The Promises of God

Joshua 1:5-6: “Just as I was with Moses, so I will be with you. I will not leave you or forsake you. Be strong and courageous …”

Incredible promise to one who had seen mighty works done through Moses. I can imagine him thinking, “You mean, the same God who used Moses to deliver an entire nation and part the Red Sea — he’s going to be with me the same way?!”

Joshua had faith to believe God’s promises, faith to obey, faith to succeed. God, give me that kind of strength and courage. Be with me. Don’t leave me or forsake me. Just as you were with Moses and Joshua, be with me.

The Fullness of Time

I’ve been thinking about waiting during this Christmas season. We’re always waiting for something — for our kids to hit the next milestone, for the other shoe to drop, for the line at Wal-Mart to move faster (why do we always choose the wrong line?), for that online gift to hurry up and get here, for our “luck” to change, for our big break to come, and on and on.

 

Our waiting, though, isn’t much compared to the Israelites who were waiting for a promised Redeemer. It wasn’t like they didn’t have any hope – the prophets had foretold a coming Messiah who would change everything — but they had no idea when he’d actually get there, and 400 years is a long time to wait, especially when you’re fighting to maintain your identity.

 

I love this song, but it takes on even more meaning when you really think about the emotion of waiting so long for a rescue operation with no sign of anything changing:

 

Oh come, Oh come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear

 

Oh come, Thou Dayspring, come and cheer
Thy people with Thine advent here;
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death’s dark shadows put to flight

Oh come, Thou rod of Jesse, free
Thine own from Satan’s tyranny
From depths of hell Thy people save
And give them victory o’ver the grave

Rejoice, Rejoice!
Emmanuel shall come to thee, Oh Israel!

Captivity and mourning and lonely exile and gloom and death’s dark shadows and Satan’s tyranny and the depths of hell don’t paint a pretty picture. So yeah, when a multitude of angels suddenly broke into glorious song in the night sky over Bethlehem, the people were ready to rejoice, ready to believe, ready to finally let their hope become a reality.

 

And because a baby came to that sleepy little town, we can have hope today too, even if we’re waiting for something.

 

Galatians 4:4 says, “When the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman … to redeem those who were under the law.” He didn’t send Christ before he was ready. He didn’t send him early or late. He sent him when he planned to, when the fullness of time had come, at the exact right moment.

 

That phrase, “the fullness of time.” It’s perfectly poetic. It implies a period of waiting, of watching and hoping and desiring, all the while knowing that if you get what you’re yearning for too soon, it won’t be as good as if you had waited the proper amount of time. 

 

Today might not be your fullness of time, or mine. Tomorrow or the next day might not either. We might have to wait through days that are long and nights that are longer. But if we’re children of God, called according to his purpose and redeemed by that baby-become-a-Savior, God is doing things in our lives at the exact moment He is ready, when our fullness of time is upon us.

 

And that means we can rejoice — because Emmanuel has come to us.

Avoiding Convenience

This post the other day by Fernando Ortega about modern hymnwriting scratched me where I itch. Money quote:

It took some real thought to craft those lines. They’re timeless. They set a standard for all of us who write music for the church … Be specific when you write songs about God. Avoid cliché. Avoid convenience. Avoid an obsession with the consumer. Avoid the temptation to make commercial success your central goal. Write with intelligence, employing all the craft, skill, and experience with which God has endowed you.

 Too many worship songs today suffer from convenience — they’re cheap and easy and won’t last. Ortega came up with a quick modern example of what he calls “convenient” songwriting — “God, you are a holy God/I need your grace to see me through/I need your mercy to make me new/Let me live each day for you” and then  points to an old hymn as an example of how to do it right (plus you get to hear him sing it — score!).

Posted the link on Facebook and got a lot of agreement, but a little discussion saying old isn’t always good and new isn’t always bad, etc.

