Author: admin

Be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Ephesians 6:10

One of our family’s favorite movies is “Dudley Do-Right” based on a cartoon with a Canadian Mountie as the main character. The Canadian Mountie is a legendary figure with “Maintien le Droit,” or “uphold the right” as his motto. The responsibilities of the Mountie called for bravery, heroism, and strength. They were fearless, and the were the law, worthy of authority and respect.

Dudley is anything but these expected Mountie qualities. He is spineless, clumsy, and intimidated. As the movie progresses, we see Dudley surrounded by a whole gang of bad guys. Robbing the local bank and taking over the town, these surly characters in black jackets and face masks are moving fast.

Dudley finds himself outwitted. He loses his job and stumbles across a bum up in the mountains. He takes Dudley under his wing and teaches him how to be a hero. The bum’s last words to his foundling student are, “get out there and do something dangerous!” Bruised and confused, Dudley stumbles away in search of adventure.

Get out there and do something dangerous. This sounds an awfully lot like the apostle Paul in Ephesians 6:10-22. “Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the enemy’s schemes…put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.”

Paul is cheering on a new church intent on advancing the gospel in the pagan Roman Empire. Paul himself sits in prison bound in chains as he writes. He knows what is at stake for the church if they do not heed these words. The Christian faith will die out. Justice and righteousness according to God’s law would no longer be maintained. Yet, Paul knows what is at stake for the new church if they do heed his words. Persecution. Imprisonment for daring to worship anyone but the Caesar. Maybe even death. It was a tough choice. One that needed to be made in spite of the danger and hardship it would invite.

But following Jesus is dangerous. In his book, The Good and Beautiful Life, James Bryan Smith says, “Jesus observes that those who pursue righteousness are going against the grain of society, and that will result in persecution. Following Jesus is dangerous–if we lead the kind of life he calls us to. When we choose to fight for justice and peace or not to lie or judge others, we will face backlash. The promise in the last beatitude is the same as in the first: ‘for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.’ When we align ourselves with Jesus and observe his ways, we are in the kingdom” (p. 61-62).

The kingdom is the territory where God reigns. It is the place where we are called to live dangerously. Go on a mission. Dare to be a serious disciple of Christ. Listen to the Holy Spirit. Live by values. Pray.

But don’t we often feel like Dudley Do-Right? Intimidated in the face of evil or hardship and bumbling along in confusion hoping that something we did today counted? It is in times like this when Jesus calls us to an adventure. His adventure of living life in the kingdom. Because it is when we are taking the risks and counting the cost that we are in the safest place of all, which is his plan for our lives lived out under his protection in his strength with his armor firmly in place.

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and Prophets hang on these two commandments.” Matthew 22:37-40

In the days leading up to the crucifixion, Jesus spent time in Jerusalem. The location receiving most of his care and attention was the temple. In Matthew 21, Jesus rode into town as the King. Then he went straight to the temple and put on display his new plan for worship.

The current system of sacrifice had run its course. God himself was on the scene in the form of Jesus–the sacrifice, the high priest, and the mediator–everything we’ve ever needed to stay in relationship with God.

This was good news to everyone except the high priests and Teachers of the Law. They were the ones with the power and they wanted to keep it that way. This renegade Jesus shook things up too much. If they weren’t careful and even a little devious, he would steal all their authority right out from under them.

So, what does a Pharisee do when grasping to retain power? Hold a debate. Jesus had gotten the last word over the elders, the chief priests, and even the tolerated Sadduccees. Now the time had come to send in the big guns–not just a Pharisee, but a Law studying Pharisee. This guy would trap a man in his own words if anyone could.

“Which is the greatest commandment, Teacher?” he asked, the title of Teacher carrying a slight dig because after all, what could he possibly learn from the likes of Jesus?

Jesus’ reply zings with grace and truth. The first word out of his mouth is love. Love God. Love your God, and do it with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind. Don’t just love God half way leaving time and energy for other things. Love him with all that you have, all that you are.

