When I was in college, one day I came back from class to find a pigeon in my dorm room. One of my roommates had left the window open, and this poor bird had flown in and couldn’t remember how to get out. I tried to help, but every time I got near this bird, it went crazy, flapping its wings, flying into the walls of the room, and generally beating itself to death. So our little dance went like this: I lunged for him, he smacked himself into the wall, I backed off. I lunged at him…you get the picture. Finally, the poor guy was so tired and beat up, I managed to grab him with both hands covering his wings and hurl him underhand through the window. But first, I said to him, “I drive a silver Chevy Camaro. Leave my car alone!” There are so many people, including perhaps many of you room, who would say—if they were honest—that they feel like that bird. Life is a constant flurry of frantic activity that gets them nowhere. Everything they do seems to ultimately fail. They’re smacking into a wall, over and over again. And they just can’t see any way out.
You'll see Sunday why I told you that story. The parable we’ll study is not one of the more popular ones Jesus ever told…in fact, I’ve never heard it preached before. It’s not warm and fuzzy; it actually stings our pride. But there is freedom in this story. Read Luke 17:7-10, and pray that this Sunday, God will help each one of us get into a proper relationship with Him.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
End of the World Fail
Well, this pretty much says it all...and then there's also Deuteronomy 18:20-22.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Sermon Preview--Remember Why We Worship
A few years ago, I watched a full season of American Idol for the first, and so far only, time. I enjoyed it. The guy I was rooting for didn’t win, which didn’t surprise me. What DID surprise me was that I found I liked Simon. For those who don’t know, Simon Cowell was one of three judges on the show, the one known for being rude, sarcastic, and downright mean. His polar opposite on the show was Paula Abdul, who was kind and encouraging to all the contestants. So, for instance, you’d have a kid from Minnesota who was convinced he was the next big thing in American music; that someday you and I would say, “Well, there was Elvis, and then Michael Jackson, and now there’s...Chad from St. Paul.” (Let’s face it, all the contestants on American Idol feel that way.) So Minnesota Chad would sing, and all of America would see that, while he was a better singer than you and I, he and his parents and his music teachers had all vastly overestimated his talent. Nevertheless, Paula would tell him something like, “I love the way you just WENT for it. So follow your heart, and you’ll go far!” But Simon would do the kid a service. Although he would be gratuitously mean about it, he would essentially convey to Chad that it was a good idea to stay in school and get a real job, that it might be okay to sing in a Neil Diamond cover band on the weekends if it made him happy, but that musical greatness was not in his destiny. In one humiliating moment, Simon was rescuing Chad—and his future spouse—from years of heartbreak.
In Luke 7:36-50, we read the story of two very different people who encountered Jesus. One truly worshipped Him (and left transformed) while the other did not. What made the difference between the two? What is God looking for when we worship Him? The answer is found in the little parable Jesus told in the midst of this story, in vv. 41-43. We'll talk worship this Sunday. And we'll do it a little differently...the sermon will come first, and the congregational singing will come last. That way, we'll get a chance to practice what I've just preached! I hope I see you there.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Sermon Preview--Duct-Tape Your Mouth
Perhaps you've seen the billboards that say, "Judgment Day, May 21. The Bible guarantees it!" It's eye-catching, to say the least. Apparently, signs like this are all over the world, on billboards, internet ads, even on RVs. Who is behind them? Apparently, a minister named Harold Camping has spent over $3 million to propagate this message. Who is he, and why is he so sure this present world is over in a little more than a week? The following is a quote from yesterday's God Issues blog by Jim Denison:
Mr. Camping is a self-ordained minister with no theological training. He arrived at May 21, 2011 by studying carbon dating, tree rings and other data to determine that Noah loaded animals into his ark in 4990 B.C. Since "a day with the Lord is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day" (2 Peter 3:8), the seven days it took Noah to load the animals represents 7,000 years. Adding 7,000 to 4,990, we arrive at 2010. But since there is no "year one" in the Bible, the correct year is 2011. Noah's flood began on the 17th day of the second month in the Jewish calendar, a date which Camping claims corresponds to May 21 on ours.
