Author: Dave Burchett

I am not a crier. So it was a bit out of character when the tears started flowing yesterday as I drove through the canyon in downtown Dallas. I blame Lindsay for this event. Lindsay is my bride’s cousin who moved to Texas recently. She already loved country music so that saved us some time to indoctrinate her. We love having her in Big D but she is going to have to stop introducing me to songs that make driving dangerous.

Lindsay told us about a song that we just had to hear. So I downloaded it to the trusty iPod and fired it up as I drove to work yesterday. The song is called Tough and it is performed by Craig Morgan. If you know much about our past year you will quickly see why this song had the Old Yeller/Field of Dreams effect on the eyeballs. The lyrics start innocently enough…

She’s in the kitchen at the crack of dawn
Bacon’s on, coffee’s strong
Kids running wild, taking off their clothes
If she’s a nervous wreck, well it never shows
Takes one to football and one to dance
Hits the Y for aerobics class
Drops by the bank, stops at the store
Has on a smile when I walk through the door
The last to go to bed, she’ll be the first one up
And I thought I was tough

Chorus:

She’s strong, pushes on, can’t slow her down
She can take anything life dishes out
There was a time
Back before she was mine
When I thought I was tough

That made me smile as I remembered the days when Joni juggled three active boys through school, baseball, basketball, and forced Cotillion dance lessons. I was a little too absent as I carved out my career. I finally realized how tough she really was to raise three wonderful sons while her husband traveled around the country and world. I appreciated how tough she was while sacrificing weekends with our friends because sports teams insist on playing on the weekends and sports television was my job. So a mixture of fond memories and some regrets filled my mind when I got ambushed by the next verse.

We sat there five years ago
The doctors let us know the tests showed
She’d have to fight to live, I broke down and cried
She held me and said it’s gonna be alright
She wore that wig to church
Pink ribbon pinned there on her shirt
No room for fear, full of faith
Hands held high, singing Amazing Grace
Never once complained, refusing to give up
And I thought I was tough

I am not ashamed to admit that those words turned on the waterworks. That is my bride and that has been her journey. She has been full of faith from diagnosis day till this moment. No room for fear because she believes that faith in God casts out fear as you rest in His Sovereign hand. I have probably complained more about my knees aching than she has about cancer. And she has refused to give up because she wants to live and serve the Lord. If I thought I was tough that misguided notion fell by the wayside as I watched Joni battle cancer with the courage that a young shepherd boy challenged a Philistine giant. Now we have passed the one year mark, the scans have been clear and the treatments are nearly done.

How can I thank all of you who have prayed so faithfully over the past year? Many of you have prayed so diligently and I don’t even know you. We may never meet this side of eternity. Yet you have cared enough to pray for us throughout this long journey. Amazing. Joni has retired the wig now and is wearing her very own hair to church.

 

Joni’s strength and dignity have humbled me. There was a time before she was mine when I thought I was tough. No more. But there is one other thing I have learned during this difficult year.

I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength. 

Yet it was good of you to share in my (our) troubles.  Phil 4

Thank you. It really was good of you to share in our troubles. And we are so grateful and humbled.

I will not complete the sentence. My first reaction is to fill in the blank because I was disgusted by the comments that the talk show host made about the Rutgers basketball team. In one 30 second strafing he demeaned a school, a race, a sport, and a gender.

I have written a great deal about civility in the public discourse. I have to confess that I am losing heart. Internet forums make cowards courageous. You can write things to me from the cave of anonymity that you would never say to my face. The rules at my site have been consistent. This is not an open forum. We have one basic rule at “Bad Christian” World Headquarters.

Verily, verily, all words that proceedeth out of thy posts and thy comments shall be civil…thus saith the one who payeth the server bills. Thy vile words shall be cast forever into the sea of delete and I will blocketh thee forever.

King James style rules just sound more authoritative.