Jesus simplifies the Law that these human leaders had made so complicated. Love first and then you’ll naturally get done all the other important things the Law, or commandments, require. Things like not stealing, honoring others, and worshiping God alone.

The Pharisees were proof that a person could keep the Law yet still be hateful, critical, and hostile. But a person full of love has no room for those heart conditions. They are kind, patient, and gentle.

When we grow in this love toward God, we will love other people too. Love swallows up all the pressure to get it right as well as the fear of getting punished for breaking a rule. Love is freeing. Love for God frees us. Love of others frees them. This was the point for the list of commandments in the first place, to live in love.

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Hebrews 11:1

While I stood in the book store studying the clearance shelf, the floral design of a coffee mug caught my attention. I picked it up and looked at the price. Yep, definitely on sale. I decided to buy it.

Then I turned the mug around and discovered these words scripted on the other side: Always believe that something wonderful is about to happen. Yeah, right, I thought. I don’t need that farce staring me in the face every morning. I put the mug back on the shelf. Maybe I didn’t want it so much after all.

I went about my business looking for items that were the reasons why I’d gone in the store in the first place. As I shopped, the words on that mug stayed with me pressing me to wonder, can a person really live as though something wonderful is about to happen? I could probably pull it off once in a while, like when I know a special occasion is coming up, but all the time?

Sometimes terrible things happen. I have difficulty enough trying to accept the tragic, the grievous, or the painful situations that come my way. Once I’ve dealt with those, I have no energy left to look for the wonderful, and even less expectation that it might actually happen to me.

Belief in the wonderful sounded like a good way to set myself up for disappointment.

I went deeper into the store and got lost in the birthday card aisle hoping to forget about the coffee mug with its unrealistic message.

We can believe in the wonderful yet to come because something wonderful has already happened. Jesus came. He paid the price of tragedy, death, loss, and sin so that we don’t have to. At the moment we become believers, the holy Spirit enters into our hearts and lives. He fills up the places in need of healing. As this happens over time, we become new creations. “So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!” (II Corinthians 5:17). We also become strong. “The one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world” (I John 4:4).

Faith brings the wonderful into our lives. When we have faith in God, we no longer rely on ourselves for rescue in the midst of our troubles. We look to God completely in full trust he can save us.

He always does. And that’s wonderful.

The world around us may appear to be falling apart on the outside, but God uses the disasters and the pain to transform us on the inside. And that’s wonderful.

The distraction of looking for a niece’s birthday card failed to push the floral coffee mug from my mind. I returned to the clearance shelf, picked up the mug, and read it again.

Grace is always happening. Mercy is always happening. Change in my heart is always happening. And that’s wonderful.

I didn’t put the mug back on the shelf this time. It now sits on my kitchen counter awaiting the daily opportunity to stare me in the face with its message. Believe in the wonderful. It’s all around you, inside you, and ready to happen…to you.

If you have faith and do not doubt, not only can you do what was done to the fig tree, but also you can say to this mountain, ‘Go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and it will be done. If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer.” Matthew 21:21-22

Standing out in Matthew 21 as an apparently misfitted scene to the rest of Matthew’s portrayals of Jesus’ kingship is this three-paragraph vignette about a fig tree. It’s the change in mood after the intense drama of Jesus’ conflict with the teachers of the law. It’s the flash of the camera into the bleachers of a stadium after the showing of replays and controversial referee calls at a ball game.

Jesus stops along the road looking for fruit on this unassuming fig tree. Finding none, he curses it. Granted, Jesus may have been experiencing one of his more human moments since this takes place early in the morning and he’s hungry. Maybe memories of the previous day’s confrontations were still getting on his nerves. But cursing? Really, Jesus. Was that necessary? I teach my children not to throw tantrums and misbehave when they don’t get what they want. It appears that you have acted the same way.

