Author: Dave Burchett

Truth can be so annoying. If annoying truth was a Jeopardy category it might look like this…

“I’ll take Annoying Truths for $100, Alex.”
This famous preacher said,  “Give me five minutes with a person’s checkbook, and I will tell you where their heart is.”
“Who is Billy Graham? I’ll take Annoying Truths for $200, Alex.”
This missionary to India said, “You can give without loving. But you cannot love without giving.”
“Who was Amy Carmichael, Alex. I am getting very uncomfortable with this topic so let’s take “Sins that make you worse than me for $100.”

Money is an uncomfortable topic for followers of Jesus. One anonymous writer noted that a lot of people are willing to give God the credit, but not too many are willing to give Him the cash.

Twenty-six years ago a man in Kansas City made a choice to give away the cash. It was a choice that changed his life and the lives of thousands more. The Associated Press reported that for the next 26 years, a man known only as Secret Santa roamed the streets every December quietly giving people money. He started with $5 and $10 bills. As his fortune grew, so did the gifts. In recent years, Secret Santa has been handing out $100 bills, sometimes two or three at a time, to people in thrift stores, diners and parking lots. So far, he’s anonymously given out about $1.3 million. It’s been a long-held holiday mystery: Who is Secret Santa? But now, weak from chemotherapy and armed with a desire to pass on his belief in random kindness, Secret Santa has decided it’s time to reveal his identity.

He is Larry Stewart, a 58-year-old businessman from the Kansas City suburb of Lee’s Summit, Mo., who made his millions in cable television and long-distance telephone service. While Stewart has also given money to other community causes in Kansas City and his hometown of Bruce, Miss., he offers the simple gifts of cash because it’s something people don’t have to “beg for, get in line for, or apply for.”

His epiphany happened just before Christmas in 1979. His circumstances were dire. For the second year in a row he had been fired just days before Christmas. He admits that he was wallowing in self-pity when he learned that giving returned an inexplicable joy. That simple discovery changed him, the entire city of Kansas City, and beyond. Let’s pick up the story as Stewart was nursing his wounds at a drive-in restaurant after getting fired once again. He describes that December day in his own words.

“It was cold and this car hop didn’t have on a very big jacket, and I thought to myself, `I think I got it bad. She’s out there in this cold making nickels and dimes,”‘ he said. He gave her $20 and told her to keep the change. “And suddenly I saw her lips begin to tremble and tears begin to flow down her cheeks. She said, `Sir, you have no idea what this means to me.”‘

Larry Stewart was deeply touched. He decided to go to the bank that day and took out $200, then drove around looking for people who could use a lift. That was his “Christmas present to himself.”  He’s hit the streets each December since. Now, his mission is bigger than handing out $100 bills. Stewart wants to speak to community groups about his devotion to kindness and to inspire others to donate their time and money. “That’s what we’re here for,” Stewart says, “to help other people out.”

Larry Stewart has learned the reality of money and possessions that was eloquently expressed by author Thomas Fuller. “Riches enlarge rather than satisfy appetites.” 

As a follower of Christ I think Stewart has it half right when he notes that we are here to help other people out. The religious scholars asked Jesus what a purpose driven life should look like.

“Teacher, which command in God’s Law is the most important?” 
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.’ These two commands are pegs; everything in God’s Law and the Prophets hangs from them.”   Matthew 22 The Message

During this Christmas season I am challenging you to join me in trying Larry Stewart’s experiment. Go buy yourself a gadget or outfit or bauble. Note the reading on the joy meter. Then go give money to a desperate Mom trying to make ends meet. Or give some cash to an elderly couple who can’t pay the heating bill. Deliver a Christmas gift to children who would not receive gifts any other way. Then see which action has given you real joy. Was it acquiring more stuff or meeting real needs in the lives of others? Larry Stewart has learned that lesson. And the world is a better place because of the revelation he experienced on a cold December day twenty-six years ago.

Pray about what you can give this Christmas. Remember that Larry Stewart started small. I pray that you will receive the kind of joy that has driven the Kansas City “Secret Santa” for twenty-six years. The chance to witness the surprised joy of a person receiving an unexpected and much needed gift. Kind of like salvation, isn’t it? That is the gift that Jesus brought to Bethlehem two millenia ago. And that is another gift we should be eager to share this season.

 

 

Regular readers of these ramblings know that my bride is in the midst of a battle with breast cancer. For the last eight months that unwanted and unexpected foe has rearranged our lives around doctors, hospitals, chemo days, and radiation days. Joni’s prognosis is good. The love and outpouring of prayers and well wishes from many of you has been amazing and uplifting. More than you will ever know. Joni has just over a week of radiation left and then several months of a targeted chemotherapy drug. That will be administered every three weeks so at least our schedule has a chance to return to some semblance of normalcy.

Yesterday was another day at the chemotherapy infusion room that Joni and I call the Slow Drip Spa. It is a place that has administered “treatments” to me as I watch Joni receive her infusions. I get regular infusions of perspective into my self-centered veins and heart. I watch people display courage and grace in the midst of a terrible trial. Yesterday I watched the initial greetings of every person that came in for treatment. The staff would always smile and ask the patient how they were doing. Yesterday the small sample of patients I witnessed had a consistent response. They would smile and report they were doing well.