Recently Rick Warren had a conversational debate with Sam Harris. The discourse between the two of them was civil. But the reaction to the debate from those opposed to faith has been disturbing and ugly. Warren has been called all kinds of names and his intellect, character and even appearance defamed. I can count on being called names anytime that I write about intelligent design or scientific studies that may point toward faith. In almost every case the poster is anonymous and they make me think of Brave Sir Robin from the Monty Python skits. This inflammatory rhetoric has debate in America on life support. I wish I could be more optimistic about its recovery. Hopefully the majority of the readers of these humble ramblings can actually define civility. But just in case, here is the definition of civility listed at dictionary.com.

   1. Courteous behavior; politeness.
   2. A courteous act or utterance.

Such a simple concept. Just common sense. Yet it seems like we are tilting at windmills and warbling the “Impossible Dream” when you hope that two people on opposite ends of an argument can have an intelligent and civil debate. Guests on talk shows yell over one another. Hosts interrupt. Debaters mug with condescending smirks in the other TV box while a guest makes his or her case. Tragically, this ugly level of discourse has made its way into the debate within the body of Christ.  Paul wrote this to the church at Colosse.

Use your heads as you live and work among outsiders. Don’t miss a trick. Make the most of every opportunity. Be gracious in your speech. The goal is to bring out the best in others in a conversation, not put them down, not cut them out.   Colossians 4  The Message

In Ephesians we find this exhortation.

Watch the way you talk. Let nothing foul or dirty come out of your mouth. Say only what helps, each word a gift….Make a clean break with all cutting, backbiting, profane talk. Be gentle with one another, sensitive. Forgive one another as quickly and thoroughly as God in Christ forgave you.

How often do we hear someone defending their ungracious attitude with the disclaimer that they were just proclaiming the truth? We have a higher standard as followers of Christ. We are called to proclaim truth and we must not water down the truth. But we are also called to be imitators of Jesus. He was tough on sin while being gentle with sinners. He was amazingly gracious to anyone who sought truth but he recognized that some only wish to sow discord. He gave these instructions as He sent out the Twelve.

“When you knock on a door, be courteous in your greeting. If they welcome you, be gentle in your conversation. If they don’t welcome you, quietly withdraw. Don’t make a scene. Shrug your shoulders and be on your way.” 

Jesus knew He could not force His message into a man or woman’s heart. Why do we feel the need to attack those who deny Jesus and God? Sam Harris reports that he has received thousands of hate filled letters from people identifying themselves as followers of Jesus. I believe him because I hear from his team about my faith. Here is a heartbreaking comment from Harris.

Many who claim to have been transformed by Christ’s love are deeply, even murderously, intolerant of criticism. While you may ascribe this to human nature, it is clear that the hatred these people feel comes directly from the Bible. How do I know this? Because the most deranged of my correspondents always cite chapter and verse.

His most devastating point is that those who claim to be transformed are incapable of speaking the truth with that transforming love. I do not need to persuade Sam Harris that I am right. In fact, I cannot persuade him that I am. I would like to tell him that I don’t hate him or anyone else for their views. I don’t fear Sam Harris. If I am wrong about God then Sam Harris is harmless and perhaps helpful. If I am right about God then Sam Harris can neither damage nor thwart His plan for mankind. God does not need me to defend Him from attack. If I believe in the Creator of the universe I suspect He is quite capable of dealing with an author. Every generation has a Sam Harris and somehow faith has survived.  What I believe God does expect and desire from me is that I reflect His love. Harris often makes comments like this.

If Christianity is correct, and I persist in my unbelief, I should expect to suffer the torments of hell.

I do not wish ill on Sam Harris. I do not take delight or satisfaction in thinking about his eternal fate. I am simply sad that he has such a low view of adherents of faith. Here is my bottom line. I have called myself a Christian for over 30 years. I have wrestled with doubt. I have read the views of all sides. I have absorbed the arguments of the best thinkers on every side.  I have decided that Jesus is the Son of God. That is my decision. His presence and reality in my life have only been amplified in our recent trials. I guess I don’t have the energy to spend on indignation. There is so much more to be accomplished by reflecting the love and grace of Jesus. That is the way we will make a difference to a suspicious and skeptical world.

As for me, what is happening in the cultural debate climate does not change my responsibility. As a follower of Jesus I have pretty clear marching orders. Jesus was addressing the “religious” guys when he said this.

