I doubt it!

Have you ever been disappointed in someone you cared about? Have you ever felt the trust you had in someone leak away like what happens when your styrofoam cup has a tiny hole in the bottom? I suppose that it’s impossible to live relationally in our broken, fallen world without experiencing disappointments and diminished trust in someone at some time.

In so many ways, that is what happened to some of Jesus Christ’s followers when they stood off in the distance and watched (or heard about) Him being crucified. The problem was the gap between their expectations and His real purpose for coming into the world. Their expectations were that He (if He WAS the Messiah) would defeat the power of Rome and set the Jews up as world rulers. At the very least, He would end the servitude to the Roman Empire what was their daily reality. As He bled out on that cross, so did their belief in Him.

That’s why I find the story of two men on the road to Emmaus so riveting. They had been true believers, at least until their hope died with Jesus that Friday. If you had met them on Saturday and brought up the subject of Jesus being the Messiah of Israel, they would have said, “I doubt it.” Let’s be honest: they were beyond disappointed; their whole worldview had just crashed down around them. Their trust and faith had bled out. They were on their way home to pick up the pieces of what life had been before the man named Jesus had started criss-crossing through the countryside, talking about love and forgiveness, then emphasizing His points by doing things like taking away leprosy and making people walk again.

Their faith was gone and their world had crumbled to the point that they didn’t even recognize Jesus when He showed up and asked if He could walk home with Him. They didn’t know Him because He hadn’t done what they expected Him to do!

I have thought much about this, because the church which I pastor will be filled with people this weekend and many of them are probably more filled with doubts than with faith. Why? Just maybe because they thought Jesus would show up and do something about their family problems or their health problems or their social problems and He didn’t do it the way they expected. If a large number of those who will attend Easter services at our church and thousands of others around the world were asked the hard question about Jesus REALLY being God’s Son who came to save us, they would say with Cleopas and his Emmaus road buddy, “I doubt it.”

Lest you think I look upon Easter as a depressing experience when the faithless act pious for a day, that is FAR from the truth. In fact, I shake my head in amazement at what those two men from Emmaus discovered on that original Easter afternoon. It changed their whole lives! That’s why I’m expecting to happen this Easter. Want to know more? Join us this weekend at Stone Ridge Church. Can’t be there? Catch the podcast!

 

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"It's complicated!"

Several years ago, Cathy’s sister Dironda asked, “Why haven’t you talked to me about doing your taxes?” Dironda and Ray live in another state and I hadn’t even considered her, though she has long had a bookkeeping business. I figured that, though she would have no problem with our Federal returns, it would be an extra hassle for her to submit our State taxes, since most of her work is in her own state. “Not so,” she assured me. “Everything is on computer now and it is no problem for me to get what I need from Arizona through the internet.” Soooo, Dironda does our taxes. In fact she now does the taxes for others from our church staff, but that’s another story.

Even with Dironda doing the work of keeping up with the tax laws and asking us the right questions, preparing our tax information for her is near the bottom of my list of favorite things to do. In fact, it ranks near the top of my list of unfavorite things to do, right under unclogging toilets and sinks. Part of the problem is that we live and work in a place that is sort of the snowbird capital of the universe and our pace never slows down in the winter months. That means we must schedule out some of our precious little time off to work on taxes. Yuck!

After many years of combing through our records each year to organize and report our income and expenses, Cathy and I have it down to sort of a science. I say “sort of” because, if death and taxes are the two guarantees in this life, tax complexity must rank right behind them. No matter how many years we have done taxes, it seems that every new year brings some new wrinkle we haven’t considered before. Those wrinkles often take more time and effort than the regular sorting and always leave us with the thought, “It’s complicated.”

When it comes to taxes, “complicated” is an apt description that surprises no one. But, what about other areas of life? I’ve heard, “It’s complicated” used by a parent, when telling the kids why he or she is leaving their marriage. Similarly, that phrase is used to tell the boss why someone is leaving their dream job to become part of a risky venture. Or when a family decides to walk away from the church where they have worshiped God for many years.

