural—it’s the hand of God removed.

• The rise of corporate greed and treachery toward human beings—it’s the hand of God removed.

• The move away from our historical support of Israel—it’s the hand of God removed.

Could it be those gray green skies I saw in my dream are something of a forecast for a nation unaware?   The hand of God removed….

Let me just come right out and say it: I believe there’s a problem with prayer meeting. Not in all churches.  But in most churches I’ve been in.  And possibly in your church, as well.

The problem is this. 

We have allowed our prayer times to become disproportionately dominated by health concerns. 

We pray for sick people—as we ought—but to the point of minimizing other critical issues: revival, repentance, the salvation of lost people.  Some of these elements are present in some prayer meetings…but they get a comparatively small piece of the prayer pie.

I’m all for praying for the sick.  It’s biblical.  We’re commanded to do it.

But so is praying for those that have the rule over you.

So is praying for lost people.

So is praying for spiritual growth.

So is praying for persecuted brothers and sisters around the globe.

And if you were to pie chart most of the prayer meetings we’ve ever attended, I’m pretty sure  half or more of our prayer time —is devoted to our focus on health issues. 

Though He compassionately cared for the sick, this was not Jesus primary focus—nor should it be ours.   Jesus said He came to seek and to save the lost…

It’s human nature to be most concerned about those things that feel most pressing to us.  And when a child is running a high fever three days in a row, it FEELS like a much more compelling prayer request than asking God to deliver our nation from evil.

But it’s time to put more of a prayer emphasis on the things that Christ emphasized in prayer.  That doesn’t mean we stop praying for the sick.  But it DOES mean the issues on God’s heart must sit heavier on our hearts. For what else should they be beating?

And now a few words in defense of Pastors.  Already I can see the raised eyebrows of my listeners.  "What do you mean–in defense of pastors?"  It's my careful observation–over a couple of decades now–that most pastors really COULD use a little defense.  So given the fact that October is Pastor Appreciation Month, I thought I'd try to get you to appreciate your pastor a bit more.  About the only way to do that is to address some common misconceptions people have about pastors. 

Misconception #1  Everybody fauns all over the pastor.  He gets all the affirmation in the world.   Not so.  In addition to "attaboy" pats on the back after typical Sunday services, pastors get tons of criticism, as well.  Discouraging emails, irate phone callers, unsigned letters shoved under their office doors. The truth: Everybody does NOT faun all over the pastor.  And as for all that praise… lots of it is kinda shallow, however well intentioned.

Misconception #2  Pastor's got a pretty easy gig.  After all, in a typical week he shows up for a few meetings, researches the sermon and visits a few sick people.  How hard can it be?  The truth?  Your pastor is on call 24 hours a day.  He spends LOTS of late nights intervening in crises and counseling people. He knows terrible secrets he wishes he did not. You probably have very little idea just how much weight he carries on his shoulders at any given moment.

Misconception #3  He's surrounded by people every Sunday, so he must have tons of friends.  The truth: very few pastors have even one close friend.  Not wanting to play favorites, they live a lonely life.

Be a friend to your pastor.  Cut him some slack. Give him your loyalty.  Pray for him daily!  Heaven knows he needs this!

Funny thing about getting a hole in your blue jeans.  You rarely notice the start of the thing.  A small frayed area becomes a little hole.  The little hole becomes a big hole.  And then the jeans are not terribly useful.

In my opinion, that’s a metaphor for the state of today’s Christian music. I stumbled on to the problem when trying to find songs that would match a series of devotionals I was doing.  You can find tons of songs that “Wanna praise the Lord.  Wanna praise the Lord.  Yeah.  Yeah. Yuh-yeah…Wanna praise the Lord.”

But the moment you step away from what we typically call “Praise and Worship”…good luck finding anything.  Doubt me?  Okay…

Where are the songs that speak of embracing sufering?  Where is the musical cry for fasting?   And where are the songs that talk about loving my gay neighbor across the street?  How many songs have you heard that instruct you to forgive a sister or brother…even when you don’t feel like it?  Where are all the songs that compel us to share Jesus verbally?  Come to think of it, the last time I heard a serious song about the rapture was “I Wish We’d All Been Ready.”  And that came out back in 1973. 

There’s a hole in our music.  It’s kind of crept up on us—like that hole in your favorite blue jeans.  We’ve allowed the feel-good music to fray the very fabric of our song content.

There’s a hole in our music.  But the good news, we can fix it—if we choose to.   (1:25)

First, we need to hit the pause button on songs that “makes us feel good.”  Got enough of those in the works already.  Second, we need to intentionally platform songs that call us to a deeper, fuller more biblical Christian expression.  Finally, we need to craft fresh new music that speaks to all of the Christian life. 

As I finger the hole in our music, those are my thoughts. 

As I write this, directly behind me in my office is a small round table.  On it is a sheet of white paper—the visible evidence of a visit from three year old Joslynn Jaeger.  The paper is festooned with an arc of seven bright orange stickers. Also on that sheet of paper, tiny crumbs of dried out play dough.  She and her “Grandma Di-Di” made two cats—one yellow, one black. They are, alas, both disassembled and back in their respective plastic cans. 

Yet the evidence of Joslynn’s visit is still present.  Underneath the first paper is another, bearing a partial outline of her hand.  You know—you flatten your palm on the paper and draw around it with a pen. 

How do you take something like that—with a memory as happy as it represents—and throw it in the garbage?  I cannot. I think I now understand Pablo Picasso’s observation, “It takes a long time to become young.”

The problem when we’re physically younger is that we often don’t value things as we ought. I’m reminded of James 1:17, “Every good and perfect is from above—and comes down from the Father of heavenly lights.”

Our problem as followers of Jesus, is that we often don’t recognize the gifts we’ve been given. So we value them less.  Hang on to them too loosely…and let them slip through our fingers. 

In the younger stages of life, we look for gifts that glitter: shiny cars, new houses, salaries that sparkle.

But with the passing of just a few years, you finally learn to appreciate the scent of a pine tree, the call of a dove…or the stickered sheet of paper left by your granddaughter.  The one with the play dough crumbs. 

As for Joslynn…she really is that good gift from above.  With so much sparkle in her personality, she has to be a gift from “the Father of Heavenly lights.”

There’s no need for any of us to grow old before we choose to learn to appreciate EVERY good and perfect gift.