When I was a little kid my folks took us to church a lot. I mean a lot. Like every time the doors were opened! We also moved a lot when I was a kid. I mean a lot. Like ten times before I was even in high school. But wherever we moved we found a church and we went. One thing all these churches had in common was their preaching. I heard a lot of sermons about the Second Coming of Christ. I mean a lot. Like at least one Sunday out of the month there was a sermon about Jesus’s Return.

Maaan! I loved those sermons. I used to sit on the front row of the pews and just drink in every single word. I was so convinced that Jesus was coming again I thought I probably wouldn’t even see my 21st birthday! Jesus was coming again IN MY LIFETIME and I was so excited. I remember one firey preacher that painted a picture with words of Jesus splitting open the Eastern sky and coming down through the clouds on a brilliant white stallion with a sword in one hand and his Word in the other. It was all very exciting.  My favorite part was when the pastor described how one day, when Jesus made things all new again, the lion would lay down with the lamb and all violence, and struggles and troubles and problems would be over and we would live forever in peace with Jesus (and of course with that lion and that lamb!). Wow. Good stuff.

I never hear sermons about Jesus’s Second Coming anymore. Do preachers even mention it these days? I’ve been to a few churches recently where they talked about a new building program; I’ve been to a few churches recently where they talked about mountain climbing, respecting yourself and there was that expositional reading of Romans. Why doesn’t anyone talk about the Second Coming anymore? Are we weary with waiting? Have we forgotten about it? Or maybe, and I hope this isn’t true, we let the hope of his return fade because it didn’t seem totally necessary anymore. And by we I mean me. Who needs heaven with a brand new Buick? Or how about my new house? I am so comfortable here and I haven’t finished all the decorating yet. Also, Big D and I have two grandsons and we want to see them grow up, go to college, get married…you know…stuff like that. A lot has changed. Well, I guess I have changed because when I was little I sure did long to see Jesus coming down from heaven on that big white horse. I sure did want to pet that lion and bury my face in his golden mane. I just knew he’d smell good ’cause he was a lion from heaven.

It is sad that I am content with a Buick when Scripture calls me to look for Christ’s return. “For the grace of God that brings salvation…teaches us to say ‘No’ to ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright and godly lives in this present age, while we wait for the blessed hope—the glorious appearing of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ” (Titus 2:13).

“You ought to live holy and godly lives as you look forward to the day of God and speed its coming” (1 Thessalonians 4:15).

“According to the Lord’s own word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left till the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage each other with these words…because the Lord’s coming is near” (James 5:7-8). Therefore encourage each other with these words. Hmmm. I don’t do that. I don’t talk to Big D or the kids or my best friend or even my sister about the Second Coming. Why is that? Am I afraid I’ll sound like a fanatic? Is it not important enough to me? You bet I tell my sis when I get a good deal on a pair of shoes! So why don’t I call her just to talk about Christ’s return? Because if the truth be known there is something of that little girl still in me who wants to believe that her Jesus will burst open that Eastern sky and come down on that white stallion and rescue us–all of us–from pain, and suffering, and death, and disease, and disorder, and cruelty. I long for the day when the lion lays down with the lamb and there will be peace on earth and peace among us because peace will be in our hearts. And King Jesus will reign forever and ever and ever. The early Church longed for Christ’s Return so much they had a word for it–Maranatha–He is coming! Maranatha–please come soon. Because after all, a Buick will rust and a house will decay and my grandsons will be much better off in a place where Jesus is ruling. Won’t they? How did I ever get so distracted? I still want to bury my face in the thick golden mane of that lion. Maranatha Jesus! We need you! Peace.

I like this painting by Darlene Slavujac (www.biblicalartist.net)

Please don’t think I am trying to sound like Oprah Winfrey or anything, but wouldn’t the world be a better place if we were all kinder to each other? Today I had to go to the grocery store to pick up a few things. I hate using a grocery cart so I usually lie to myself and say, Hey I don’t need one and then pile the goods in my arms until I look like a juggling act from the circus. This morning I did that very thing when a lady with a cart and I met coming around opposite corners (should they have some kind of signal lights at grocery stores?). I stopped quickly with my arms filled with stuff and she came to a halt just inches from hitting me. I looked up armed with a growl and scowl and our eyes met. She smiled. A beautiful smile. Then she said, “Oh sorry. Are you okay?” Sweet. Pleasant. Kind. And my heart just melted right there on the salty snack aisle between the Fritos and the cheesy popcorn. I smiled back and apologized for not paying attention. No problem, she said. It’s hard to see around corners. Warm fuzzies. I popped over to the Hallmark aisle and got my Dad’s birthday card and headed to the register. Things were crazy as always and people were rushing to beat each other in line. There she was my new little friend. We were heading to the same check-out line. Then something miraculous happened. She stopped and asked me to please go ahead of her. “You only have a few things…why don’t you go ahead?” Kindness. Humanity. Warmth. Right there at register #4. Amazing.

Once I was driving in morning rush hour to work. There was a lot of construction on the highway and miles ago the signs had told all of us eastbound on 435 that we needed to merge left. Orange signs. Lit signs. Flashing arrows. Every possible DMV warning was letting the morning commuter know that everyone had to merge left. As a rule keeper I snuggled close to the car’s bumper in front of me. I had already merged and for those who didn’t merge sooner, too bad. You saw all the signs with the rest of us and had the same chances as the rest of us to follow directions. You’re not cutting in front. I learned this lesson at the water fountain in first grade: NO CUTS! (And boys have cooties). So there I was at seven in the morning holding white knuckled to the steering wheel and sticking close to the car in front of me when I saw out of the corner of my eye a vehicle trying to merge left…way too late ’cause their lane was out of concrete. I looked over at the driver to let him or her know that I wasn’t budging because I had followed the rules and there was no room at the inn. I remember looking over at the driver and time stood still. She was probably 75 years old. Her hair was soft and gray. She drove a late model Buick and she was, well, beautiful. I looked over at her ready to give her the most hateful look on earth when she did something completely unexpected…she smiled. She smiled at me and it wasn’t a smirk, or a sarcastic grin. No, it was a warm, genuine, apologetic, won’t-you-please-help-me smile. And in the light of that smile I felt very ashamed. I felt ugly. Because I was acting ugly. And I slowed way down and motioned her in front of me. She had out of state tags. She looked in her rearview mirror and gave me a quick wave of thanks. She was kind. I was not.

Scripture has much to say about kindness. In Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians he tells us that love is patient, and love is kind.

Proverb 11:17 says that those who are kind reward themselves, but the cruel do themselves harm.

And Proverb 14:21 states that those who despise their neighbors are sinners, but happy are those who are kind…

Luke wrote the words of Jesus, “But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return. Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High; for he is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.”

The book of Ephesians tells us to be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven us.

