Simply Simple

I have this exercise machine for sale. That really bugs me because I have frequently smirked at all the exercise machines that are sold on Craigslist or at yard sales.

The back story goes something like this: a person…a guy, let’s say…decides in early January that he wants…no, he really NEEDS…to get in shape. He needs it so badly that he simply MUST spend a chunk of change on new gear, new clothes, new shoes and/or a new gym membership. With all that new stuff, he will be ready to take on the challenge of shedding those holiday pounds, the ones that have been accumulating for the past several years.

At first, all goes well with our mythical health-phile. He pays the price to get up early or stay up late or skip lunch to work out. He even knocks off a few pounds, appreciating his sore muscles with the awareness that, while fat is calorie-storing tissue, muscle is calorie-burning tissue. So far so good! Until the day that he is just too tired so he sleeps in. Or he eats a couple of Big Macs for lunch rather than go to the gym. Or he chooses to catch up on late-night TV rather than work out. A couple of days later, he skips again, then soon has more off days than exercise days. Before long, his workout clothes stay in the closet, the gear gathers dust in the spare bedroom or the garage and the gym sits a little emptier. Actually the gym sits a lot emptier because all the other guys who bought memberships for the new year have already fallen off the wagon.

I’m not sure how our thinking got so warped. How did we start believing that some new stuff or some more stuff would somehow transform us into the fitness nut we hoped to become? The truth is that we tend to buy into that philosophy in every part of our lives. For instance, I will sheepishly admit that I have more note taking apps on my phone than you can shake a stick at, but none of them…not.one.single.one…has ever helped me take better notes.

The same principle can apply in our spiritual lives. I have found it easy to squeeze God out of my daily time with Him, simply by clogging those precious minutes with more "tools" that are supposed to help me get a better spiritual connection. I confess this to you, knowing how much I need this weekend’s message on Life Repurposed at Stone Ridge Church. And, no, I’m not the one preaching it. I hope to see you there as we listen and learn. If you can’t make it, catch the podcast!

By the way, I really do have an exercise machine for sale. It’s not for lack of exercise that I’m getting rid of it after several years of use. I’m still exercising on a very regular basis, but some priorities have changed…and I’m glad I made this part of my life simpler!

 

 

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Inside, looking out.

It’s funny how little things pop into my memory. This morning I was thinking about how our perspective can get clouded by our environment. We start to see small things as big while big things can become so small as to become invisible. As I was pondering this, I suddenly remembered something that happened a long time ago. We were on the little farm where we grew up. I don’t remember who the visitor was, but we…along with my brother Jimmie…were standing where we could see the huge cottonwood trees that surrounded our neighbor’s place. Those trees were close enough that we could hear the birds chirping in them, but far enough away that we could only see the birds when they were in flight. Anyway, I was teasing our visitor about how I could see a sparrow at a certain spot in one of those trees. I couldn’t really see it at that distance, but we were giving our visitor a hard time as we bragged about our superior sight.

I turned to Jimmie, who, at eight years younger than me, might have missed what I was doing. “Do you see that sparrow, Jimmie?” I asked with confidence.

“You mean the one with the freckle under it’s left eye?” was his quick response.

I’m smiling as I write this, remembering our childhood world, where we were pretty big and sparrows were pretty small.

My perspective on my own size compared to that of the world outside changed abruptly one day. The scene was my freshman year of college, when I signed up to take the Northern Arizona tour. That fast-paced weekend was intended to help us newbies become acquainted with the amazing state that later became my permanent home. After a fast tour of Jerome, an old mining town, and a drive through the red rocks of Sedona, we made our way to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. I will never forget that first visit. After winding our way north from Williams, we were suddenly stopping at a lookout on the edge of one of the world’s wonders.

And, in that instant, I started to discover how small I was. Up until that time, I had seen pictures of the Canyon, but nothing…nothing…could really describe the vast size and majesty that was now at my feet; literally at my feet as I stood on the edge of it! If the canyon had been an ocean beach, I was way too small to be even a grain of sand in comparison.