Camping earlier predicted the Rapture for 1994, but asserts that he now has new information. He apparently knows more than Jesus, who stated that "no one knows about that day or hour, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father" (Matthew 24:36).
It baffles me that any Christian could listen to a man like this. But mainly, it makes me angry. People like this, who speak in an arrogant, unbiblical way about God bring such disgrace to Christianity. Even worse are TV preachers who make pronouncements of judgment after a major disaster. In Scripture, God's prophets FORETOLD judgment, for the purpose of eliciting repentance (and therefore salvation) from people...they didn't dance gleefully on the graves of disaster victims for the purposes of getting on Larry King Live and selling a few books. Whenever this happens, I find myself thinking, "I hope I'm there when these people face THEIR judgment before Christ." And then the Spirit reminds me...I've disgraced Him too, more times than I'd like to know. I've spoken rashly, arrogantly, and unbiblically about the One True God.
This week, we'll take a quick break from the parables of Jesus, but we'll stay on the subject of humility. We'll be considering the story of Job and his three friends. For 36 chapters, they engaged in a heated dialogue on the subject of who God is and how He works. Who was right? And how can we avoid mis-speaking when it comes to the most important subject of all?
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Sermon preview--Embrace Your Weaknesses
I have had pets for most of my life, and I’ve finally identified the fundamental difference between cats and dogs. No, I haven’t done any scholarly zoological studies on the subject, so this purely my own opinion, but here goes: Both dogs and cats love their owners. Both dogs and cats misbehave. But their response when they are caught is very different. We have a dog named Gracie, a sweet little mutt that we adopted from a shelter two years ago. Like every dog I have ever owned, she loves us unconditionally. Someone has said, if you could be the kind of person your dog thinks you are, you wouldn’t need any grace in order to get into Heaven. But sometimes when we leave her home, Gracie gets into our trash. She pulls it out of the can and tears it into little bits. When we come home, she is invariably repentant. Her ears droop, her tail is between her legs. She knows that she has done wrong, and she is desperately sorry about it.
Cats are different. I have never seen the fruit of repentance in a cat. Ever. We had a cat several years ago named Shasta. He loved to hunt. Because we had a doggie door, Shasta would bring his trophies into the house. We would find a disemboweled rodent, reptile or bird on our living room floor from time to time. Guess who got to clean that up? Once he actually carried a live bird into our upstairs bathroom and killed it there. I got called home from work that day. It looked like a pigeon had exploded, or that an all-bird cast had staged a remake of the movie “300” in our bathroom. That was just the one of Shasta’s…eccentricities. I don’t miss him. We have a very nice cat now named Chewie. But he has his moments, too. And the thing they have in common is that neither Shasta nor Chewie, nor any other cat I have ever owned, ever seems to feel sorry for upsetting us. So whereas a dog’s attitude seems to be, “I love you with all my heart, but sometimes I can’t help myself,” a cat’s attitude seems to be, “I love you, but what do you want from me?”
I find that most of us Christians want to think we relate to God like a dog. We want to believe that our love for Him is genuine and heartfelt, but we just can’t help sinning. I know that is the case for us on occasion. But far more often, I believe we relate to God like a cat. That’s true on several levels: We think of ourselves as independent beings who simply need someone to feed us and protect us and clean up our messes (as they say, dogs have owners, cats have staff). We want affection, but only on our terms (Leave me alone…I’ll come to you when I want you). Trust me, I ‘ve got a whole cat theology worked out here…But mostly, we’re like cats in that we have a hard time showing any repentance to God. We are aware of our sin, but what’s the big deal? And we present Him our little trophies from time to time. Why doesn’t He appreciate those things more?
