A Higher Level of Embarrassment

Weakness is humbling. No, more than that . . . it’s embarrassing. It’s terrifically difficult to say, “I need help,” when the help you need is for something you think you should be able to do.

It starts when we’re small. “I do it!”, the toddler sternly declares. A few years later, “Nooooo! Let meeeeeee!” The teen’s exasperated, “I’m not a baby!!” Culminating in the oft-heard adult response, “Nah, I can handle it. Thanks, tho.”

We cherish our independence, take pride in our versatility, covet the image of capability. Many of us take it to such an extreme that when we really DO need help, even badly, we still can’t bring ourselves to allow it. “No; thanks for asking, but we’ll be okay.” To admit the need for help would expose our weakness or our failure or our . . . well, I don’t know what to call it. But to admit the need for help exposes something about us that we don’t like to admit – that we’re not as self-sufficient as we want to be.

When you read this, I’ll still have from four to eight weeks to go before I am allowed to pick up anything that weighs more than ten pounds (and ten pounds is really pushing the limits.) I can’t push or pull anything that takes as much as ten pounds of pressure to move. I can’t drive a car. I can’t play a guitar. I can’t raise my elbows above my shoulders or my hands above my head. I have to be extremely careful when taking the milk out of the fridge, or moving a chair to sit down at or get up from the table. (The thing I missed most on Sunday – hugging the children I usually get to hug!)

I want so much to do all the things I normally do, but I have to ask for help. But I’m blessed to be surrounded by friends, brothers and sisters in Christ who want to help. I’m blessed that way, because if I didn’t, I’d be lost in my day-to-day living.

The discussion brings to mind some pertinent scripture passages about weakness:

For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly . . . but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. (Rom 5:6,8)

Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.
(Rom 8:26)

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Cor 12:9-10)

We are too weak to save ourselves. We are too weak to communicate completely with God. We are too weak to move through life without the constant company of Christ. And just like our other weaknesses, we keep trying to avoid admitting those things.

We need to learn to tolerate a higher level of embarrassment.

Definitely the Better Half

"Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up! Again, if two lie together, they keep warm, but how can one keep warm alone? And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him—a threefold cord is not quickly broken." (Ecclesiastes 4:9-12, ESV)

It is time to sing the praises of Marlys Baynor Loveall. Who, you ask?

The short answer is this: She is the one, after God, who makes my life possible. Anything I have made of myself, whatever that may be, I have been able to because she is in my life.

The long answer would take far more space than this forum allows. Before I met her, I was a man who, by the end of my 20's, had accomplished exactly nothing and who was not going anywhere worth going. One young woman in whom I had interest in dating, while I was at St. Louis Christian College, was kind enough to inform me that the general perception of me amongst the eligible females at school was that they saw no significant future with me because I didn't seem to be going anywhere.

By early 1990, I had graduated college and had developed a general plan about life, but wasn't getting anywhere with it. I was almost totally off-track, surviving day to day, month to month, but not much more than that. When God brought Marlys to me, and me to her, on June 16th of that year, not much changed immediately. But we began to connect more deeply, and sometime in the middle of August, I asked her to marry me (which we did, 10 months later. Very short courtship, longer engagement.) During that time, and as we started our life together, I began to be able to develop focus and direction. I had to -- I suddenly had a wife and a 5-year-old in the family. It was time to grow up and be a man.

But it only happened because God brought this wonderful person to my life. Her love, her support, her encouragement, her correction, her putting up with my idiocy and loving me anyway -- anyone who likes me at all had best be mighty thankful for Marlys. She is God's primary human tool for shaping me into what I ought to be.

Tomorrow's readings: Ecclesiastes 5:1-7; Joshua 6; Jeremiah 1:11-19; Matthew 17

"I don't care."

Picture Jesus saying those words. Kinda hard to. "So what? I don't care." Now, it doesn't translate just that way in Matthew 15, but that's what he's saying.

He's in the middle of raking the religious leaders over the coals for their hypocrisy (again), and calls some folks around him and tells them "Get this now -- It's not what goes into your mouth that defiles you; it's what comes out." His disciples pull him aside and say, kind of under their breath, I suspect, "Hey, listen -- these Pharisees, they don't care so much for that. They're really getting offended by what you're saying. you might wanta tone it down a little"

And Jesus says, "So? I don't care. Just let 'em be. They don't know what they're doing, and in the long run, they won't matter." (It says that, right there in vs. 13-14. No, really, it does. go look.)

You can say things like that when you're imbued with power and perfection, because you know you're right.