“If you grow a healthy tree, you’ll pick healthy fruit. If you grow a diseased tree, you’ll pick worm-eaten fruit. The fruit tells you about the tree. You have minds like a snake pit! How do you suppose what you say is worth anything when you are so foul-minded? It’s your heart, not the dictionary, that gives meaning to your words. A good person produces good deeds and words season after season. An evil person is a blight on the orchard. Let me tell you something: Every one of these careless words is going to come back to haunt you. There will be a time of Reckoning. Words are powerful; take them seriously. Words can be your salvation. Words can also be your damnation.”

The bottom line is that I can only be responsible for me. I want to produce good words and deeds. Part of that is being graceful in communication. Even if it sometimes feels like a losing battle. It does matter which words we say. Examples do matter. Even though I am not rich nor famous nor powerful I am still an example to others. I take it seriously. And so should you.

 

America lost a cultural icon this weekend. Dictionary.com lists one of the definitions of icon as “one who is the object of great attention and devotion; an idol”. I am pretty sure that Johnny Hart would hate that description. Hart was the creative force behind the comic strip B.C. and he shared the byline for The Wizard of ID. I think that Johnny Hart would hate my description because it would elevate him to status that Hart reserved only for Jesus Christ.

The Associated Press reported this weekend that Hart died at the age of 76. There are at least two things that I want to emulate from the life of Johnny Hart. The first way I would love to imitate Hart is in his passing. Bobby, his wife of over fifty years, noted that he suffered a stroke and died at his storyboard. I can’t control how I go but I can control how I live the days I have left. Country group Rascal Flatts has a song that I was thinking about before the news of Hart’s passing. I added another candle to an increasingly crowded birthday cake last Friday and each year brings an increased awareness of the temporal nature of this life. This song from Rascal Flatts  is called “Running When the Sand Runs Out” and here is a snippet of the lyrics.

I’m gonna stop lookin’ back and start movin’ on
Learn how to face my fears
Love with all of my heart, make my mark
I wanna leave something here

Go out on a ledge, with out any net
That’s what I’m gonna be about
Yeah I wanna be runnin’
When the sand runs out

That is what Johnny Hart did and I want to learn from his example. He died while doing what he loved. He certainly had made his mark and had left a legacy that will endure for years. I am excited about the time I have left on this planet and I want to be running when the sand runs out. There is no excuse for a follower of Christ to ever stop serving and working for Him. The world is in great pain and I am called to be the hands and feet of Christ to this hurting planet. As long as I have breath and clarity of thought (some would already dispute that) I want to be used for God’s purpose.

That is the second lesson from the life of Johnny Hart. He was unashamed of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and felt like he had been given a unique platform to communicate his faith. The day after his death I picked up the paper and read his Easter strip that featured the last words of Christ on the cross. That commitment to his beliefs got him in trouble at times. He was censored by the Los Angeles Times when one of his characters wrote a Palm Sunday poem about Christ. The Times claimed it was editorial sensitivity (spin for censorship) but they later recanted and printed the strip. The AP noted that a strip published on Easter in 2001 drew protests from Jewish groups and led several newspapers to drop the strip. The cartoon depicted a menorah transforming into a cross, with accompanying text quoting some of Jesus Christ’s dying words. Critics said it implied that Christianity supersedes Judaism. Hart said he intended the strip as a tribute to both faiths.

That debate caused me to think long and hard about the topic of proselytizing. I was surprised to see that proselytize is used as a synonym for brainwashing at an online thesaurus. The actual definition listed by dictionary.com is:

   1.  To induce someone to convert to one’s own religious faith.
   2.  To convert (a person) from one belief, doctrine, cause, or faith to another.

I had never paid a lot of attention to the use of the word.  I knew it was generally a pejorative when used to refer to Christians. But as I read the definitions it became clear to me that I need to gently challenge this word. As an evangelical Christian I do not feel it is my mission to “convert” someone to my religious faith. I cannot “convert” anyone to Christian faith. That is God’s job. In baseball parlance I am merely a set-up man at best…the Holy Spirit of God is the closer. I do have a job. Actually it is a command that Jesus gave in Matthew.

