On a summer morning in 1974, a young Frenchman stepped out seemingly into thin air. Perched nearly a quarter mile above the earth, Philippe Petit positioned himself at the edge of the South Tower. He put one foot out and began a spellbinding journey across the 130-foot span between the Twin Towers…yes, the fated towers of the World Trade Center. For 45 minutes the daring acrobat walked a ¾-inch wide bridge of cable. He paused to perform a quick dance step and pirouette. He lay down and conversed with seagulls. By 8:00 that Wednesday morning rain forced him into the waiting arms of Port Authority Police. He had crossed the span not once, but eight times.
Have you had a “mountaintop” experience? I’m not talking about a literal climb up or across the heights. But have you ever experienced such an exhilarating event that you actually felt a change in altitude? You felt certain you were floating among the clouds? People use the term to describe the births of their children. Or playing in the championship game. Or graduation from college, making the big sale, overcoming a fear. These are the great highs in life…the heights you never want to come down from. But you do. Sooner or later, gravity pulls you back to earth.
That’s exactly what happened to Philippe Petit. Shortly after the infamous World Trade Center crossing he suffered his first fall—from a height of 45 feet. In traversing the New York skyline at 1350 feet, he had accomplished the inconceivable. It was the routine—a conventional height—that tripped him up.
This is the truth of all mountaintop experiences—especially our spiritual highs.
Jesus walked along the shores of the Sea of Galilee and came upon two muscular men in a boat. He watched as they grasped a circular net and threw it into the waters. They returned the net to the boat to empty the catch and Jesus called to them. “Come with me and you will no longer cast for fish. You will fill your nets with men.” The pair left their boat and net behind and joined Jesus.
Further down the shore He found another pair mending their nets. “Come with me,” He shouted. And these two left not only their boat and nets, but also their father and his hired fishermen (Mark 1:14 – 20 paraphrase).
These four men gave up careers and property, and in the case of James and John, a modicum of prosperity. For three years they traveled with Jesus. They were a part of many mountaintop highs, including healings and miracles. They witnessed Jesus transform from physical to spiritual being.
But then there were the lows…the times when travels were boring and food was plain. James and John—the brothers Jesus nicknamed “Sons of Thunder”—shook things up by reminding Christ of the Kingdom He was to establish. They asked for the privileged seats of power in Jesus’ administration. They suggested that Jesus fill them with power to call down fire from heaven.
And when the heat was on, all four abandoned Jesus. They were on the team, riding a spiritual high, when Jesus called them as His disciples. They each had moments of virtue and intense devotion. But when Jesus was arrested, they asked themselves Is this all there is? They left and returned to fish the sea.
Perhaps you’re wondering what became of your mountaintop experience. You wonder when the excitement and passion left your call to follow Jesus. You question why Scripture seems dry, why you can’t seem to pray anything but “Thanks, God.” When did you start simply going through the motions of worship and service?
Philippe Petit experienced his one and only high wire fall during a practice session. He knew what he was doing…as he had done so many times before. It was routine. Complacency. He temporarily lost focus and left the wire.
Dry spiritual lows offer two options: 1) the uphill climb out of the valley, or 2) the crashing fall. If you’re feeling lifeless in your spiritual journey, stay with the routine. Don’t abandon or lose focus. Call out. Cry out. But keep walking—one foot in front of the other. And maybe add a spin or pirouette.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
IF I HAD A PULPIT: Service Calls
Though we were raised hundreds of miles apart, my husband and I share a similar summer memory. In fact, I think it’s a common recollection for most who grew up in the 60s. By day, we freely roamed the streets and playgrounds of our neighborhoods—pretty much unsupervised. Early each morning we hopped on our bikes and left home to explore and battle and conquer that world around us. Our days ended when by some mystically choreographed signal, the air filled with varied singsong bellowing. All around the neighborhood, ballgames came to an abrupt end, dolls were haphazardly packed into wardrobe cases, and secret treasures were quickly hidden away. Kids picked up discarded bikes and raced home. Mom had called.
We all knew what it meant when the afternoon waned and Mom stepped out on the front porch. When we heard the distinctive blare of our own name (or, in the case of the Powell kids, the piercing whistle), we knew there was no time to spare. Everything had to be abandoned at the sound of Mother’s call.