But Jesus was making a point. More was at stake here than satisfying his own hunger. The day before, Jesus rode into town as a proclaimed king challenging the political scene. Then he goes straight to the temple and challenges the religious scene with his declaration that his house will be called a house of prayer (Matthew 21:13). The temple courtyard was filled with businessmen eager to make a profit aided and supported by the chief priests. But the rituals themselves were empty. Barren of any meaning. The temple was the place to meet with God, to hear his voice, to feel his presence. But the commercialized version of sacrificial worship no longer assisted a person in contact with God.

Something must change. Jesus comes riding in as the solution. He’s not only the King, but the High Priest too. He’s the sacrifice, the mediator between God and man, and the intercessor with the power to forgive sin. He’s greater than the temple and the current broken religious system.

This passion for the temple’s integrity still lingered the next morning as Jesus passed the leafy, yet fruitless tree. The temple with its barren rituals is as fruitless as the figless tree. It appears promising but provides nothing, just like what the godless temple worship had become.

The leafy yet fruitless tree is also a symbol of the hypocritical life. Jesus repeatedly engaged with the chief priests and teachers of the law in Israel because they were actors. They didn’t know God. Sure, they knew how to keep the rules. They’d even invented a few of them, but they couldn’t accept Jesus. And when it came to prayer, fasting, and giving, all these actions were a big  show, not done for God but for themselves.

When Jesus cursed the fig tree, he did it because it had the appearance of being fruitful, but on a closer look, it was all leaves and no harvest.

It was a hypocritical tree.

Like the commercialized worship practices at the temple, it gave a false impression. How easy for our lives to do the same. The fig tree stands as a picture of the choices some have already made and as a warning to choose differently.

The winds of Jesus’ teaching whispers through it telling us to guard our hearts, lives, and priorities from the false, the insincere, and the performance. This could be why Jesus answers the disciples with a statement about faith. His words hold power because they are true. And whether the item is a life, a heart, a commercialized temple, or a leafy fig tree, Jesus’ words will wither it because, like a refining fire, the truth will burn away anything fake.

The opposite of  they hypocritical quest for attention and show is faith in God. Having faith means trusting God to keep his word. Not doubting means to allow no default into hypocritical, insincere practices. The phrase if you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer means working in partnership with God. He guides, leads, and speaks. We respond. Then he rewards.

When Jesus rides across a life as the King, sincerity and devotion are the natural response. By the power of the Holy Spirit, faithfulness takes root and produces an ongoing harvest of faithfulness.

Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him. John 2:11

This story of Jesus’ first miracle at the wedding in Cana has always interested me. Not because of what the story says, but more because of what is left unsaid. Each time I read it, I ask another question. My list has become quite long: How did Jesus know when the time was right to start doing miracles? How did the water turn to wine? Did Jesus pronounce a blessing over it, like the pastor at communion, or did he stir it? Maybe his shadow in the evening sunlight falling over the clear, deep pools of still water was enough to change it. Or like his mud paste used in healing the blind man, did he spit in it? Oh, goodness. If I was in the family hosting this party, trying to impress our friends and relatives, I would hope not.

No one knows how the water actually changed into wine. Neither does anyone seem to know the names of the bridal couple nor why Jesus responded to his mother the way he did.

The unspoken message in John 2 is about expectation. The wedding guests expected to drink their fill of wine at their host’s expense. Mary expected Jesus to heed her request to bring peace. Jesus expected to be able to wait longer until his glory became known. This clash of motives plays out in the humble home of a local village family. Money probably ran a little short for this middle class Galilean family, as it does for all of us from time to time. The guests kept on enjoying the feast, but the wine supply was starting to dwindle. Running out of wine at a Jewish wedding was the worst insult to both the host and the guests. The host would feel humiliation over his inability to provide adequately for the celebration. The guests would have felt disrespected. This outcome would have branded the wedding couple with a reputation they’d never live down. Lawsuits may even be brought against them.

Mary saw this situation brewing under the surface of the simple surroundings and the merrymaking. Something must be done, but what and by who? Seated across the banquet table from her was the only one she ever needed–her son, Jesus. I like to imagine that Mary probably witnessed Jesus settling disputes among his siblings, offering a solution, speaking comfort, making peace. She says to him, “They have no wine.”

