Encouragement Checkup, Part One: Draw Near

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

     It’s been said that reinforcement is the key to learning. Hear a thing once, and you’ll retain some of it; hear it again, and you’ll retain more, and so on. To that end, I’m feeling the liberty to use this forum to lean further into a concept we talked about in church a couple weeks ago: encouragement. We looked at a certain chunk of Bible from Hebrews 10. By way of reinforcement, here it is again:

    ¹⁹ Therefore, brothers and sisters, since we have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus, ²⁰ by a new and living way opened for us through the curtain, that is, his body, ²¹ and since we have a great priest over the house of God, ²² let us draw near to God with a sincere heart and with the full assurance that faith brings, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water. ²³ Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. ²⁴ And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, ²⁵ not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching (Hebrews 10:19-25).

     For the sake of our frazzled minds, we chose to restate the biblical instruction in the simplest of terms:

1.      Draw near.

2.      Hold fast.

3.      Encourage one another.

     Since nothing in Scripture is random, let’s assume God meant the first thing to be the first thing. Today’s letter, then, will be all about drawing near to God. The next letter will be on the “Hold fast” theme. And by the time the third letter of this nano-series comes out, I’m praying the Father has made all of us – you-and-me-and-all-of-us – ready to be top-notch encouragers!

    I got to wondering: Is there anyplace in Scripture where “draw near to God” is accompanied by a promise? A flood of examples ensued. Let’s pick one for now and roll with it:

    ⁶ But he gives more grace. Therefore it says, “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.” ⁷ Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. ⁸ Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you (James 4:6-8a).

     There are three solid promises in those 2.5 verses, all associated with drawing near to God. Are you ready to own them? Confession: I’m not ready to own them, honestly, not in this moment – but I hope to be ready very soon. Maybe you’re in the same kind of spot, so let’s see if we can identify a starting place, and begin to cooperate with the Lord in his promises.

     Seems to me, it starts with humility. But he gives more grace. Why am I clinging to the illusion of self-sufficiency, when the Father gives more grace? Therefore it says, “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.” Why do I fuel my strivings with pridefulness, when the Almighty stands in opposition? Submit yourselves therefore to God. Why did I ever think there was any other workable choice? He gives more grace. Gives it for the asking. Gives however much it takes, and then some, which is the very essence of grace. So goes the first promise: he gives more grace.

     The second promise: Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. We resist. He flees. I sense a resistance to this one. With a long history of the devil eating our lunches with a side of impunity, I get it. Let’s try again: Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. We resist. He flees. We don’t have to lunge at the devil; we don’t have to jump-scare the devil; we don’t have to outsmart the devil – simply resist. The Father stands over his children and declares, “Mine.” The devil ain’t messing with that. He is outclassed, outgunned, and he knows it better than we do.

     Third and best: Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you. In my line of work, I’ve heard a lot of salvation stories, stories of wandering far from God, stories of resisting his invitations for long periods of time. All of those stories (including mine), though unique in the details, have a common pivot point: “When I turned around, the Father was right there.” At the very end of Paul’s last letter to the Corinthians, there is a benediction, or “good word”: The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all (2Corinthians 13:14). Grace. Love. Fellowship. Drawing near to God is its own reward. He is: rock, fortress, deliverer; our God, in whom we may certainly trust.

     First thing first. A snowball in a pizza oven stands a better chance than we do – if we want to be authentic encouragers – unless we first draw near to the creator of all things, the sustainer of all things, the lover of our souls.

     Turn around.

     He’s right there.

 Grace and Peace (in turning),

John  

Easter Debrief

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

     There are so many glories from this past Sunday to unpack. I’ll pick one.

     I’d been wringing my hands over the weather forecast for a solid week. Would the sky be clear for the sunrise service? Would it be unbearably cold? Would we have the “angel mist” hovering over the pond? I could only be sure of two things. First, day followed after day in the relentless approach of Sunday. Second, each day’s weather forecast proved to be off by a little – or a lot. Checking for the last time around 10:15pm on Saturday, I was relieved to see that the chance of rain had diminished to approximately the value of “meh.”