This Tuesday when our new President takes office, he will undoubtedly address America with a call of his own. Be ready to take action when Barack Obama calls this country to step up to community service. Mr. Obama campaigned on a platform of “citizen engagement” intended to lead the nation into expanded voluntary service. His plan calls for increased civic service opportunities for working Americans, retirees, and disadvantaged young persons. It outlines proposals to broaden AmeriCorps and the Peace Corps, integrate service-learning into public education, and help non-profit agencies introduce and grow successful service programs.
Americans will respond to this call. People believe in Barack Obama and the promise of change he brings to government. It is also well acknowledged that Mr. Obama comes to the presidency with a background rich in public service. His campaign calls it the “cause of his life.” As a student, Obama was active in poverty and health care issues in the US, and movements opposing South African apartheid. He served in community development and voter registration projects in Chicago. When President Obama makes the request for all Americans to step into voluntary service for the good of their communities, people will answer with resounding “yes.”
The more important thing, however, is not that the call is answered. It is whom we answer to. When my mother stood on the porch of our home on Berry Street and called my name, I responded. I reported to her. I didn’t peddle my legs off and then check in with the next-door neighbor. I went to my mom. And if by some chance I did not show when called, she returned to the porch. She called until I answered.
A young apprentice was serving in his master’s work place late at night. The boy fell asleep, but awoke at the sound of his name. Immediately, he went to the master to see what was needed. But the master had not called. He encouraged the lad to return to his own quarters.
Soon the child’s sleep was again interrupted. He returned to the master and was again dismissed. The boy heard his name a third time and went to see what was required. Finally the master discerned it was a greater call.
Three times the Lord called to Samuel (I Samuel 3:1 – 10). In obedience, the boy responded each time, but he did not answer the one who had summoned. Samuel could not fulfill the call on his life until he answered the One calling to him.
When our new president puts out the call for service, thousands—hopefully millions—will respond. In the excitement of this new era and hope for change, many will step forward and volunteer in their communities. We will answer in obedience because of the one who gave the call, but we won’t answer to him. Barak Obama will not hold us accountable. Likely, he will not stand before us and wait for a response.
But God does. This call to increased community service is not the brainchild of the American Democratic party—it’s the work of the church. Jesus asked His followers to care for the “least of these,” to visit the prisoners, feed the hungry and clothe the naked, to welcome strangers. The need for that work continues today. God is calling His people to mentor, build homes, to make beds and prepare meals at shelters. He’s asking for our vocational skills to teach, heal and nurse, fundraise, entertain. He needs our financial resources. God has placed the call; He is the one we answer to. He holds us accountable. He will call repeatedly if we don’t answer. And God is blessed when the response the same as young Samuel's, “Your servant is listening.”
We all knew what it meant when the afternoon waned and Mom stepped out on the front porch. When we heard the distinctive blare of our own name (or, in the case of the Powell kids, the piercing whistle), we knew there was no time to spare. Everything had to be abandoned at the sound of Mother’s call.
This Tuesday when our new President takes office, he will undoubtedly address America with a call of his own. Be ready to take action when Barack Obama calls this country to step up to community service. Mr. Obama campaigned on a platform of “citizen engagement” intended to lead the nation into expanded voluntary service. His plan calls for increased civic service opportunities for working Americans, retirees, and disadvantaged young persons. It outlines proposals to broaden AmeriCorps and the Peace Corps, integrate service-learning into public education, and help non-profit agencies introduce and grow successful service programs.
Americans will respond to this call. People believe in Barack Obama and the promise of change he brings to government. It is also well acknowledged that Mr. Obama comes to the presidency with a background rich in public service. His campaign calls it the “cause of his life.” As a student, Obama was active in poverty and health care issues in the US, and movements opposing South African apartheid. He served in community development and voter registration projects in Chicago. When President Obama makes the request for all Americans to step into voluntary service for the good of their communities, people will answer with resounding “yes.”
The more important thing, however, is not that the call is answered. It is whom we answer to. When my mother stood on the porch of our home on Berry Street and called my name, I responded. I reported to her. I didn’t peddle my legs off and then check in with the next-door neighbor. I went to my mom. And if by some chance I did not show when called, she returned to the porch. She called until I answered.
A young apprentice was serving in his master’s work place late at night. The boy fell asleep, but awoke at the sound of his name. Immediately, he went to the master to see what was needed. But the master had not called. He encouraged the lad to return to his own quarters.
Soon the child’s sleep was again interrupted. He returned to the master and was again dismissed. The boy heard his name a third time and went to see what was required. Finally the master discerned it was a greater call.