I reflect on these two events today because of something that will be revealed in Part 2 of “Life Repurposed,” this weekend at Stone Ridge Church. It turns out that many of the people who first followed Jesus, finding his love on the Day of Pentecost in Jerusalem (Acts, Chapter 2, in the Bible), saw themselves as pretty big and the rest of the world as somewhat insignificant. The Apostle Paul was one who had stood next to the Grand Canyon-sized world and realized how big it was compared to the littleness of life in Judea. He was so moved that he dedicated his life to tell them God’s Good News.

His change of perspective is more important to you and me than we can possibly imagine. If he hadn’t been willing to look outside his old comfort zone, you and I might not even know about Jesus Christ and what He did for us. It’s a story worth hearing…again! If you can't catch us live, listen to the podcast!

 

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Inside, looking out.

It’s funny how little things pop into my memory. This morning I was thinking about how our perspective can get clouded by our environment. We start to see small things as big while big things can become so small as to become invisible. As I was pondering this, I suddenly remembered something that happened a long time ago. We were on the little farm where we grew up. I don’t remember who the visitor was, but we…along with my brother Jimmie…were standing where we could see the huge cottonwood trees that surrounded our neighbor’s place. Those trees were close enough that we could hear the birds chirping in them, but far enough away that we could only see the birds when they were in flight. Anyway, I was teasing our visitor about how I could see a sparrow at a certain spot in one of those trees. I couldn’t really see it at that distance, but we were giving our visitor a hard time as we bragged about our superior sight.

I turned to Jimmie, who, at eight years younger than me, might have missed what I was doing. “Do you see that sparrow, Jimmie?” I asked with confidence.

“You mean the one with the freckle under it’s left eye?” was his quick response.

I’m smiling as I write this, remembering our childhood world, where we were pretty big and sparrows were pretty small.

My perspective on my own size compared to that of the world outside changed abruptly one day. The scene was my freshman year of college, when I signed up to take the Northern Arizona tour. That fast-paced weekend was intended to help us newbies become acquainted with the amazing state that later become my permanent home. After a fast tour of Jerome, an old mining town, and a drive through the red rocks of Sedona, we made our way to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. I will never forget that first visit. After winding our way north from Williams, we were suddenly stopping at a lookout on the edge of one of the world’s wonders.

And, in that instant, I started to discover how small I was. Up until that time, I had seen pictures of the Canyon, but nothing…nothing…could really describe the vast size and majesty that was now at my feet; literally at my feet as I stood on the edge of it! If the canyon had been an ocean beach, I was way too small to be even a grain of sand in comparison.

I reflect on these two events today because of something that will be revealed in Part 2 of “Life Repurposed,” this weekend at Stone Ridge Church. It turns out that many of the people who first followed Jesus, finding his love on the Day of Pentecost in Jerusalem (Acts, Chapter 2, in the Bible), saw themselves as pretty big and the rest of the world as somewhat insignificant. The Apostle Paul was one who had stood next to the Grand Canyon-sized world and realized how big it was compared to the littleness of life in Judea. He was so moved that he dedicated his life to tell them God’s Good News.

His change of perspective is more important to you and me than we can possibly imagine. If he hadn’t been willing to look outside his old comfort zone, you and I might not even know about Jesus Christ and what He did for us. It’s a story worth hearing…again! If you can't catch us live, listen to the podcast!

 

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Escape From Bondage

It’s a story I would rather not tell. Yet, the story is so painfully clear that it horribly and beautifully illustrates an atrocity in human nature. Those who want to think of homo sapiens as essentially good must overlook history like this; they must bury heads in the sand and pretend certain things simply couldn’t be perpetrated by our species.

The story begins in early 1942, in a forest along the eastern border of Poland, where the Nazis chose to build an extermination camp. SS-Sonderkommando Sobibór was named for the nearby village. Sobibór was intended to take forced laborers from other camps and destroy them, using carbon monoxide from a simple Russian-built, captured diesel engine. As trains of Jews arrived at the camp, the Commandant would address them wearing a white coat, giving the impression that he was a doctor. He would calmly explain that they were at Sobibór for decontamination, to keep disease at bay when they went out to work. The people were told to leave their valuables and remove their clothes so they could be taken to the showers for their cleansing. An SS man would then lead them through a passageway dubbed “Road to Heaven” by the Nazis. Several Ukrainian POW’s marched behind the Jews, hastening them toward the chambers.

