Primary encounter

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by on February 13, 2008 at 3:59 am

While crossing the parking lot to enter my local polling place today, I saw a man talking on his cell phone. He looked visibly distraught; his hand was cupped over his eyes as he stood. As I got closer, he cried out in anguish and dropped to one knee, all the while holding the phone to his ear.

I paused as I opened the door, watching him. He was obviously deeply pained by something—it seemed he was getting terrible news of some kind. My heart went out to him, but I wasn’t sure what to do. Do I talk to him, or would that be viewed as an intrusion in a moment of private grief? Then again, his grief didn’t appear to be all that private at the moment. It was severe enough to be arresting; he couldn’t even make it to his car.

Not sure what action to take (if any), I went inside. This public mourner had caught the attention of the poll workers inside.

“Is he okay?” one of them asked me as I handed over my voter registration card.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “It sure seems like he’s getting some bad news.”

A couple people continued to watch through the window, as did I. He still hadn’t moved on. There, on the sidewalk outside the polling place, he continued to kneel, hand over his eyes and head bowed.

I’m going to do something, I thought. So I voted as hastily as I could, accepted an “I Voted” sticker on my way out the door, and walked up to the man.

“Excuse me, sir,” I said as I put my hand on his arm. “I know you’re on the phone, and I don’t mean to interrupt, but is there anything I can do for you?”

He looked at me with bleary, reddened eyes.

“There’s been a death—” He was so choked with grief that he couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “What’s your name?”

“Rhett.”

“Rhett, can I pray for you?”

He nodded his head.

“Can I ask who died?” I said.

At this, he simply burst into tears. And there, in the parking lot at the polling place, I prayed with all the fervency and empathy I could muster. I asked the God of all comfort, the same God who knows what it is to suffer loss and even death, to draw near to Rhett and his family. I prayed that, despite their grief, they would know the surpassing peace that only God can grant us in times of personal pain. I ended by speaking blessing over him, and by giving him a hug. He thanked me, and—after taking a moment to compose himself—went inside to vote.

I drove away from the polling place in tears, saddened the loss that Rhett was feeling. I continued to pray for him as I drove, and then it hit me: Does he have a church family? Is he part of a community that will close ranks around him and bear his burdens during this time? Rob, for goodness’ sake, you’re a pastor! Go offer further ministry to him, and invite him into your own faith-community!

I turned the car around, but by the time I got back to the polling place, he was gone.

As I shared this encounter with my wife, I did some weeping of my own. While it was a joy and a privilege to be able to offer the simple comfort of a caring voice, a heartfelt prayer, and a hug, I could have done so much more. I was just a little too slow on the uptake.

Next time, I pray that I have the presence of mind and spirit to do a more appropriate level of follow-through in a situation like that. In the meantime, friends, I invite you to pray for Rhett and his family.

Blessings,

Rob
aka The MonT-SteR

in Life, The Universe, and EVERYTHING, Theology

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A question of questionable focus

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by on February 11, 2008 at 4:23 am

Our senior pastor preached a very stimulating message today about bearing one another’s burdens (see Galatians 6:2).

In a nutshell, he talked about how Christians often pride themselves on how they don’t “drink, smoke, chew, or hang out with those who do.” There’s an indignation we sometimes feel at the more flagrant sorts of sin that are, shall we say, more colloquial in nature.

Our pastor then posed the following questions:

  • How often do those of us who are so very proud of our abstinence from alcohol, tobacco, movies, etc. “fulfill the law of Christ” by bearing the burdens of others?
  • If the answer is infrequently, then why is that sin of omission somehow less execrable or more tolerable than more banal forms of carnality?

Tough questions.

As I read the Gospels, Jesus reserved the most stinging rebuke not for the likes of prostitutes or even swindlers like Zaccheus, but the self-righteous prigs of the religious establishment who were high on their own asceticism.

Pharasaism is no substitute for Christlikeness.

Blessings,

Rob
aka The MonT-SteR

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Christmas, 1991 vintage

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by on December 25, 2007 at 3:02 am

I will never forget the Christmas of 1991. For me, it remains by far the most precious holiday celebration I’ve ever had.

Prior to that Christmas, during my second year in college, I had genuinely experienced God’s person — in love, in holiness, in power — for the first time. Even though I grew up attending church, it wasn’t until that year that I earnestly sought to follow Jesus and live in relationship with Him.