I think kindness is a sort of ministry in many ways. I have benefitted from this type of ministry in my life–in fact almost every day and yet, I am not kind. My sister is kind. She gives to people. And Lisa from work is very kind. She always has a kind word of encouragement for others. And of course Ramona from church is the kindest woman on earth. She prepares meals for the sick, visits folks in the hospital, loves on people. But I don’t have the kindness gene. It’s hardwork for me. Is that an excuse? Maybe. But I do want to work on it. I want to anonymously pay for the lunch of the stranger eating alone at the Santa Fe Cafe. I want to carry the groceries of the elderly man who is walking to his car with a cane. I want to be the type of person who waits up for the slow guy in the group or lets someone else answer the question in class even when I know what the right answer is. I want to give up my seat for the pregnant woman on the bus and I want to shovel the snow off my neighbor’s driveway. I want to be that kind of person. Maybe being kind is all about being alert and aware of each and every person around us. CS Lewis believed there was no such thing as an insignificant human being–all have value because they are made in the image of God. Maybe kindness begins with treating each person I meet as if they were truly significant. Because in reality, they are. Maybe being kind starts with letting people in front of me at the grocery check out. Maybe. Peace.

There seems to be a lot of fear in the world today. Even among Christians. Fear of losing one’s job; fear of losing one’s retirement; fear of our political leaders; fear of natural disasters and fear of the future. Fear is such a funny thing because I believe God gave us the ability to fear things in order to protect us. Like, well, agrizoophobia—the fear of wild animals. (Not to be confused with the fear of zoos which house wild animals. No, that’s another fear). I think it is good to fear wild animals. It can keep us safe by preventing us from trying to cozy up to a rhinoceros or petting a mountain lion. Yeah, some fear is good. Scelerophibia, for example—the fear of bad men or strangers. Don’t we try to teach our children this to protect them in this day and age?

I personally suffer from ophidiophobia—the fear of snakes. I hate them. Even large earth worms bother me. There are so many kinds of fear. Like before I married Daryl I had anuptaphobia—fear of staying single. (Thanks Daryl for helping me out with this). Since gaining weight I have a real battle with catoptrophobia—fear of mirrors AND geniophobia—fear of chins. It seems every day I get another chin. Ugh. Once I travelled all over China with someone I think had ablutophobia—fear of bathing. (You KNOW who you are!). From that I developed bromidrophobia—a fear of body smells. Seriously. Since I broke my ankle I have a new fear: climacophobia—a fear of stairs. My husband has a few fears of his own, like chorophobia—a fear of dancing. Which I am proud to say he faced head-on in order to dance with our daughter at her wedding. He also suffers from lachanophobia—a fear of vegetables which runs in his family. (To this day none of them can watch Veggie Tales—very scary).

Some of my friends are raising kids and they struggle with ephebiphobia—fear of teenagers. Oh my! I hope that all teenagers will suffer from genophobia until they marry. That’s a fear of sex. If you ever go to China I hope you don’t suffer from ophthalmophobia—a fear of being stared at. A big problem there. People stare. A lot. And another fear bad for China travel is consecotaleophobia—fear of chopsticks. I only fear the kind that women wear in their hair. Can you imagine putting a fork or spoon in your hair as decoration?

Some fears are really interesting. Like, tremophobia. This is the fear of trembling. What if you have that fear and it causes you to tremble? Ooh. That would be tough. Then there is counterphobia. That’s the fear of fear! Or my all time favorite is: hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia. This is the fear of long words. Kind of a self-fulfilling prophecy, isn’t it? You’d never be able to tell people what it is you suffer from. Two fears a person would never like to have at the same time: coprastasophobia—fear of constipation and coprophobia—fear of feces. I think in that case one could lead to the other. Hmmmm.

The Church sometimes suffers from ideophobia—fear of ideas. One good fear I learned at church was hadephobia—the fear of hell. That’s what got me saved quite honestly. I was looking for fire insurance. A sad fear is ecclesiophobia—a fear of church. I wonder how many folks suffer from this as result of being mistreated at church? One thing we don’t suffer from around our house is soophobia—the fear of expressing an opinion. Big D probably wishes I had just a touch of that.

But fear can paralyze us. It can render us ineffective for the Kingdom. Sixty-three times in the Bible God tells us “fear not.” Another 42 times He tells us “be not afraid.” Fear is natural. And God knows we struggle with it. That’s why I think He mentions it so often in His Book.

However, we are commanded in Scripture to overcome fear. In fact, perfect love casts out all fear (I John 4:18) and God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of love, power and a sound mind (2 Timothy 1:7). I think the world as a whole is suffering from fear today. Especially with our current economic situation and the wars and unrest that are raging around the globe. But we as followers of Christ are not of this world. There should be something different about us—a peace that passes understanding; a hope; a joy that comes only from our faith in Christ Jesus. Perhaps it is this time that God has called us to be beacons of hope and light in a hurt and fearful world. Perhaps it is our duty as the Church to declare His peace and joy when those around us are facing impossible issues. Aren’t we told in Scripture, “… in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect” (I Peter 3:15)? Christ is our anchor. He is an ever-present help in time of trouble. He has promised to never leave us or forsake us.

Jesus said, “Fear not little flock for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom” (Luke 12:32). He understands that we struggle with fear, but He also gives us directions on how to deal with it and commands us to get rid of it. Here let me throw some Scriptures at you:

“I hereby command you: Be strong and courageous; do not be frightened or dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go” Joshua 1:9.

“Be strong and of good courage. Do not be afraid or dismayed…for there is one greater with us… With [them] is an arm of flesh; but with us is the LORD our God, to help us and to fight our battles” 2 Chronicles 32:7.

“Surely God is my salvation; I will trust, and will not be afraid, for the LORD GOD is my strength and my might; he has become my salvation” Isaiah 12:2.

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid” John 14:27.

These difficult times in our nation and in our world present us, as followers of Christ, with the perfect opportunity to be salt and light. This is our time to lovingly, humbly and boldly declare Christ as the only hope for humankind. May our lives show forth His peace and love as a testimony to a world living in fear. May His Spirit break the chains of fear in our own lives so that we may effectively minister to those around us in need. This is my prayer for all of us. Peace.

Big D had an early flight out this morning so I drove him to the airport. After I dropped him off I headed home. On the drive back the sun began to rise. This morning’s sunrise was one of the most beautiful I have ever seen. It’s partly cloudy here and the cloudy, hazy horizon created an amazing light show of reds, and purples, and oranges, and blues. When it’s cloudy like this the sun filters through and you can actually see it–round, red and brilliant. It is not anything like the sun that scorches us on hot Kansas summer days. It is a softer side of the sun; a gentler sun. I’ve been struggling with a sinus infection the past few days so maybe this is just the Sudafed talking, but that sunrise, well…sorry John Denver…it made me happy!

