The Kingdom, The Kids, & The Cowboys

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4 Amarillo Video

January 31, 2014 / / 0 Comments

Scattershooting while wondering whatever happened to Tom Henke…

The video from our “4 Amarillo” Thanksgiving Service at First Baptist back on November 24 is finally up and running now on our Central church website. To see the 67-minute service, from Burt Palmer’s welcome (“Take a moment to greet your neighbor because this is what heaven is going to look like!”) to the acappella singing of “The Lord Bless You and Keep You” at the close, just click here. Burt’s welcome comes at the 6:30 mark after the opening hymn. At the 11:25 mark, you can watch me jump off my seat in the front row to attend to Chloe. The cameras missed her nearly blacking out and stumbling off the stage, almost nailing the piano and taking out the strings section on her way to a stair well at the side of the room. She was OK. But we keep bringing it up at small group. You can watch Kevin lead the 130-member combined choir and the rest of the congregation in “Mighty to Save” at the 12:30 mark. And, yeah, as always, he finished it strong. Really strong. My sermon, “So the World May Believe” starts at the 34:50 point. Burt totally takes things over and freaks out all four worship leaders at 62:00. And we sing “The Lord Bless You and Keep You” at 65:00 . And, by the way, you Central folks will be shocked at how many times you’re going to see yourself. First Baptist has half a dozen cameras just on the crowd. They did a great job recording and editing this thing.

Whoa, what a night. More than 1,100 in the room on a freezing cold evening with snow and ice and on the streets. It was significant. It was historic. It mattered. And, just like our Lord promised, people have noticed. It’s funny, our churches have tried for centuries in a variety of ways and with varying levels of success to evangelize the world and expand the Kingdom. The only thing we’ve never tried is the one thing our Lord promises will work. Unity. Christian unity. Putting aside our minor differences and celebrating the countless things we share in common in Christ. The city of Amarillo is noticing. Christ is being preached in word and deed and our Father is receiving the glory. Amen.

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One of the classiest professional baseball players I ever had the privilege to know and to cover, Michael Young, has retired from baseball. After fourteen years in the major leagues, thirteen of them with the Texas Rangers, Young is calling it quits. He hung ’em up today at the Ballpark in Arlington with a .300 career batting average, 2,375 hits, seven All Star appearances, and one Gold Glove. He is the all-time — ALL-TIME!!! — Rangers franchise leaders in games played, hits, doubles, triples, and runs scored. He never went to the disabled list one time in his career. He was arguably the most consistent player in baseball during the past 14 years. And one of the all-time nicest guys.

Click here to read Sports Illustrated’s excellent article about Young’s career achievements. Click here to read Evan Grant’s article about Young always being a Texas Ranger. Click here to Richard Durrett’s outstanding piece on Young’s leadership in the Rangers clubhouse.

When I first began covering the Rangers as a reporter and then Sports Director at KRLD in 2001, Michael Young was the quiet, unassuming newbie, willing to play wherever and whenever it could help the team. I worried when A-Rod was assigned two lockers in that corner of the clubhouse right next to Young. I worried when Rodriguez and Young would sit quietly in that corner after every single game, win or lose, and talk together for ten or fifteen minutes before they would speak to any of us reporters. I would think to myself, “Please, don’t let A-Rod rub off on Michael!”

No way.

Young quickly developed into the leader of the Rangers franchise and stayed that way to the very end. Not one arrogant or self-serving bone in his body. Never. He always took responsibility for miscues in the field and always deflected praise when things were going really well. He would talk to us and answer our lame questions after 11-3 losses and after four-game sweeps of the Yankees. He was always there. Always good. Always right.

Congratulations to Michael Young on a great career. And thanks to Michael Young for doing everything the right way.

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For your pre-Super Bowl reading, I highly recommend this interesting and insightful article by Kate Hairopoulos of the Dallas Morning News regarding the use of the term “12th Man” by the Seattle Seahawks. The Seahawks are only able to use the term, which has long been trademarked by Texas A&M, by means of an exclusive licensing agreement with the Aggies. In the agreement, consumated by a $100,000 payment to A&M and maintained by a $5,000 annual fee to the school, the Seahawks and the NFL acknowledge the rightful ownership of the term by Texas A&M. And the Aggies hold full decision-making control over how the Seahawks can and cannot use it. Kate’s column outlines all the do’s and don’t’s of the deal, including some of the ways Texas A&M polices the arrangement. Apparently, the deal expires in 2016 and, with the Seattle franchise doing quite well for themselves, the Aggies are already devising ways to benefit even more.