     My wakeup call was not the 04:30 alarm I programmed into the phone (operator error). Rather, it was a crash of thunder and a torrent of rain against the bedroom window. Sunday had turned inglorious while I slept.

     Time and tide, as they say, wait for no man. Same goes for rain. Wet or dry, Sunday was happening. The only thing left to do was carry out as much of the plan as we could. Frankly, I was bummed.

     Maybe you’ve noticed, dear Church, how blessings are harder to spot than obstacles. I read recently that journalists consider the term “good news” to be an oxymoron: they don’t report on the airplanes that arrive safely, only the ones that crash. I must be a natural-born journalist. Thankfully, the Holy Spirit lives in me, as he does in every Christian believer, and as the glories began to materialize, I had a spirit-level witness to their arrival.  

     Through a glorious glitch in scheduling (my fault), a handful of folks came thinking the service started at 6:30am. They were happy to join others in setting up chairs for the 7am start. One of the rented patio heaters refused to stay lit, but we had fifty-two degrees for a temperature instead of our “customary” thirty-something. There were no visible angels dancing over the pond, but the air was certainly loaded with the bounty of spring. In fifteen or so sunrise services, I don’t recall ever having a thunderstorm. It was fast becoming evident that 2024 would be the year. (Never say never, right?) And the particular glory to which I bear witness would have been nigh-onto impossible without that particular weather event.

     We were fairly deep into singing “In Christ Alone,” a plodding/soaring musical testimony to the power of the Resurrection. The third verse begins “There in the ground His body lay / light of the world by darkness slain. Then bursting forth in glorious Day…

     Boo-o-o-o-o-oom, rumble/rumble…

     I could hardly go on. What more could be said? What more could be sung, other than “…up from the grave he rose again! And as he stands in victory / sin’s curse has lost its grip on me…”

     The King of the Universe had made silliness of the weather forecasts. My expectations he made even sillier. Why had I wanted what I’d wanted? This was way better. From the storehouse of heaven, he sent thunderous proof of his faithfulness: resurrection power is for now, is for ever. I love how he works the punctuation.

     Beloved, we are God's children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is (1John 3:2).

     How’s that for an expectation?

     In 2025, Easter will occur on April 20. A little late in the spring for snow, but I distinctly remember two inches of sloppy wet stuff on the twenty-fourth of April in 2005, a non-Easter Sunday. God does what he wants, and that’s OK. Indeed, he does immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us (Ephesians 3:20). Imagine that, if you can. If the snow lashes our faces on 4.20.25, we’ll manage. It may simply be the shortest sunrise service so far. But I do hope the second heater stays lit.  

Grace and Peace (and witness to the glory),

 

John      

How it Rolls

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

     Certain things, we are told, roll downhill. Anyone who has been in a chain of command, whether military or civil, will immediately assign a four-letter s-word to the top of the list (not that you would use the word yourself, tender Church, it’s simply what we’ve heard). And the Second Law of Thermodynamics goes so far as to say that all things run down, not up. Ouch.

     Thankfully, the Creator of the universe has provided a shining exception. Hope rolls uphill, not down. Rather than leaning on my own understanding, or asking you to, let’s consult what the Creator has said:

    Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us (Romans 5:1-5).

 According to God-breathed Scripture, hope rolls along an uphill path through three necessary territories: suffering, endurance, and character. Given our druthers, we would have lobbed hope directly into “the glory of God,” sailing over the hard stuff. But hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? (Romans 8:24). We are called upon to trust the process.

     To give the Second Law of Thermodynamics a fair shake, it has to be studied further. It’s not totally bogus; indeed, it is mostly right. Up front, it says that all things are running, and will continue to run, downward. The entire universe will, through irreversible processes, eventually sag into a state of universal deadness. The word often used for the deadness is “entropy.” Given my limited vocabulary, yeah, I had to look it up. In terms of thermodynamics, entropy is “a measure of the unavailable energy in a closed thermodynamic system.” When all energy becomes unavailable, deadness happens.

     Unless.