Agreed, but I don’ think that was the main point.  As I said there, I don’t think something has to be old and hard to understand to mean something. I think Ortega is arguing for modern hymnwriting, but in a way that actually means something.

People like the Gettys and Stuart Townend do a good job — with modern language and music — of what he’s talking about in the post. But doing that is a lot harder than the more “convenient” type of songwriting, so it’s more rare, which means that in the name of modernity and relevance, we end up with a lot of stuff that isn’t wrong or sinful, but also isn’t really that good and leaves you unsatisfied.

We still sing the old songs that we sing precisely because they’re good and have stood the test of time. I’m sure there’s a lot of 1600s-era hymns that they sang back in the day that haven’t survived.

To use a modern example, I’d bet $100 that in 100 years, our great-great grandkids are a lot more likely to be singing “In Christ Alone” than “Shine, Jesus, Shine.” But maybe that’s just me.

Gulf Shores 2011 Vacation Thoughts

- Grains of sand are very, very tiny. I know that because I found them everywhere. In our clothes, in food, between my teeth, in the car, all over our bodies, in everything we owned. Abraham sure had a lot of descendants, I’ll say that.

 

- Great to see all our extended family. Fun to hang out with 27 people. G.G. would have loved seeing us all there.

 

- What did we all do before canopies? Fried, I guess. Or squeezed under umbrellas. Canopies are the new black.

 

- Sunscreen really works. Of course, you usually don’t realize this until later that night when you see all the places you missed.

 

- To the unknown (ahem) angel of mercy who mowed our lawn, my parents’ lawn and apparently my brothers’ lawn — you get around. Nice work.

 

- To the state trooper who saw us with our flashers on by the side of the Natcher parkway and stopped to see if we were okay: Dude, a dirty diaper isn’t that dangerous — you don’t have to leave quite that fast.

 

- To the good people of Montgomery, Alabama: build a bigger Chick-fil-A.

 

- Also to the good people of Montgomery, Alabama: take down the billboards and maybe your divorce rate will decrease. On one side of I-65 heading south is a billboard advertising DIVORCE, $200. On the other side of the interstate, you can save $1: DIVORCE, $199. Giant letters. And of course, one of the signs is just behind another sign for a gentleman’s club. Meet all your needs in one short stretch.

 

- To the girl slathering Crisco oil on her legs as she sunbathed — save some of that for later. You might need it for brownies.

 

- To the person who invented family photos where we all wear white-and-denim or white-and-khaki, etc: I can’t decide if you’re a genius or a madman.

 

- To the person who invented mobile DVD players: you are most definitely a genius.

 

- To the Blue Angel pilots: my hat is off to you. Insane maneuvers. Wow.

 

- To the people who built The Hangout: turn down the volume.

 

- To my computer: I did not miss you.

 

- Not much better than sitting in a chair on the beach, reading a good book, listening to the waves roll in — and knowing that your kids are down for naps.

 

- To our Creator: thanks for giving us beaches — great place to enjoy your creation.

Sacrificing a Son

In church this morning, Kelsey took Taylor out to get a drink while we were singing. Carter had been standing on the other side of her, so when she left he grinned and scooted over next to me.

I dropped by hand to his shoulder and just kinda left it there. And then we sang the line “All of the sin I have committed / was placed upon your righteous Son.”

In that moment, standing beside my son, I thought about God sacrificing his Son for us. I thought about Abraham’s willingness to offer his son Isaac as a up to God. And I realized how impossible it would be to sacrifice my own son.

And then it got kinda dusty in the sactuary all of a sudden.

But God did it. He gave his only Son that we might be saved. The impossible happened. Glory came down. We believe, and we are saved. Hallelujah.

Happy 15th Birthday?

I met an almost-15 year-old tonight. His birthday is tomorrow. He’s in eighth grade. He plays the tuba and kinda likes it, but isn’t over the moon about it. (“It’s better than the clarinet,” he says.) His marching band is going to a competition this Saturday and might get to go to an amusement part afterward — if it doesn’t rain, which it’s supposed to.

