The Weeping Prophet

We are about a third of the way through a series of talks on Sunday mornings that are all about dealing with the truth on a personal level in our lives. It is relatively easy to deal with truth at arms length in a clinical type manner, especially when it doesn’t really touch us. But to really allow the truth in and to allow it to ‘have its way with us’ is a different story. It is hard to hear the truth. And then to be willing to trust God enough to speak it out to others is something else again, but for the same reason – it’s hard for others to hear the truth.

These are hard things. In the course of my reflections on the subject, and briefly last Sunday, I have been caused to think about the prophet Jeremiah. He was called to speak the truth at a time when it was very hard to hear.

The truth involved the people’s sin and the destruction that lay in the path ahead because of it. Jeremiah didn’t win any popularity contests. He paid the price for telling the truth and earned the nick name, the ‘weeping prophet’. But the reason that Jeremiah grieved so, was not just because of how people viewed him and treated him. The real reason that Jeremiah wept so was because the people had lost their ability to do so. He wept for the people, not just because of them. They were so blind and hardened that they had lost the capacity for real remorse and genuine repentance.

My attention has been focused on the calling that Jeremiah received from God. It is found in the first chapter of his book. It is similar in nature to the calling received by others (check out Isaiah 6 for example). The thing that has really caught my attention however is this part:

“Then the LORD reached out his hand and touched my mouth and said to me, "Now, I have put my words in your mouth. See, today I appoint you over nations and kingdoms to uproot and tear down, to destroy and overthrow, to build and to plant." Jeremiah 1:9,10

What has impressed me about this is how necessary it is to tear down before we can build up; to uproot before we can plant. So often in our lives we try and make changes for the better, trying to add good things if you will, while being either unaware or unwilling to ‘root out’ the things that have to go. For Jeremiah, he realized that the nation had become so corrupt that it needed to be swept away into captivity in order for a fresh start to occur.

But, while he is called the ‘weeping prophet’, Jeremiah was not a pessimist. He had hope and his message was ultimately a message of hope.

“This is what the Lord says: "When seventy years are completed for Babylon, I will come to you and fulfill my gracious promise to bring you back to this place. For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you," declares the Lord, "and will bring you back from captivity.” Jer 29:10-14

So too, in our lives, we need this kind of hope. We need the hope that when we face the hard things and learn to allow God to tear down the walls and the strongholds in our lives that he will use the debris to build a bridge to Him. That is ultimately what God wants to do. He wants to use our brokenness to refine us and to bring us into a closer relationship with Him and with one another.

The saying is true - If we keep doing what we are doing, we will keep getting what we’ve got. If we really want to see positive change in our lives, some stuff is going to have to go. I pray God will show us exactly what those things are. If we judge ourselves, we will not be judged.

Losing Time

Last Sunday, as our corporate worship time came to a close, I walked from the platform to the lobby. I sat my Bible and my day planner on the small cabinet beside the exit door. For the next hour or so, I did what I usually do. I enjoyed conversing with people as they visited around talking with others, having coffee and slowly making their way to their cars to head off for the rest of their day.

As I was preparing to leave too for a lunch invitation I had received (Florence was still away), I walked over to the cabinet to quickly grab my things. My planner was gone. My Bible was still right where I put it, but the planner was nowhere to be seen. Of course, I started to look round for it and as others saw me looking they also joined in the search. We couldn’t find it anywhere. At last I had to give up the hunt because I had people waiting for me. I concluded that either a small child might have taken an interest in it (though unlikely) or someone had scooped it up with some of their stuff by mistake.

I took the time to call Wanda and asked her to please send a note out to our church family asking them to be on the look out for it, and to call if they found it. All afternoon I lived with what could be called a low grade panic. I was able to concentrate and enjoy the company of friends that afternoon, but I have to admit that all the while, there was a bit of nagging anxiety just under the surface… Would it turn up? What if it didn’t?

