Accepted in the Beloved

When we face the greatest Authority in the world, the most absolute Ruler in the universe, the One who can determine our eternal destiny, the One who tolerates no sin and Who knows us thoroughly - when we face Him and find not eternal damnation and consignment to a fiery hell, but total love, forgiveness and acceptance, what can we do but fall down at His feet and worship Him forever and ever?

Foolishness

"But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty; And base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are; That no flesh should glory in his presence. But of him are ye in Christ Jesus, who of God is made unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption: That, according as it is written, He that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord." (1 Cor. 2:27-31)

Better to be foolish, better to be base, better to be despised, better to be nothing and to glory in the Lord, than to be wise, and lifted up, and of great reputation, and to be something, and to glory in self.

The Mind Of Christ

But we have the mind of Christ. (1 Cor. 2:16)

"The purpose of God is not to answer our prayers, but by our prayers we come to discern the mind of God." ~ Oswald Chambers

Every Tongue and Tribe and Nation

Last night we had the first combined service of our anglo and latino churches. There was such a wonderful spirit present as we met in the Latino church hall, learned a little Spanish, worshipped in English and Spanish, heard a message in both languages and shared communion together. There were people from Honduras, Ecuador, Chile, Argentina, Mexico, Puerto Rico, the U.S - and even a couple from New Zealand!

There was a great turnout from both churches and we came together as one in Christ. We bridged the language and culture barriers and reached out to people different from ourselves in an atmosphere of love and acceptance.

You couldn't help but feel that this was not only a foretaste of heaven but also a glimpse of the unifying power of the Son of God, who can bring disparate people together and make them one. It makes me want to work to see His Kingdom established here, in this earth, now.

Let's be about the Father's business.

How Tedious And Tasteless

This poem/hymn is by John Newton. It always animates my spirit to know that those who have gone before shared the same longing that we know for the sweet Presence of Jesus. Jesus never changes - He's the same yesterday, today and forever. And, oh, I love Him.

How tedious and tasteless the hours
When Jesus no longer I see,
Sweet prospects, sweet birds and sweet flowers
Have all lost their sweetness to me.
The midsummer shine shines but dim,
The fields strive in vain to look gay -
But when I am happy in Him,
December's as pleasant as May.

His Name yields the richest perfume,
And sweeter than music His voice;
His presence disperses my gloom,
And makes all within me rejoice.
I should, were He always thus nigh,
Have nothing to wish or to fear;
No mortal as happy as I,
My summer would last all the year.

Content with beholding His face,
My all to His pleasure resigned,
No changes of season or place
Would make any change in my mind:
While blessed with a sense of His love,
A palace a toy would appear;
All prisons would palaces prove,
If Jesus would dwell with me there.

Dear Lord, if indeed I am Thine,
If Thou art my sun and my song,
Say, why do I languish and pine?
And why are my winters so long?
O drive these dark clouds from the sky,
Thy soul cheering presence restore;
Or take me to Thee up on high,
Where winter and clouds are no more.

Sacramentality

"Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee; because he trusteth in thee." (Isaiah 26:3)

I read last night that the word "sacrament" comes from the words "sacred" and "mental" - keeping the sacred in mind. That's something we need to do all the time, not just in some select ceremonies.

Maybe that comes from my Quaker upbringing (the horse and buggy guys are Amish, not Quaker).The Quakers have no sacraments; their founder, George Fox, said that communion and baptism are internal works and don't need external substitutes.

I wouldn't propose eliminating sacraments - but I am in favor of keeping our minds stayed upon Jesus.

Lots Of Rain

I've enjoyed the rain this week. We don't often get a steady, soaking rain; it usually pours down like a flood for five minutes and leaves the streets wet and steamy, but this rain is a slow and gentle watering.

I like this scripture from Psalm 72: "He shall come down like rain upon the mown grass: as showers that water the earth."