Now I am whole-heartedly committed that certain subjects will be addressed at this site: money, sex, politics and religion. I know! Those are the things we’re NOT supposed to talk about, but I want to. I think they are very important subjects. I think they should be talked about. So, here it goes…

Obama won last night. And whether you voted for him or not, he is the next president of the United States. And I must say if I was an African-American (which many of my Black friends say I am) I’d be moved beyond words today. Think of all the Black community has been through in this country. Think about the prejudice, discrimination, injustices and cruelty people have suffered in these United States simply because of the color of their skin. In fact, between the years of 1900-1918 over 2,000 Blacks were lynched in the South. Twenty-percent of those lynched were lynched because they attempted to register to vote. Think about it. Less than 100 years ago African Americans were being killed for attempting to register to vote and yet today, the African-American community has a leader heading for the White House! I can only imagine what it must feel like for all those citizens who fought for their right to vote and for their civil rights and are alive to see this day. I hope this day lives forever in their hearts and minds. They’ve earned this day. All of America should understand their enthusiasm and rejoice with them.

For my dear friends and family that fear this new president I just want to encourage you not to. God is still in control (thanks Lisa D. for sending me that song!). He really is. We don’t need to fear, or be anxious or worry. Remember what Paul wrote to the Romans? Here, let me copy it in:

ROMANS 13:1-7, “Everyone must submit himself to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God. Consequently, he who rebels against the authority is rebelling against what God has instituted, and those who do so will bring judgment on themselves…For he is God’s servant to do you good…He is God’s servant…Therefore, it is necessary to submit to the authorities, not only because of possible punishment but also because of conscience. This is also why you pay taxes, for the authorities are God’s servants, who give their full time to governing. Give everyone what you owe him: If you owe taxes, pay taxes; if revenue, then revenue; if respect, then respect; if honor, then honor.”

Paul wrote that to the Believers in Rome for pity’s sake! Rome! You know the city with the really freaked out funky town government? Paul wrote his letter to the Roman Christians in 56 AD; Nero became emperor of Rome in 54 AD and burned the city just eight years after Paul wrote his letter. Remember the burning of Rome? Nero blamed the Christians and persecution of the Church became entertainment in the coliseums! I know Paul’s words are difficult to comprehend. Think of Hitler or Mao. And the letter to the Romans isn’t an isolated account in the New Testament. Peter tells us to submit to rulers as supreme authority (I Peter 2) and Paul tells us to pray for those in authority (I Timothy). The fact of the matter is we don’t live in a perfect world. Elections don’t always go as we might like, the economy may struggle (even fail), wars are raging, promises are broken, death still occurs. But we as follower of Jesus Christ are not without hope. We believe that one day our Lord and Savior will open up the skies and come for us; He’ll come for us and fix stuff. He is preparing a home for us where there is no corruption, no more tears, no more pain, no more suffering, no more cancer, no more injustices, no more heartbreak. Jesus is preparing for us a city where He rules in peace and perfect justice. I disagree with Paul Marshall because I believe Heaven is my real home. Heaven is my real destination. I am encouraged by the knowledge that one day I will live in a nation ruled by God where there will be no more elections, taxes, health insurance, 401Ks, Wall Street, and no more politics. And that sunrise this morning reminded me that I am heading to a city where the Lamb is the Light. Peace.

You know, I always get a little nervous when I hear someone say, “The Lord told me this and that and such and such.” I can’t resist saying, “Really? Did He call you on your cell?” I mean I wish it was that simple. I have never heard God’s voice. Not audibly anyway. And we’re human. We make mistakes. I know better than anyone how fallible human beings are. Hey, I am the worst case scenario. A pastor told me once, “When the Divine occurs there is always a little dirt mixed in.” In my case it is a whole lotta dirt! So if the Lord doesn’t speak directly to me in an audible voice, or if He doesn’t send me a text message, then how do I know what His will is? Not just for my life, but for my daily operations? “Hey, God, whadaya want me to do today?” “What’s my assignment?”

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. The Bible tells us that God wants to communicate to His people: “My sheep hear My voice.” And believe me I am not from the dispensation that thinks God DOESN’T speak today. I believe. I do. No! I really DO believe God communicates to us today…through the Bible, but also through other means as well. Sadly though age, experience and life have taught me that the communication breakdown between me and God, well the breakdown is always on my end of things.

Learning to hear God’s voice, if that is even possible, is tough! And sometimes the most sincere, dedicated Christian (uh-huh I mean me) can miss Him or misinterpret what He is saying. But I really believe that in God’s grace and generous love toward His children, He blesses us, and sometimes He blesses our best efforts to obey Him, even if what we are doing wasn’t exactly what He had in mind. However, I think that when we yearn to obey Him, I believe He takes notice. When we do our best, I think it counts. Here, let me tell you a quick story…

Years ago I used to teach in Moscow (the big one in Russia, not the other one in Idaho). One day I showed up for class and my department chair told me all of my classes were cancelled. She said in a very heavy Russian accent, “The freshmun class must go to field to pick potatoes today. You vill have class with them in two weeks.” Okay. Potatoes. Why do they have to pick potatoes? I stupidly asked. She looked at me as if I were some kind of moron, “Because it is their turn!” Of course. How silly I am.

Honestly? I was ticked off because no one had let me know. They could have called me. I had classes that evening across town but now it was too early to show up for those classes and too late to go home for a rest (okay, for a snack).

Maaaaan! I was standing on the steps of the administration building wondering what the heck I was going to do. It was a freezing October day and it was starting to sleet. Crud! What should I do with this free time? “Lord, do you have any suggestions?” I was being sarcastic and very insincere. You see, I wanted to complain to somebody. I wanted somebody to know what I was suffering all because the stupid university didn’t let me know about freshman potato picking. Not like we have that holiday in the States.

Still bent out of shape, I headed to the Metro to take the loop train around town. Yes, it goes in circles. But it is warm, fairly clean and it would give me a place to eat my lunch and catch up on some grading. In that very grumpy, hateful, angry state I heard something. Not a huge booming something. But something. In fact, it sounded like my own voice. (And no I don’t often hear voices!) I heard, “Take the bus.”

I never took the bus in Moscow. They take twice as long as the Metro and they usually required transfers. Buses are dirty, cold and they breakdown constantly. No way am I gonna take the stupid bus. And I headed toward the Metro. I stopped. There it was. I heard it again, “Take the bus.” OH MY GOSH! There is no way on earth that I am gonna take the bus! So, why did I stop? Well, my thought process went a little like this: if I am wrong and this is not God’s voice, who cares? It’s not like I heard a voice telling me to walk naked in the streets (and all the citizens of Moscow sighed with relief). No, it was TAKE THE BUS. What would it hurt? If I am wrong, no big deal. BUT, and this is a very big but, if I am right, then it counts. You know…counts toward my bonus points in heaven. Yes, God keeps track of these things. So, as I walked toward the bus I asked God to let this count toward my bonus points even if I was wrong. “Hey, Jesus! Can this count as obedience because I simply THINK I am following you?” I hoped it did. So, I headed across the street and caught the slow, crowded, dirty, unheated, unreliable bus.