Do you want to know what God loves, what He desires, more than anything else? We see it in the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector (Luke 18:9-14). But why does God love a broken, repentant heart? Does He take delight in our shame? Is He like a bully who loves to pound us on the arm until we say, "Uncle?" No, the truth is far more beautiful...and far more challenging. I hope to see you this Sunday.Sermon preview--Embrace Your Weaknesses
I have had pets for most of my life, and I’ve finally identified the fundamental difference between cats and dogs. No, I haven’t done any scholarly zoological studies on the subject, so this purely my own opinion, but here goes: Both dogs and cats love their owners. Both dogs and cats misbehave. But their response when they are caught is very different. We have a dog named Gracie, a sweet little mutt that we adopted from a shelter two years ago. Like every dog I have ever owned, she loves us unconditionally. Someone has said, if you could be the kind of person your dog thinks you are, you wouldn’t need any grace in order to get into Heaven. But sometimes when we leave her home, Gracie gets into our trash. She pulls it out of the can and tears it into little bits. When we come home, she is invariably repentant. Her ears droop, her tail is between her legs. She knows that she has done wrong, and she is desperately sorry about it.
Cats are different. I have never seen the fruit of repentance in a cat. Ever. We had a cat several years ago named Shasta. He loved to hunt. Because we had a doggie door, Shasta would bring his trophies into the house. We would find a disemboweled rodent, reptile or bird on our living room floor from time to time. Guess who got to clean that up? Once he actually carried a live bird into our upstairs bathroom and killed it there. I got called home from work that day. It looked like a pigeon had exploded, or that an all-bird cast had staged a remake of the movie “300” in our bathroom. That was just the one of Shasta’s…eccentricities. I don’t miss him. We have a very nice cat now named Chewie. But he has his moments, too. And the thing they have in common is that neither Shasta nor Chewie, nor any other cat I have ever owned, ever seems to feel sorry for upsetting us. So whereas a dog’s attitude seems to be, “I love you with all my heart, but sometimes I can’t help myself,” a cat’s attitude seems to be, “I love you, but what do you want from me?”
I find that most of us Christians want to think we relate to God like a dog. We want to believe that our love for Him is genuine and heartfelt, but we just can’t help sinning. I know that is the case for us on occasion. But far more often, I believe we relate to God like a cat. That’s true on several levels: We think of ourselves as independent beings who simply need someone to feed us and protect us and clean up our messes (as they say, dogs have owners, cats have staff). We want affection, but only on our terms (Leave me alone…I’ll come to you when I want you). Trust me, I ‘ve got a whole cat theology worked out here…But mostly, we’re like cats in that we have a hard time showing any repentance to God. We are aware of our sin, but what’s the big deal? And we present Him our little trophies from time to time. Why doesn’t He appreciate those things more?
Do you want to know what God loves, what He desires, more than anything else? We see it in the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector (Luke 18:9-14). But why does God love a broken, repentant heart? Does He take delight in our shame? Is He like a bully who loves to pound us on the arm until we say, "Uncle?" No, the truth is far more beautiful...and far more challenging. I hope to see you this Sunday.Sermon preview--Embrace Your Weaknesses
I have had pets for most of my life, and I’ve finally identified the fundamental difference between cats and dogs. No, I haven’t done any scholarly zoological studies on the subject, so this purely my own opinion, but here goes: Both dogs and cats love their owners. Both dogs and cats misbehave. But their response when they are caught is very different. We have a dog named Gracie, a sweet little mutt that we adopted from a shelter two years ago. Like every dog I have ever owned, she loves us unconditionally. Someone has said, if you could be the kind of person your dog thinks you are, you wouldn’t need any grace in order to get into Heaven. But sometimes when we leave her home, Gracie gets into our trash. She pulls it out of the can and tears it into little bits. When we come home, she is invariably repentant. Her ears droop, her tail is between her legs. She knows that she has done wrong, and she is desperately sorry about it.
Cats are different. I have never seen the fruit of repentance in a cat. Ever. We had a cat several years ago named Shasta. He loved to hunt. Because we had a doggie door, Shasta would bring his trophies into the house. We would find a disemboweled rodent, reptile or bird on our living room floor from time to time. Guess who got to clean that up? Once he actually carried a live bird into our upstairs bathroom and killed it there. I got called home from work that day. It looked like a pigeon had exploded, or that an all-bird cast had staged a remake of the movie “300” in our bathroom. That was just the one of Shasta’s…eccentricities. I don’t miss him. We have a very nice cat now named Chewie. But he has his moments, too. And the thing they have in common is that neither Shasta nor Chewie, nor any other cat I have ever owned, ever seems to feel sorry for upsetting us. So whereas a dog’s attitude seems to be, “I love you with all my heart, but sometimes I can’t help myself,” a cat’s attitude seems to be, “I love you, but what do you want from me?”