He’s not happy. He specifically said that, but he didn’t have to. His whole demeanor shouted it. Slouched in his chair, bored but hurt expression, sarcastic comments, cynical outlook. Thing is, who could expect anything else?

He’s an only child who lives with his mom. He’s never met his dad, doesn’t even know his name. A step-dad was there for a while, but moved out when he couldn’t stand the mom anymore. The almost-15 year old says he doesn’t blame the guy — he doesn’t like his mom either.

She messed up his birthday plans for tomorrow night. There’s a new movie he wanted to see. Talked to his friends, made plans to go. Then last night his mom gets mad, says he can’t go. He tells his friends. Tonight, she changes her mind, says he can go. He texts his friends, but they all have other plans now. He’s left in the cold, with nothing to do and no one to be with on his birthday.

He likes watching fights at school. (One guy got beat up by about 12 girls after he cheated on his girlfriend – the crowd included both the girlfriend and the cheatee. Another guy kicked a kid dcwn the stairs.) He says his school is all jocks and preps and he doesn’t fit in either category. He’s right, given what I see – shaggy hair, oversized t-shirt and shorts, cockeyed black hat. He likes heavy metal and video games.  Likes to read and write and thinks math is cool.

He’s looking forward to being reunited next year in high school with the one guy he considers a good friend. They can just sit next to each other and talk and hang out (even with the tv off) and not be bored.

He’s headed to a sleep clinic tonight because he might have sleep apnea. He’s tired a lot, but has trouble sleeping — just kinda zones out. Last night he watched a tv show called “A Thousand Ways to Die.” One guy died when he fell in his driveway and ended up in the path of a big streetsweeper coming down the street.

He says his mom is always the last one to pick him up from places. The other night, she got there even after the janitors had locked up and left.

He used to go to a church in town, but quit going to the youth stuff on Wednesday night because he hated the seventh graders who drove him crazy. He almost punched one of them one night.

I ask him what makes him happy. “Nothing,” he says, and tells a story about when he went to Disney World in 4th or 5th grade. He didn’t like it, thought it was a waste of money to go.

As I drive away, he sits slumped against a brick wall, waiting – again – for his mom.

He just wants to be loved. He needs a dad. He needs friends. He needs a Happy Birthday. Most of all, he needs Jesus, but how’s he gonna find him?

Foster adoptions on the rise

This article from the Washington Times caught my eye this morning: “Increase in adoptions spells fewer children on rolls, shorter waits“

Seems that U.S. adoptions from the foster care system reached a record high of 57,000 in 2009 and the average wait time has shrunk by over a year. The number of kids waiting to be adopted is lower (but still is 115,000).

Specialists credit the improvement to adoption incentives for states that increased their adoption numbers, as well as the adoption tax credit, advertising campaigns, etc.

Older kids are still not adopted as much and the number of kids aging out of foster care is higher than ever, but these new number are positive news overall.

Hopefully numbers will continue to improve, especially as church grab hold of this issue and follow God’s directive to care for the fatherless.

We’re in the final stage of filling out our paperwork to be foster parents, with an eye to adoption. We’ve finished the classes and now just need to finish a few forms and wait for approval.

Some days we question what we’re doing. Most days, actually. But we’re going to at least try it out, see how it fits, see if God wants to bless us with any kids who might come into our home.

Glad to see the good news today — lots of kids need help.

Parenting isn’t so complex

Posted this on Facebook earlier today, but I’d like to do more on the blog (yeah, we’ve all said/heard that one before), so I’m gonna write about it here too.