It was a time when my heart was so warmed and delighted by the simple knowledge that Jesus was real, that He was ALIVE, that He loved me, and that He was with me in the here and now. I carried the uncomplicated pleasure of those truths with me that night in 1991 as my family walked into Centre St. United Methodist Church in sleepy little Cumberland, MD to attend a candlelight Christmas Eve service.

I could barely contain myself.

I had always loved the way the sanctuary looked and felt at Christmas time; even though it wasn’t adorned any differently that year, I suddenly found it sublime. The altar was awash in a sea of poinsettias, a Chrismon tree glittered to the left of the pulpit, candles were lit in the stained glass windows, greenery set with white lights and red bows lined the edges of the choir loft, and oh, the music!

As we sang familiar Christmas hymns, I struggled to master my emotions. For the first time, as I sang “God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen,” I was the errant one for whom Christ our Lord and Savior came to save from Satan’s power. When I sang “O Holy Night,” it was my heart that swelled with a thrill of hope at the breaking of a new and glorious morning — how could I not fall on my knees?

In the end, I did somehow manage not to collapse in a blubbering heap in the pew. A few tears were the only evidence of the fact that I was bursting inside with a new revelation: the living truth of what we celebrate at Christmas had found expression in little ol’ me. Jesus had come not only to the world, but to me. The Word became flesh not only in a manger 2000 years ago, but also when the Living Lord took up residence in me by His Spirit.

Fifteen Christmases have passed since then, and too many times the hustle and bustle of the season have gotten the best of me. In more recent years, I’ve found that Christmas sneaks up on me and is gone before I have the chance to contemplate it anew or to be formed by it. And every time that happens, I remember the Christmas of 1991 and grieve a lost opportunity to grow closer to God.

Well, this year I’ve resolved not to let the sixteenth Christmas since 1991 pass the same way. If there’s anything Christmas teaches us, it’s that God’s love for us is stronger than any human measure. And He expresses that love to us not only in the first Christmas, not only in the Christmas of 2007, but in real time — each and every single day. The question is, are we too busy and weighed down with the cares of this world to notice or respond?

I pray that a renewed sense of His love and affection for you will permeate your holiday celebration like it never has before.

Have a 1991 Christmas!

Blessings,

Rob
aka The MonT-SteR

in Life, The Universe, and EVERYTHING, Theology

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Atheistic gambits

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by on November 19, 2007 at 4:24 am

Saw most of the NOVA documentary on the Intelligent Design (ID) movement on PBS tonight, and I thought it was poorly conceived. In essence, it amounted to a one-sided, ad hominem attack whose chief argument was that ID proponents are dunces and perjurers.

The response to irreducible complexity was particularly bad. Sure, there may be other molecular designs in nature that share many common components with a full-fledged flagellum (like that alliteration there?), but do they serve the same purpose? Are they attempting to perform the same function in a “less evolved” way? (Such questions highlight why the “mousetrap” stunt the anti-ID folks employed fails to refute irreducible complexity.) And even if there is commonality of design, it doesn’t prove that less complex forms are necessarily transitory in an evolutionary sense. The only way one would come to such a conclusion by default is if he or she presupposes a naturalistic framework.

And that’s really the key issue, I think. Why should presuppositional naturalism and its proffered theory of origins receive unqualified state sanction and preference? The inference to design is reasonably performed by every human being every day vis-a-vis objects and systems that are less complex by orders of magnitude than the molecular machinery present inside a single cell. ID makes the same logical inference with respect to origins theory; the real problem people have with it is not that it is a bastardization of science that would unhinge our entire education system, but rather the fact that it deigns to compete with some of atheism’s underlying sacred cows, as well as its choke hold on our public schools.

I have an idea. If we can’t see our way clear to allow ID to be taught at the very least as a possible inference from scientific data that’s available to us, let’s get ideology out of the picture entirely and not teach naturalism either. And for all of you who are squealing that ID is not falsifiable and therefore nonscientific, the same could be said of the atheist’s pet assertion that philosophical naturalism is a necessary corollary of the scientific method.

William Lane Craig, one of my favorite apologists, has an audio blog full of commentary on current events. In a recent post, he discusses “the new atheism” and its designs on our children and parental rights, as well as the faulty premise that polytheism is innately more “tolerant” than monotheism.

Some of this is disturbing stuff, some of it gets downright funny (listen to Craig’s voice crack when he’s describing the absurdity of a professor’s assertions about polytheism). All of it is important listening. Check it out…

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Things that make you go hmmmm….