Most people who know me, get some sense of amusement over my ‘attachment’ to my ‘day-timer’. I take it with me wherever I go (yes, even the bathroom) and sleep with it beside me on the night stand. And the thought of it being lost was definitely creating ‘attachment anxiety’.

And of course, all the while I’m trying to analyze the situation and understand it for what it is and the implications for my life over the course of the next several months at least. I decided that I would be just fine, but that I couldn’t say the same for all the people I would disappoint. I could visualize them sitting and waiting for me to show up for something while I was off somewhere doing something else totally oblivious to the commitment I had made to be there for them… weddings, ministry appointments, meetings, coffee dates … not to mention all of the other information in there … phone numbers, contact information, scheduling issues, reminders…

Late in the afternoon I had a thought and called Bill and Ann. Ann graciously agreed to sort through the bag of garbage that they had taken home for quicker disposal. My hunch paid off. Apparently what had happened is that somehow it got bumped off of the cabinet and had fallen into the waste basket and then got covered up with other items. It is a little worse for wear with the coffee stains and all, but the information is all in tact and it is still usable.

And so, all is well in the world today now that I have my day planner back!

The whole thing got me thinking about how much my life is now about others. There was a time when I didn’t even need a watch, let alone a planning calendar. Those days are long gone. Today, and for a great many years now, my life largely consists of being there for other people. Yes, there is a lot of ‘weight’ that comes with that and I do take it very serious. I won’t lie to you. It is often overwhelming… phone calls… emails… visits… meetings … planning… speaking… caring … In some sense it is true that ‘my whole life’ is in that book.

Someone said, “Time is the essence of life - if you love life, don’t waste time.” The Bible puts it this way: “Be very careful, then, how you live - not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity…”

The Phone Call No One Wants

This past Sunday was not an unusual day. It all seemed pretty normal… until I arrived home at mid-afternoon and the message light on our phone was blinking. I took the phone and pushed the buttons and the voice on the answering service instantly transformed my relatively normal day into something that can only be called surreal.

“Steve, it’s Tanya. Chris was crushed by a front-end loader and it’s really bad and we’re in the ambulance right now heading for the QEII.”

Her voice was not quite hysterical but it was obvious that she was ‘scared to death’. Some of you know what it’s like to get a call like that. Chris is our youngest child. He has two older sisters and he’s really special to all of us. We love him dearly and hate the thought of having him endure anything like this, and the mere thought of being without him was, well, unthinkable.

His mom, with her sister Sandra, had left for Ontario for two weeks the day before to visit with some family there. For me, the 1 ½ hour drive to the QEII in Halifax that day was probably the longest drive I’ve ever taken, even though I’ve driven across the continent several times. The fact that I had to make the trip alone made it harder. I didn’t know really how bad ‘really bad’ was going to end up being, but it sure sounded really bad. That made it harder. And the fact that his mom was now hundreds of miles away and had no idea what was going on at home made it harder again. One of the many thoughts that kept trying to overwhelm my mind was this one – what kind of phone call am I going to have to make to his mom?

They say that even people who say they don’t really believe in God pray at times like that. Well, I do believe in God. Not only that, I’ve committed my life, not only to knowing Him personally, but making Him known to others, where I can. And so, yes, you bet I prayed. I prayed all the way there, all the time with prayers pushing and pushing and pushing thoughts and worries of what could be happening out of my mind, forcing myself to focus on God in His greatness, mercy and love. I prayed for Chris and for Tanya and for Florence and for our family. And lots of others prayed too, because I took a moment before leaving the house to place a quick call asking for the prayers of God’s people. I’m grateful for you.

Several hours later, the test results were finally in and, although he has massive bruising and five broken ribs, he is going to be ok. I prayed again, this time, giving thanks. Of course, I have also found myself wondering ‘what if’ too. Because it doesn’t always turn out this way does it. People endure great personal losses and injuries and sorrows and grief that is, well, unthinkable.