Jesus said, “”Love the Lord your God with all your passion and prayer and intelligence.’ This is the most important, the first on any list. But there is a second to set alongside it: “Love others as well as you love yourself.’  Matthew 22   The Message

Frankly we have too often lost track of these simple yet powerful commands. When we love others sacrificially the message of Christ becomes inviting…not proselytizing. A Christian who is truly living by those commands is a powerful spokesperson. Saint Francis of Assisi wonderfully observed that we should “preach the gospel at all times…if necessary, use words.”  Do you see the power of letting the gospel message flow out of our actions? Authenticity is what a hurting world finds attractive.

But to anyone reading this who is of a different faith or no faith at all I must confess my dilemma to you. If I truly believe this to be the truth and if my faith in Christ has genuinely changed my life then how can I not tell you? Why should you be offended if I care enough to reach out gently and in love.

I remember being intimately involved with some friends over a period of years in our kid’s sports activities. They were from a denomination that believed only they were going to heaven. They knew we did not belong to that denomination. Yet they never once said a word that they believed we were off track and even doomed. Would I have changed my views? Probably not. But it would have showed that they cared enough to let me know what they held dear and their concern for me. I was actually a little miffed that they didn’t seem to care that I would not join them in heaven.

Michael Kinsley wrote a similar sentiment in Time magazine about the anger that some folks feel toward Christians who seem compelled to share their faith. 

 “You may not agree that your soul needs saving, but why is he wrong to try as long as he isn’t prying away your soul against your will? As an ethnically Jewish nonbeliever, I find this fuss over conversion utterly baffling…But an insult? In a way, it is insulting to Jews that Fundamentalist Christians don’t try harder to convert us. Oh sure, they’re friendly enough now. But wait until Judgment Day. Then it will be, `Sorry, we seem to have lost your reservation.’ And from this perspective, the Jewish policy of actively discouraging converts to Judaism starts to seem like `theological arrogance’ indeed. At the same time, when you object to noncoercive conversion, it starts to look like the opposite of arrogance: theological insecurity. What are you afraid of? The decision will be made by you or by God, and in either case, there is no ground for complaint.”

I suspect that technique is too often the rub. I was a victim of over the top zealous religious people as a teenager. I am still a little amazed that I eventually came to faith despite their sledge-hammer tactics. If I care about you I will naturally want to share the most important thing in my life. But I think you have some rights as the hearer of my message. I wrote the following in When Bad Christians Happen to Good Christians.

The Unbelievers Bill of Rights…

• I have the right to never have faith forced on me.
• I have the right to never be treated in a condescending manner.
• I have the right to always hear the truth.
• I have the right for you to patiently hear my concerns and doubts.
• I have the right to seek answers to those questions and doubts that you can’t answer.
• I have the right to be steered to resources for my own study and investigation.
• I have the right to be loved no matter how I respond to the gospel message.

I hope that I honor you by following the list above. I hope you will understand that my wanting to let you know about the most important thing in my life honors you as well.

I believe that was Johnny Hart’s desire. In his final Easter strip he used Biblical quotes from the gospel accounts of the Crucifixion. Hart quoted the Thief, the King, and the Soldier from scripture.

The thief on the cross asked Jesus to “remember me when You come into Your Kingdom.” Jesus replied, “I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise.” And the soldier said when He died that “truly this man was the Son of God.” Johnny Hart believed that Jesus was the Son of God. He believed that Jesus would remember his humble faith. And this weekend I believe that Jesus ushered Johnny Hart into paradise with a “well done, good and faithful servant.”

He will be missed.

 

 

 

A Peanuts comic strip features Charlie Brown’s sister Sally struggling to spread frozen butter on her toast. Finally she exclaims, “Nobody told me life was going to be this hard!”

I can understand Sally’s frustration. Life is hard. Sometimes even more difficult than frozen butter. Things happen that were not in the brochure. Or at least that is what I once believed. In fact that very information is in the brochure. The Bible is very clear that life will be a journey of struggling to spread frozen butter and worse (that is a paraphrase). Much worse. The “frozen butter times” are part of the journey. God has given us a wonderful gift that we too often leave unwrapped. Even if we have unwrapped this gift we too often leave it unused in the toolbox. The gift is laughter. The following excerpt is from my sporadically selling book “Bring’em Back Alive – A Healing Plan for those Wounded by the Church.” 