Jesus puts her off with the statement, “My hour has not yet come.”

Mary seems to ignore him. In full confidence and faith, she turns to the servants and tells them, “Do whatever he tells you.”

If I was Jesus, I would have rolled my eyes at my presumptuous mother. But since he is perfect and I am not, he probably handled the situation much better. Jesus gives instructions to fill the stone jars with water, draw some out, and take it to the master of the party. Somewhere between the words that left his mouth and the liquid that touched the master’s mouth, the water changed into wine.

Jesus’ glory was revealed. In a common family living in an obscure town, glory shone. During a large, crowded celebration glory sneaked in. While saving a simple people from disaster, glory quietly spread in the form of kindness and understanding.

Like Mary’s life, the lives of this wedding couple, and the lives of the small town guests, our lives are filled with the simple, the common, the crowded, and sometimes, the disastrous. Jesus is present with the soothing word of comfort. He provides when our resources run out. He makes peace in situations that seem to have no happy ending. This is when his glory shines. He reveals himself in subtle, miraculous ways that we would miss if it wasn’t for his glory shining on them

But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you, and you will be my witnesses. Acts 1:8

I find the apostle Peter such an interesting character to follow through the New Testament. He inspires me, challenges me, and frustrates me by turn. From a fisherman with nothing else in mind except turning a profit for the family business, he moves to a disciple and then on to become a fiery spokesman for the church.

What happened?

When I read about Peter, I want to crawl inside his mind. What made him leave everything he’d ever known to follow this teacher and healer? Jesus’ message had very little to do with the demands and economy of a fishing business. There must have been something about Jesus and what he offered that satisfied Peter in a way that his current job did not.

And then when I watch him make the honest attempt to walk on water, I want to get inside his heart to find out just what was going on in there. Fear so easily clouded his image of the man he’d left everything for and sank him in doubt.

But he tried. And for that I admire him.

I can’t think of any reason why I would be courageous enough to leave the safety of the sturdy boat and take on the wind and waves.

Unless the Holy Spirit got a hold on me. Only then would I try something so daring.

This happens to Peter later on. After he’s gone through the grievous night in the garden and then his betrayal of Jesus in the High Priest’s courtyard, Peter stood at the foot of the cross and then raced his buddy John to the tomb. He sees Jesus again, several times in fact, over the course of the next forty days.

But the game changer for Peter may have been at Pentecost–that moment when the Holy Spirit Jesus promised came upon him. A fresh wind. A blazing fire. A warm love that coated his heart and redefined his very person. The Holy Spirit had gotten a hold on Peter. “You will be my witnesses when the Holy Spirit comes on you,” Luke writes in the scene when Jesus returns to heaven. This proves true in Peter’s life because already in chapter two we catch a glimpse of Peter preaching to the crowd giving witness to the resurrection.

The power Jesus spoke of in Acts 1:8 came natural to Peter. He operated out of it, lived in it, and wore it to such a capacity that even his shadow carried healing. People brought the sick into the streets and laid them on beds and mats so that at least Peter’s shadow might fall on some of them as he passed by (Acts 5:15).

The Holy Spirit so permeated Peter’s life that the gentle power of healing flowed from him without him even needing to do anything.

So it is with us. When we live in a relationship with Jesus, his spirit lives in us, changing us, moving us from a worldly focus to discipleship to service. The supernatural starts to feel natural. Our hearts become aligned with the word of the Lord. Our motives and priorities reflect the gradual take over of the Holy Spirit on our lives.

I’d like to think that at some point after Peter received the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, he went back to the Sea of Galilee alone, with none of his disciple friends around, only the Lord watching from heaven. He stood at the water’s edge–the place where Jesus taught him about faith and power, and about how to walk on water.

And then, with the waves lapping at his toes, he took one tiny step out onto the water. Maybe Peter tensed waiting for the strong winds of a storm to come and knock him down again. But even if one did come along and blow fury and fear into more doubt producing waves, Peter would have made it. He wouldn’t have just tiptoed across and expanse of water, he would’ve danced. He was the Rock, the one on whom the church was about to be built. Peter had learned how to put his faith in the Spirit that now lived in him, upholding him and keeping him afloat.