Entering the death chambers, the victims walked past decorations of flowers and a yellow Star of David, adding to the ruse that they were simply being cleansed before they took up residence and went to work. Once they were inside, the Ukrainians closed the doors and the engine was started, which would quickly poison them all.

The SS was very efficient in their work at the camps, choosing to keep some Jews alive for awhile, making them take care of various unsavory duties. Those duties ranged from removing the corpses from the gas chambers to mass graves or crematoriums, to becoming sex slaves for the SS guards. Ultimately, those who served in the camps would join the victims they had helped process and die in the gas chambers.

Sobibór did not last until the end of the war. In fact, the camp existed for a relatively short time compared to the other Nazi death camps. One reason was because of the escape. In October, 1943, 600 Sobibór prisoners killed 11 SS officers and several camp guards. Their hope was to kill all the guards at the camp and walk out the main entrance, but they were discovered and fled toward the forest. About half of them died before they could escape the camp. Many others were killed by the land mines that had been placed around the camp as a deterrent. Others were caught and shot. In the end, about 50 Sobibór prisoners, one in twelve, escaped alive. A few days later, Heinrich Himmler ordered the camp closed, destroyed and trees planted where it had been located.

As I said, this is a story that is hard to tell. The desperation of the captors to enslave and destroy the Jews is almost beyond belief. The willingness of the prisoners to do anything…ANYTHING…to possibly walk free is far easier to understand. Throughout history, people have taken extreme measures to hold other humans in bondage. What may surprise you is that it was just such an example of excessive behavior that prompted the New Testament book of Galatians.

The perpetrators in the first century were not Nazis, but some of the Jews themselves. They had heard the message of Jesus the Nazarene actually being their Messiah...their “Christ”...and they decided to follow Him. No doubt they loved the thought that His sacrifice would suffice for all their sins. Even in their freedom, though, they couldn’t resist the temptation to put others in bondage. They became known in the early church as “Judaizers” because they held to the idea that the salvation bought by Jesus’ blood was only for Jews. Non-Jews…Gentiles…would have to convert to Judaism before they could become Christ-followers. These extremists threatened to destroy much of the work of the Gospel, turning the Good News into something much less as it spread throughout the Roman Empire.

At the forefront of a group standing against this perversion of truth was the apostle Paul. He wrote the little letter to the churches in the Galatian region; it stands as a source of hope and comfort two millennia later. We begin our study of Galatians this weekend at Stone Ridge Church as we kick off our Summer Sermon Series. The Series, entitled “Life Repurposed”, is full of the hope that God created us to live free from the Law. We no longer have to be subject to the bondage that has held so many captive for so long.

Don’t miss it! Can’t be there? Catch the podcast!

 

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My Two Best Coaches

The best-coached team usually wins. They don’t always win, but they usually do. The coach might have the temperament of a Bobby Knight, the fiery former coach of the Indiana Hoosiers (and other teams), who flew into fits and had a famous chair throwing incident, or the quiet demeanor of John Wooden or Tom Landry, each of whom was known for their calm in the face of the raging emotions of the games in front of them. Whatever the sideline behavior, great coaches are known for building great teams and great teams win…most of the time.

What are some of the common characteristics of great coaches?

1. They stress the fundamentals of the game.

2. They emphasize physical conditioning.

3. They help their players keep the “I” out of “team.”

4. The prepare their teams for adversity.

5. During difficult times, they refuse to stay down.

This Mother’s Day weekend at Stone Ridge Church, we will talk about “Passing the Faith Baton.” It’s appropriate, then, that I tell you about the two best coaches I ever had: my parents. While my mom never considered herself an athlete and my dad had very limited time to be a part of my childhood sporting events, my parents did more to pass the baton to me and to teach me about passing it on to others than they could imagine. Here are some of the things they did very well:

1. They stayed faithful in the fundamentals of life. It was little things, like the daily work of cow-milking, chicken-feeding, egg-gathering and other aspects of the farm that built a foundation for our family. It was the unknown power of arriving at church on Sunday morning and noticing the tithe check sitting on top of my dad’s Bible that served as a lasting stewardship example.