I believe a sense of humor is one of God’s gifts to help get us to the finish line. One of the things I learned from writing When Bad Christians Happen to Good People is well stated by humorist Dave Barry. “No matter what happens,” Barry writes, “somebody will find a way to take it too seriously.” AMEN, Brother Barry! Some people take and took some of my observations way too seriously. One of my core principles is summarized by Mary Hirsch’s observation that, “Humor is a rubber sword – it allows you to make a point without drawing blood.”

An examination of the life of Jesus would indicate that He possessed a sense of humor. The writers of Scripture did not set out to author a joke book so you won’t find the phrase “a Sadducee, a Pharisee and a Roman walk into a bar.” Still, you find glimpses of humor and sarcasm in the words of Jesus. For example, I can see the humor in this exchange when the disciples came running up and asked Jesus the following question.

“Did you know how upset the Pharisees were when they heard what you said?” Matthew 15:12 (MsgB) 

I can see them looking at Jesus and waiting to hear Him say something like, “Really? I had better go get that straightened out. The Pharisees are some important guys.” I expect the Lord’s answer first stunned and then amused them.

“Forget them. They are blind men leading blind men. When a blind man leads a blind man, they both end up in the ditch.” Matthew 15:14 (MsgB) 

You will also note that Jesus was an oft invited guest at weddings and banquets to the point where those appearances drew the ire of the Pharisees. Think about it. If Jesus was a holier than thou, uptight religious, suck the air out of the room sourpuss would you want Him at your wedding party? A deadly serious, stuffy theologian type would likely not be an “A” list party invitee either. Jesus must have been able to laugh and enjoy the common fellowship of others and he was obviously welcome and desired at the festivities. Let’s join Luke at Levi’s dinner party that included some unsavory people and see what happens.

Levi gave a large dinner at his home for Jesus. Everybody was there, tax men and other disreputable characters as guests at the dinner. The Pharisees and their religion scholars came to his disciples greatly offended. “What is he doing eating and drinking with crooks and ‘sinners’?” Jesus heard about it and spoke up, “Who needs a doctor: the healthy or the sick? I’m here inviting outsiders, not insiders-an invitation to a changed life, changed inside and out.” They asked him, “John’s disciples are well-known for keeping fasts and saying prayers. Also the Pharisees. But you seem to spend most of your time at parties. Why?” Jesus said,
“When you’re celebrating a wedding, you don’t skimp on the cake and wine. You feast. Later you may need to pull in your belt, but this isn’t the time. As long as the bride and groom are with you, you have a good time. Luke 5:29-34 (MsgB)  
  
I am not trying to be flippant (this time) but clearly Jesus knew how to party in the good sense of the word. He knew how to interact warmly with others and connect with those around Him. And He knew where to find those who needed the touch of forgiveness the most.
  
I also think about the eclectic group of followers that Jesus assembled. They were a fascinating blend of common laborers and professional types. Imagine today if Christ went to the local pier to recruit some fishermen, dropped by the IRS to pick up a follower, then over to the medical clinic and so on. This would be (at least initially) a fairly coarse group. I don’t suspect that the earthy sense of humor possessed by such men was immediately dispatched when they dropped their nets to follow Jesus. Part of any healthy and dynamic group relationship is having fun together. I believe that there were times when Jesus and the twelve told jokes, fish stories and made fun of the Pharisees. I think that Jesus understood that the language and topics of those outside the faith may be a bit uncomfortable. John Wesley once walked through the London market with a young man who desired to join the ministry. The coarse language offended the young man and he clearly wanted to leave. But Wesley told him to, “Stay, and learn to preach.”

So let’s all join in that familiar Sunday School song with a slight lyrical modification…

If you’re happy and you know it,
Tell your face,
If you’re happy and you know it,
Tell your face.
If you’re happy and you know it,
Then it seems your face should show it.
If you’re happy and you know it,
Tell your face.