We need Him continually, like this rain - not a 5 minute downpour, but a life-long soaking.

The Promises Of God

"For all the promises of God in him are yea, and in him Amen, unto the glory of God by us." (2 Cor. 1:20)

The promises of God are in the Man, not just in the Book. We can't approach the Kingdom of God the way we'd approach an academic subject and try to cram a lot of stuff into our craniums. It's not up to us, it's up to Him. And He's in us. And all the promises will come true as we take our place in Him.

It's not a matter of learning all the promises and holding them up before God and waving them in His face and saying "But you said ...!!!!" as I've been taught in the past. It's a matter of taking my place in the young Prince of the Universe and letting Him outwork His wonderful purposes in my life.

Real Life and The Movies

Every once in a while I have to unstring my bow and do something just for the fun of it. This is it for May.

Why can't my life be more like the movies,
With a script and a plan and a plot,
And beautiful people who're glamorous and groovy
And drive fancy cars and big yachts?

They know the ending before the beginning,
While I'm mostly up in the air
As to what's going on, if I'm losing or winning,
Or if anyone else even cares.

I own a Dodge Neon, not a beemer or caddie,
And I've never had an affair.
For all of the money I've paid to my dentist
My teeth are nowhere pretty as theirs.

They walk through the picture to sweet background music
As they go on a jaunt or a cruise.
The only sound I ever hear when I'm walking
Is from gum that has stuck to my shoes.

Their waists are so thin you'd think they eat lettuce,
While I lose the battle of bulge.
They expertly shoot Uzi's and Colts and Berettas,
While I generally feel like a cludge.

If I shot a gun I'd just shoot off my toe,
Or my foot or something far worse;
And I'd probably have some ugly old so-and-so
Instead of Gwyneth or Renee for a nurse.

Every problem they have is resolved in a minute,
Or at least by the end of the show,
While I look at my problem and know I can't win it
Until hell is all covered with snow.

In the movies their computers always boot in a flash
And they know all the passwords they need.
I have so many passwords I can't remember them all,
Just the effort makes my brain start to bleed.

In the movies they shoot a scene over and over
Until they get it just so.
But I only get one chance, and moreover,
I have to do it with only nine toes!

Iraqi Pics

Go to John Upperman's blog to see some pictures of Iraqis you won't see on the news or in the papers:

http://uppermansblog.blogspot.com/

Comunidad

Last night at Comunidad ("Comunidad de las Naciones," or "Community of Nations," our latino church plant) there was a dinner and awards for the ESL graduates and the church. We had a terrific time of fellowship over burgers with all the works (grilled outside) and desserts. In our service we inaugurated our new congas and I was tapped to play them. I got rhythm, but not technique; my hands were red and sore half way through the first song. Come back, Micah, we need you!!!

The brand name on the congas was "Caliente;" very latino. Then some astute person noticed they were made in Thailand!

Some new folks came, drawn in by the ESL class.

We sang "I'm Trading My Sorrows;" the ESL staff sang in Spanish and the latinos sang it in English - at the same time!

It's a thrill to watch this little church grow, to see men and women becoming grounded in the Spirit and the Word, to see fellowship bonds forming and people finding something of real value. The latinos have all the same problems we do plus more, and they work more days and more hours. They have a refreshing honesty and down-to-earth manner about them and it's a pleasure to be among them. Even though I'm fluent in Spanish, I had many cultural stereotypes and I've watched them all get shattered as I've come to know these people.

If you're able to visit at 6:30 on Sunday evening or 7:30 on Wednesday evening, please drop by; there will be someone to translate.

The Burning Bush

How many bushes had Moses seen
On the back of the desert where he had been
For forty years? But then there'appeared
A bush that burned, and Moses feared.

This bush the BRANCH, that Moses saw
That fateful day; he stood in awe
And turned aside to behold the tree-
To listen, to look, to hear, to see.