Peace,

Allan

Around the Table: Part 9c

January 30, 2014 / / 0 Comments

The destructive shift in the Church’s communion meal — from celebratory feast to solemn service — reached the lowest point of its departure from the Scriptural witness and the faithful practice of the earliest Christians during the Middle Ages. The move from table to altar, from a celebration of Christ’s resurrection and reign to an introspective and remorseful remembrance of the crucifixion, was well underway. Prayers and rituals designed by church officials to scare nominal Christians into better living were certainly having an impact. Priests and bishops pounded church members with the notion that unfaithful living during the week prohibited one from eating and drinking the body and blood of Christ on Sunday. To partake of the communion bread and cup in this “unworthy” manner would result in eternal damnation. So you must straighten up if you’re going to do communion.

Oops. Church officials never considered that church goers might just stop doing communion.

Over the years, people just stopped going forward for the bread and cup. It was too scary, too risky, too dangerous. Go to hell if I’m not worthy of the communion? Well, how was one to know? Who’s truly worthy? I think I’ve been good all week, but what if I’ve missed something? So people began to just stay in their seats during communion time, turning the interactive participatory feast into mainly a spectator event.

The doctrine of transubstantiation, the belief that the bread and the wine actually turn into the literal and actual body and blood of Jesus at the words of sanctification, had done a real number on communion. Consider the progression of thought and practice during the middle ages:

Instead of a festive table, communion had become the solemn altar where Jesus was re-sacrificed every Sunday. Cyril of Jerusalem’s communion prayers contained the words, “We offer Christ who has been slain for our sins.” Gregory Nazianzus wrote communion instructions to his church, reminding his parishioners “we sacrifice the Master’s body with bloodless knife.”

Special unleavened bread was introduced in the 900s. Instead of common table bread that had been used by the Church for nearly a millennium, priests and bishops needed the elements to be more ritualistic, more distinctive than what one would find in their own pantries. So they began using a pure, white wafer of unleavened bread, specially baked by sanctified hands, to symbolize the pure and incorruptible priestly sacrifice. This made the bread more mysterious, more sanctified. And it caused the ceremony to be even more connected to that last supper Jesus ate the night before his death.

Eventually, the cup itself was taken from the people. Spilling the actual blood of Jesus would be an unforgivable offense; only the ordained priests could be trusted with such a precious responsibility. So communion became the swallowing of a thin, flavorless wafer and nothing with which to wash it down. The priests were the only ones drinking the wine in more and more elaborate ceremonial style. These elements contained power. They had to be treated with reverence and awe. The bread and the wine were said to confer blessing, to heal disease, to protect from evil. Only the clergy could handle it. As a result, fewer people were coming forward for any of it at all.

By the Lateran Council of 1215, the Church was officially recommending that Christians partake of communion once a year. On the other 51 Sundays, people were encouraged to pray their own individual prayers during the ceremony. Prayer beads and prayer books were introduced to keep the laity occupied while the clergy did their thing with communion down front. The Lord’s Supper became more and more personal. It was private, just between you and God while the priests did the eating and drinking on behalf of the church. With all the robes and banners and magic words and smoke, the emphasis was much more on the adoration of Christ, instead of communion with Christ.

Few have seriously attempted to renew the original table aspect of the communion feast. It’s not an easy thing to do. In order to change what had evolved (or devolved) over the course of a thousand years means taking a highly critical stance against Church tradition. And it requires a strong restoration impulse, a deep desire to go back to what was original and unblemished. But by the mid 1400s, several reformers had said, “Enough is enough!”

Peace,

Allan

Around the Table: Part 9b

January 29, 2014 / / 0 Comments

The most destructive shift for the Lord’s Supper — from celebratory feast to solemn snack — occurred in large part as a result of the legalization and official recognition by the Roman government of Christianity as a legitimate religion. Once Emperor Constantine recognized Christianity in 313 AD, made it official seven years later, and then made it mandatory throughout the empire in 321 AD, the marriage of church and state was on. In a hurry. And the form of the Lord’s Meal, which largely shapes the meaning and message of the Lord’s Meal, took one of the biggest hits.