And sometimes it’s difficult to process all of this. What are the lessons? What are we supposed to think? I’m still thinking that through, but I have figured some things out. Life is precious, and at any moment of time (we never know) God reserves the right to remind us of just how precious it is. And life is fragile. We are not the masters of our own fate that we often tend to think we are. At any moment it can all be over. And life, in this world anyway, is temporary. Someday, we don’t know when, we will suddenly find ourselves standing before God, and on that day all of life as we know it in this world will be like a snapshot against the backdrop of eternity. And it will all be obvious, judged, as if in a moment, as to whether we really made it count for Him or not.

Chris, if you’re reading this, I love you son. We love you. And we are so glad you’re going to be ok. The Lord has been very good to us. He has been very good to you. Praise His Name.

The Dangers of Easter

You may not be fully aware of this, but there is a great danger in Easter. Don’t misunderstand me. I think that it is a tremendous thing to have a time of year when we focus all of our attention together on the greatest event in all of human history, the turning point in the destiny of mankind, the Lord Jesus Christ giving Himself for us, laying down His life and suffering for us, being crucified and then raised again from death and the grave as risen Lord and conquering King, triumphant over sin, death and hell!!!

So what could the dangers of Easter possibly be, you might be wondering? Well, the danger is that, in setting a time of year to focus on these greatest of truths, we can fall into the trap of not giving them the priority they deserve the rest of the year. In fact, this is not only the danger of Easter, but it is the danger of Christmas too! And, come to think of it, it is also the danger we face at the beginning of every single week because Mondays are just as holy as Sundays, or at least they should be. Should our passion for Christ be any less on Friday than it is on Sunday? Or next Friday compared to Good Friday?

From the teachings of the New Testament, and particularly those of the Apostle Paul (See Romans 14:1-12 ; Galatians 4:8-11 & Colossians 2:16-23), we can understand the glorious truth that every day is resurrection day because every single thing we enjoy as blessings in our lives as Christians are a reality because, and only because, of the death and resurrection of Jesus. The saving work of Christ upon the cross and His victorious resurrection, also on our behalf, is just as relevant and significant today as it was last weekend, and will be next Thursday too.

The observance of what we call Easter can be a very good thing, but there is this danger. So, what should we do to avoid this danger? Is there some way that we can ensure that we don’t fall into this trap? Here is a way - make everyday of every week of every month of every year of your life a celebration of thanksgiving and worship of the crucified and risen Lord. When you draw that first conscious breath each morning, remember that He has given you life. Everyday, when you put your feet on the floor, take the time to remember that you live because He lives; that He died to give you life and that your life is a gift from the God who loves you that much, and then walk into each day with a heart beating for Jesus. That is what it means to live as a Christian. How glorious is that!!!

Chickadees

Last week I wrote about chickens. Well, kind of. This week I’m writing about chickadees. Just because I want to. I think chickadees are amazing. Sure, lots of things are amazing in this great big incredible world that God made, but chickadees are something else.

Now, I know that not everyone thinks chickadees are a big deal. After all, they are not really big at all. In fact, they are really very small, and seemingly insignificant. That is one of the reasons I like them so much (apart from their incredible repertoire of course). It is their DEFIANCE!!! They refuse to be dismissed. They defy the enemy. They stare that great big harsh Canadian north wind right in the eye and they don’t even blink. At least I’ve never seen one blink. They eat winter for breakfast. They might not be big on the outside but, mister, they are big on the inside! They can tough it out with the best of them. Those other birds can fly south every winter and wimp-out in some tropical paradise but not these little guys. No sir. They wouldn’t even consider it. They say, ‘bring it on’. You’d think their little feet would freeze and fall off, but appearances can be deceiving. I think those little chickadees are a great testimony for God because of the way they defy the elements; the gods of this world, with their assumptions and preconceptions. They don’t appear to be any great thing, but then, there they are, living out their little lives with supernatural strength in the midst of the raging forces of a big bad world. They remind me of David, with armies looking on, staring down the giant in the land. Appearances can be deceiving for sure.