For forty years he'd worked and toiled
In the dirt and dust and the sun that boiled.
Then in an instant God's hour had come;
Moses became God's chosen one.

Do you feel in a wilderness,
Forgotten by God and in distress,
Your vision gone, your dreams and plans
Scattered like the shifting sands?

You're not forgotten - God sees you there;
He's put you just exactly where
He can work your soul like clay.
He has a time - there'll come a day,

But of a sudden, and not far hence,
You'll hear His voice and turn to whence
Spake clear that voice, and see Him there
And He'll tell you what, how, when, and where.

Serve Him in the wilderness
In every trial, in every test;
And when comes heaven's chosen hour
He'll send you forth in faith and power.

You'll be tempered by the fire,
Gone the anger, gone the ire;
A gentle spirit, a heavenly frame,
And you'll go forth in Jesus' name.

One Thing

"Salvation is free - everything else costs" (Wade Taylor). Let us have a single eye unto the Lord, that the price may seem as nothing for the inestimable prize which is set before us.

"In the year that King Uzziah died
'Twas then I saw the Lord."
In Isaiah's time of loss
'Twas then he heard His word.

And thus it is that sorrow brings
The thing that seemed most lost,
And thus we reign through suffering
When we have paid the cost.

"I count all things as loss," said Paul
"That I may know this Christ."
The things that once were gain to him
He lost for risen life.

The goodly merchant seeking pearls
Sold all he had for one.
Oh, woulds't thou have a precious pearl?
Sell all for Christ, the Son.

For one thing only matters most,
One thing worth all the rest -
To know Him as we're known by Him -
This is the highest and best.

"One thing have I desired of God,
That one thing I pursue,
To behold the beauty of the Lord,"
Said David; what say you?

He is the treasure in the field,
He is the treasure rare,
For which we sell all that we have
And find that He is there.

Lift Up Your Heads, O Ye Gates.

"If so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together." (Rom. 8:17)

"And the twelve gates were twelve pearls; every several gate was of one pearl." (Rev. 21: 21)

"Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of glory shall come in." (Psalm 24:7)

I have long felt that we are the city of God, and the gates are for His entrance into that city. It is through suffering that we come into His purposes and reign together with Him. As the pearl is wrought from distressing circumstances, even so our suffering yields glory. This poem brings it all together.

The pearl - a treasure of great price;
But wrapped within it's hidden life
Is a tale that sorrow brings -
A treasure wrought through suffering.

In the darkened ocean deeps
The oyster there its vigil keeps,
Content until a grain of sand
Lodges in its chambers and

Beomes an irritating source
Of trouble and vexation sore,
Of bother and distress and pain
'Til it must alleviate the strain.

It then surrounds the grain of sand
With the white pearl substance and
Brings from pain a comfort there,
Creating thus a treasure rare.

And we, the children of the Lord,
Fnd that trouble oft' affords
A time to call upon His name
When in distress we are, or pain.

And glory, thus, from suffering,
Becomes our rallying cry and theme.
Our comfort is His Presence fair,
And, oh, 'tis pleasant to be there.

And thus the gates of pearl are made;
Oh, ye gates, lift up your heads!
The King of Glory shall come in,
And thus through suff'ring we shall reign.

God, You're Good

My daughter wrote this - it's worth sharing.

God you're good.
If you give me what I deserve, you're good,
If you withold it from me and instead, bless me with grace, you're good.
If you provide for me, and give me peace, you're good,
If you take it all away and leave me frustrated and humiliated, you're good, you're still good.
If you bless me with sleep and health, you're good,
If you sit with me through waking hours and sickness, you're good, you're still good.
If I see your promise in this lifetime, you're good,
If it greets me at heaven's gates and not a minute sooner, you're good, you're still good.
I trust your nature, your name, your promise,and your will,
Because you're good, you're still good

Press In

The story of the woman with the issue of blood can be found in Luke 8:43. I once had the privilege of hearing C.M. Ward, the great Pentecostal preacher, preach on this story. He surmised that the woman, who could not press through the crowd in her weakened condition, must have then crawled through the crowd on her hands and knees; why else would she have touched the hem of His garment, except she were down that low? I incorporated that thought in this poem.