But I think I have enough timidity in me to keep from saying that more than occasionally. I have certain convictions that I am rock-solid-sure about. But I also have some convictions that I should use a word other than "convictions" for, because I'm strongly confident that I'm right about them, but I know I've been wrong before. And some others that I think I'm right, and can make (what seems to me) a good argument for, that I might also be wrong about to varying degrees.

The trouble is, I'm not always entirely sure which things fall into which of the last two categories. I try to speak as though I'm confident about it, but I tossed out a disclaimer during my sermon this week that needs to be spoken more often from the pulpit -- and not just mine, but from EVERY pulpit.

The disclaimer is this: Don't take my word for it, if your eternity depends on it. I'll do my best to steer you straight and true. But always, ALWAYS use your Bible to be sure that I'm right about it. And if you think I've missed something, or thought insufficiently about an idea, or am misinformed, then please, by all means, talk to me about it. I love to teach, and I love to learn, because I want to teach well, and I want to teach true.

I'd appreciate it if you'd give me a hand with that.

Thoughts I should have had earlier

Don't want to let this go without saying something about it. Like you, sometimes I come thru a time of scripture reading or sermon listening or lesson hearing, and just get absolutely NOTHing out of it. Sometimes it's the preacher or teacher's fault, for being dull or unorganized or lightweight or any number of things. (Of course, it's never Scripture's fault!)

But most of the time, it's my fault. Too tired, or distracted, or just unable or unwilling to make myself focus and think. That's what it was today. Too tired to think hard about it. Worked at busy stuff all day, just to keep going. Stuff that had to be done, but that didn't take much thought. Some days are like that.

I'm sorry if that seems "un-preacherly". But that's how some days are. I think that God understands that. I hope so, anyway. You're welcome to disagree.

Happy 3rd of July

Apparently my brain is already taking the holiday. I've done my reading, but I've got nothin'. Lots of note-taking material in today's passages, some good teaching material for a larger context, but as for the purposes of this blog-in-progress, I've got nothin'.

How 'bout you? Did you read the passages? What struck you or stood out from the rest? They were: Ecclesiastes 2:18-23; Joshua 1; Zephaniah 1:1 - 2:3; Matthew 12.


Tomorrow's readings: Ecclesiastes 2:24-26; Joshua 2; Zephaniah 2:4-15; Matthew 13.

A Time to Leave Mourning Behind

So Moses the servant of the Lord died there in the land of Moab, according to the word of the Lord, and he buried him in the valley in the land of Moab opposite Beth-peor; but no one knows the place of his burial to this day. Moses was 120 years old when he died. His eye was undimmed, and his vigor unabated. And the people of Israel wept for Moses in the plains of Moab thirty days. Then the days of weeping and mourning for Moses were ended. (Deuteronomy 34:5-8, ESV)

You have to move on. You have to let things go.

I don't mean to be insensitive to feelings and loss, but, you know, people die. They've been doing it since the beginning, and they'll keep doing it until the end of this realm of existence. One reason we allow our children to keep pets -- dogs and cats and hamsters and lizards and turtles and birds and such -- is, or ought to be, because it gives them a chance to learn about death. They learn that, in the words of Pogo Possum, "Life ain't NOhow permanent;" that loss hurts, but isn't fatal; that we continue to live when someone we love dies.

Anyway, that's how it's supposed to be. Ever been in a home where they keep "the untouched bedroom", the one where nothing has been changed since the day its occupant died? Or watched as a friend or acquaintance lived their days in the shadow of loss? Some folks just won't leave it behind. I feel a strong sympathy for the parent who loses a child or spouse far too early in life; I don't mean to diminish the sense of loss when a loved one goes home. But there also comes a sense of irritation with that person who won't let go. Do we somehow think that the one who is gone from us is honored by a refusal to move through life without him or her . . . that they would WANT us to get stuck in a certain time and not live our lives? It's especially frustrating when it's a Christian who won't stop the mourning, as though Jesus were wrong when he talked about eternity and renewal and life and hope.

There comes a time when you have to move on, to stop clinging. And the people of Israel wept for Moses in the plains of Moab thirty days. Then the days of weeping and mourning for Moses were ended. It's not just true of losing loved ones. It's true of losing leaders, teachers, jobs, situations, and so much more. The job you loved that you're not in anymore. The preacher who meant so much who's moved on, for whatever reason. The girlfriend/boyfriend that promised to never leave you, just before he/she broke your heart.

Let it go. Life moves ahead. Move with it. Pogo was wrong -- in God, life IS permanent. It doesn't stop, just because we come to an end here.