     Unless there is, somewhere in the mix, a reversible process. Unless there is, already loose in the universe, an ultimate renewable resource. In my humble opinion, the best way to study the Second Law of Thermodynamics is to have the First Law firmly in hand: “Energy is neither created nor destroyed.” To put it in familiar terms: the fuel you burned leaving the green light converted thermal energy to kinetic energy; the brakes you applied stopping at the next red light converted the kinetic energy back to thermal energy. No energy was created or destroyed; the exchange was one-for one. Now I’ll admit, it can reasonably be said, “My gas tank goes empty; my brakes wear out. Isn’t that energy irretrievable, or, as the Second Law says, unavailable?” The answer is Yes and No. Irretrievable and therefore unavailable by conventional means? Yes. Ultimately irretrievable and unavailable? No.

     Enter hope.

     The Story of the End of History, aka the testimony of Jesus Christ to what must surely be, aka the Book of the Revelation, describes anything but disorder leading to universal deadness. It describes, rather, perfect order and beauty that left the apostle, at times, without sufficient words. The Second Law of Thermodynamics will, in the fulness of time, be relieved of its burden of deadness. And so will the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear, and who keep what is written in it (Revelation 1:3). Whoever has the washing of regeneration and the renewal of the Holy Spirit (Titus 3:5); whoever has the mind of Christ (1Corinthians 2:16) – in other words, those who have an ear to hear – will hear the call to come up higher, to follow the ball of hope on its uphill roll.

     Romans Five, one-thru-five, is the road map. And maybe the best thing we can do in this walk-around world is figure out where on the map we are, to give a nod to those territories of suffering, endurance, and character… and triangulate our location. Did you suffer in that situation? Oh, brother, did I ever! And what was the outcome? Well, I came through it. And was endurance produced? Um, I guess so, yeah, or else I wouldn’t have come through. And was character produced? Now that you mention it, I did learn a thing or two about not getting myself into the same messes. Congratulations, brother! Congratulations, sister! My own experiments in suffering are producing the same results. There’s hope for us yet.

     What are you hoping for? By design, it will be out of sight for a while. The First Law of Thermodynamics gives proper context to the Second; the first law is the scientist’s expression of hope. Though mankind will never invent the instrument to measure it, hope runs out ahead, gathering the thermal energy of every far-flung star, the kinetic energy of every orbiting planet, the God-given soul energy of every prayer – to be gathered up into perfect order, according to the Creator’s plan.

     With Good Friday only a week away, I’m compelled to close out this letter with words of ultimate hope. It comes, again, from the letter to the Romans:

    If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit who dwells in you (8:11). Yes, the crucifixion is a locatable historical fact. And so is the resurrection. As Friday was happening, Sunday was already on the way. Resurrection power is real – now and forever.

     Herein is hope.

  

Grace and Peace (for the onward and upward),

 

John

How Do You Hear?

 Hey, Cobblestone,

    “On a scale of 1-10, with 10 being the worst pain you’ve ever experienced, what’s your pain level today?” I cringe when a medical professional asks me that question. I’m never sure how to answer. Today’s pain may be throbbing, while the worst-ever was sharp. Kidney stones produce a different pain than broken ribs – I know this for a fact. Besides, other than taking measures to keep the worst-ever pains from happening again, I’ve been trying to forget them. Today’s 10 is today’s 10; I might be able to compare it to yesterday, maybe last week, but years-ago is probably not doable. Such is the nature of diagnostic questions; they have their limitations. I’m about to ask you a diagnostic question, Church. Just so you know: I’m aware of the limitations. So, something like the medical pro who’s trying to determine what goes into the next prescription or syringe or IV bag, please trust that I’m simply looking for the best path forward. Here goes…

    How do you usually hear from the Lord?

    Psalm 34:4 says, I sought the LORD, and he answered me and delivered me from all my fears. 

    The Lord answers those who seek him – the verse above is but one example. The question at hand isn’t whether the Lord answers, but rather, how does one know that he has? When you seek the Lord, what form do you usually expect the reply to take? Please think on it for as long as it takes to form a recognizable answer.

    Some of us look for the Lord’s reply in Scripture; some in circumstances; some in a prophetic word; some in a spirit-level witness. None of those is unacceptable; all of those, at different times, have been part of the history of the Father’s children, collectively. And for any given one of us, there’s probably no singular method. I bring all this up because, for whatever reason, the Lord is prompting me to. Maybe it’s important for us to sort it out.