Let’s admit it: “It’s complicated” has become the de facto answer when we really don’t want to explain (or admit) the real reason for a painful decision. Unfortunately, “It’s complicated” can also be the buffer to keep us from facing up to a bad decision. What we can really mean is, “I’m doing it because I want to; don’t try to change my mind!”

If Pontius Pilate had spoken English, he would have looked at his wife at dinner on the day of Christ’s crucifixion and said, “It’s complicated.” His wife had a dream and told him, “Don’t have anything to do with this innocent man!” He ignored her, gave in to the religious leaders and the crowd and had Jesus hung on a cross. Pilate’s choice to execute someone he described three times as innocent was the height of expedience; we must take a painful look at him and his decision this weekend at Stone Ridge Church. It’s the conclusion of our “Shattered” series, as we prepare our hearts for Holy Week. Don’t claim, “It’s complicated!” and miss it!

Can’t be there? Catch the podcast.

 

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At first, they were in the balcony...

…then, they were everywhere.

I long ago discovered that the balcony is a good hiding place when someone attends a church and doesn’t want to be noticed. Though we left behind our balconied (is that really an adjective?) auditorium a number of years ago, I often reflect on a family who sat there. Week after week they attended our church. I think I met the husband once or twice as they quietly slipped away after a service, but I didn’t know them. I might never have known them, in fact, if I hadn’t recognized the man’s brother as a community leader. I knew him a little bit and noticed times when he arrived for a service. One day, someone told me that the quiet brother (the one with his family in the balcony) used to be a pastor. Now, I have been a pastor for a long time and it’s not common behavior for a pastor to simply blend into the woodwork for weeks on end; there had to be a story and I wanted to hear it. I invited the man and his wife to come in for a visit.

A few days later, they arrived at my office and we spent a few minutes getting acquainted. Then I popped the question: “Is it true that you used to be a pastor?” Still uncharacteristically shy, he said, “Yes.” I began to ask him about his conversion to Christianity, his calling and what happened that caused him to leave the ministry. The answer to that last question was more than a little painful, but can be described with two words: “Spiritual Abuse.” His family had started following Jesus in a church founded by a very authoritarian leader. After he became a pastor, they went to meetings once or twice a year in which they knew they might have to go home and pack because they were being relocated. They wouldn’t be given a voice in the matter; they just had to go. The day came in which one of the key movement leaders stood up to the founder and both men demanded that their pastors take sides. My friend refused. He was not only fired immediately, but his two young children were harshly shunned by kids who had been their friends just one day earlier.

I still have vivid memories of my friend’s story because, by God’s grace, they stayed in our church. It took years before they felt they could trust those of us in leadership, but gradually they became key leaders at Stone Ridge. Both he and his wife have become huge blessings to us personally and in ministry. Tragically, their now-adult children still suffer some of the effects of that ugly time in their lives.

After that first glaring experience with the damage religion can do, I have begun to notice how many people land in our church who have a history of being shattered by religion. One of our key leaders wouldn’t even attend a church until her husband checked it out in advance and pronounced it “safe.” Jesus came to love the world and to lay down His life as a ransom for sinners, but those who follow him have often been guilty of destroying the very people He loved so deeply. The statement may be old and dusty, but it still communicates: “The church is the only army that shoots its own wounded.” Tragically, many of them are wounded by what turns out to be friendly fire.

We ought not to be surprised. When the Son of God came into the world, the very people God had chosen were fractured because of religion. Religious groups were constantly sparring with each other over who was right. Their very religion was hardening their hearts and shattering their own people. One of them, a man named Joseph of Arimathea, opened his eyes wide, saw the hatred around him and became a key figure in the account of Jesus’ passion. We will learn from him this weekend at Stone Ridge Church. Can’t join us? Catch the podcast!