2. They worked hard every day. My mom suffered from migraines, but she kept going. They taught us that hard work is the way of life. The motive wasn’t physical conditioning, but that was often the result. They didn’t have us milk cows to develop the muscles in our forearms, but it did. They didn’t have us hoe the weeds in the gardens to develop our back and shoulder muscles, but it did. They didn’t have us carry buckets of milk and bushels of fruit or corn to develop our muscles, but that was what happened.

3. They demonstrated that we all shared in the work and all shared in the rewards. It’s not an exaggeration to say that we kids in the Norris household complained more than once that we were having “steak again” on our dinner table. We raised our own beef and were daily blessed by choice cuts in front of us. Add to it the fresh vegetables, the homemade bread and a regular dose of pies and cobblers and I can almost drool at the memories. We also had a plentiful supply of fresh cream so it was important that we make homemade ice cream in the summer to use it up. Yes! Honestly, I don’t remember nearly as much about the work as I do about the bounty we shared.

4. They talked openly about the difficulties of life. They modeled the grief of deaths in the family by welcoming others into their sorrow, often becoming the comforters as they were being comforted. They also helped us understand the brokenness of the world around us, from the alcoholic man who lived in an old broken-down house nearby to the needs of a native-american family who often rode to church with us. They never told us that life would be easy and we weren’t to expect it. Instead, they taught us to step into the problems and trust in the faithfulness of God.

5. They gave us the gift of letting go. When the company my dad worked for hit a financial rough spot and he was laid off, he could have gone back to work for them in a different job. Instead, he took another route and went into business for himself. The work was hard and they had no guarantees, but it paid off in the end. When their children were nearing adulthood, we were told that they wouldn’t interfere once we were married…and they didn’t. They let us go our way, loving us and praying for us. They were still there to help, but they didn’t push their will onto us. When my dad discovered that his cancer was inoperable, he accepted it and moved forward with joy and hope.

 

Now in my seventh decade of life, I look back to realize the blessing of being coached so well. Not only did my parents successfully pass the baton, but they taught us much about how to pass it on to our children. Can you join us at Stone Ridge this weekend as we talk about this critical skill? If not, catch the podcast!

 

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Unusual Service

The late-morning sun beat mercilessly on the large procession of mourners as they walked out the village gate.  Those carrying the simple wooden bier on their shoulders had to fight off the urge to swat at the flies lighting on their faces.  The rain shower the previous evening had settled the dust, but the pesky bugs were out in force.  

Though it was common to find professional mourners who wailed incessantly at funerals in larger cities, this group was far from professional.  It seemed that the whole village had left their shops and their work benches to attend this deeply broken ceremony.  Their focus was the woman dressed in the traditional black of mourning who walked beside the lifeless body.  Her slight frame was bent with fatigue; her cheeks smeared with tears.  Though her halting steps slowed everyone down, no one seemed to rush her.  They all believed as she did, that the body of the young man was simply a shell and that his life was now with the Eternal.  Still, they wouldn’t hurry the woman’s final moments before they placed her only son in a tomb.

 

The group of travelers stood on the small hill and waited for the funeral party to exit the gate.  One of them saw a familiar face in the crowd and solemnly walked over to inquire.  When she returned, she said, “He was a young man who grew very sick and died.  His father died a few years ago and he was their only son.”  

 

Quickly, the whispers spread through the whole group.  “What will she do?” asked one. 

 

 “She has no choice,” said another.  “She will have to beg, unless some distant relative can afford to care for her.”

 

The servant listened to his fellow travelers as he looked intently at the broken hearts in the funeral procession.  His face grew dark with sadness and tears began to spill down his cheeks.  Catching himself, his look changed from sorrow to resolve.  He left the group around him and walked over the the weeping mother.  Stopping her and the whole funeral gathering, he took a deep breath and said to her, “Don’t cry!”  

 

Then turning to the bier, he reached up and touched the young man’s body.  “I tell you, get up!” he said with authority.  Suddenly, the dead boy got up and began to talk.  Some of the crowd was filled with fear and others with wonder.  The servant took the young man's hand and placed it in the hand of his mother.  