Three times the Lord called to Samuel (I Samuel 3:1 – 10). In obedience, the boy responded each time, but he did not answer the one who had summoned. Samuel could not fulfill the call on his life until he answered the One calling to him.
When our new president puts out the call for service, thousands—hopefully millions—will respond. In the excitement of this new era and hope for change, many will step forward and volunteer in their communities. We will answer in obedience because of the one who gave the call, but we won’t answer to him. Barak Obama will not hold us accountable. Likely, he will not stand before us and wait for a response.
But God does. This call to increased community service is not the brainchild of the American Democratic party—it’s the work of the church. Jesus asked His followers to care for the “least of these,” to visit the prisoners, feed the hungry and clothe the naked, to welcome strangers. The need for that work continues today. God is calling His people to mentor, build homes, to make beds and prepare meals at shelters. He’s asking for our vocational skills to teach, heal and nurse, fundraise, entertain. He needs our financial resources. God has placed the call; He is the one we answer to. He holds us accountable. He will call repeatedly if we don’t answer. And God is blessed when the response the same as young Samuel's, “Your servant is listening.”
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
IF I HAD A PULPIT: Separating Truths
Separate/Separation…
…to divide, as with an egg (splitting the yolk from the white) or laundry (keeping the light-colored clothes from the darks).
…a social system designed to keep groups apart; i.e., segregation justified by equality of services and facilities.
…a political and legal wall between two institutions ensuring the independent administration of each, as with church and state.
…(plural) as in components of a woman’s wardrobe…spring and summer tops and shorts, winter blazers and slacks.
…in some marriages, a time of living apart often preceded by separate accounts, separate vacations, filing separately, and separate beds.
The idea of separation may conjure fearful and heart-tugging images. It may simply have a more practical application. Perhaps it reminds us of injustice. We live in an inclusive society that encourages—no, demands—that no one be set apart to be labeled different. Separation divides and sets distinction. It just seems wrong.
But there is nothing wrong with separation as established by God. On the very first day of creation God’s Spirit hovered over the earth, moving back and forth across dark waters. God looked into the darkness and summoned forth light. Imagine that. Out of darkness, He created light. It was good—very good—so God separated light from darkness. He gave the earth time of prolonged darkness followed by time of prolonged light and named them accordingly: night and day (Genesis 1:1 – 5).
Creating light and separating it from the darkness gave the formless earth its first structure. Day filled the earth with the light necessary for the growth of plants and animals. It illumined the workspace given to man as he named and cared for the creatures. When night fell, man’s work was done. He and the rest of the earth relaxed and refreshed in the darkness. But only because the light and the dark were separated.
Separation is part of God’s order for the perfect functioning of His creation. He intricately designed and crafted this world to operate to His specifications, with boundaries around each created thing. These boundaries provide limits so all things function efficiently and completely, according to their purpose.
God separates to keep people or things distinct, pure, and dedicated to Him. He set the Israelites apart from the other nations to be His people. He asks His people today to separate from the world around them. The common catch-phrase is “we are in the world, not of the world.” We live here, work here, play here. But we do not belong to the world. We are God’s children. Our home is with our Father. While we live here, however, we are to distinguish ourselves from the evil and corruption that has tainted this world.
Though light is separated from dark and dark from light, there are times when the two mingle. Night overtakes day at sunset, and day breaks through night at sunrise. Day and night are divided by shadowy times of indiscernible spectrum.
And this is true for God’s people as well. Though we are to distinguish ourselves, it is in our lifestyles—loving one another, forgiving trespasses, expectant in hope for promised return of our Savior—that we separate from the world. We are not to withdraw and hibernate with our “own kind.” We are to live as lights in the darkness, drawing out the lost and guiding the wounded. We may look the same as everyone around us, but it is a bearing, a demeanor, that sets us apart.
How difficult is it to be thankful for separations? Isolating yourself from friends, family, or co-workers may sound depressing. A willingness to be the different, odd one can be daunting. Regardless, can you give God thanks for creating the separations around you? Can you thank Him for setting you apart to belong to Him and not the world? Can you celebrate your distinction as a child of God?
…to divide, as with an egg (splitting the yolk from the white) or laundry (keeping the light-colored clothes from the darks).
…a social system designed to keep groups apart; i.e., segregation justified by equality of services and facilities.