You think I’m being melodramatic but I’m really not. These little guys inspire me to no end. Those bitter cold winds and sub-zero temperatures do their utmost to drive away any sign of life and, meanwhile, what does the little chickadee do? He just keeps on doing his thing, the thing that God created him to do. There are these people who have been given a strong voice in our world today that boldly proclaim that all of this incredible creation we see around us just happened, by chance and without cause. They want us to believe that if things were to just somehow happen, this is what we would somehow end up with! They profess to have an answer for everything. I don’t hear any real answers coming out of their mouths at all; just a lot of bitter cold rhetoric and nasty animosity towards God; a lot of ranting and raving and going on. But, if you disagree with them they will belittle you and intimidate you. Don’t think so, just ask a Christian on a university campus. They are like bullies on the playground who want everyone to cower before them in hopes that it will somehow sooth their own self-doubt.

Yeah, I know, they have an explanation for how the blood flow in those little feet allow the little guys to function in such a cold climate, quite comfortably I’m sure. They have an explanation for everything. They have all the answers. They’d really like you to think so. But they don’t seem to realize that they really haven’t explained anything. Science tells us how things are. It doesn’t tell us how it came to be, at least real science hasn’t explained that. Pseudo science maybe “… a hundred million years ago…” Give me a break!!! More importantly, they can’t explain WHY?! Why what? Why anything! They have no ‘why’. They have no ‘why’… no meaning… no purpose… no hope… no One… Why, even a little chickadee defies their unbelief. I just love those little guys.

“Has God not made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since in the wisdom of God the world through its wisdom did not know him… But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things.”

“But ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds of the air, and they will tell you;
or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish of the sea inform you. Which of all these does not know that the hand of the LORD has done this? In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.”

Florence's Chickens

My wife Florence has had it in her mind, I should really say in her heart, for quite some time now, that she really would like to have chickens. I’m beginning to think that she may be wishing she had married a farmer rather than a pastor.

Not to be deterred, she is a very innovative woman. When you look at this picture you probably see pheasants but Florence calls them her ‘chickens’. I guess she figures that if she can’t have real chickens she’ll have substitute ‘chickens’.

Don’t be fooled though. She is not only innovative, she is also determined. Florence cuts my hair. She has for as long as we’ve been a couple, but a while back I started paying her. It’s kind of fun really. I even give her a good big tip every time. She takes the money each time and she is saving it up for - ? - you guessed it – chickens! And now you know why I’ve been wearing my hair so short these days. It began about the same time that Florence decided that chickens were in her future.

Of course, to have chickens you have to have a place to keep them and it has to be warm and dry and sheltered from the wind. Let’s just say that it isn’t likely to happen in the near future. So, for now, all winter long, she lovingly puts cracked corn out for her substitute ‘chickens’. The crows get their share, of course, but she derives great delight out of watching her ‘chickens’ make their little pilgrimage up the driveway from the river bank each morning and afternoon for a feed of sweet corn.

Paul tells us we need to be content with what we have (1Tim 6). It occurs to me that there is a very strong correlation between, being content with what we have, and learning to appreciate what we’ve got. What happens so often is that we get so focused on all of the desirable features of those things we want but don’t have, that we overlook the really cool things about what we do have. It’s almost like a type of spiritual blindness, the result of which means we can miss out by failing to enjoy or appreciate all of the good things that God has allowed into our lives. Someone has said that “contentment is simply wanting what you have”. I guess that is the wisdom behind the ancient counsel to ‘count our blessings’.

Who knows, maybe someday Florence will get to have real chickens that sit and lay eggs and everything. Until then, something tells me she will continue to take great delight in feeding the pheasants and the crows and a host of other creatures. As for the rest of us, maybe we can console ourselves in the fact that, though the grass may not appear as green where we are on this side of the fence, at least we don’t have to put up with the bull either. I might not be a farmer but I do know what makes grass green.