The first and most dramatic thing that happened was that churches began to meet on Sundays in official state buildings, big meeting halls and large auditoriums, instead of private homes. People of the empire were forced to be Christians, compelled by law to worship Jesus as Lord, so these bigger buildings not only served to legitimize Christianity, they were the only venues able to accommodate the larger numbers of worshipers. As Kierkegaard famously said, “When everybody’s a Christian, no body’s a Christian.” And this was true in the 4th and 5th centuries. Augustine, writing at the end of the 4th century, claimed that only five-percent of those worshiping on Sunday were actually part of God’s true church. The new church buildings were full of nominal converts at best, outright unrepentant pagan sinners at most. John Chrysostom wrote about these worship services in the 360s:

“They pushed and pulled one another in an unruly manner during the services; they gossiped with one another; young people engaged in various kinds of mischief; and pickpockets preyed upon the crowd.”

Keep in mind, all Christian gatherings to this point, for more than 300 years, had included a full meal Lord’s Supper as the main event. With bigger crowds of barely converted Christians in state buildings instead of houses, this was becoming increasingly difficult to pull off. When they were able to stage the meal, abuses around the table became the norm. The problems with the Lord’s Dinner in 1 Corinthians — drunkenness, not sharing, divisions among classes — were getting out of hand here three centuries later. Attempts to correct those abuses eventually led to an official church ban on meals and tables in the church buildings. The Council of Laodicea, in 363 AD, made it official: no tables and no meals in the church buildings. The Trullen Council of 692 AD repeated the meal and table prohibitions of Laodicea, so that by the end of the 8th century, the full meal was no longer a part of any Lord’s Supper celebrations.

Consider for a moment the impact of the new innovation of the church building. When Christianity was legalized and mandated, the Church moved from meeting in small, intimate groups in one another’s homes to meeting in larger, impersonal groups in big auditoriums. The setting changed dramatically from a family fellowship around a kitchen table to a ceremony in a Roman state house. Instead of informal visiting and sharing around a table, Christians now sat in rows, looking at the backs of one another’s heads, and listening to a single speaker. Keep in mind, these were nominal converts. The Church was no longer an exclusive group of committed disciples. Not very many had experienced a true conversion. Most had an incomplete understanding of what it meant to be a Christian. Church leaders were unsure of how to handle it. Scholars and historians call it the Constantinian Shift. I refer to it as the Communion Killer.

The most damaging thing that occurred during this time is the shift from a celebratory fellowship meal in a resurrection context to a solemn and individualistic ceremony in a crucifixion context. This is the point in history during which the meal changed from a table event to an altar event.

Since these new Constantinian Christians were not completely committed to the faith, since the numbers of people in the assemblies were growing larger and their lives were increasingly at odds with the faith, church leaders resorted to attempting to scare these Christians straight. And they used the Lord’s Supper to do it. It’s during the late 4th and early 5th centuries when the doctrine of transubstantiation is developed: the bread and the wine actually turn into the literal flesh and blood of Jesus at the saying of the magic words of institution. If one is living his life in a way that doesn’t measure up, and then dares to ingest the holy body and blood of Jesus, he is eating and drinking himself straight into hell. 1 Corinthians 11:27-32 no longer meant that we are to share the supper with sacrificial and servant hearts, treating one another as brother and sister, honoring Jesus as the one who unites us forever. It meant look at your own life, examine your heart, see if you’re living the way you ought to be living Monday through Saturday, and then determine before you participate in this ceremony if you’re worthy. Those who were stealing from their customers or cheating on their husbands or struggling with pride or greed were eating their own damnation when they dared to approach the holy bread and cup. It’s during this time we see the communion instructions and, especially, communion prayers intentionally worded to scare the people into better lives.

In his written communion prayers in 350 AD, Basil made frequent use of the words “sinners,” “unworthy,” and “wretched.” Near the end of the 4th century, Cyril of Jerusalem wrote lengthy and complicated instructions on how to handle the bread and the cup, “careful not to drop a particle of it, for to lose any of it is clearly like losing part of your own body.” At the same time, Chrysostom referred to the communion ceremony as “that dreadful and fearful moment when the mysteries are accomplished at the terrible and awful table.” He demanded that Christians live their lives in a constant state of “purity of soul,” adding, “With this [purity of soul] approach the table at all times; without it, never!” In a communion prayer written in 380 AD, James encourages disciples of Jesus to “keep silence, and with fear and trembling stand; ponder nothing earthly minded…”

The communion meal was changing into a scary reflection of the crucifixion of Jesus. Over time, it actually shifted into a re-sacrifice, a re-crucifixion of Jesus. More pomp and circumstance was added to the ceremony, including a parade of priests and clergy who walked the bread and cup down the main aisle toward the table to symbolize Jesus marching to the cross. The white cloths used to cover the elements symbolized the burial cloths that covered Jesus’ bleeding and mangled body. The physical presence of Christ in the bread and the cup, the re-sacrifice of Jesus on the cross every Sunday was an awesome and fearful thing indeed. It evoked feelings of guilt and remorse, exactly what the priests were going for.