She said in her heart "Oh, if only
I could touch just the hem of His robe,
I'd be well, I'd be whole, and completely
Would stop all the blood that has flowed."

She'd spent all her money on doctors;
No better was she, but indeed,
She was worse for they never could help her;
And so she continued to bleed.

Then one day she heard Jesus was passing
And went out to where He would be.
But she found that the great throng was pressing
The Master; she hardly could see

The One who she knew that could heal her,
The One whose sweet touch she so craved.
The crowd was all thronging about Him,
And she knew that if He were to save

On that day that she'd have to be bolder
Than ever before she had been;
And so, in her weakened condition
She took hold and began to press in.

She struggled past women and children
And folks who were stronger than she,
Past seekers and beggars lepers,
And then she fell down to her knees

And struggled past people who kicked her
And spat on her as she crawled by;
She had to, just had to, see Jesus,
To see Him or else she would die.

At last she finally had reached Him
And stretched forth her hand to His robe,
Immediately sensing His virtue
And receiving His power as it flowed.

"Who touched me?" cried Jesus, "'tis someone
With faith and with such a great need;"
"Everyone," said His disciples,
"Everyone's near You, indeed."

"Woman," He said as He saw her,
"Such faith has gained your reward."
That day she knew that she always
Would remember His kind, gracious words.

And oh, let us press into Jesus,
Past all that would hinder and hold,
Past religion and habit and custom,
And tradition and doctrine so cold;

'Til we touch Him! Oh, let us touch Jesus,
For we'll find in Him all that we need;
He only, He ever, can help us,
And we'll find that His grace will exceed

All of our prior expectations
And all that we've ever been told.
Just one touch will change us forever -
Let us press in and be bold.

The Good Shepherd

Perhaps some day we'll know how very much He loves us. Maybe this little poem will help in that realization.

I am the lost, lonely, poor little lamb
Jesus came looking to save;
So far away had I wandered that day,
I am sure I'd be now in my grave

If the Shepherd had not left the others alone
To come and to look for me there.
So frightened was I, I could do naught but cry,
And he heard my sad cry as a prayer.

Oh, why had I wandered so far away?
Why had I gone on my own?
The grass looked so green and the meadow so fair,
But I ended up there so alone.

A delight to the eye were the things I had seen,
They were such an attraction to me;
They called out to me and they beckoned me on
And I blindly went where they did lead.

But the beautiful sights that seemed such a delight
Turned to thorns and to thistles so sharp;
Then the rain and the cold and the fog took a hold
And imprisoned me there in the dark.

My flesh had been torn by the briars and thorns,
I was lonely and hungry and cold;
I wanted no more than be found and returned
To where I had strayed from the fold.

O'er the wind as it howled came a sound to my ears
I'll remember for eternity;
Through the rain that was falling my shepherd was calling
My name, he was searching for me.

"Here am I, here am I," was my faint, feeble cry,
"Over here in the thicket so sharp;
Here I am, here I am, your lost, little lamb -"
He was coming to me in the dark.

Then at last I was found as o'er the rough ground
He came up the mountain so steep.
I looked and I saw with wonder and awe
The wounds in his hands and his feet.

Then I saw in the rain all the blood and the pain,
All the anguish he suffered for me;
For me who was lost he had paid such a cost
For my freedom and my liberty.

I scarcely could stand so he reached out his hands
And lifted me up to him there.
Wrapped in his embrace, I looked on his face,
And saw there not raindrops, but tears.

"I have found you at last, through the storm and the blast,
I have looked for you both low and high.
Come, let's go home, my dear, precious one,
And we'll never more part, you and I."