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by on November 6, 2007 at 4:03 am

I received an e-mail update today from a local ministry, urging prayer for tomorrow’s election. The message contained the following titillating tidbit:

I once had a conversation with a U.S. Senator from Virginia, telling him how I had prayed for him and others and how I believed prayer had influenced a number of elections. I was surprised when he said to me, “I don’t really believe prayer influences elections.” While respecting his leadership, I politely disagreed with him, because I sensed he was courting trouble. Though he was heavily favored to win and even rumored to be a presidential candidate, he lost his next election to another man who serves as a Senator for the State of Virginia.

Well, now, just who is this mysterious former senator? Would his first name happen to be George? And, if so, did this discussion regarding the efficacy of prayer (or the lack thereof) vis-a-vis elections come before or after the infamous “macaca” incident? If before, I wonder if Jim Webb’s predecessor might now reconsider his stance on prayer?

Just a thought…

In other non-political news, the entire MonT-SteR CLAN goes to the baby doctor tomorrow to find out whether or not BabY MonT-SteR #2 will be a boy or a girl. I’m so excited!

I’ll post the results of our ultrasound tomorrow…

Blessings,

Rob
aka The MonT-SteR

in Politics, Theology

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Biblical anthropology for breakfast

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by on October 20, 2007 at 5:04 pm

I’ve been forced in recent days to reconsider the doctrine of man, viz., whether or not humanity is dichotomously (body and soul/spirit) or trichotomously (body, soul, and spirit) constructed. I actually have to confess that I’ve never studied the issue in sufficient depth.

Here’s an issue I’m having. Those who have a trinitarian view of man assert that the triunity of man corresponds to the triunity of God Himself, thus constituting a significant part of the imago dei. But it seems to me that the analogy between triune man and triune God breaks down rather badly. The members of the Trinity are equal, each being fully God. Are my body, soul, and spirit to be considered equal? Is each component fully me in the same sense or to the same degree? I have a hard time with the notion that my person is as fully resident in my body as it is in my soul or spirit.

This becomes a particularly sticky widget for charismatic theology, which typically emphasizes the primacy of the spiritual aspect of humanity. In fact, most garden variety charismatics would tell you that vibrant Christian living is a function of subjugating both body and soul to the dictates of one’s regenerate spirit.

Moreover, what happens to the soul at the resurrection? Paul discusses how we have a spiritual body (like Jesus did post resurrection). Do I need a soul at that point in addition to my spirit? Is the idea that the “mind, will, and emotions” reside in the soul (not the spirit) biblically supported? Why can’t my human spirit exhibit volition, think, or emote? If my spirit is that part of me that relates directly to God, who came up with the notion that relating to God does not involve thought, volition, or emotion?

Just thinking out loud at this point, and questioning some mainstream thinking. I’ll share what I learn as I study this.

Blessings,

Rob
aka The MonT-SteR

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Rebel against the cult of celebrity

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by on September 20, 2007 at 4:13 pm

The now-notorious Chris Crocker made a somewhat embarrassing YouTube video (warning: the video contains profanity) pleading with the masses to “Leave Britney (Spears) alone!” after her lackluster performance at the MTV Video Music Awards. You may be surprised, but The MonT-SteR thinks Chris Crocker has a point — one that leads our insatiable hearts inevitably to the grace of God. Take a listen and I’ll try to explain.

Blessings,

Rob
aka The MonT-SteR

in Current Events, Issues, Theology

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Pointing the finger at Jesus?

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by on August 27, 2007 at 2:37 am

I recently registered my blog at BlogCatalog, and in the process I stumbled upon A Penitent Atheist.

What’s that? Is he okay, you ask?

No, no, no, silly — it’s a blog, not an actual penitent atheist. And besides, if I actually did trip over a penitent atheist, shouldn’t you be asking ME if I’M okay? I mean, I’m the one who tripped, right?

Anyway, the guy behind the A Penitent Atheist blog (APAB) was once involved in pastoral ministry — a fact that he seems to regret deeply:

The title of my blog, A Penitent Atheist, indicates a degree of regret, even remorse, that exists in me because of the things I taught and preached as a Christian minister.

Now, the puckish side of me wants to respond by saying, “Dude, what’s with the guilt? Atheistic morality is all about human whimsy anyway. Embrace your worldview, man — if it’s true, feeling ‘bad’ about your past is a meaningless exercise.”

For now, we won’t go there (not in detail, anyway). I’m more interested in responding to a post on APAB asserting that Jesus didn’t live up to his own teachings:

I submit to you that even Jesus, as portrayed in the Bible, could not live up to his own edicts.