…a political and legal wall between two institutions ensuring the independent administration of each, as with church and state.
…(plural) as in components of a woman’s wardrobe…spring and summer tops and shorts, winter blazers and slacks.
…in some marriages, a time of living apart often preceded by separate accounts, separate vacations, filing separately, and separate beds.
The idea of separation may conjure fearful and heart-tugging images. It may simply have a more practical application. Perhaps it reminds us of injustice. We live in an inclusive society that encourages—no, demands—that no one be set apart to be labeled different. Separation divides and sets distinction. It just seems wrong.
But there is nothing wrong with separation as established by God. On the very first day of creation God’s Spirit hovered over the earth, moving back and forth across dark waters. God looked into the darkness and summoned forth light. Imagine that. Out of darkness, He created light. It was good—very good—so God separated light from darkness. He gave the earth time of prolonged darkness followed by time of prolonged light and named them accordingly: night and day (Genesis 1:1 – 5).
Creating light and separating it from the darkness gave the formless earth its first structure. Day filled the earth with the light necessary for the growth of plants and animals. It illumined the workspace given to man as he named and cared for the creatures. When night fell, man’s work was done. He and the rest of the earth relaxed and refreshed in the darkness. But only because the light and the dark were separated.
Separation is part of God’s order for the perfect functioning of His creation. He intricately designed and crafted this world to operate to His specifications, with boundaries around each created thing. These boundaries provide limits so all things function efficiently and completely, according to their purpose.
God separates to keep people or things distinct, pure, and dedicated to Him. He set the Israelites apart from the other nations to be His people. He asks His people today to separate from the world around them. The common catch-phrase is “we are in the world, not of the world.” We live here, work here, play here. But we do not belong to the world. We are God’s children. Our home is with our Father. While we live here, however, we are to distinguish ourselves from the evil and corruption that has tainted this world.
Though light is separated from dark and dark from light, there are times when the two mingle. Night overtakes day at sunset, and day breaks through night at sunrise. Day and night are divided by shadowy times of indiscernible spectrum.
And this is true for God’s people as well. Though we are to distinguish ourselves, it is in our lifestyles—loving one another, forgiving trespasses, expectant in hope for promised return of our Savior—that we separate from the world. We are not to withdraw and hibernate with our “own kind.” We are to live as lights in the darkness, drawing out the lost and guiding the wounded. We may look the same as everyone around us, but it is a bearing, a demeanor, that sets us apart.
How difficult is it to be thankful for separations? Isolating yourself from friends, family, or co-workers may sound depressing. A willingness to be the different, odd one can be daunting. Regardless, can you give God thanks for creating the separations around you? Can you thank Him for setting you apart to belong to Him and not the world? Can you celebrate your distinction as a child of God?
Saturday, January 10, 2009
PIONEER COLUMN (Jan 2009): You Are My Sunshine
Two vertical beams of light scan the night skies. As one journeys east the other moves west. On their return trip, they retrace the paths and eventually cross one another. This is the point of origin. This cross of lights marks where the beams begin.
Searchlights have been used for nearly a century to attract the public to grand events. As the logo of a well-known movie production company illustrates, searchlights are key to glamorous Hollywood movie premieres. They can also be found illuminating lesser events such as supermarket openings and used car sales. Lights arouse the curious. People flock to see—to be a part of—the extravaganza.
Advertising, however, was not the original function for searchlights. They were developed for warfare. The practice of night air raids had become an effective military tactic of World War I. Intended to catch troops and civilians by surprise, these bombings rendered victims defenseless and vulnerable.
Elmer A Sperry, electrical genius and entrepreneur, invented a portable anti-aircraft weapon, the Open-Type searchlight, to illuminate the night skies. Enemy aircraft caught in the arc of a rotating beam were exposed—made targets so that ground forces could bring them down. The high-intensity lights also blinded the pilots and gunners and made the bombing objectives made virtually invisible.
We, as Christians, are called to be “searchlights” in the world. With wide-arcing beams we’re called to signal the attention of others. We are to draw people to the great spectacle, the grand event that is the life and teaching of Jesus Christ.
Jesus described Himself as the Light of the World (John 8:12); He transferred that title to His followers (Matthew 5:14). Jesus expected His disciples to share, through teaching and life example, all He had instructed them. Followers who live an abundant life of joy—through prosperity as well as tragedy—draw attention. Disciples who serve mankind garner greater admiration than those who serve and promote self. Believers who preach good news signal hope to the weary and lost.