I find that most of us Christians want to think we relate to God like a dog. We want to believe that our love for Him is genuine and heartfelt, but we just can’t help sinning. I know that is the case for us on occasion. But far more often, I believe we relate to God like a cat. That’s true on several levels: We think of ourselves as independent beings who simply need someone to feed us and protect us and clean up our messes (as they say, dogs have owners, cats have staff). We want affection, but only on our terms (Leave me alone…I’ll come to you when I want you). Trust me, I ‘ve got a whole cat theology worked out here…But mostly, we’re like cats in that we have a hard time showing any repentance to God. We are aware of our sin, but what’s the big deal? And we present Him our little trophies from time to time. Why doesn’t He appreciate those things more?
Do you want to know what God loves, what He desires, more than anything else? We see it in the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector (Luke 18:9-14). But why does God love a broken, repentant heart? Does He take delight in our shame? Is He like a bully who loves to pound us on the arm until we say, "Uncle?" No, the truth is far more beautiful...and far more challenging. I hope to see you this Sunday.Sermon preview--Embrace Your Weaknesses
I have had pets for most of my life, and I’ve finally identified the fundamental difference between cats and dogs. No, I haven’t done any scholarly zoological studies on the subject, so this purely my own opinion, but here goes: Both dogs and cats love their owners. Both dogs and cats misbehave. But their response when they are caught is very different. We have a dog named Gracie, a sweet little mutt that we adopted from a shelter two years ago. Like every dog I have ever owned, she loves us unconditionally. Someone has said, if you could be the kind of person your dog thinks you are, you wouldn’t need any grace in order to get into Heaven. But sometimes when we leave her home, Gracie gets into our trash. She pulls it out of the can and tears it into little bits. When we come home, she is invariably repentant. Her ears droop, her tail is between her legs. She knows that she has done wrong, and she is desperately sorry about it.
Cats are different. I have never seen the fruit of repentance in a cat. Ever. We had a cat several years ago named Shasta. He loved to hunt. Because we had a doggie door, Shasta would bring his trophies into the house. We would find a disemboweled rodent, reptile or bird on our living room floor from time to time. Guess who got to clean that up? Once he actually carried a live bird into our upstairs bathroom and killed it there. I got called home from work that day. It looked like a pigeon had exploded, or that an all-bird cast had staged a remake of the movie “300” in our bathroom. That was just the one of Shasta’s…eccentricities. I don’t miss him. We have a very nice cat now named Chewie. But he has his moments, too. And the thing they have in common is that neither Shasta nor Chewie, nor any other cat I have ever owned, ever seems to feel sorry for upsetting us. So whereas a dog’s attitude seems to be, “I love you with all my heart, but sometimes I can’t help myself,” a cat’s attitude seems to be, “I love you, but what do you want from me?”
I find that most of us Christians want to think we relate to God like a dog. We want to believe that our love for Him is genuine and heartfelt, but we just can’t help sinning. I know that is the case for us on occasion. But far more often, I believe we relate to God like a cat. That’s true on several levels: We think of ourselves as independent beings who simply need someone to feed us and protect us and clean up our messes (as they say, dogs have owners, cats have staff). We want affection, but only on our terms (Leave me alone…I’ll come to you when I want you). Trust me, I ‘ve got a whole cat theology worked out here…But mostly, we’re like cats in that we have a hard time showing any repentance to God. We are aware of our sin, but what’s the big deal? And we present Him our little trophies from time to time. Why doesn’t He appreciate those things more?
Do you want to know what God loves, what He desires, more than anything else? We see it in the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector (Luke 18:9-14). But why does God love a broken, repentant heart? Does He take delight in our shame? Is He like a bully who loves to pound us on the arm until we say, "Uncle?" No, the truth is far more beautiful...and far more challenging. I hope to see you this Sunday.
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