Interesting claim. Let’s see how he backs it up:

Luk 6:27-28 NASB “But I say to you who hear, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, (28) bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.

An admirable, if somewhat naive command. Did Jesus always obey it? According to the story, Jesus had some enemies. He had some folks who hated him, who cursed him. Who seemed to dog him at every turn. Did Jesus show them love? Did he do good to them? Did he bless them? Let’s see.

Mat 23:33 NASB “You serpents, you brood of vipers, how will you escape the sentence of hell?

Those words sound more like a curse than a blessing, do they not?

Ugh. There are a number of problems with the way this example is presented and how APAB reasons from it:

  1. He divorces Matthew 23:33 completely from its context. Note how APAB subtly frames Jesus’ words as though they were were a random execration he just let fly with when his anger at detractors got the best of him. That’s part of the luxury proof texting affords, but unfortunately it doesn’t do anything to help us understand what Jesus really said or why he said it.
  2. He hasn’t shown that this is actually a curse. Why couldn’t Jesus have been openly telling the truth about the character of his adversaries? And if the condition of their hearts and eternal destinies really were at stake, wouldn’t such truth telling actually be an act of “[doing] good to those who hate you?” APAB simply assumes instead that Jesus is throwing a hateful verbal fit that falls short of his own teaching. For all the derisive talk in his post about the assumptions Christians make, this seems a lot like the pot calling the kettle black.
  3. APAB’s treatment of Luke 6:27-28 assumes (there’s that nasty word again) that those verses exhaust the responses one could licitly have to one’s enemies. Why couldn’t Jesus’ response in Matthew 23:33 be a non-contradictory complement to the prescriptions of Luke 6:27-28?
  4. Just because Jesus was angry with his enemies, does it necessarily follow that he ceased to love them? After all, we’re talking about the same Jesus who prayed, “Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do,” while being crucified as a direct result of the machinations of his enemies. Besides, how many of you out there have kids? You ever get angry with them? Do you stop loving them or doing good to them when they make you angry? Do you ever get angry with them because you love them?

Of course, none of these objections deals sufficiently with the substance of what Jesus said in Matthew 23:33. I intend to talk about that, but it’s late and I’ll have to save it for another post. However, I think what I’ve posited here is enough to demonstrate that APAB’s treatment of Jesus’ conduct falls way short of disproving his sinlessness.

Blessings,

Rob
aka The MonT-SteR

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An Israelite’s Reverie

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by on August 14, 2007 at 4:26 am

The old man sat, back propped against a rock, eyes squinting as he turned his face upward to feel the sun’s warmth.

There, near Hebron’s border, at the foot of the rugged hills he loved, he rested from battle. For the first time in years, his sword lay idle on the ground.

His mind roved over forty-five years of memories, many of them harsh and bitter — but none more so than that terrible day at Kadesh-Barnea, when his people turned in fear from their destiny.

On the edge of a land flowing with milk and honey, on the verge of inheriting all that God had promised them, they faltered. They chose to fear giants more than the God who delivered them so powerfully from the iron grasp of Egypt’s unrelenting cruelty.

The old man remembered the heartache of watching an entire generation pay for its rebellion by perishing in the desert. He remembered years on end of sweltering heat and stinging sand. He remembered his anger at the foolishness and cowardice of his countrymen. How could they think that God would fail them after having shown them such wonders? He remembered the unfairness of sharing in his people’s plight. Why should he have to suffer for their lack of faith? After all, he had believed God’s promise to His people.

Anger, grief, and disappointment had nearly consumed him — until the day when Moses fell prey to his frustration with Israel and forfeited his own destiny. The old man recalled how that shook him to the core. Moses was the only man on earth who spoke face to face with God; if Moses could lose the Promised Land, so could he.

He knew he had to repent. So he chose long ago to turn from bitterness and to cling to another promise God had made. The old man’s faithfulness at Kadesh-Barnea had not gone unnoticed. He would not perish in the desert like so many of his countrymen. God would enable him to see the day when Israel would fulfill her destiny; and he himself would taste the fruit of the Promised Land.

That promise had been life and hope to the old man for decades. Now, the day had finally arrived. After years of waiting, after years of fighting wars to see other men claim their portion of the Promised Land, his time had come. Joshua had given his blessing, and God would soon bring His word to pass.

“Father?”

The old man gave a start, awakened from his reverie. His eldest son stood before him, hand outstretched.