A lack of humor in the church apparently this has been a problem for a while now. Teresa of Avila prayed this simple prayer in 1582, “From somber, serious, sullen saints, save us Oh Lord.”  Amen…and Amen. Laughter is a gift from God. Don’t be afraid to enjoy it.

There was an interesting article in USA Today by Diane Cameron. The piece was entitled We are Easter People and here is a brief excerpt.

One of the lowest points in my life occurred years ago when I was living in Washington, D.C., at Easter time. My older sister had recently died and both of my brothers were seriously ill; my best friend was leaving town, and on top of that I was questioning my work. In my journal that April I wrote, “Am I depressed?” When I read those pages now I laugh and shake my head. “Depressed?” That I even had to ask. In that long year I thought I’d never laugh again, just as I thought I’d never again feel love, the joy of easy friendship, or the satisfaction of good work.

I went to church that Easter out of both habit and desperation. I had grown up in a church-going family. It was what we did. And so to honor the family that I was losing I went. Easter after all, is the centerpiece for Christians, honoring and recalling Christ’s triumph over death.

I chose a big downtown church for Easter services — one with hundreds in the congregation — not daring to visit a smaller church where I might have to speak to people or be embarrassed by my own tears. I wanted the paradoxical safety and anonymity of being in a crowd.

The minister that Easter Sunday said many things that I don’t remember, but one sentence has stayed with me all these years. He said, “We live in a Good Friday world.”

That I understood. A Good Friday world is a world full of suffering, questioning, unfairness, trouble, mistakes, hurts, losses and grief. Good Friday in the Christian faith is the day Christians commemorate Christ’s suffering and death on the cross. So that certainly made sense to me at that difficult time in my life.

“But,” he continued, “We are Easter people.” Those words stopped me cold. I was stunned to be reminded that painful morning that there was something other than what I was feeling.

Wow. What an amazing message as we head into the Easter week. We do live in a Good Friday world. How easy it is to stop right there,  just short of healing,  not realizing the hope of resurrection. The story did not stop on Friday. This week is not just about Good Friday. The hope of this season is all about Sunday. Tony Campolo wrote about a life changing sermon he heard in his book It’s Friday but Sunday’s Comin’. (Note to spiritual cyber hall monitors…I know Mr.Campolo is a bit controversial. Just enjoy this illustration, take a deep breath, and move away from the keyboard). Campolo writes about hearing a wise African-American pastor preach about the events of Easter week.

For an hour and a half he preached one line over and over again…”It’s Friday, but Sunday’s comin’!” He started his sermon real softly by saying, “It was Friday; it was Friday and my Jesus was dead on the tree. But that was Friday, and Sunday’s comin’!” One of the Deacons yelled, “Preach, brother, Preach!” It was all the encouragement he needed.

He came on louder as he said, “It was Friday and Mary was cryin’ her eyes out. The disciples were runnin’ in every direction, like sheep without a shepherd, but that was Friday, and Sunday’s comin!”

The preacher kept going. He picked up the volume still more and shouted, “It was Friday. The cynics were lookin’ at the world and sayin’ `As things have been so shall they be. You can’t change anything in this world; you can’t change anything. But those cynics don’t know that it was only Friday. Sunday’s comin’! It was Friday, and on Friday those forces that oppress the poor and make the poor to suffer were in control. But that was Friday! Sunday’s comin’!  

It was Friday, and on Friday Pilate thought he had washed his hands of a lot of trouble. The Pharisees were struttin’ around, laughin’ and pokin’ each other in the ribs. They thought they were back in charge of things. But they didn’t know it was only Friday! Sunday’s comin’!

Campolo continues, “He kept on working that one phrase for a half hour, then an hour, then an hour and a quarter, then an hour and a half. Over and over he came at us, “It’s Friday, but Sunday’s comin!” By the time he had come to the end of the message…He had me and everybody else so worked up that I don’t think any of us could have stood it much longer. At the end of his message he just yelled at the top of his lungs, `It’s FRIDAY!’ and all 500 of us in that church yelled back with one accord, `SUNDAY’S COMIN’!”