Then he carried me along on his shoulders so strong
And he sang me a song on the way -
"Thou art mine, I am thine, and in me you'll find
All you'll need for now and always."

Oh, he loves me, I know, but how is it so,
That one so unworthy as I
Could merit like this the joy and the bliss
Of being thus with him so nigh?

Why should he care to look for me there
In the terrible place I had strayed?
To leave all behind and seek me to find?
Why pay the great price that he paid?

Oh, 'tis love I've heard of, that comes from above,
That sent him out looking for me;
'Twas love on a cross that paid all my loss
And set me eternally free.

Now the Shepherd and I dwell together for 'aye,
I'll nevermore, ne'er go astray.
I am His, He is mine, forever entwined,
Together for now and always.

The Passion

As I began this poem, it became clear that the Lord wanted something with the intensity of the movie "The Passion." Although lacking the visual element, words evoke images, so it is all there. Take time with this, and let it seep into your spirit - take time to hear the sounds and see His Passion.

The angels must have cried out when they looked upon the scene,
To see the One they loved so much so beaten and demeaned.
The banisters of Glory could not hold them all
As they struggled there to watch Him as He’d stumble and He’d fall.

They’d seen Him mocked and beaten with the scourge and with the lash,
The crown of thorns put on Him by the men so rude and rash.
They’d seen Him torn and battered, they’d seen the crimson flood,
White bone exposed to daylight in a scarlet sea of blood.

They’d seen Him fall and stagger as He struggled there alone,
They’d seen the skin and sinew as they ripped it from the bone.
They’d heard the raging crowd as they cried out “Crucify!”
And they watched their darling Jesus as they led Him forth to die.

Now He stumbles and He staggers walking up the stony path,
He’s mocked and jeered and spat on by the people in their wrath.
(Not so very long ago He in the manger lay,
But now that’s all forgotten on this, His dying day.)

Oh, my! He falls and stumbles! Th’excruciating pain
Has bested Him, He can’t go on, He falls and falls again.
The lash snakes out and gouges Him along His quivering back,
He cries out but remains where He has fallen in His track.

Simon now is carrying the cross on up the hill;
And Jesus follows after, but He sways and stumbles still.
He staggers and He stumbles, He stumbles and He sways;
He leaves a trail of blood in the dust along the way.

And now up on the mountain top they lay Him on the wood,
Stretch forth His hands, impale them there, the epitome of good.
They nail His feet, then lift Him high, then they let Him drop;
His body quakes and trembles as He feels the jarring shock.

He hangs ‘twixt heaven and earth there, bleeding out His last;
The angels watch Him suffer and all heaven is aghast.
Their tears fall down like raindrops just to watch Him suffer so,
To see Him in such pain, to see His blood so freely flow.

A raging thirst inflicts Him, and He cannot draw a breath,
All His bones are out of joint as He fast approaches death.
The angels gasp to hear the Savior cry out from the tree -
“Oh, my God, oh why, my God, hast Thou forsaken me.”

The earth begins to tremble and the thunder rumbles loud,
The sun goes dark, the sky turns black, an enveloping, funereal shroud.
The Son cries “It is finished!” and then gives up the Ghost;
The angels weep to see the death of Him they loved the most.

With a sword they pierce His side, and blood and water flowed;
The soldier with the sword said “Surely, this must be the Son of God.”
His friends aghast, to see the last, of all their hope and trust;
The angels cast their downward glance at the death of all that’s just.

They took His body down and laid Him in a borrowed tomb;
They rolled a stone before the door to keep Him in the gloom.
The angels hide their faces underneath their folded wings;
Their sad grief knows no limits at the sorrow that it brings.

Three days, and then one morn an angel rolled the stone away;
The disciples came and looked and saw He was not where He lay.
For love is stronger far than death, and death its limits knows;
The Christ that suffered so for us is the Christ that for us rose.