 

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Help! I'm insecure!

I sat in the large auditorium of a megachurch on the West Coast. It was Monday morning, I was bleary-eyed and my coffee had jolted me just enough to make me alert. The ugly truth was that my alertness was rendered ugly and painful by a harsh reality the night before: we were a relatively small church at this conference and we had accidentally wandered into the land of the giants. I knew that the host church was doing some cutting edge ministry to reach the next generation that was just entering adulthood. What I didn’t know was that most of the churches who were exploring how to do what the host church was doing were large enough to pump a lot of resources into their efforts.

And then there was us. “Us” was Tom, our worship pastor, and me. Tom was very excited about all the possibility this conference held. He was excited about the conference format, which was largely in discussion groups, rather than lectures delivered by some “expert.” Tom was exited about the possibility of “doing church” a different way, thus reaching people whose language most churches didn’t speak. He was excited about the interaction with people we were meeting. Tom was effusive!

Not me; I was insecure.

My insecurity cranked into gear as I started realizing the big-name pastors and big-name churches in attendance. I could imagine them, having preached to thousands the weekend before. They brought large retinues of staff to help them dissect the issues on the docket and figure out what their churches would do. In the meantime, I could almost imagine the “get acquainted” conversations:

“Hi, I’m Joe Jones from XYZ, the church where everyone in the universe has traveled to find out how to be a church. Have you read my latest book? What did you say your name was? I think I may have heard about your church. What was it, Rock-something, right? And it’s in Yuma? Where’s that? O, yeah, I think I drove past it on the freeway one time.”

I wanted to crawl under something. I wanted to go home.

But I had to stay. It cost too much to make the trip. Besides, Tom was in a dream world of coffee and conversation.

It came time to sit down for a plenary session, which included a devotional led by the host pastor. He stood up, bright smile and air of confidence in his voice. I expected the usual, “We’re so glad you are here,” said with a humble lilt, but laced with a “Did you notice the amazing job we’re doing?” undertone. Even more, I wanted to escape as I awaited the expected authoritative exposition of Scriptures. But that’s not what he did.

“Let’s get this out in the open,” he said, “before we even begin our two days together: WE’RE ALL INSECURE!” I took my eyes from the table that was a potential hiding place and looked up. The host mega-church pastor looked out at all the rest of us and said, “I felt so intimidated when I found out who would be here. I started thinking about whose churches were bigger than mine; who was more successful. And then it hit me; you all feel the same way!” It was like a collective sigh all around the room. Then he read a Scripture about God’s great love for us, followed by, “We all need each other. We need to hear each other and to learn from each other. Otherwise, we will find ourselves woefully unable to discover what God wants to teach us about reaching the new generation.”

Everywhere I turn lately, I have opened my eyes to see how insecure we all are. We put on a good front, acting out confidence we don’t feel. Some people try to cover their insecurity by doing extreme things that provide a facade of courage. Others find a way to hide. I read a book not long ago that identified inferiority and insecurity as the two major roots from which all sin flourishes. I’m inclined to agree. The good news is that God designed us to uproot those weeds!

We continue our “Shattered” series this weekend at Stone Ridge Church with “Shattered by Insecurity.” The topic is one of the most painful and the most relevant we will cover as we lead up to Easter, so I hope you can join us. Can’t make it? Catch the podcast! And no hiding under tables!

 

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Hey, I Can Afford It!

I’m not sure what it is about memory, but I’m pretty sure I have much clearer recollection about the dumb things I’ve said and done than about the good things. It’s a little scary to think that maybe my memory is VERY clear and the reason I can’t remember much good is because there isn’t much to remember, but that’s another story for another time. My brother recently reminded me that memory is the second thing to go…can’t remember the first one!