 

Not long before that day, the servant had said, “The spirit of the Lord is upon me…the oppressed will be set free…it is the time of the Lord’s favor.”  (Luke 4:18-19)  

 

Those who follow the servant think of him by other titles, like Master or King of kings or Messiah.  It was the prophet Isaiah (Isaiah 53) who first told us, though, that he would come as a servant.  We like to think of servants as people who do simple tasks for others.  While that certainly describes the work of serving, being a servant is about far more.  Just look at how Jesus did it.  

 

Last weekend at Stone Ridge Church, we cruised through the Old Testament part of the Bible, looking at passage after passage in which God called His people to serve Him with their whole hearts.  Again and again they fell short, but the Old Testament included the promise of a coming Servant who would change everything…and He did!  This weekend we will take some time to see ways that Jesus helps us fulfill the destiny of ones designed in the image of God; it’s a destiny of serving.  

 

You don’t want to miss it.  The conclusion is pretty fantastic!  But, if you can’t be there, catch the podcast! 

Service With A Smile

I am writing this on the morning after Easter, my mind still swimming over the events of the weekend. Five services, hundreds in attendance and the impact of God’s Spirit touching and changing hearts has left me full of both hope and fatigue. One of the elements of the weekend that left an indelible mark on my soul was how many people gave significant time and energy to serve others. When you count all the people who constructed, set up, cleaned up, served tables, prayed, sang, played, worked tech, taught kids, changed poopy diapers, greeted, listened, shared their stories and did scores of other tasks I don’t even know about; well, when you think of all that work people did because they love God and love people, the impact is beyond words.
Somehow, this has taken me back to an old poem we used to put in church newsletters. It’s available in various forms on the internet these days and I’m unsure who originally wrote it. It goes like this…
This is a story about four people named Everybody, Somebody, Anybody, and Nobody. There was an important job to be done and Everybody was asked to do it. Everybody was sure Somebody would do it. Anybody could have done it, but Nobody did it. Somebody got angry about that, because it was Everybody's job. Everybody thought Anybody could do it but Nobody realized that Everybody wouldn't do it. It ended up that Everybody blamed Somebody when Nobody did what Anybody could have done.
You will notice that I said, “We USED to put in church newsletters.” Not only has the printed church newsletter gone the way of IBM Selectrics, but the reason we printed such little ditties — we couldn’t find enough people who would serve — is pretty much forgotten history at Stone Ridge Church. Therefore, I sit here on the morning after Easter reflecting on what happened to so radically change the culture in our church. It’s a story that started in the hearts of a few key people, then spread like wildfire.
It began when some of our leaders realized the joy they felt when they served real needs outside our church walls. One of the first places this happened was with what became known as our “Cars Ministry.” A few men thought it would be good to help young people learn the simple basics of car service, things like how to change the oil and check the battery. Before they knew it, the word spread that we had some people with mechanic skills who might help repair vehicles for those who couldn’t afford a repair shop. As they faithfully began to serve those needs, the number of people interested in serving with them grew rapidly, as did the needs they served. Before long another element got added: someone donated a car to the ministry, which they repaired and gave away to someone who couldn’t afford a car. As other cars were donated, some were repaired and re-gifted, while others were repaired and sold, and the income was used to purchase more parts to repair more cars. It’s a picture of a self-sustaining ministry.
Not long after the Cars Ministry took off, a group of our people went to the Dominican Republic and came home with a vision to serve international missions needs. Suddenly we had teams headed to that island nation 2 or 3 times a year. Our partnership there opened our eyes to other cross-cultural needs much closer to home. We now have active work on both sides of our border with Mexico. We even have a group of winter visitors from Canada who specifically attend Stone Ridge because they want to be a part of our work across the border in Mexico.
God’s ways are upside-down to the world’s ways. In the world, we have been taught to take care of ourselves, maybe giving a little of our excess away. Jesus taught us to give first, then God will generously provide our needs (Luke 6:38). This is especially true when it comes to needing people to serve.
For the next two weeks, we are going to discover some life-changing truth in the Bible about serving. The Bible begins the history of humans on this planet with a story about serving, then again shows serving at the end of all things. We will not only talk about this, but we will take out time to thank all those who serve through our various ministries. It will be fun and inspiring, so don’t miss it! Can’t join us? Catch the podcast!

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