Now Peter knew he could go into the world preaching about Jesus and proclaiming the resurrection because he’d made it. He finally had what it takes to walk on water.

By his power God raised the Lord from the dead, and he will raise us also. I Corinthians 6:14

Have you ever thought about how much power is contained in a thunderstorm or in the waters of a flooded river? At times, life can feel like the storms or floods and completely overwhelm us. We can lose purpose, develop doubts, or experience brokenness in our relationships in the aftermath.

Powerlessness becomes our permanent state. Nothing we can do could put things back together again. We’re stuck staring at a new reality we didn’t ask for.

The disciples may have felt this way in those hours following Jesus’ death. Their master, friend, very center of their whole universe had just been killed. That relationship was over. Their life mission had come to an abrupt end. Now they stood still. Confused and hurt, fearful and questioning, they read in each other’s eyes the suspicion that just maybe they’d been on the wrong track all along.

Jesus wasn’t who they thought he was. Now he’s gone. Without him, the disciples were no longer who they thought they were; Jesus’ followers, the ones who would someday witness the nation set to rights allowing them a share in the glory and the power.

But Jesus knew a different kind of power. This power was longer lasting than the pompous authority enjoyed by the Roman rulers and coveted by the disciples. This holy power would blast the grave with a force reaching into eternity. When the Holy Spirit breathed into their lives, the disciples would know this power, too.

It is resurrection power. Sweet enough to keep them asking for more. Strong enough to face down the worst of fears.

Then Jesus reappeared totally and vibrantly alive. He stood among them and proclaimed, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me” (Matthew 28:18). That one statement restored their purpose. Jesus had spoken, and he’d spoken to each one of them. No opposition could stand in their way. Love for Christ and a clear understanding of his word to them propelled these friends into lifelong service.

Questions were answered. Doubts could get laid to rest. Jesus really was who he’d claimed to be. And more. He was the King. The one they’d hoped all along would come through. They knew now because they had seen him. Touched him. Heard his word to them. Nothing could shake their confidence after spending time in the presence of the Lord himself. They wouldn’t have to leave him behind. When those doubts resurfaced, they could recall those wonderful words, “I am with you always” (Matthew 28:20).

Community and faith now restored, the disciples embrace this resurrection power. Then they take seriously Jesus’ question to Peter, “Do you love me?” (John 21:16).

“Lord, you know all things. You know that I love you,” was the reply.

This is what Jesus’ kind of power is all about anyway. Love. Love for him. Love for his call. Love for his world. “Many rivers cannot quench love; rivers cannot wash it away” (Song of Songs 8:7).

Finally, we have a force that can stand up to the overwhelming floods and storms; power based on love. It carries through the days of doubt, the longing for purpose, and the brokenness that invades our lives.

Resurrection power. It carries on into eternity guaranteeing us a place at the Lord’s side where we ,through his Spirit, become conquerors enjoying a long and consistent conquest assured of victory.

But now, this is what the Lord says, he who created you, Jacob, he who formed you, Israel: “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you. I have summoned you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you. And when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned. The flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior…since you are precious and honored in my sight, and because I love you, I will give people in exchange for you, nations in exchange for your life. Do not be afraid, for I am with you.” Isaiah 43:1-5

These first five verses from Isaiah 43 bring me much comfort whenever I face endings or the future’s uncertainties. With gentleness, God reminds Israel and each of us of his assurances of how deeply he knows and loves us.

God is the creator. He knows all about you and the season you are in right now in your life. He knows you by name. You belong to him.

God is also the protector. Through floods or fires, he will allow nothing to overwhelm you. He provides a firm foundation of safety and peace holding you secure when the deep waters of change or loss swirl all around.

God is sovereign over all. He sees the beginning and the end. He counts costs and places high value on each one of his children. He will never forget about you. His love doesn’t runt out, but instead shelters and upholds you.