I don’t question the pure intent of the church leaders during this time. They were doing, I’m convinced, what they honestly believed needed to be done in order to faithfully express and live out the Gospel in their time. But, wow, did this profoundly change the form and the meaning and the message of the table of the Lord! It changed everything! And now, 1,600 years later, we’re still suffering the effects. By the end of the seventh century, eating and drinking with joy in the presence of a forgiving God and with his people, all blessed together by the gift of our loving God’s righteousness, celebrating an eternal relationship of acceptance and unity with our Father and his children, was no longer the focus of the communion words and prayers on Sundays. Communion was no longer interactive, it was silent. It wasn’t celebrative, it was solemn. It had been communal, but now it was individual. It was intended to deliver joy, but now it was bringing sorrow. Instead of thanksgiving, the mood became one of remorse. The original intent of the Lord’s Supper was fellowship, but it shifted to contemplation. Communion was practiced expressively in the Bible, but now it was an exercise in introspection. And instead of being focused on the Resurrection as the first century Christians were, the focus was on death.

It was an awesome and fearful thing. In fact, it was so awesome and so fearful, most Christians stopped participating.

Peace,

Allan

Around the Table: Part 9

January 28, 2014 / / 0 Comments

“The Christian order of worship was built up from the Jewish synagogue service of Scripture teaching and prayer with the addition of the distinctively Christian rite of the Lord’s Supper. The latter, too, has antecedents in the Jewish Passover meal and table prayers. The meal became a part of the community assembly of Christians… For many of the Christians, the central point of their Christian experience was this common meal.” ~Everett Ferguson, Early Christians Speak, 1981

Most Bible scholars and careful readers of the texts are unyielding in their convictions that the Lord’s Supper was celebrated in the context of a full meal for the first 300+ years of Christianity. We’ve explored the Biblical witness at length in previous posts. But the post-biblical accounts of early Christian worship only support the earlier writings. Christian communion was established in and shaped by the experience of a common meal. In fact, as argued in this space previously, outside of a common meal the Lord’s Supper loses much of its original function as a practical sign of mutual acceptance and relationship, as a tangible practice of fellowship and unity.

In his instructions “concerning the Eucharist,” the author of Didache, written near the turn of that second century, advises: “After you are filled (or after you have had enough), give thanks in this way…” One of the prayers mentioned in this passage acknowledges God as the one who “gave food and drink to human beings for their refreshment.” Ferguson says:

“The Eucharist in the Didache (we accept this as an account of the Lord’s Supper) appears to be set in the context of a social meal. This was the usual setting in the early days of the church… The disorders at Corinth were occasioned by the circumstances of a common meal.” ~Early Christians Speak

Consider these other early post-biblical accounts of the Lord’s Meal:

“We take the sacrament of the Eucharist, which was commanded by the Lord at meal time and for all alike, in congregations before daybreak.” ~Tertullian, On the Crown (3.3) 190 AD

“…when they sang in alternate verses a hymn to Christ, as to a god, and bound themselves by a solemn oath… after which it was their custom to separate, and then reassemble to partake of food — but food of an ordinary and innocent kind.” ~Pliny, Letters (10.6) addressed to the Emperor Trajan, 112 AD

“Since it is a religious duty, it permits nothing vile, nothing immodest. We do not recline at the table before prayer to God is first tasted. We eat the amount that satisfies the hungry; we drink as much as is beneficial to the modest. We satisfy ourselves…” ~Justin, Apology I, 67, 151 AD

“Let each of those of you who are present take a cup and give thanks and drink, and so take your meal being purified in this way… But when you eat and drink do it in good order and not unto drunkenness, and not so that any one may mock you.” ~Hipploytus, Apostolic Tradition (25) 230 AD

In reviewing these primary source documents, two things are clear: 1) the Lord’s Supper was practiced and understood as a full meal eaten with a community of disciples, and  2) there was much more diversity than uniformity in the ways those meals were celebrated. There were no set liturgies, no standard forms. It was a meal that in structure and frequency reflected the particular place and time in which it was enjoyed. Another thing that becomes clear in writings from the fourth century and later is that, for a variety of reasons, the meal itself began to be scaled down. Also, the bread and cup rituals began to be separated from the meal into two different ceremonies. You can even find in Cyprian and Tertullian as early as the middle of the third century a Eucharist service of bread and wine on Sunday mornings and an Agape Meal, or Love Feast, with the church together on Sunday evenings.