Anyway, on the subject of DUMB things that have rolled out of me, I recall one of the conversations I had with my dad. The scene was several years into my adult life. Cathy and I had been married for some years and all of our children were born by then. I’m not certain how we got on the subject of money, but I’m pretty sure what was going on in my head: I wanted to prove to my dad that I had arrived. I wanted him to know that I, his son, was a success. Those of you who have heard me tell stories about my dad know the significance of his influence in my life; you also know that he loved his children deeply. I didn’t need to PROVE anything to him, but I wanted to prove something. He had always been faithful to meet his family’s needs. He took care of business financially. Now, I wanted him to know how financially prosperous and wise I had become. So, I said it…

“At this stage in my life, I could afford to drive a new Cadillac, but I have chosen not to.”

Dumb!

I just created some disequilibrium in some of you. “What’s wrong with a Cadillac?” you’re thinking. Or, “What’s dumb about that statement?” I’m glad you asked!

First, nothing is wrong with a Cadillac. Remember Tess, the angel who mentored Monica in “Touched by an angel?” She drove one. If you drive what my friend John lovingly calls a “cattle truck,” more power to you! (By the way, my dad, who was a life-long Ford guy, would have chosen a Lincoln if luxury cars were the issue.) So, you Cadillac drivers, please bear with me for a moment.

The real question — the important one — is “What’s dumb about that statement?” It will take a list to answer that query, so here goes:

1. My identity is not wrapped up in what I drive (or where I live or what brands I wear).

Jesus said, "Life is not measured by how much you own.” Luke 12:15 (New Living Translation)

2. My identity isn’t wrapped up in my outward appearance, either.

"People judge by outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.” 1 Samuel 16:7 (New Living Translation)

3. Greed can be shown by what I think is important in life. Even mentioning the idea of driving a Cadillac to my dad was born out of the importance I was giving to living a comfortable (if not lavish) lifestyle.

Jesus said, "Guard against every kind of greed.” Luke 12:15 (New Living Translation)

4. I was taking great pride in my financial moderation. Uh-oh!

"Pride will destroy a person; a proud attitude leads to ruin." Proverbs 16:18 (New Century Version)

It took a while, but God gradually imprinted the list above on my heart. I’m more than fortunate! This weekend, at Stone Ridge Church, we will look at a man whose life was shattered…by greed. You don’t want to miss it! Can’t be there? Catch the podcast!

 

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When Life Falls Apart

I got a rare responsibility over the Christmas holidays. A final day in Albuquerque was part of our trip to visit family in New Mexico. My sister Vicki texted me in advance, wanting to know if I was willing to help her and our brother Jimmie do cleanup and maintenance on my mom’s home, which was on the market. Of course, I said, “Yes”, not because I’m so magnanimous, but because I knew they would never let me live it down if I declined. (Actually, I wanted to help; they both live close to mom and I’m often excused by distance for not being there in times like this.)

Anyway, Cathy and I loaded up that morning and followed Vicki over to the house, where we quickly were busy cleaning and repairing. That’s when they gave me the “privilege” of going through a closet of mom’s stuff. Someone needed to decide what to do with it and I, as the oldest, got the nod. (For those who don’t know, our mom is still very alive and healthy, but has moved into a retirement facility that she loves. The stuff still at her old house was left there for us to go through.) In this case, most of the “stuff” in the closet was old pictures; I was the one who went through them. That experience prompted this story.

One of those old photos was of a family who attended our church when I was a boy. During their several years in Socorro (my home town), their second son was one of my best friends. Glenn and I spent a lot of time together, often being allowed to go home with one another after church. His older brother Dennis was a couple of years our senior and thus “cool.” The family moved to Socorro with just the two boys, but God surprised their mom and dad with a pregnancy that ushered in a beautiful little girl.

It was a picture of Glenn’s parents and their little darling that awoke my memories of their story. One day the little girl got sick and had to be taken to the hospital. Glenn’s parents were fraught with distress over her condition, but no one imagined that the baby would suddenly die. A few years later, Glenn confided in me that someone had administered a wrong medication to the child. It was their family secret; in those days the idea of a lawsuit never entered the imagination. They were left with their fallen apart world. Not long after that, they moved to a city a few hundred miles away. I imagine that their grief felt more manageable in a place not associated with her death.