For forty-five minutes I rode that stinkin’ bus without any incidents–no one to witness to, no crises, no signs from the Lord. When it came time to get off the No. 4, to catch my transfer, I stepped off the bus and waited for the traffic light to change so I could cross the crazy busy street to my next stop. Only two of us got off there—me and a thick-ankled, head-scarf-wearing babushka with two giant sacks of groceries.

Traffic in Moscow is terrible. In fact, pedestrians are open game for drivers. Seriously, people are killed there just crossing the street because aggressive drivers don’t care. My friends and I used to say that crossing the street in Moscow was a faith walk and we always re-committed our lives to the Lord before attempting it. Once I saw an old woman hit by a car in Moscow while crossing the street. I will never forget her body flying through the air like a weightless rag doll. That image was always in my mind when crossing the street in Moscow. So, when the light turned green I started hauling it.

Halfway through the crossing the light turned yellow, which for many Muscovite drivers this is the same as green. I saw the lanes filled with oncoming traffic and I began to pick up the pace to get to the other curb. Then I heard it. A strange sort of thud followed by a groan. I turned around and it was that old babushka. She had fallen in the middle of the street; her sacks of groceries spilled out and oranges were rolling everywhere.

I looked up and three lanes of cars were racing towards us. If I left her on the street she would without a doubt be killed; if I stayed with her we were both likely to sustain some type of injury. My first instincts were to survive. But I knew that wasn’t right. So I cried out, “Jesus help me! Lord Jesus help us!” (Ann Lamott says there are only two real prayers: Help me, help me, help me! and Thank You! Thank You! Thank You!). I ran to the old woman and helped her to her feet. Her coat was covered with black gunk from the road. Her support stockings were torn and her knees were bleeding. Oranges were everywhere. I grabbed her by the arm. I screamed, “Hurry! Hurry!” She started to move and then paused, “My oranges. My oranges.” The cars were coming and we had only seconds before we were gonna get hit. Like an idiot I grabbed as many of the oranges as I could but was still crying, “Lord Jesus! Lord Jesus!” Me and the babushka stepped up onto the curb and (I swear) the moment our feet stepped up on that curb we felt the gush of air from passing vehicles. Dang! Too close for comfort. Thankfully there was a bench nearby and we both plunked down there shaking, a little bit dazed, out of breath.

I began to clean up her cuts and scrapes with Handiwipes from my purse (I never leave home without them). I managed to save several oranges, but those that were left behind were now simply pulp. We comforted each other and sighed a big relief. Then something really weird happened. With tears in her eyes she took my face in her hands and said, “You saved me. If you had not been here today I would have been killed by those crazy drivers.” Then it hit me. Had the Spirit prompted me to really take the bus? Did I hear from God?

We were waiting for the same transfer bus. When it arrived we got on the bus sat down. My babushka held my hand the entire final leg of our trip. She talked, she cried, she thanked me. Finally, in my most broken and terrible Russian I said to her, “God sent me to you today. He knows you and He knows where you are. He sent me to tell you that…(for some reason I hesitated)…He loves you.” She wept and began whispering, “Slavaboga. Slavaboga.” Praise God. Praise God.

My babushka got off the bus one stop before mine. She kissed me, gave me a couple of oranges. I looked out the dirty window of the bus and saw her waving until we were out of sight.

I don’t know. I like to think all these years later that God was directing my steps that day. I’d like to think He wanted to touch an old woman’s life; to let her know He knows her name. Simple acts of obedience form us and shape us. They allow us to view God through a dark glass and see His hand in our everyday lives. And if we attempt something, just because we think He is leading us that way, does it really hurt anyone? I think of it like this: Have you ever been given a bouquet of dandelions by a little child? Those little yellow flowers are known to all of us as weeds? Yet little kids see those flowers and pick them for important people like teachers, and mommies, and aunties, and grandparents. When a child gives you that bouquet of dandelions you take them and praise the child for her thoughtfulness. You put those nasty weeds in a small vase and set them on the kitchen table because you know what they represent. They represent something more important than what they actually are. We don’t smack kids upside the head and yell at them, “Those are weeds you idiot!” No, we take them graciously, caringly and see them as an expression of that child’s love. I think it is that way with God. When we step out in obedience, even in our own frail human way, we might get it wrong; we might be giving God dandelions. But his Father’s heart is kind and compassionate and He receives our acts of obedience as a beautiful bouquet offered to Him out of love.

Knowing God’s will is sometimes difficult, but fear of making a mistake or missing His will should not paralyze us to inactivity. We should be free to try and realize that dandelions are a good gift when our hearts are in the right place. Peace.

All my life I have lived with a strong sense that God is always angry with me. I mean, mad at me. You know, ticked off. I struggled even being a Christian for the first half of my life. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in God–I did. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in the Bible–I did. It wasn’t that I didn’t love God–I did. It was just so hard to appease the God; to find favor with Him. At 21, I was blessed to have an incredible, supernatural experience with the Holy Spirit that changed my life forever. (And my family’s life as well). Call it what you want–Baptism of the Holy Spirit, Sanctification, being “Tim LaHaye” filled with the Spirit–all I know was that once I was blind and now I see. Through that experience I was able to believe that Jesus loved me. Jesus, my Savior, my King, my Beautiful Elder Brother, my Lord, my High Priest, my Advocate really loved me. No doubts. But God, well, that was a whole ‘nother matter.

The great theologian Lewis Smedes (1921-2002) in his autobiography My God and I shares how he lived his whole life believing that God was always angry with him. He writes so poignantly about his struggle to accept God’s love. His wife played a major role in his ability to believe in God’s grace. It was through her love for Smedes and her life with him that Smedes accepted “by faith” that God really did love him. She was the evidence in his life that only a loving and accepting God would give him such a gift as her.

Mother Teresa struggled greatly with the idea that God hated her. In the book, Mother Teresa: Come Be My Light in which her letters are published, she writes, “Lord, my God, who am I that You should forsake me? The child of Your love–and now become as the most hated one–the one You have thrown away as unwanted…unloved. I call, I cling, I want and there is no One to answer–no One on Whom I can cling. No, no One. Alone. The darkness is so dark and I am alone. Unwanted, forsaken. The loneliness of the heart that wants love is unbearable…I trust that all (the pain, the loneliness, the suffering) will end in Heaven with Jesus” (p. 187). The book states that Mother Teresa suffered this pain and rejection from 1948 until her death in 1997. She loved. She smiled. She ministered. She served. She spoke with fervent passion and conviction and all the while she suffered with this feeling of isolation and rejection from her Heavenly Father. That to me seems like a tremendous weight to bear.

Of course, I can’t leave out St. John of the Cross. You know, the 16th century Spanish priest who wrote The Dark Night of the Soul? St. John of the Cross explained the dark night as a time when prayer is extremely difficult; a sense that God has abandoned the Believer. But he said that it was a blessing in disguise teaching the follower of Christ to walk by faith, not by the senses. SJC believed the dark night of the soul was a type of “purification of the senses.” Though I cannot imagine Mother Teresa needing such a purification.