Again, there are many reasons for this significant shift. Just as in Paul’s letter to the Corinthians and Jude’s short note in the New Testament, there were abuses around the table that needed correcting during those first centuries. Counter to the New Testament’s instructions, instead of correcting the abuses, a lot of churches simply did away with the meals altogether. Periodic curfews and bans imposed by the Roman government disrupted the normal meeting routines of the Christians. Persecution halted some of the bigger social meals. A lot of the meals were stopped altogether because of the social and government pressure placed on those who attended them. Early Christians were charged with cannibalism for claiming to eat and drink “flesh and blood.” They suffered suspicion of incest because of their language (“brothers and sisters”) and their bizarre practices (“holy kiss” and “kiss of peace”). The dinners were viewed by most outsiders as an attack of the social structures of the Roman Empire. The mixing of classes and genders was a threat to the civil structures of the day and were seen as disruptive to society. It was certainly easier for the Christians to just stop eating together. So, even then, culture influenced the church in damaging ways. Full meal communion services are mentioned in Christian writings as late as the seventh century. But they inarguably fell from prominence and ceased being the norm after the 300s.

Naturally, there is a world of difference between fellowshipping around a full common meal at somebody’s house and hurriedly rushing through a ritualistic ceremony at a church building on the way to work. Losing the full meal context and practice of the Lord’s Supper was a damaging shift. Much of the symbolism of the table was lost. The easy and informal mood of the celebration was replaced by a more structured and formal ceremony. What else do we lose when the Lord’s Meal is a crumb and a sip instead of “eating to your fill?” How does the method of the meal become the message? By that I mean what is communicated differently? What gets left out? It’s no little thing that, for centuries now, God’s Church has opted out of the full meal in exchange for a ceremonial snack. What makes it more destructive to our Christian practice and Christian message is the mood and atmosphere of our solemn snack. I’ll explore that development in a post tomorrow.

Peace,

Allan

Valerie: Legal Adult

January 24, 2014 / / 1 Comment

I looked at Carrie-Anne and said, “Valerie’s legally an adult today.”

Carrie-Anne replied, “What does that mean?”

Yeah, what does that mean? Valerie, our precious “Little Middle” daughter, turns seventeen today, the legal age of adulthood here in the Great Republic of Texas. What does that mean?

It means we have two adult children now. It means I’m getting older and older and older. It means I’m noticing more and more now that time is short. Whoa, time is short.

It means Valerie is driving my twelve-year-old Ford Ranger, outfitted now with a pink zebra striped steering wheel cover. It means she’s spending her afternoons teaching pre-Kindergardeners at our local elementary schools as part of her IPET program at Amarillo High. It means she’s got just one more year until graduation. It means she’s not here at the house as much as she used to be — she’s out with B.J. or out with girlfriends or out doing fun stuff with church friends. It means she’s out, out, out a lot. It means she can wear her mom’s clothes. It means she’s climbing up mountains on Trek, skiing down mountains on vacation, flying down zip lines at camp, and serving less fortunate people in foreign countries in the name of Jesus. And she doesn’t need me there to help her.

It means she doesn’t sleep with stuffed animals anymore. She doesn’t watch the Disney channel. She doesn’t get Barbie pajamas for Christmas anymore and she doesn’t beg and beg and beg for anymore hamsters. She has stopped collecting Beanie Babies. Chuck E. Cheese is no longer her favorite restaurant. And she doesn’t giggle anymore when I mess up her hair.

It also means I can see more clearly than ever her Lord being formed in her. I can see more and more often Jesus’ sacrificial and servant heart reflected in her selfless acts of compassion and concern for others. I see his joy in the hearty laughter she shares with her friends. I see his peace when she handles teenage drama and issues with a more even keel. And I see his grace in the way she ministers to all those little kids.

Our “Little Middle” isn’t little anymore. Yeah, she still sings at the top of her lungs in the shower, regardless of what time it might be. She still doesn’t know how to clean up her room or hang up her clothes. She still wrinkles up her nose and refuses to eat almost anything other than grilled cheese or pizza. She still spends hours decorating her fingernails and toenails with bright colors and intricate designs. She still draws and colors and colors and draws on anything that’s not nailed down. And she still melts and says, “Awww…” when she sees a puppy.