“I think we had better get going, Father,” he said. “The sun will set before long.”

The old man smiled, grasped his son’s hand, and stood to his feet.

“Thank you, Iru,” he said. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the hillside. The shadows were getting long. It was time.

“Tell everyone that we need to make that outcropping on the next hill before nightfall,” the old man said. “It will offer us a safe place to camp.

“We claim Hebron for God at daybreak; the men must sleep tonight with their swords unsheathed and close at hand.”

Iru bowed and turned to carry out his father’s instructions.

“Iru!” the old man called after him. “One more thing…”

“Yes, Father?”

A cold gleam came into the old man’s eyes. He picked up his sword and smiled before speaking again.

“Tell your brothers,” said Caleb, “the first giant is mine.”

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Pool scare and the Father’s heart

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by on August 5, 2007 at 9:46 pm

On Friday evening, after a day of oppressive heat and frustrating office trials, I was very happy to meet my wife and son at the community pool for some relaxation.

My son Robert has taken to the water quite well. He’s dependent on a life jacket at the moment, but he has no fear about jumping in the deep end and moving around the pool on his own. I was a lifeguard and swim instructor for several years before college, so I’ve been planning to “graduate” him to another flotation device that would encourage him to be a more self-sufficient swimmer.

We had a grand time together. The late afternoon sun’s low, hazy glow kept us warm, but not uncomfortable. The water’s temperature was perfect. We engaged the pool attendant in friendly, light-hearted conversation. And, of course, there was plenty of playful splashing to go around.

After enjoying the water for a couple of hours, we decided to head home for a late pizza dinner. We climbed out of the pool and began stowing the myriad pool paraphernalia (noodles, kick boards, goggles, beach balls, inner tubes, etc.) for the walk home. As I busied myself with deflating a beach ball, I heard Robert making sounds as though he was struggling with something.

I turned around and, to my horror, I saw him in the pool — sans life jacket — thrashing frantically in an attempt to keep his nose and mouth above water. He wasn’t succeeding.

It was one of those moments when time freezes; in fact, the memory of that sight has yet to leave my mind’s eye. The abject fear and panic in his eyes is what I can’t forget. When I saw him, he was already looking at me; his wild gaze screamed, “Daddy, I’m going to die! Rescue me!”

How long he had to wait in frenzied agony before I noticed his predicament, I don’t know. That’s something else that still haunts me. If I had been in his shoes, the thought, “If he doesn’t see me, I’m going to perish,” would have been looping mercilessly in my mind.

“Robert!” I cried, and jumped in to grab him. I hoisted him out of the water, and he coughed for so long and with such force that he vomited on me. As I held him and patted his back, I heaved a sigh of relief. Thank God, he was okay. I handed him off to his mom so she could comfort him, and climbed out of the pool to get cleaned up.

Apart from being a bit shaken up immediately after his ordeal, he recovered admirably. He showed no fear during a visit to the pool the next day. I, on the other hand, broke down in tears after we got home that evening. That’s as close as we’ve ever come to losing Robert. And I was haunted by the memory of his eyes, wild with fear as they were fixed upon me.

The odd thing was that God’s voice unmistakably broke through in the wake of all that chaos and upset at the pool. In an instant, I remembered the story of Jehoshaphat in 2 Chronicles 20, when a huge army was arrayed against Judah — one they had no hope of defeating.

Jehoshaphat proclaimed a fast and called upon the people of Judah to seek God for help. They gathered in Jerusalem to pray to the Lord, and they ended their prayer by saying, “God, we are powerless, and we do not know what to do, but our eyes are on You.”

Just like Robert. He was powerless to stay afloat or to save himself. He didn’t know what to do. But his eyes were upon his daddy.

And this was how God spoke to me: “You ran to your son’s rescue without a second’s hesitation. How much more will I rescue you when you get in over your own head? Am I any less moved by your trouble when you look to me deliverance? Will I not come to your rescue, and quickly?”

A teachable moment, to be sure, and right in line with the a fortiori reasoning that Jesus applies to the Father in his teachings (Matt 7:11, Lk 12:24-28). Do I think God arranged for Robert to almost drown just to teach me something? No way. But I serve a God “who causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose” (Rom. 8:38). In other words, nobody can make the best of a less than ideal situation like God can. Isaiah puts it this way: He exchanges the ash-heaps of our lives for beauty (Is 61:3).

And nobody does rescue like He does.

Blessings,

Rob
aka The MonT-SteR

in Life, The Universe, and EVERYTHING, Theology

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