In my own life the feeling that God is angry at me also manifests itself in the strong sense that God just doesn’t like me. Does it stem from my Mom’s constant proclamation, “I will always love you Teri, but I don’t have to like you”? Did Smedes struggle with father issues in his childhood? Surely not Mother Teresa. I think it is greater and goes deeper than some hidden away psychosomatic issues about childhood and parental mistakes. I think it relates to what CS Lewis calls “the weight of glory.” Some of us, for whatever reasons, struggle with God’s acceptance and love for us. Some of us who follow Christ struggle with a real sense of God’s approval of us. Not because of some sin in our past, or because we don’t feel worthy, but because we are incapable of it. Maybe this is the thorn in the flesh God Himself has chosen for us to bear. Perhaps this is the weight we carry so that we do walk by faith and not by sight. Perhaps this weight keeps us broken and prevents us from straying from the Shepherd.

In CS Lewis’s sermon (June 8, 1942, Church of St. Mary the Virgin, Oxford) titled “The Weight of Glory” he refers to the parable found in Matthew 25. Lewis said, “Glory suggests…approval by God…I saw that this view was scriptural; nothing can eliminate from the parable the divine accolade, ‘Well done, thou good and faithful servant’…And that is enough to raise our thoughts to what may happen when the redeemed soul, beyond all hope and nearly beyond belief, learns at last that she has pleased Him Whom she was created to please…With no taint of what we should now call self-approval she will most innocently rejoice in the thing that God has made her to be, and the moment which heals her old inferiority complex for ever…”

I look forward to the day when I see my Heavenly Father and I look upon His face and see perfectly well His love and acceptance of me. My heart is anchored to heaven as a result of the weight I carry knowing that one day in just one moment I will, along with so many others, most innocently rejoice in the thing that God has made me to be and by faith I will hear those words of approval, “Well done thou good and faithful servant…enter into the joy of your Master.” Peace.

My husband Big D is a Wesleyan-Arminian. I on the other hand am a five point Calvinist. These different views make for some very interesting dinner conversation. He of course has to be more careful than I about what he says because he can lose his salvation at any moment. In fact, sometimes when he is driving unChristianly, I ask him, “Are you about to lose your salvation just now?” He loves when I ask him that. Bless his heart. You should see his face when I bring that up. I think it is very remarkable that the Lord would put the two of us together because if anyone could cause Big D to lose his salvation, well, it would be me. I could try the patience of any holy saint.

I am thankful for the doctrine of once saved always saved. For someone like me it is truly eternal security. I am thrilled that Ephesians 4:30 says that I am sealed until the Day of Redemption. When I was a child I would walk the aisle of church every Sunday feeling as if I needed to get saved again. I would sin all week long in word, thought and deed and then Sunday’s preaching would convict me so badly and down the aisle I would go needing to get born-again again. What a relief it was when a gentle country pastor explained to me that I was sealed until the day of redemption. Whew. My name was written in the Lamb’s Book of Life and God’s pencil doesn’t have a big old eraser on the end. Wow! How complicated would that be? Entering and erasing. Entering and erasing. Entering and erasing each person’s name that lost their salvation throughout the day; then when they got right with the Lord, the name would need to be re-entered. Ugh. Tough job.

But there is something beautiful about living with a holiness man. Big D has never lost his temper with me. He doesn’t use bad language; he tries to do the right thing; he is a man of prayer as well as a devoted reader of Scripture. He takes his walk with God seriously. There’s a maintenance in his relationship with God that I don’t really have. There’s a perseverance that I deeply admire. However, I, in contrast, let some things slide. Am I resting in the arms of the Lord or am I just lazy?

A few years ago I taught at a local Bible college of the Calvinist persuasion. The majority of my students didn’t live holy lives. In fact, Friday and Saturday nights were spent like any other college students in the US–partying, drinking, messing around. It grieved me. One day I laid aside my lesson plan and asked these students of mine, most of whom were young men, weren’t they bothered by their behavior on the weekends? Didn’t they feel guilty about messing around and doing things that were prohibited by Scripture? One very brave student spoke for the rest, “Why? We’re saved. We’re going to heaven. We’ve made a profession of faith followed by water baptism. We’re sealed until the day of redemption.” I think in the back of my mind I always knew that kind of thinking existed. I think way back in the recesses of my brain somewhere I believed the same thing he did, but I had never spoken it aloud. I had never permitted myself to say those words. Like a deep prejudice locked away in my psyche I was forced to confront the dangerous side of the once-saved-always-saved doctrine. It had become for these students a license to sin. It had become for them a get out of jail free card. Dangerous stuff. Of course there is the old debate about whether folks that live badly are really saved at all. And then there is the other side, those crazy Arminians that live holy lives, but perhaps live in fear. Is it possible that there is something behind Door #3? An option that exists that we don’t really talk about, or perhaps even know about?

Norm Geisler wrote a great book a few years back, Chosen But Free. In this book Geisler calls himself a Calminian. He has a great view of balance betweent the two opposing doctrines. (See his dialog on pages 117-124–good stuff!). But alas he doesn’t answer all the questions. And maybe no one really can. Maybe there are mysteries about God that will remain until we see Him face-to-face. And after years of living with a Wesleyan-Arminian I have to say holiness is a great way to live. However, and this is a big HOWEVER, I have come to wonder why we even ask the question at all? Why would I WANT to lose my salvation? Why would I even need to know the perimeters? It’s an odd question to ask when you think about it. There is so much Christ asked us to do and there is so much that is needing to be done and if I am busy about my Master’s business, why should I ask the question, “Will I get fired?” I have come to the conclusion that I don’t need to know if I can lose my salvation because if all that I am doing is motivated by my love for Jesus Christ and my devotion to him, then it really isn’t an issue, is it? If my focus is on Christ and following him getting off the path would seem impossible.

Anyway, I like what Corrie ten Boom believed: she believed there is a gate in heaven and inscribed over the top as we enter in are the words, “Come all of you who are heavy laden… (John 1:12)” and on the back side of the gate, as we pass through, it reads, “For I knew you before the foundation of the earth was laid (Ephesians 1:4).” Peace.