Happy Birthday, Valerie. I’m so proud of you and of what our God is shaping in you. You are a beautiful, talented, funny, super-smart, wonderful daughter of God. Thank you for still wanting me to take you out to lunch. I love you.

Dad

Lord Forbid!

January 22, 2014 / / 4 Comments

I have been intrigued the past couple of weeks with David’s decision, as recorded in 1 Samuel 24, to NOT kill Saul in that dark cave at En Gedi. It’s so uncharacteristic of David. It goes totally against David’s nature to NOT kill Saul. As a boy, David was killing lions and bears to protect his father’s herds. He began his military career by killing Goliath. He killed 200 Philistines for the right to marry Michal. He routed the Philistines at Keilah. He massacred more Philistines at Baal Perazim. He slaughtered them in the valley of Rephaim. And not just Philistines. David killed more than his share of Geshurites and Girizites, Amalakites and Kenites, Moabites, Edomites, and Ammonites, Stalagtites and Gigabytes — all kinds of -ites and -tites. David has killed his tens of thousands, remember? They wrote a song about it and it went straight to the top of the charts!

David was a killer. And he didn’t kill Saul. Saul is the one man out of the tens of thousands David had the most motivation and the most reason to kill. Saul was chasing David like a pig through the canyons and wadis of the Judean Desert. But David let him go. Why?

“The Lord forbid that I should do such a thing to my master, the Lord’s anointed.” ~1 Samuel 24:6

David’s men see their ruthless enemy in a humiliating and vulnerable position, totally helpless right in front of them. But David sees the magnificent — flawed, yes; sinful, yes — wonderful king anointed by God. And David submitted to him. David turns this course and crude scene in a dark cave in the wilderness into a beautiful act of faith and worship to the Lord. He made it a sacred moment. Complete surrender to God. Total faith in the protection and provision of his Lord, no matter what.

If David doubted for a second that God was protecting him, he would have killed Saul. If David had been concerned about his own reputation, he would have killed Saul. If pride were motivating David, if he were moved by his own instinct of right and wrong and timing and personal safety, if he were compelled by the world’s sense of justice and revenge and power and fairness, he would have slashed Saul’s throat right there on the spot. But David is purely motivated by his genuine trust and faith and devotion to God. The idea of taking Saul’s life is unthinkable. He regrets even cutting his robe. Not because of Saul, but because of God.

David shows us in this cave at En Gedi that trusting God is much more than just going to church and writing a check and watching your language. Faith in the Lord to protect and provide is a faith that the Lord will protect and provide in every single situation. It’s knowing that God is in charge, not us. Jonathan had told David previously that this Kingdom thing is going to work out. David professed that same faith, and he acted on it. His faith in the Lord controlled David’s thoughts and actions. David refused to take part in a bloody and violent solution to his problems, even though his very best friends were telling him it was God’s will. Yeah, the Kingdom was falling apart. Yes, David was being treated unfairly. But Saul was the Lord’s anointed. Period. And David was going to let the Lord take care of it.

You know, we’re living in a world today that none of us has ever lived in before. As disciples of Jesus here in the West, the threats to our comfort and security are as bad as they’ve ever been. And it’s getting worse. As culture and society line up to oppose our Lord and his Kingdom, we’re tempted to take matters into our own hands with the violent and bloody methods of the world. We’ll sometimes confront people of different lifestyles with a face-to-face verbal assault. In David’s words: Lord forbid. We’ll slash the throats of lawmakers and government officials with angry letters and insulting emails. Lord forbid. Young people who think differently, older people who act differently, foreign people who dress differently, people who vote differently, people who believe differently — we’ll cut out their kidneys with an accusing finger in their face, we’ll take out their knees with our harsh words and bitter complaints, we’ll rip out their hearts with our bumper stickers and boycotts and petitions. Lord forbid.

We live in a spiritual landscape that’s every bit as hostile and threatening, dangerous and deadly, as the cliffs and caves of the Judean Desert. Just like David, suffering from thirst and mortal danger, we too face death and destruction. Sometimes it feels like we’re running for our lives. But our help comes from the Lord. It’s only in God through Christ where we find true, ultimate safety and security, salvation and hope.

This Kingdom thing is going to work out. God’s perfect time frame. God’s perfect plan. God’s perfect ways.

Peace,

Allan

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