    There are two dominant and competing themes in Psalm 34: fear/trouble/affliction vs. deliverance/rescue/blessing. In the first theme, please note: though they’re similar, those three things aren’t exactly the same. Fear may best be met with one kind of answer from the Lord,while trouble or affliction is best met with some other.

    The history of Psalm 34 reaches back into 1Samuel 21. David, who is credited with writing the psalm, was delivered from a very particular trouble on a very particular day. He sought the Lord, and the answer manifested as a radical change in the circumstances. Maybe the next day’s trouble was different; maybe the answer was, too. As Jesus so famously said, “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof” (Matthew 6:34). Good thing the Father never runs out of ways to meet the day.

    There is precisely zero chance of life being painless, or devoid of trouble, fear, and affliction. The least helpful thing we can do at this point is to not know or not care how the Lord answers when we seek him. Our souls need to close the loop. On top of having it declared in Scripture as an unassailable fact, our souls need to know – from the inside out – that the Father hears, answers, and delivers.

    I’m hoping (and praying right now) that the Lord will provide time and space for you to sort it out. I’m also hoping that you’ll share your findings with others, compare notes, triangulate. There are some particular answers I’m looking for these days that, so far, involve at least three ways of hearing from the Lord. I’m sharing the partial findings with a few brothers and sisters, fellow pilgrims. I don’t want to shut the door on any legitimate method of hearing from the Father. And I sure-as-heck don’t want to go another day without even trying to identify his usual and customary ways of answering.

    How do you hear from the Lord? How do you know that you have?

    This poor man cried, and the LORD heard him and saved him out of all his troubles (Psalm 34:6).
Amen, and may it be so in your life.

May you also know how it happened.

Grace and Peace (for the pilgrimage),
John

Come to Me

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

     I hardly ever do this, but I’m compelled to repeat a letter I wrote to you about eleven months ago. Hoping that I’m picking up what the Father is putting down, here it is, from March of last year:

     Every book you’ve ever read, or not read, on the topic of prayer can be summed up in three words. Every publication, podcast, and coffee conversation – if it had anything to do with approaching the throne of grace to find help for yourself or someone else – can be distilled into a trio of first-grade sight words:

     “Come to me.”

     It makes me groan to see a shelf full of paperbacks, minimum 200 pages each, competing for allegiance to a very particular form and pattern of prayer. “You gotta say this!” “No, you gotta say that!” I groan even more when I picture us standing before such a shelf, feeling the onset of paralysis-by-analysis, afraid of doing prayer the wrong way.

     “Come to me.” 

     If there’s one passage of Scripture that is covering and congealing everything we’re doing as a church these days… well, here it is:

    “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30, Jesus speaking).

     Yes, there are different forms of prayer. First Timothy lists a few: First of all, then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people (2:1). But read on: For there is one God, and there is one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus (verse 5).

     “Come to me.”

     Yes, we just heard a rousing sermon – and solid, too – on how to pray for one another, followed by a prayer practicum Sunday night. By all means, preach! By all means, practice! But all of it is going nowhere unless we first accept the invitation Jesus extends.

     “Come to me.”

     Lest I stand convicted of writing the first few pages of my own 200-page book, I will finish making this one point and forthwith shut up. Three one-syllable words, eight letters total – in the mind’s eye and the heart’s understanding, we don’t even need the punctuation. Only hear his voice…

     “Come to me.” 

Grace and Peace (on your way there),

 

John

 

P.S. from February 2024: None of us has to be a superstar around here… just come to Jesus. A simple “Here I am” will do for a start.

Plumb

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

     I don’t like being in big cities. This much must be understood before we can move on. And yet, here we are, my bride and me, spending three days and two nights in Columbus, Ohio. Downtown. More by necessity than preference. Given my preference, this same event would take place in a Preble County bean field, under a tent, in May. My beloved tells me there’s not a tent in the world big enough to put all these people under, so we’ve piled up in heaps, in Columbus, in February. And though I’m not a fan, I am resolved to make the best of it.