I live off of 87th Street in a suburb of Kansas City. Within a four mile radius of my home there are four mega churches. By mega churches I am referring to churches that have congregations of over 1,000 in attendance and whose buildings cost more than 15 million dollars each. One is a monster of a church; it’s Southern Baptist. The church right next to it, yeah, right next to it, is a Covenant Church. One mile from those two there is a humongous Pentecostal number with its very own health club; three miles away from that one is, uh-huh, another SBC church. These churches are huge! They have lovely landscaping, perfectly laid parking lots, and steeples that, well, are the only man-made objects visible from outer space! In fact, one pastor believes his steeple can be seen as far as 30 miles away. Wow. That’s big! The largest of the four just finished phase three of its building program. The registration for the permit to build (yes, accessible online) the new phase estimated that the cost would be 9 million dollars. So, if you figure that they went over budget, which a member told me they had, and if you figure they spent about that much on each phase, we’re looking at somewhere in the ballpark of 27 million dollars for the entire outfit. Did I mention that particular church’s sanctuary only seats 1,200? I guess they needed a lot of space for Sunday School. Big buildings. Lots of brick and mortar. I think it is interesting that I can’t find brick and mortar in the New Testament. Is it in there?

I’m thinking about some of the stuff Jesus said, like in John 21, “Jesus said to Simon Peter, ‘Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?’ He said, ‘Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Feed my lambs.’ A second time Jesus asked, ‘Simon son of John, do you love me?’ Peter answered, ‘Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.’ Jesus said again, ‘Tend my sheep.’ Then Jesus asked a third time, ‘Simon son of John, do you love me?’ Peter felt hurt, and he said to Jesus, ‘Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Feed my sheep.’”

Now assuming this conversation wasn’t just for Peter – if it is for all of us who follow Christ, then it looks to me like that if we love Jesus we are supposed to feed and tend his sheep. Okay, do I need a 27 million dollar complex to do that? Is all that brick and mortar really necessary?

What about the commands of Jesus (I don’t think they were just suggestions): (Matthew 25) feed the hungry, give water to the thirsty, clothe the naked, care for the sick, visit those in prison, help the widow, the orphan, and the foreigner (stranger). Is it me? Or is “build a big, honker building” not in there? I can’t find anywhere in the New Testament where Jesus or the other guys tell us to build a building. In fact, James says, “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.” Maybe buildings and Jesus’s words are not in conflict, but what if they are?

Look at Jesus’s words before he ascended into heaven: Go into all the world and preach the good news, make disciples, heal the sick, set the captive free. Feed the hungry. Preach the gospel. Clothe the naked. Preach the gospel. Care for orphans. Preach the gospel. Build big multi-million dollar buildings…uh…wait! That’s not in there.

Have you seen Haiti lately? How about Sudan? One billion people a year are chronically hungry. And, 18 children under the age of five die EVERY 24 MINUTES from hunger. Every 24 hours 35,000 people starve to death…here on our planet, in our time, today. Peter do you love me?

My sister and brother-in-law decided two years ago that doing Jesus’s words just wasn’t that hard. My big ol’ brother-in-law Mike said, “It ain’t rocket science to feed the hungry.” They are business folks living in Oklahoma City. They feed the hungry every Wednesday. Mike and Cindy said they wanted to feed the homeless of their city with food that they themselves would like to eat. So, every Wednesday, for the past two years, they head over to Subway and get sandwiches, cookies and bottled water. Rain or shine. Freezing cold or suffocatingly hot. Convenient or inconvenient. And they pass out lunches to anyone and everyone they can find who live on the streets and don’t have enough food. In the summer there are lots of children on the streets–homeless with their parents. Lots of stories out there too of people just like me and you who fell on hard times, had a crises and just couldn’t get back on their feet again. Once, a nice gentlemen said, “It’s so good to have some normal food again. I used to always eat at Subway.” Mike and Cindy don’t get publicity. They pay for the food out of their own pockets. They drive into some really rough parts of town. On Christmas and Thanksgiving they deliver hot meals of turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, pumpkin pie–the works. Each summer Mike picks an abandoned parking lot and they do a big cook out of hamburgers and hotdogs. All are welcome. They always run out of food. But they feed the hungry. They just do what Jesus said to do. And dear Cindy prays as they hand out those sandwiches. She prays over her city; she prays over these whom God has given them. They feed His sheep.

These are the physically hungry, but what about the spiritually hungry as well? There are 1.8 billion people on this earth who have never heard the name of Jesus. They didn’t reject Him, they’ve just never heard of Him. There are no Bibles in their languages, no churches in their neighborhoods, no Christians living near them. They are called the Unreached People Groups of our world. To bring that number home it looks like this: 3 out of 10 people on this planet have never heard the name of Jesus.

I think Jesus said that they perish. I think Paul said they perish. I think those without Christ suffer horribly in this life as well as in eternity.

Feeding the hungry, taking care of orphans, helping Haiti, reaching the Unreached of this world is not an impossible task. It’s actually doable. But it is a matter of priorities. And, like everything else in life doing these things requires resources. Human resources. Financial resources. I just wonder if 27 million dollars towards feeding the hungry and reaching the lost would have been a better way to spend those resources than in a church building that will one day crumble and fall and yes, burn up. There are only two things that last forever (did Bill Bright say this?): People and God’s Word. Investing in these two eternal things, obeying Jesus’s words and giving of ourselves for these purposes seems to me a whole lot better than brick and mortar. Maybe I’m missing something. Maybe I’m wrong. I just wonder. Peace.

Sometimes I really, really wish that I could put God’s name in my Google search slot and come up with some answers. You know, like when you can’t remember the name of a movie or you can’t remember which State some national monument is in. All you have to do is put in the name, or a close facsimile of the name, in Google, hit search and tah dah…there’s your answer.

Man I wish God worked like that! I bet He’d get a lot of hits. For example, I broke my ankle recently. First time I have ever had a broken bone. And the shocking thing is I have really thick ankles. So it was a surprise that the thing could break. Anyway, I’m lying on the landing of our stairs (yeah, I fell down the stairs; I wish it could have broken during ice hockey or soccer even though I don’t do sports) freaking out because of pain and because I can’t find my foot. The break was so creepy that my leg went one way and the foot went another–like a “warning: curve ahead” sign on the highway. I called out to my husband and he came running to see what was going on. His white, I-think-I-am-going-to-hurl face confirmed that we had a bad situation on our hands (or my feet I should say). Big D runs upstairs to call 911. I am sitting there on the landing feeling pain, freaking out and crying, “Jesus. Dear Jesus. Please help me. Help me Jesus.” And something unbelievable happens. The ankle pops back into place. Seriously. Then the pain stops. No pain. Big D comes back from the phone call and he looks again at the ankle. “What happened?” he asked. “I think Jesus put it back” I replied. We stared at each other and then the EMT guys showed up. Now, the EMT guys, Rick and Bob, didn’t see the ankle pre-”please help me Jesus” cry out so they look at the thing and are sure it’s just sprained. Big D, who is very calm and quite the steady sort, assures them that the ankle had indeed been heading south whilst the leg was heading west. I don’t think they believed us. Rick asks, “Did you set it?” ”No. It just popped back into place” I answer. “Impossible,” says Rick. “You would have passed out.” Then Rick asks if there’s any pain (Bob meanwhile is staring at the stairs left to navigate and at my height and weight figuring there is no way on earth he’s gonna get me on that gurney and out to the ambulance; now he’s white and got the hurl face going on). “No. There’s no pain” I tell them. And off we go to the ER. Exciting times. First ride in an ambulance.