A lot of people who stumble across this site might be in the middle of what seems to be an interminable Friday. It is hard to accept suffering and illness. Relationships that hurt us make Friday seem like it will never end. The trials of living on a fallen planet will always make this seem like a Friday world at times during the journey. Joni’s diagnosis of cancer  put us into a Friday state of mind. But we know that Sunday’s comin’! As we told our wonderful sons, if your faith doesn’t work at times like this it is of little value for the rest of the time. And it does work. We have the hope of healing but we have the greater hope of the resurrection of Jesus. We trust in a God that has been faithful to strengthen us for the battle, work through us for His glory, and teach us to be dependent on Him.

I believe the message of this week. Sunday’s comin’. And I believe that with all of my heart and soul. Paul wrote in Romans…

I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God for the salvation of everyone who believes: first for the Jew, then for the Gentile. For in the gospel a righteousness from God is revealed, a righteousness that is by faith from first to last, just as it is written: “The righteous will live by faith.”   Romans 1  NIV

I am not ashamed of the gospel. I fact I am excited about the gospel. Even though I may be living in a Good Friday world today I am convinced that Sunday’s comin’!

 

I fly way too much. I have amassed nearly five million airline miles over the past twenty-five years of traveling. That is a lot of bad omelettes, delays, and bruised knees from incredibly unaware passengers who recline their seat backwards at warp speed. But there is one part of flying that still fills me with awe.

Take-offs on cloudy, nasty days always reveal the nervous flyers. As the plane thunders down the runway and rises into a soupy overcast mix the nervous flyers grip the armrest tightly and glance anxiously out the window. Nerves are not soothed by seeing nothing but gray through the tiny portals. These takeoffs are usually accompanied by bumps, shudders, and stomach churning drops. The pilots always cheerfully glosses over the turbulence ahead. “We will have a little light chop as we head out”, the captain tells us before takeoff. Not long after lift off you begin wondering what “heavy chop” might feel like. Today was one of those takeoffs. The North Texas skies were dark and we bounced through the expected turbulence of spring weather. Trust me, that is not the part that creates awe everytime I experience it.

Stormy airplane travel seemed a fitting metaphor for the past year of the journey with the striking Mrs.Burchett. It has been just over a year since we heard the word that changed us forever.

Cancer.

Few words have more gut punching power than the “C” word. Looking back I can see that our journey through Joni’s breast cancer treatments in many ways paralleled a stormy takeoff. Just like the captain of our plane, Joni and I faced the inevitable clouds ahead with limited visibility. We could not begin to see what we faced in the coming months. The captain trusted his instruments and had faith in them to direct the flight safely. We trusted our God and the doctors as we took off in darkness to travel through our cancer journey. As the airplane hit the bumps the pilot did not let off the power in fear. In fact, bad weather often requires more power to offset the wind gusts. Joni and I learned that we had to similarly go full throttle with optimism, hope, and trust in a God who is sovereign and trustworthy. We determined to do our part and rest in Jesus. Cancer is hard. The burden is heavy. But Jesus made it easier to bear.

I will not try to claim that Joni and I have been giants of faith. We are not like the Top Gun pilots who never show fear and are always incredibly cool. We hated the turbulence. The bumps were nervewracking. Twice we hit huge bumps that knocked the emotional breath out of us. 

A nervous flyer puts his or her faith in a pilot they almost surely don’t know. We put our faith in a Saviour that Joni and I know and trust.

But what about the part of stormy takeoff that still inspires awe? When you lift into the clouds you can’t see what lies ahead. The ride is bumpy and a little anxious (or maybe a lot anxious). And then it happens. You break through into awesome sunlight. There is nothing quite like that experience. The sunlight is breathtaking. It is hard to believe that moments ago you were in a confusing darkness. That is how Joni and I feel today. We have broken through the storm clouds of the past year into the sunlight of hope and life together. A nervous flyer wonders if they will ever clear the storm clouds. At times we felt the same way. We filed a flight plan based on a God who is Worthy. I am not sure exactly how we got through the clouds. I just know that God was there for every bump and shudder along the way.

If you are flying through turbulence remember that sunlight may be just ahead. Go full throttle with the power of a God who cares. Don’t back off in fear. Rejoice in the trial because it can refine you and equip you for service. And I pray that you soon will rejoice as you break through dark clouds into magnificent sunlight.