     To that end, I’m asking the Father to give me new eyes for the city. He started by putting us into a quirky space on the top floor of a 20-story hotel. The room is a trio of small triangles, joined at the points, set in a corner of the building that turns back on itself, making a stubby peninsula. It has, by my crude but close-enough measurement, forty-three linear feet of window and a 225-degree panorama of the bustling capital city. A great perch from which to begin using those new eyes.

     At sunrise this morning, the buildings, from the squat parking lot gatehouse to the soaring Nationwide tower, began yielding their shapes to natural light. Under the dazzling display of turquoise, magenta, and every shade from red-to-orange, this is what I saw everywhere: plumb. Straight up and down. Truly vertical. I could sight along the edge of one structure and get a witness from the edge of another one in the next block. Whatever style the architect might have chosen for expression, one design parameter was in play throughout: gravity.

     Nothing very tall stands for very long without being plumb. One very lucky builder in Pisa has, so far, gotten by with out-of-plumb, but if I ever visit that famous landmark I’ll probably stand only on the “uphill” side. Builders want to make gravity their friend, and plumb is the best way to go about it.

     The edge of whatever is plumb points directly at the earth’s center of mass, the true and unalterable source of gravity. And when I remember who established the location of earth’s center of mass, I can relax in the middle of all this urban audacity. There may be a million personalities in this town, but every one of them, including mine, is subject to the law of the Lord. Like it or not, know it or not, God’s got this. Same goes for the Preble County bean field.

     The law of the Lord is perfect, reviving the soul… (Psalm 19:7)

     My soul is choosing to be revived by the law of the Lord. A good many things have happened in this city – and every city and town – that are, as they say in the trades, “half-a-bubble off.” But they can’t stay out of plumb forever. Eventually, and in the Lord’s good time, every matter will be checked against his plumb line, and whatever is found to be untrue will fall. Meanwhile, his law makes these tall buildings stand as a witness.

     My elevator mates are jealous. Each time I’ve asked, “Could you press 20, please,” it’s been met with some version of “So you’re the one in the penthouse suite. Now we know who’s got all the money around here!” Seriously, no. The room strikes me as a space the architect didn’t figure on, but a creative and ambitious crew made the most of – which endears it to me. It’s more of a broom closet with a whole lot of glass. And a whole lot of grace. A great space from which to gaze out on the law of the Lord in operation.

     Maybe you could find a perch sometime soon, a vantage point with sufficient view to see some truth. If so, I’ll recommend the same passage of Scripture I’ve been considering this morning:

The law of the Lord is perfect,
    reviving the soul;
the testimony of the Lord is sure,
    making wise the simple;
the precepts of the Lord are right,
    rejoicing the heart;
the commandment of the Lord is pure,
    enlightening the eyes;
the fear of the Lord is clean,
    enduring forever;
the rules of the Lord are true,
    and righteous altogether.
More to be desired are they than gold,
    even much fine gold;
sweeter also than honey
    and drippings of the honeycomb.
Moreover, by them is your servant warned;
    in keeping them there is great reward.

Who can discern his errors?
    Declare me innocent from hidden faults.
Keep back your servant also from presumptuous sins;
    let them not have dominion over me!
Then I shall be blameless,
    and innocent of great transgression.

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart
    be acceptable in your sight,
    O Lord, my rock and my redeemer (Psalm 19:7-14).

 

Grace and Peace (wherever you perch),

 

John

 

Trimmed and Burning, Part 2

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

     How glad are you that Jesus came the first time? Emmanuel – “God with us.” He left the glory of heaven, put on the frailties of flesh, and subjected himself to every temptation common to mankind. He conquered sin – and death, too – and made a way for sinners to be delivered from the dominion of sin. He made a way through the veil, his flesh, for us to have access to the throne of grace, now and forever. So tell me: have you loved his first appearing? I should hope so.

     How about his next appearing? How’s your level of eagerness for the fulfillment of the Kingdom of Christ on this very planet? As compared to, say, Christmas or your next birthday or your income tax refund, how giddy do you get at the prospect of the rightful King’s return?