ER doctor asks, “Any pain?” “No.” X-rays are ordered. A fracture is found. An orthopedic surgeon is consulted and away we go to the operating room. Fun stuff. Surgery goes well and then Dr. Surgeon tells me I’m off my foot for eight weeks. Eight weeks. Eight very long, very tough, very confusing weeks. Still no pain. Even after the surgery…no pain. When the orthopedic surgeon asked me who set the ankle I said, “I don’t know what your theology is, but Jesus put it back in place.” He smiled, more kindly that I had expected. He explained that he had 30 years of sports’ medicine experience and that he had seen plenty of rugged, big old boy athletes pass out when an ankle was set. “But if you have the faith for that, who am I to complain?” His words moved round and round and round in my head for days–weeks actually.

“If you have the faith for that…” Okay, if Jesus was able to pop the sucker back in place, why didn’t he just go ahead and take the millisecond needed to heal the thing? If Jesus was kind enough to take away the pain (and believe me the pain was horrific), why didn’t he just go ahead and let me go back to normal? I needed to walk in August, September and even now in October. I needed to be mobile. Let me explain.

For 25 years I have prayed, cried, worked toward and waited to enter North Korea. That’s right! The good ol’ Hermit Kingdom. I have been burdened for that nation since I looked across the Chinese/N. Korean border in 1983 and asked God to allow me to go there to live and work. Twenty-five years I have waited and prayed and cried and tried and finally, with ticket in hand, was schedule to fly to N. Korea on September 1. I was invited by the leaders of a new university there for the opening ceremonies scheduled for September 7. Instead, on September 7, I sat in a huge, brown, leather Lazy Boy recliner in my den with my leg elevated watching John LeCarre movies on DVD. (The university since called and said the opening ceremonies were postponed until November 27; still can’t go because doctor’s orders are no traveling for four months!) You know the old, trite expression, “I can’t seem to get a break?” Well, I got a break, just not the kind I was looking for. Because of the fall (mine, not Adam’s and Eve’s) I can’t go to N. Korea. Because of the Fall (theirs, not mine) a lot of crappy stuff happens that I don’t get; stuff I don’t understand; stuff that doesn’t make any sense and so I want to Google God and say, “What’s up with that?” But it’s not that easy and I guess this is where faith is supposed to come in. Faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen yada yada yada. I know I have to believe that God is a good God. I, by faith, have to trust what God says: All things are working for my good according to God’s purposes (Romans 8:28). Perhaps the Bible isn’t a search engine, it’s definitely not Google, but maybe there are some answers in that book. Answers like, “My ways are not your ways” (Isaiah 55:8). And “I know the plans that I have for you” (Jeremiah 29:11). And let’s not forget the all time favorite “God meant it for good” (Genesis 50:20). I guess it all boils down to either God said it or He didn’t. And if He said it, then as a follower of Christ I really should believe it. Right?

There are good people in this world, good Christian people, who are facing much more difficult circumstances than a broken ankle. Let’s be honest – this is not cancer. My ankle is not terminal and it will eventually heal. And hopefully, I will make it to N. Korea one day. If not, I’ll hang out with a bunch of N. Koreans in heaven and we’ll have delicious heaven-style kimchi at the Marriage Supper of the Lamb. In the meantime though, there are good people, godly people, and yes some not so nice folks that have a profession of faith in Jesus Christ and are doing their level best to follow Jesus and yet they get a landfill full of crap dumped on them. Life can be so unfair and sometimes even cruel and one has to ask, “God where are You in all of this mess? Where are Your promises? Where is Your love for me in this hell hole?” I guess, especially without Google, we just have to hang on to what we know of God’s character (good, loving, kind, compassionate, full of grace, merciful, just, faithful) and trust. Trust that He is still near and that He still cares and that He has not forsaken us.

As the writer of Hebrews explains faith can mean having your loved ones raised from the dead or rejoicing even when being sawed in two. We are surrounded by those who have gone before us (the great cloud of witnesses) who by faith entered into Christ Jesus even in horrible and adverse circumstances. I guess I can hold on to, “Therefore lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint, but rather be healed” (Hebrews 12:12).

I’d like to know what was gained (besides a few pounds) from me sitting on my big bum for eight weeks. (I am still hobbling about and the doctor says my days as a runway model are over–no more high heels. Darn!) But what really matters is that I learn to walk by faith and not by sight. That I learn to trust God even when things don’t make sense. Because isn’t true faith, real faith, believing in something we may not see or feel? Isn’t it trusting God even though our circumstances scream to us that we cannot? C.S. Lewis writes in A Grief Observed, “God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.” My pain wasn’t in my ankle, it was the excruciating pain of letting go of a dream, an opportunity, and now I feel a little stronger in the broken places. Peace.

Jesus preached an upside down philosophy. He said it is better to give than receive. Then he tells his followers that if they want to lead they’ll have to serve–the first will be last. That’s just crazy stuff. He says we are to love our enemies, do good to mean folks, pray for those who abuse us; those who take advantage of us. His teachings are absolutely contrary to everything we know about survival, getting ahead, ambition, success, and of course winning. Jesus said if anyone wants to gain their life they must lose it; to live we must die. This oxymoron gospel turned civilization on its ear. (See Rodney Stark’s book The Rise of Christianity).

There are two things I want to address here and then tomorrow I’ll move off the subject of war as a post. (Dialoging in the comments is still a go).

First, how do we protect ourselves from truly evil people if we do not fight? How do we protect the innocent from such evil if we do not engage in acts of war? The Civil War in the US was fought in part due to slavery. Right? And yes, because of economics. World War II was fought to stop Hitler and the SS from its Nazi war machine destroying Jews and trying to occupy all of Europe. And what about the Taliban in Afghanistan? For me there is just so much to unpack here.

First of all, wars don’t start overnight. There is a build up and signs of trouble usually manifest way before blood is shed on the battlefield. I wonder if followers of Christ are called to prevent war. Scripture says that the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but they are mighty to the pulling down of strongholds. For we aren’t battling with flesh and blood, but against principalities and spiritual powers of darkness in high places. (Ephesians 6)

William Wilberforce ended slavery in Great Britain without firing a single shot. He went through the system of government and worked hard to end slavery without bloodshed. He began his war less travelled in 1787 and sacrificed his health, his family, and his reputation to abolish slavery in the United Kingdom. In 1833 British Parliament passed the Slavery Abolition Act and Wilberforce died three days later. The weapons of Wilberforce’s warfare were not carnal, but they were mighty for the pulling down of slavery.