Today is opening day in major league baseball. I will be heading to my real job directing the Texas Rangers and Los Angeles Angels television opener. And that will likely be my real job until you people start buying more books!

In my mind there is no more special day in sports than opening day in baseball. The smell of freshly cut emerald green grass delights the senses. The base lines are painstakingly and perfectly defined by a grounds crew that is committed to perfection on this day.  Red, white, and blue bunting give the ball park a festive world series look. The players today act like little boys. This is the one day that these privileged athletes seem to forget they are millionaires and actually appear grateful that they are paid to play a little boy’s and girl’s game. Kids skip school and parents do not care because memories are being made for both of them. The hot dogs taste like gourmet food.  Tacky souvenirs are treasures to be kept. The atmosphere is magic. It is opening day and every team has hope. Each fan has dreams and they are hopefully or, perhaps hopelessly, optimistic. Last year’s disappointments are gone and the hope of a new season dawns for fifty thousand fans in the park and thousands more across the city. The mood is upbeat and the expectations high. This is a new day and a new season. Old mistakes are forgotten. Past errors no longer important. Today is the annual renewal of the incredible marathon that is big league baseball.

I longed for such a defining moment in my walk with Jesus. God’s Word tells us that every day can be like opening day (Dave’s paraphrase). There can be new hope. Yesterday’s sins can be forgotten if you accept the gift of Jesus on the cross. Every morning that I awake and see the magic of a new sunrise I have a new chance to be renewed and optimistic about tomorrow. I don’t have to wait a year to have a chance for renewal. Paul writes that every day has the potential for the spiritual magic of renewal and victory in Christ.

And so, dear brothers and sisters, I plead with you to give your bodies to God. Let them be a living and holy sacrifice–the kind he will accept. When you think of what he has done for you, is this too much to ask? Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will know what God wants you to do, and you will know how good and pleasing and perfect his will really is.

    As God’s messenger, I give each of you this warning: Be honest in your estimate of yourselves, measuring your value by how much faith God has given you. Just as our bodies have many parts and each part has a special function, 5so it is with Christ’s body. We are all parts of his one body, and each of us has different work to do. And since we are all one body in Christ, we belong to each other, and each of us needs all the others.

    God has given each of us the ability to do certain things well. So if God has given you the ability to prophesy, speak out when you have faith that God is speaking through you. If your gift is that of serving others, serve them well. If you are a teacher, do a good job of teaching. If your gift is to encourage others, do it! If you have money, share it generously. If God has given you leadership ability, take the responsibility seriously. And if you have a gift for showing kindness to others, do it gladly.

    Don’t just pretend that you love others. Really love them. Hate what is wrong. Stand on the side of the good. Love each other with genuine affection, and take delight in honoring each other. Never be lazy in your work, but serve the Lord enthusiastically.

    Be glad for all God is planning for you. Be patient in trouble, and always be prayerful. When God’s children are in need, be the one to help them out. And get into the habit of inviting guests home for dinner or, if they need lodging, for the night.

    If people persecute you because you are a Christian, don’t curse them; pray that God will bless them. When others are happy, be happy with them. If they are sad, share their sorrow. Live in harmony with each other. Don’t try to act important, but enjoy the company of ordinary people. And don’t think you know it all!

    Never pay back evil for evil to anyone. Do things in such a way that everyone can see you are honorable. Do your part to live in peace with everyone, as much as possible.  Romans 12  NLT

    I am grateful that in my spiritual journey God that has given me a chance for “opening day” renewal every day. There have been times when my walk with Jesus has felt more like a team that is thirty games out in August. I have wondered if I can make it to the end of the season, pack my bags, and just go home. I haven’t really enjoyed my teammates. I wonder if I would be happier on another team.

    But today under picture perfect blue skies I realized that every day with Jesus can be like opening day. I can be transformed and new. There can be freshness in the journey and joy. I can realize that I am a child of God and be grateful that I can call Him Father. I can rejoice that old sins are forgotten. I can believe that hope for the future is real. I can understand that I must be a better teammate and not expect my team to be perfect. The magic of a fresh start happens once a year in baseball. It can happen every day for a follower of Jesus.