Tomorrow's readings -- Ecclesiastes 2:18-23; Joshua 1; Zephaniah 1:1 - 2:3; Matthew 12

A Sad Way to End a Life

That very day the Lord spoke to Moses, “Go up this mountain of the Abarim, Mount Nebo, which is in the land of Moab, opposite Jericho, and view the land of Canaan, which I am giving to the people of Israel for a possession. And die on the mountain which you go up, and be gathered to your people, as Aaron your brother died in Mount Hor and was gathered to his people, because you broke faith with me in the midst of the people of Israel at the waters of Meribah-kadesh, in the wilderness of Zin, and because you did not treat me as holy in the midst of the people of Israel. For you shall see the land before you, but you shall not go there, into the land that I am giving to the people of Israel.” (Deuteronomy 32:48-52, ESV)

You're Moses, and you've been leading God's people, guiding them through the deserts and open spaces and floods and heat and sand and rocks and sun for 40 years now, waiting for that day when God tells you, "It's time to take them home." Now that day has come, except that God isn't saying exactly that. He's saying, "It's time for them to go home . . . but you aren't going with them. I'll give you a good look at it from here, but that's all, because . . .""

Crushing disappointment; bewilderment; inner devastation; "What? . . . I'm not. . . Why? . . ." That would be MY response. Fall on my knees, on my face, and cry and beg and plead. Start reminding God of all the ways I've stood for him in the face of a rebellious crowd. So I got a little mad that one time, lost my temper . . . how does that outweigh everything else?

". . . you did not treat me as holy in the midst of the people of Israel." Oh, God PLEEEEase . . . I didn't know. I couldn't know.

But I could, and I did. All those moments I stood before the congregation and soaked up the glory and attention. Every Sunday that I shook people out the door, hungry to hear how moving or inspirational or challenging the sermon had been. Every time I said, "Thank you, I'm glad it was helpful," while I was thinking, "Wellll,Thaynk YEEEWWW for thinking so much of me. Man, I'm doing all right!"

For all those times, for all those feelings, for all that self-congratulation, for all that arrogance and condescension . . . O God, please forgive me.

The leader's highest calling is surely to treat God as holy in the midst of the people. To do everything I do with an eye toward bringing Him glory and honor, showing his holiness and greatness and awesome other-ness to anyone looking and listening. O Great God, push me to set aside all thought of me, burn away any wrong reaction to what people say to me. I would have them see your glory in everything I do, every word I say from behind the podium or the microphone.

I do not want them to go home without me.

And that's just how hard it is . . .

. . . to be a blogger when you don't want to just throw any old thing up there. It's been a month and more since I thought I might start a little blog, if I had something that seemed worth saying, which this particular entry absolutely does not.

I read a lot of blogs. Some of them are a total waste of time, but I like the people who write them, so I read them to see what's going on with them. A few of them bring deeply insightful writing to the table. They make a rich meal -- sometimes satisfying, sometimes unsettling, because some of them challenge my thinking, my behavior, my worldview, my faith. I appreciate them. I learn from them.

The thing with this one is that I don't write like that. I don't think like that, at least not on my own. Pretty much every good or challenging or enlightening idea I talk about or use in my sermons, I find somewhere else. I'm much more an editor or compiler than an author. I can take a thought that I find, that strikes me as being worth thinking about and worth spreading to other people - - and I find a way to say it or explain it or expand on it some, and connect it to some other thoughts, so that they illuminate or expand on each other, and show deeper connections and behavior- or thought-changing importance.

But if I do that here, then this will be little more than, "Here's something I read today" again and again. I should rather just post links and say, "Go look at this."

So . . . I dunno. People tell me I'm pretty smart and pretty wise and communicate well and such. If so, then why can't I do this writing thing?

Really, what I do best is answer questions. Ask me something, and I can often start helping you make connections. Say, "I think this . . . what do YOU think?", and I can usually go for a good while. But that won't work here.

Maybe I'll figure it out by the time you next look in here.

Incredible presumption

How fantastically arrogant do you have to be to think that the world is eagerly waiting to hear what you think? And yet, dozens or hundreds of new blogs, I would guess, start up every day. So why should you bother with this one?

I don't know that you should. You've got a lot going on, plenty to keep you busy, no time to waste. Just walk on by, move along; nothing to see here, folks.

I'm hoping this blog will help me toward a goal I constantly seek and continually fall short of -- deeper involvement with the word of God, more than using it as a study tool for sermon- and lesson-making. I reckon if I know that I'm committed to writing something cogent or thoughtful about what I'm reading and learning, maybe I'll be more consistent with it.

So I'll use this as a place to work out on "paper" the thoughts, impressions, convictions and questions from my (hopefully) daily scripture reading/meditation times. Kind of a public journaling, in a not-quite-as-revealing way.

Anybody else wants to look in on it occasionally, you're welcome in. Leave a comment if you care to; argue a point; clear up an apparent lack of understanding; just say "Hi". It'll be good to have you along.