     Jesus gave a parable (Matthew 25:1-13) of ten virgins who went out to meet the bridegroom (parallel to Jesus) for the wedding feast. The five virgins who took extra oil for their lamps were considered “wise,” and were ready, even though the bridegroom delayed. The other five, considered “foolish,” had insufficient oil, and were shut out of the feast. The difference between them wasn’t resources; it was eagerness. We know that to be true because of the warning Jesus gave at the end of the parable: “Watch, therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour” (verse 13).

     I thought it might do us some good to study the example of a long-ago Christian who had loved the first appearing of Jesus and worked hard to build eagerness in others for the consummation of the Kingdom. His name, at first, was Saul of Tarsus, later to be Paul. Jesus met Paul on the road to Damascus, Syria – as Paul put it, Last of all, as to one untimely born, he appeared also to me (1Corinthians 15:8). How would someone who had met Jesus in his first appearing recommend his second appearing to us who have come so many centuries afterward? There’s solid evidence in another letter the apostle wrote. Take a look:

     I charge you in the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who is to judge the living and the dead, and by his appearing and his kingdom: preach the word; be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, and exhort, with complete patience and teaching. For the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions, and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander off into myths. As for you, always be sober-minded, endure suffering, do the work of an evangelist, fulfill your ministry.

    For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing (2Timothy 4:1-8).

     In my humble estimation, the ink hadn’t dried on the words “the time is coming” before the time had come. Most of what Paul wrote to the churches was about false and deceptive teaching, and the propensity of people to fall for it – even to accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions. Other than Jesus himself, Paul was more qualified than anyone to give exhortation concerning the Lord’s return. Given the audience and the inspiration, he made his charge by (Christ’s) appearing and his kingdom: Work hard. Be ready. And be glad – we’ve loved his first appearing, and we have every reason to love the next one.

     Not that I’m claiming to be an apostle or sub-apostle or anything of the sort, but maybe I’ve been around long enough that I can make some observations worth considering. I’ve lived, so far, through 13 presidential administrations, 32 versions of Congress, and I’m-not-sure how many Supreme Court Justices. Truly, the level of foolishness is at an all-time high, at least for the years to which I can personally attest. Serious people with high-caliber titles refer to pre-born humans as “pregnancy tissue.” Laws are on the books saying a female can become a male – or vice-versa or back again – just by saying so. Arguments are made in high places that some people don’t have the rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness because they were born south of the Rio Grande. Moral issues get fumbled, picked up, and fumbled again, as if moral issues actually belonged in the arena of legislature (which they do not). “Truth” gets reinvented with every news cycle – whatever it takes to scratch the itching ear.

     It's not a failure of politics or democracy. No political system could ever handle what humans have been up against ever since Genesis 3: namely, sin. And being subject to the Second Law of Thermodynamics, like everything else in the universe, political systems run down, not up.

     The problem is lack of a King. When God’s chosen people rejected him in favor of a mere mortal king (1Samuel 8:1-9), it was a far bigger tragedy than they realized. And we haven’t recovered. With each generation, each century, each millennium, the ratcheting has been downward. Absurdity is given legitimacy. The list of atrocities grows. The only way out is up, through the tunnel vision of the tightening spiral, anticipating the only one who ever earned the title of capital-K King.

     How, then, would we show eagerness for his return? Feelings are never enough – what’s the proof-of-concept? In another parable involving lamps, Jesus said, “Stay dressed for action and keep your lamps burning…” (Luke 12:35). Curious about the application, Peter asked, “Lord, are you telling this parable for us or for all?” And the Lord said, “Who then is the faithful and wise manager, whom his master will set over his household, to give them their portion of food at the proper time? Blessed is that servant whom his master will find so doing when he comes” (verses 41-43).

     Are you unsure of how to prove your eagerness to see the Kingdom on earth? Ask the King. He will have perfectly scalable, perfectly appropriate, perfectly acceptable actions for you and me to take – in the power of the Holy Spirit. And then we do what he gives us. That’s what it means to keep one’s lamp trimmed and burning.

 

Grace and Peace (to all who have loved his appearing),

 

John