Columnist.
When a friend loses a loved one and you want to comfort him, but don't know where to begin; when you're truly sorry but know your words won't make the wrong "right"; when that emotion you feel is so powerful but the four letters in "love" seem so small; when your words are needed most -- you begin to fear their inadequacy. Sometimes, you're so afraid of having your words fall short that you shrink back and don't speak at all. "It's not my place." "It won't change anything." "She doesn't want to hear it." "He already knows." "I wouldn't know what to say."
Why do bad things happen? It's a question that we all ask at least once in our lives. Sadly, the question torments some people so dreadfully that they come to the hopeless conclusion that there is no God. How do we reconcile the truth that life can be hard -- often cruel -- with the truth that there is an all-powerful God who is good? Some of the bad things that "happen" to us are the direct and natural results of our own sins. In other words, many of life's hardships are entirely avoidable. But we all sin. While God always forgives anyone who genuinely seeks forgiveness, he usually does not remove the earthly consequences of our sins. And those natural consequences can cause untold suffering.
If you've spent much time in church, you have likely often heard the first verse from Psalm 42, "As the deer longs for streams of water, so I long for you, O God." But if you're like us, those words may sometimes seem a bit stale. Both of us have often sung them on Sunday - but not always with sincerity. Yes, we long for God. But if you took a good hard look at how we have spent our time through the years, you might think we long for other things a bit more -- things like a clean house, time with friends and "enough" sleep. And as good as "digging into the Word" sounds, sometimes it's hard ground to break through. When we discuss the reality of how we live, we have to confess that there are times when we truly think about how we really *should* read it and sincerely intend to study His word....later. Perhaps you know what we mean. Have you ever found yourself moving toward a quiet time, and then suddenly a thousand other things begin fighting for your attention? You remember that you need to respond to that email. You start making a grocery list. You get sleepy.
We know the story of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., whose legacy we celebrate as a nation in just a few days. We know how he fought with words and love and never with his fists. We know about his dream and his martyr's death - and that he was not a perfect man. But perhaps even more important than the story is the lifeblood of his legacy -- the truth, the faith that drove him forward -- the spirit that would will for us to press on further, in spite of our own spiritual failures. In his earliest recorded sermon, Martin Luther King, Jr. noted something that nearly every person who has ever lived has felt: "There is something wrong with our world."
So you made a New Year's resolution just a week ago and you've already broken it. Welcome to the club. In our culture we place a lot of value on willpower. We love stories of perseverance and physical and mental fortitude. We believe that personal resolve leads to success. We admire and strive after independence and self-improvement. Of course, these truly are admirable qualities. But what happens when we fail to meet our goals, when we let ourselves and others down? What happens when we give in, give up and break under pressure? How do we view ourselves when we wake up a week into the New Year and realize that we simply forgot about the promises we made so sincerely on the 31st?
Empty lines on dated pages are set, ready and waiting to be filled with the black ink and pencil marks that shape the year as our lives fill the days. The crisp whiteness of the untouched paper seems to reflect the excitement that accompanies the reality of a new beginning. And the false guilt of falling for a cliché melts away beneath the truth that we were made to hope for perfection, taught to work out our salvation and hard-wired to appreciate second chances. The nearly irresistible urge to make a New Year's resolution is as much a part of our nature as our desire to number our trips around the sun. Standing on the edge of a new year can be more freeing than a good spring-cleaning, and a solid New Year's resolution can make you feel like a kid with a book bag full of new school supplies.
Moses wanted more of God. He wanted to understand him, to know him intimately. So he prayed, "If it is true that you look favorably on me, let me know your ways so I may understand you more fully and continue to enjoy your favor." And God, pleased by Moses' request, replied, "I will indeed do what you have asked, for I look favorably upon you, and I know you by name." Then Moses, perhaps encouraged by God's paternal reply, stepped boldly into the depth of his desire and made a wild plea: "Then show me your glorious presence" (Exodus 33:13-18). Moses didn't yet understand that God's presence would be too much for him. Romans 3:23 says, "For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." Like the stars high in the heavens, God is too powerful, too bright, too glorious for us to handle up close. Moses wouldn't have been able to survive a face-to-face encounter with the force that created the universe.
This time of year, lights strung up around our homes proclaim a warm welcome, usher us into the firelight, the flickering candlelight, the colorful glow of family trees. The lights elicit an exciting sense of hope; they help ready us for the coming holiday. We are naturally drawn to light. We adore it. We love watching the sun stretch its arms wide across the cold ground, helping our minds make sense of an otherwise dark world. "As the light approaches, the earth takes shape like clay pressed beneath a seal." (Job 38:14).
He gave up Heaven, power and honor in exchange for a dirty feeding trough, helplessness and a cross. He gave up all the benefits that come with being God just so He could save us from our own mess. The Creator of the Universe became like us and lived among us. But the miracle that makes Christmas worth celebrating is much more personal than God *with* us. The miracle of Christmas is that God came here to be born *within* us. When Jesus was nailed to the cross, he took on the broken and corrupt spirits of every person who would ever choose to believe in him -- and he crucified them along with himself. 1 Peter says, "He personally carried our sins in his body on the cross so that we can be dead to sin…" And when Jesus walked out of his grave, he paved the path to full, abundant and eternal life.
Waiting for peace; hoping for joy; anticipating something wonderful. All of creation waits in earnest for the time of salvation. It is this time of year when we think about how the Kingdom of Heaven has been forcefully advancing since the day a voice shouted in the wilderness, "Prepare the way for the Lord's coming! Clear the road for him!" John the Baptist -- the prophet who baptized men in rivers -- proclaimed that the long-awaited Messiah was coming to baptize them with fire. He was born for advent -- born to tell the news: "The morning light from heaven is about to break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death and to guide us to the path of peace" (Luke 1:78-79).