Hitler also could have been stopped by European and US Alliances as early as 1933. Hitler publicly overturned the Treaty of Versailles and boldly left the League of Nations at the London conference that year. Britain, France, Italy, and the Scandinavian nations could have boycotted Germany (which was already in economic turmoil). Adolf Hitler came to power in 1933, blaming WW I enemies and Jews for his nation’s economic and social problems. Hitler spoke publicly and on an international stage of the German people’s need for more living space (Lebensraum) and his belief in the superiority of the Aryan race. He flagrantly announced to the world that Germany would begin to rearm itself, despite disarmament agreements Germany had signed in the 1920s.

In this hideous environment, the US adopted an official policy of neutrality. Between 1935 and 1939, Congress passed five different Neutrality Acts that forbade American involvement in foreign affairs. Americans wanted to be left alone and Roosevelt wanted to heal America’s reputation abroad. And even though FDR wanted to talk tough (see his famous Chicago speech of 1937) about needing to “quarantine” aggressors (i.e. Hitler) FDR did nothing about the imminent danger he saw. England actually got in bed with Hitler and signed an agreement to help him build ships. There were ways early on that nations could have banded together and cut off the oxygen that fueled Germany’s fire and actually could have prevented Hitler’s war machine and his horrific crimes against human kind. Hitler boasted that democracies around the globe were failing to respond to his aggressions.

Challenging as it seems and maybe a little pie in the sky I am not so sure that Christians around the world shouldn’t truly band together in prayer to stop violence, crimes against humanity, and insane leaders. Here’s an example: Rees Howells, a Welsh preacher from the early 1900s, testified that during WW II he and his small congregation prayed over every battlefield and spent long sleepless nights interceding for soldiers on both sides of the war to be saved from death and saved from the war and surprisingly they were able to document a shift in the war with a direct correlation to the times they prayed (see Norman Grubbs’ Rees Howells Intercessor). I am just wondering if there are alternatives that we as followers of Christ are missing. We certainly aren’t being taught these alternatives by church leaders. Not here in the US anyway.

Next, and this is the really crazy part. Jesus didn’t preach much about human or civic rights. Simon the Zealot, one of the twelve apostles, kept trying to figure out when Jesus the Messiah was going to overthrow Rome and deliver Israel. The Zealots were a Jewish political group committed to overthrowing Rome. By following Jesus, Simon Z was moved from hardcore patriotism to heartfelt evangelism. Jesus taught about dying to self and living for others. I don’t know if God is that concerned with my happiness. I do believe He is concerned with my holiness and His greatest wish for me is to be conformed to the image of His son. I am called to be crucified with Christ. Let’s be honest, that’s not a really happy picture.

During Rome’s tyrannical rule over the empire the early Church was persecuted. (See The Word Made Flesh: A History of Christian Thought by Margaret Miles). In fact, Rome loved having Christians as part of the coliseum entertainment lineup. Folks who would not deny Christ were literally thrown into the coliseum to face wild animals, gladiators, and to be burned at the stake. Nero wanted a new Rome built so badly that he set the old one on fire and blamed it on the Christians. The citizens in Rome were in an uproar and demanded the punishment of these strange followers of a religion they did not understand. So, in the early years of Christianity followers of Christ were senselessly and unfairly sent to their deaths in Roman coliseums with crowds cheering and reveling in their horrific and torturous deaths. But, little by little the crowds’ enthusiasm began to wane. And week after week (190 days a year were dedicated to deaths in the colesium), year after year the crowds came to the coliseums not to watch the bloody, gory details of the torture, but to watch these men and women (many of whom held their children in their arms) die. They died singing, and rejoicing and praising God. They died with the glory of God on their faces and it was this facing of death that brought thousands to their knees as pagan Romans cried out to know this God–this God that could hold His people in death and to give them such peace. The deaths of the saints in those coliseums were so glorious that Nero ordered their heads to be covered because he couldn’t bear to see their shining faces. Nero would scream at the saints to stop singing because the sound of their voices haunted him at night. He would wake up at night screaming for them to stop singing. He could not get the sound of their overcoming voices out of his head. It was not the way the Christians lived that won those coliseums filled with people, it was the way they died and none of the world had ever seen anything like it before. They loved not their lives even unto death. Christianity in Rome was built on the blood of those who died for their faith and that kind of spiritual awakening is contrary to anything we here in free, wealthy, churched America can even understand. Death for the Believer is not the end. Dying for Christ may mean for us not to take up arms, for us not to protect ourselves, for us not to defend ourselves but for us to trust God that in our deaths others may come to know Him. None of us has the right to take a human life…not even to protect ourselves or those we love. We do have the mandate of God to pray and to intercede; to call on the name of Jesus when we are in harm’s way. But we do not have the biblical or scriptural mandate to take a human life. Jesus said that those who live by the sword die by the sword. Even when Peter was trying to protect Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane Jesus scolded him. Remember how Christ picked up the ear of the soldier Peter had cut off in his attack and put it back on that soldier? This he did for the very man who was carrying him away to his death…AND Jesus knew this.

God has shown us that Jesus conquered death by dying. Jesus didn’t come to build a kingdom here on earth made with human hands. No. He came to build a kingdom in the hearts of men and women that would be built on principles such as loving our enemies, doing good to those who hate us and laying down our lives when necessary. Either Jesus said these things or he didn’t. As followers of Christ we have opted for an upside down Kingdom that says if you want to live, you must die.

In closing I want to make a point that some of the Church’s greatest growth has taken place under ungodly, wicked governments. Take China for example. The Church of Jesus is growing in China at an unprecedented rate never before known in history–under a communist regime that forbids human rights. In 1983 I went to live in China as a young woman fresh out of college. After several months of living in my city a man approached me and asked if I might be interested in attending an underground church meeting. I was, so I did. Here was a church that was made up of poor people. Most of them were elderly as well. Their thick winter coats were torn and cotton batting was oozing out of rips and holes in their clothing. The building where they were meeting was made of concrete blocks, no heat, little wooden benches with no backs on them. The floor was concrete and dirty from all the melted snow we had tracked in. The little band of men and women (children were not allowed and the government took children away from anyone who had a profession of faith in Christ so that they would not be raised by imbeciles and the mentally deranged Christians) gathered together women on one side, men on the other. Some had lost arms. Some had lost legs. Some had distorting scars on their faces and one man with a head like a slick, yellow peeled onion was missing a large part of his skull. They looked broken and poor and defeated and weak. But when they prayed the power of God came so strongly into that little building that I couldn’t even raise my head. I asked my companion what was wrong and she told me, “Shhhh. It is the Shekinah glory.” And it was. Because in that little group of broken and battered men and women I saw God’s power come down and clothe them. He clothed them with His very presence and He bathed them with His glory. I was forever changed. I know now what it means when Paul says that when we are weak then He is strong. Losing a war to a bad government isn’t the worst thing that can happen to a nation. The worst thing that can happen to a nation is to live in peace, prosperity and not know God.

Intercession, prayer, seeking God’s face and making sacrifices for His kingdom may be the war less travelled and indeed may be the one followers of Christ are commanded to choose.

He is the Prince of Peace and I am absolutely convinced that Jesus is a pacifist.