Yet how often is the light used to bring others down? We see people living in darkness, without direction, drifting aimlessly off course. Convinced our beacons will illuminate their path, we shine the light of truth. But it’s an intense light, exposing rather than guiding. Weaknesses are divulged and then targeted. The harsh glare of our light blinds. The lost turn away. The very people Jesus wants drawn to Him are repelled.
The prophet Isaiah told the nation of Judah that they too were lights in a dark world. They were exiles returned to the Promised Land, anxious for the restoration of their country and the leadership of the long-promised Messiah. Instead, they found frustration and misguidance at every turn. Reestablished in their homeland, they felt defeated.
“Wake up, people,” Isaiah encouraged. “The Lord has saved you! Share what you know about His goodness and faithfulness with the dark world. He has burst over you like beams of sunshine. You carry His warmth and brightness; you can break through the darkness covering this world. You are His sunshine. People who live in gloom throughout the world will be drawn to your re-invigorating light” (Isaiah 60:1 – 4 paraphrase).
Isaiah’s ancient words bear the same impact for God’s people today. You are God’s sunshine in this dark world. You know His salvation, His goodness, His faithfulness. You carry His light to break through the doom and gloom that remains in this world. How does your searchlight shine? Are you a blinding glare that diverts attention? Do you home in on the weaknesses of those around you? Or are you searching for the lost, beckoning with a soft, warm light? Will those who need Jesus be drawn to Him because of the light you cast?
Searchlights have been used for nearly a century to attract the public to grand events. As the logo of a well-known movie production company illustrates, searchlights are key to glamorous Hollywood movie premieres. They can also be found illuminating lesser events such as supermarket openings and used car sales. Lights arouse the curious. People flock to see—to be a part of—the extravaganza.
Advertising, however, was not the original function for searchlights. They were developed for warfare. The practice of night air raids had become an effective military tactic of World War I. Intended to catch troops and civilians by surprise, these bombings rendered victims defenseless and vulnerable.
Elmer A Sperry, electrical genius and entrepreneur, invented a portable anti-aircraft weapon, the Open-Type searchlight, to illuminate the night skies. Enemy aircraft caught in the arc of a rotating beam were exposed—made targets so that ground forces could bring them down. The high-intensity lights also blinded the pilots and gunners and made the bombing objectives made virtually invisible.
We, as Christians, are called to be “searchlights” in the world. With wide-arcing beams we’re called to signal the attention of others. We are to draw people to the great spectacle, the grand event that is the life and teaching of Jesus Christ.
Jesus described Himself as the Light of the World (John 8:12); He transferred that title to His followers (Matthew 5:14). Jesus expected His disciples to share, through teaching and life example, all He had instructed them. Followers who live an abundant life of joy—through prosperity as well as tragedy—draw attention. Disciples who serve mankind garner greater admiration than those who serve and promote self. Believers who preach good news signal hope to the weary and lost.
Yet how often is the light used to bring others down? We see people living in darkness, without direction, drifting aimlessly off course. Convinced our beacons will illuminate their path, we shine the light of truth. But it’s an intense light, exposing rather than guiding. Weaknesses are divulged and then targeted. The harsh glare of our light blinds. The lost turn away. The very people Jesus wants drawn to Him are repelled.
The prophet Isaiah told the nation of Judah that they too were lights in a dark world. They were exiles returned to the Promised Land, anxious for the restoration of their country and the leadership of the long-promised Messiah. Instead, they found frustration and misguidance at every turn. Reestablished in their homeland, they felt defeated.
“Wake up, people,” Isaiah encouraged. “The Lord has saved you! Share what you know about His goodness and faithfulness with the dark world. He has burst over you like beams of sunshine. You carry His warmth and brightness; you can break through the darkness covering this world. You are His sunshine. People who live in gloom throughout the world will be drawn to your re-invigorating light” (Isaiah 60:1 – 4 paraphrase).
Isaiah’s ancient words bear the same impact for God’s people today. You are God’s sunshine in this dark world. You know His salvation, His goodness, His faithfulness. You carry His light to break through the doom and gloom that remains in this world. How does your searchlight shine? Are you a blinding glare that diverts attention? Do you home in on the weaknesses of those around you? Or are you searching for the lost, beckoning with a soft, warm light? Will those who need Jesus be drawn to Him because of the light you cast?
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