Old Friends

Ted Davidson died last weekend. I conducted his funeral service on Tuesday. Ted and Winnie Davidson were neighbours of ours when I was a kid growing up at home. Many days I would jump on my bike and peddle up to Ted and Winnie’s to play with their son Lyle on the farm. My own dad had stopped farming by the time I was old enough to have a hand in it, but I have many memories from my childhood of time spent on Ted and Winnie’s farm.

Ted was a quiet man but a great story teller. He always seemed to have time for people whether it was just to visit or to help out someone who needed a helping hand. And that included little people too! I don’t think I ever saw the man in a hurry. He loved life. He loved people. He loved his family.

Children have a unique vantage point when it comes to judging character. They have a way of slipping under our radar, especially after they’ve been around for a while. People generally don’t think of children as being in any position to further their cause one way or another and you don’t get anywhere by impressing children nor have anything to gain from them really. As a result, children often get to see the real person that others don’t get to see.

Ted Davidson was a gentle man. I always liked him; always felt safe and good around him. He had a way of making you feel special like you were somebody; somebody important, even though you were ‘just a kid’. He always seemed glad to see me and genuinely interested in me and how I was doing. You know, they talk about the measure of a man, but sometimes it isn’t easy to really get to know people because we can all put up a pretty good front. But, you can tell a lot about a man when you show up unexpectedly at meal time, tramp through his house, tear his hay mow apart to build forts and tunnels and piles to jump in, chase his cows around the pasture… and Ted was just a truly great man. He was one of the most patient men with children that I can remember from my past, and to me, that really says something. Especially when I consider my own lack of patience a lot of the time.

Then last Friday night I got a call from Lyle. He told me that his dad was not likely going to make it. He was in the hospital and heavily sedated. Lyle asked me if I could swing by and visit for a bit with his mom who was home alone. With that knot that you get in your stomach at times like that, I jumped in the car and headed up the road and landed at the door of that old familiar farm house where Winnie greeted me and welcomed me in just like old times. We talked for a while and then I said to her, “Winnie the last time I was here to visit I left a little something for Ted and you to read through. Do you remember that?”

In October of 2008, as Florence and I were preparing to go on a sabbatical leave that would take us away until last summer I had stopped by Ted and Winnie’s for a little visit and we talked a little about the Lord that day and I prayed with them. And as I was leaving I said, “I want to leave you a little something to read and the next time I get to visit with you I’d like to talk about it.” Ted accepted and I slid a simple gospel tract into his big hand that warm sunny October afternoon.

Now, sitting in their quiet kitchen on a cold icy February evening, I waited to see if she would even remember. Without a word, she slowly and with difficulty, raised herself up from the coach we were sitting on and, with the help of a cane, made her way across the old farm kitchen. Reaching up to a shelf above the stove she took down that same gospel tract and brought it back across the room and placed it in my hand. She said, Ted was waiting my return so he could give it to me.

I was kind of trying to remember myself what it was exactly that I had left with them for though I remembered leaving something, I didn’t remember which tract it was. It was a simple explanation of the gospel. It talked about how we all need to acknowledge our sin to God (Rom 3:23) and put our faith in Jesus Christ to receive forgiveness and to be saved for all eternity (Jn 3:16). It had a place on the back where you could make a decision and sign your name to it. And there it was – ‘James Lawrence Davidson’ (‘Ted’ was a nickname that everyone, including his family, used). There was a place for your address and also for your age. He had written it in – 91 ½.

I can’t tell you how good I felt the moment I flipped that tract over in my hand and sat there suddenly staring at that man’s signature on that piece of paper; that man who had been so kind to me as a young boy, that man who had been such a gentle and patient influence in my young life; such a grand friend for a little neighbour to have. But I can tell you that at that moment my spirit was giving thanks to God.

You really miss people when they die, even if you haven’t spent a lot of time with them really for many years, you just kind of like to have them around because the world just seems like such a better place with them in it. And you always wish you could just see them one more time and hear them speak and watch them tell a story.

But, need I remind you, that is exactly what heaven is for. And Ted is just one more person I will be looking forward to seeing there. How about you?