Kevin DeYoung’s post on parenting today is fantastic. His main point is that we need to not worry about all the little stuff that so often consumes us as parents and focus on the major things:

I just know that the longer I parent the more I want to focus on doing a few things really well, and not get too passionate about all the rest. I want to spend time with my kids, teach them the Bible, take them to church, laugh with them, cry with them, discipline them when they disobey, say sorry when I mess up, and pray like crazy. I want them to look back and think, “I’m not sure what my parents were doing or if they even knew what they’re were doing. But I always knew my parents loved me and I knew they loved Jesus.” Maybe it’s not that complicated after all.

Great advice. A couple other good lines:

In our house the pebbles were fruity and the charms were lucky. The breakfast bowl was a place for marshmallows, not dried camping fruit.

There are plenty of ways to screw up our kids, but whether they color during church, for example, is not one of them. There is not a straight line from doodling in the service as a toddler to doing meth as a teenager.

And you’ve gotta read his dialogue between him and his kid as he tries to correct the kid for not sharing. Hilarious and so accurate you’ll wonder how he snuck into your house to watch you.

Once you’ve read that, you can go here to watch my dad’s series on parenting (as seen on Challies.com!). Great stuff, despite what you might think about the results of of his own parenting (me). Ha.

March. Madness.

It seems so simple, this business of putting a ball through a hoop. These guys try to get it in that goal and those guys try to get it in this goal. Easy enough.

Then you watch the first day of March Madness (The First Four nonsense doesn’t count. At all.) and you experience the rush of elation, the hope, the edge-of-your-seat nervousness and, if your team flames out unexpectedly, the depression. And then it’s not so simple.

It’s very, very exciting. You feel ecstatic when some school you’ve barely ever heard of (did anyone outside Kentucky know where Morehead State was?) upsets one of the giants. You flip out when a ball leaves a shooter’s hand, drops through the rim and the backboard lights up a split second later and it’s over. No matter how much the other team wants just one more chance — just a chance! — it’s done. Pause the replay for a minute — you’ll see pure joy and pure defeat in one frame.

Emotions run the gamut. Announcers lose their minds. Players remember these moments the rest of their lives. Fans go bonkers. And if it’s YOUR SCHOOL that’s making headlines and hitting buzzer beaters? Well that’s just glorious. If it’s your school that’s doing the losing, well, that’s just depressing.

Either way, you know you’ve done something today. You’ve remembered, cheered, gotten mad, chewed your nails, yelled at the tv, cheered with a crowd, slapped hands with strangers, ripped up your bracket, laughed, cried, watched that replay over and over — did you see that?!

And we get to do it all again tomorrow. Spectacular.

Should he have been kicked off?

BYU kicked one of the best players off their basketball team this week for violating the school’s honor code. (BYU is a Mormon school.) The honor code, among other things, says that students must live a “chaste and virtuous life.” In other other words, no pre-marital sex.

Brandon Davies admitted to having sex with his girlfriend. School officials held him to the honor code he agreed to abide by. Therefore, he’s off the team, and it has huge implications.

BYU was having a dream season, headed for a number one seed in the NCAA tournament and a run at the National Championship. Without Davies, it probably won’t happen. In fact, they lost their first game without him last night.

So here’s the question: should he have been kicked off? There’s been a knee-jerk reaction all across the country of “That’s a ridiculous rule, there’s no way he should be off the team.” As one guy put it today, though, whether or not you agree with the rule is irrelevant. He broke it and is suffering the clear consequences.

Read another guy today who said the school is being hypocritical by not showing him grace and allowing him to make a mistake. He has a point to a degree — I’m sure Davies isn’t the only one on his team having sex. He’s just the only one who got caught.

And there’s this — the honor code also forbids alcohol, coffee and tea. Wonder if they’d kick a guy off the team for stopping at a Starbucks one morning?

We can debate the reasonableness of the rule all you want (and it’s not as unreasonable as our secular society would have you think), but it really comes down to this: Davies knew the rule. He broke it. He got caught. He — and his teammates — are suffering the consequences.

Doing the wrong thing usually turns out the wrong way.