God "gives his sunlight to both the evil and the good, and he sends rain on the just and the unjust alike" (Matthew 5:45). Every one of us has been blessed by God, but so few of us recognize His hand on our lives. And those of us who do recognize His providence so rarely take the time to express our gratitude. All too often our thanks is missing. The Bible tells the story of a time when Jesus healed ten men from leprosy at a time. "One of them, when he realized that he was healed, turned around and came back, shouting his gratitude, glorifying God. He kneeled at Jesus' feet, so grateful. He couldn't thank him enough -- and he was a Samaritan. Jesus said, 'Were not ten healed? Where are the nine? Can none be found to come back and give glory to God except this outsider?' Then he said to him, 'Get up. On your way. Your faith has healed and saved you'" (Luke 17:15-19).
"Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn't pass it to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same, or one day we will spend our sunset years telling our children and our children's children what it was once like in the United States where men were free." Those famous words from our favorite modern president, Ronald Reagan, never rang more true than when the freedoms of religion and of speech were recently threatened for pastors in Houston, Texas.
We've all felt that bittersweet longing for familiar places and people. Our experience of homesickness increases with age. The more places you visit and come to love, the less "at home" you feel in any one place. And the more people you come to cherish, the more often you miss someone. Perhaps those who can identify most with the term "homesickness" are those who have lost loved ones. It's more than a simple miss; an undeniable void is created at the departure of a loved one. Your world -- your home -- is altered and you know with final certainty that it will never return to the way things were.
Where are you looking for your fulfillment? To simple pleasures? To hard work and success? To beauty and art or justice and honor? According to scripture, King Solomon was the richest and wisest man on Earth (2 Chronicles 1:11). He had virtually unlimited resources and tremendous power. And he devoted his life to seeking satisfaction. He pursued every good and pleasurable thing to a greater degree than you or I could ever dream of. If anyone could provide any insight as to how to find fulfillment in life, Solomon is the one.
Apathy toward indecent, uncivil, and immoral behavior has been the undoing of many a nation throughout history. Nations who replace a relationship with God for secular idols are quickly filled with individuals who are apathetic about how they treat others, and ultimately become nations marred by selfishness and greed. And as Rome proved many years ago, a nation composed of selfish, greedy, immoral individuals cannot stand. History shows us that no enemy was able to defeat ancient Rome; Rome fell from within when it became morally bankrupt. Common decency, civility, and morality are intertwined, and the future of our society depends on them.
"How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow? Your life is like the morning fog -- it's here a little while, then it's gone." This verse from James 4:14 really cuts to the chase. How is it that even though life is the longest thing we do on earth, it seems so short? In *A Severe Mercy*, an incredible memoir about his own life and love lived and lost, Sheldon Vanauken reflected on the way we humans respond to time: "Not only are we harried by time, we seem unable, despite a thousand generations, even to get used to it. We are always amazed at it -- how fast it goes, how slowly it goes, how much of it is gone. Where we cry, has the time gone? We aren't adapted to it, not at home in it.
In today's health-conscious culture, the saying "you are what you eat" is generally regarded as gospel truth. We know it's important to eat well because it's obvious that our lives are deeply affected by the quality of our diets. How much more important is it to watch what we put into our minds and pay attention to how it affects us? If you want a healthy family, it is essential to step back from time to time to evaluate whether the media messages we and our family members are consuming are supporting -- or harming -- the hopes and dreams we have for our family unit as a whole, and for each individual.
Pornography is everywhere. It's an evil with far-reaching affects that damage many layers of society. But no one is hurt more by the overwhelming presence of pornography in our society than children. According to a study by the London School of Economics, nine out of ten children who go online (by the way, many of them just doing their homework) will view pornography. Even when kids are acting responsibly and innocently, adults in the pornography business are so fixated on creating new porn addicts that they have made it virtually impossible for children to escape their grasp. Think about it -- 90 percent of all kids on the Internet will be subjected to the sexual images and values of perverted pornographers.
A sick woman snuck her way through the crowd, reached out, and took what she didn't even ask for. She stole a bit of healing power from Jesus. Though on a mission to save a child on the verge of death, he stopped in his tracks. He stopped to give that power-stealing woman a blessing -- much more than she came to take. And the sick little girl, who was first in line, died because the Great Physician took his time getting to her. He spent precious time caring for the woman who wasn't even on his schedule. And that little girl's family grieved. Didn't Jesus know how urgent the job he agreed to was? Didn't he know he was letting the young girl die when he stopped to talk? That the sick woman who waited 12 years to be healed would be satisfied without the added blessing?
The couple and their three lovely children were ushered to their table in the outdoor restaurant overlooking the grand caldera on the beautiful island of Santorini. The night could not have been more spectacular. The brilliant glow of the full moon reflected off the ocean waters and the lights of the ancient homes cascading down the side of the mountains twinkled like the stars above. Certainly, this would be a memorable evening for this precious family who had obviously gone to great expense to experience the enchanted Greek island. Then, it happened. Shortly after being seated, each family member instinctively pulled out an electronic gadget: the youngest son quickly became enraptured in a hand-held gaming device; the two older children were immersed on their iPhones; even the mom and dad's eyes glazed over as they stared at their iPad screens, missing the glory of their beautiful surroundings. All evening they continued this way, barely setting down their gadgets to even eat. There was no notice of the moon, or of the sea, or of the fresh air and all-encompassing magic around them. There was no more conversation than a passing phrase; no more interaction with their family members than the occasional elbowing of the one next to them and pointing to the screen. It was a night lost forever to the addiction of technology.