Glenn and I kept touch during high school. A few times he came to see me and we visited them once or twice when we were in their city. I remember the relief they felt when Glenn’s brother Dennis, who had gone into the military, got orders to Germany, rather than Viet Nam. Their parents wouldn’t have to worry about losing a second child…

…until the news arrived. Dennis was on liberty and was out boating on a lake nearby. He somehow fell off the boat and was caught by the propeller and killed.

My family attended his funeral. Glenn and I spent some time together that day and kept in touch for awhile, until we didn’t anymore. The horror and the grief I saw in his mom’s face that day has left an indelible imprint on my memory.

Almost a half century has passed since then. I have spent much of that time watching lives fall apart. Sometimes it has been my own or that of my family. How does a person get past “shattered?” That’s the question we hope to tackle as we begin our Easter series at Stone Ridge Church. The account of Jesus' last days of His earthly ministry is full of “shattered” stories. Some of them ended beautifully; others in disaster. If your life has fallen apart, this series is for you. If your friends are living in a shattered world, bring them along.

If you can’t catch us this weekend at Stone Ridge, you’ll find the podcast here!

 

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More Than Chameleons

I’m not sure why, but some of us are like verbal chameleons. If we hang around people with a certain accent for very long, we start talking like them. I first discovered this when Cathy and I spent three years on a church staff in California. We were about a mile from the Pacific, surrounded by the nuances of West Coast culture. But, when we left there and went back to school in Phoenix, old friends wondered if I had lived in Texas those three years. Why? Because our pastor was from Texas and many of the people in our church were military families who grew up in the South. I spent most of my time around people with a drawl and guess what? I got a bit of my own! Almost forty years later, someone occasionally asks me if I’m from Texas because of the way I pronounce a word.

I saw it again a year or two ago when our friend Kenra returned from eleven months of mission work in some of the poorest countries of the world. Obviously, some of her team were from the South and Kenra, who grew up in Yuma, came home sounding like she had spent a year in Alabama or Georgia. Like I said, some of us are verbal chameleons.

 

In life, most of us would admit that we are influenced by our environment. We often want to cut some slack to people who grew up in poverty in the inner cities of the world. No matter how much anger we may have about drug abuse, for instance, we can sort of understand a ghetto kid who starts selling drugs because he can see no other way out of the poverty cycle.

 

If we can unwittingly adapt to linguistic nuances or to the harsh realities of our environments, could we also be changed in a positive way if we were saturated by things like love? Or joy? Or peace? Is it possible that attitudes can be changed because of the attitudes of those around us? Is it possible that we might think differently because of what we read or watch or listen to? The obvious answer is, “Yes!” A subtle danger lurks in our “people-are-products-of-their-environment” argument, however. It’s the danger that moving to a different environment would just change us again. We need something more, something deeper than environment to turn us into a different person. Fortunately, the Good News of Jesus offers it: "Whoever is a believer in Christ is a new creation. The old way of living has disappeared. A new way of living has come into existence."2 Corinthians 5:17 (God’s Word translation)

It takes both the “new creation” power of God’s Spirit and the saturation power of environment to mold our characters, our attitudes, our relationships and our thinking into God’s beautiful design. That design was lost by the first man and woman on the planet and we inherited that loss. God, however, has always…ALWAYS…longed for us to be reshaped, both on the inside and the outside.

 

Jesus took care of the inside part of us; all we have to do is claim God’s gift of salvation by faith (Ephesians 2:8-9). The chameleon parts of us require discipline and a lifelong journey of the soul to know and do what God’s Word says. We will talk more about it this weekend at Stone Ridge Church. Can’t be there? Catch the podcast!

 

 

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