Oh, friends, we know the story, how the Savior suffered thus,
He took the weight of all our sin and bore it there for us.
Are we as moved as angels as we contemplate this scene?
Or do we pass by glibly, and thus God’s grace demean?

Oh, let His Passion move us, let it be our rallying cry;
He suffered for He loved us, and that enough to die.
Let this be our passion – the Grace of God so free,
And let us in this love find all our life and liberty.

Exodus

The God of all power, the God of all might,
Dwelt with His people by day and by night.
Not with th'Egyptians or Syrians dwelt He,
But out in the desert, where no one could see.

A cloud of smoke was He in the day,
A pillar of fire by night in the way.
Frail people and small, this people of God,
But, oh, He was with them, on plain, common sod.

He'd freed them from Egypt, from slavery's grasp,
And brought them all out to freedom at last.
Ten plagues He had wrought, then saved by the blood,
Then on dry land through the Red Sea's strong flood.

Then on Mount Sinai He gave them the law;
The mount shook and trembled, the people in awe.
All along He provided, with rivers from rock,
Manna from heaven; He cared for His flock.

For forty long years He led them across
Sinai's vast desert; not once were they lost,
For 'twas all by His leading, all by His hand,
The wilderness wanderings across the vast land.

Then on to Canaan, He'd promised it so,
With milk and with honey the Promised Land flowed.
And each had a portion in the land that He gave,
Not one was lost, all His people were saved.

And we who have trusted in Jesus, our God,
Have been saved from our sin and been washed in the blood.
Perhaps we have wandered, and not known the way,
But Jesus was leading by night and by day.

He's fed us and kept us, we never have lacked,
And though we have wondered, we've never turned back.
For who would not follow a King such as this,
One who Has never once led us amiss?

And, oh, He is with us as He was in those days,
The fire is His acts, the smoke is His ways.
The light of His Spirit illumines our hearts
And we'll follow that light as we have from the start.

Come weather that's fair, or foul it may be,
We'll follow Him still for we care only that He
Is our constant companion, our guide and our friend,
And we'll walk with Him closely, on to the end.

The Lord's Prayer

"Our Father," 'tis a wond'rous thing
That we would call You such a name;
Father God, Life-Giver, Thou,
Strangers once, we're children now.

"Who art in heaven," so far, yet near,
You dwell among your people here.
Oh, rend the veil that we might see
How very near we are to Thee.

"Hallowed be Thy Name;" we'll praise
Your wond'rous name for all our days.
At your feet we lowly bow
And give you all our worship now.

"Thy Kingdom come," for this we cry,
To see your Kingdom reign draw nigh.
Our one and only Monarch, Thou,
Take up Thy crown and scepter now.

"Thy will be done," we cry, not ours,
As we approach the final hours.
Bring your Kindgom reign to birth
And redeem this fallen earth.

"On earth as heaven," you have planned,
Not in some far-off, distant land;
But here and now, and now and here,
This earth be in Thy Kingdom's sphere.

"Give us this day our daily bread,"
Daily would we thus be fed;
Thy flesh our bread, our drink Thy blood,
Thyself our necessary food.

"Forgive our debts," the things we've done
That caused the death of Christ, the Son.
Mercy sweet flows from the cross,
Forgiveness springs from Jesus' loss.

"As we forgive," Lord, may it be
That we in this might be like Thee,
That we may freely all forgive
And learn that thus we truly live.

"Into temptation lead us not,"
It leads us to sin's fires so hot.
We are weak and vile and small,
Keep us from temptation's thrall.

"From evil, Lord, deliver us,"
Keep us ever near the Cross -
Our place of safety, fount of grace,
Our shelter strong, our hiding place.

"Thine the Kingdom," Thou the King,
Thine the crown, throne, sceptre, ring;
Thine the power by Royal design,
Thine the power, the weakness mine.

I would not pray by rote alone,
But come humbly to Thy throne,
Cast all my crowns down at Your feet,
Know You in communion sweet.