I reflected on the irony of that exchange. I know from personal experience that the journey is long, tough, and you get discouraged. But the patients that come into the “spa” are consistently upbeat and determined. The regulars of the “spa” humble me. My infusion of perspective came at a good time yesterday. How easy it is to turn your focus from God and serving others to self absorption. As I absorbed my perspective infusion yesterday I remembered a long lost hymn from a legalistic church far, far away. The truth of this old hymn might have been lost on most of the congregants at that assembly but it is still truth.

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.

I am anxious for Joni’s treatments to be finished. But I pray that I don’t forget what I have learned at her side. Perhaps I (and maybe all of us) should schedule a monthly “perspective” date. It is not about us. I am not happy when I make it about me. Reflect on the creative translation of a very familiar verse from Matthew.

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”  Matt 11:28–30  The Message

I am tired. Joni and I are worn out. Frankly, I have been a little burned out on religion. Today I am going to carve out a some time to keep company with Jesus and seek how He displays the rhythms of grace.

 

 

I rarely give over my space to a writer that does not have the last name Burchett. But faithful and long-suffering reader Steve sent me a link to an article by Wheel of Fortune game show host Pat Sajak. Pat may need Vanna’s help to turn letters but he does a really nice job of arranging them into a thoughtful piece posted at his site.

There is much debate in the gay community on the subject of “outing”; that is, disclosing someone’s homosexuality without his consent. As with most debates, there are two extreme positions and a middle position. On one extreme are those who think anyone is fair game, and no one has any business keeping his true sexuality under wraps. The other extreme believes it’s a very personal matter, and “outing” is absolutely wrong. Besides which, many of these absolutists find the practice counter-productive in their quest for gay rights. There is, however, a growing in-between position which says “outing” is justified if the person being exposed is a hypocrite. For example, if a crusading moralist or an anti-gay marriage Congressman is leading a secret gay life, it’s okay to make that public.

I would be in favor of that middle position if we could apply it across the board. In other words, if we’re going to “out” hypocrites, let’s go all the way. If a Congressman opposes school choice for his poorer constituents while sending his own kids to private schools, let’s “out” him. If a politician or celebrity complains our taxes aren’t high enough while he hires the most aggressive accountants to minimize his own taxes, or takes questionable deductions to do the same, by all means, let’s “out” him. Minimum wage? Illegal immigration? Does their public stand match their private actions when it comes to their own domestic help? If not, “out” ‘em.

What about those who want to legislate diversity in our schools and clubs and organizations and work places? Great, but let’s check out their offices and club memberships and circles of acquaintance and make sure they don’t need to be “outed” as well. Let’s take a close look at our rich members of Congress (and there are a lot of them) who speak out about a middle class crisis, and let’s be sure they (and their family business entities) treat all their employees with the same generosity they would demand of others (salary, benefits, health care, etc.). Otherwise, “out” they go!

Let’s make sure Second Amendment opponents (or their bodyguards) don’t own guns. Let’s be certain those who complain about executives’ wages apply the same standards to themselves. Let’s change the rules to make every law Congress passes apply to its members as well. If not, “out”, “out”, “out”.

Let’s “out” the Hollywood star who lectures us on the environment while living in multiple homes, flying in private jets and riding around in limousines, or the athlete who rails against government neglect of the poor while lending his name to $100-plus basketball shoes marketed at that same audience.

Most people keep more than their sexuality in the closet. So, if we’re going to open that door to root out hypocrisy, let’s open them all.

Pat Sajak nicely summarizes our amazing ability to deceive ourselves. That is why Jesus was so harsh with the “religious” types of His day.

• “You’re hopeless, you religion scholars and Pharisees! Frauds! You keep meticulous account books, tithing on every nickel and dime you get, but on the meat of God’s Law, things like fairness and compassion and commitment—the absolute basics!—you carelessly take it or leave it. Careful bookkeeping is commendable, but the basics are required. Do you have any idea how silly you look, writing a life story that’s wrong from start to finish, nitpicking over commas and semicolons? You’re hopeless, you religion scholars and Pharisees! Frauds! You burnish the surface of your cups and bowls so they sparkle in the sun, while the insides are maggoty with your greed and gluttony. Stupid Pharisee! Scour the insides, and then the gleaming surface will mean something.”  Matthew 23 The Message

I am still learning not to deceive myself. I am quite capable of shining the exterior while covering a maggoty interior. So I will out myself. I am a recovering hypocrite. I will never be fully healed. And that is awesome! Because if I could be healed I wouldn’t have to depend on my relationship with Jesus and the daily inspection of the Holy Spirit.

So, in honor of Pat Sajak, today’s puzzle is about deception. And the question is simple.

H Y P O C R  _  T E S

“Jesus, is there an “I” in there?”

 

Last year I posted a story about the decision by a Wisconsin elementary school to rewrite the lyrics of “Silent Night” to make it acceptable for the “winter program”. The unfortunate choice for a new title was “Cold in the Night”. And the new lyrics went something like this.

Cold in the night,

no one in sight,

winter winds whirl and bite,

how I wish I were happy and warm,

safe with my family out of the storm.

That is wrong on so many levels. Why not just have the kids sing “Grandma got run over by a reindeer” and go on home. Some things just shouldn’t be done. It is like the old Jim Croce song…”you don’t tug on Superman’s cape, you don’t spit into the wind, you don’t pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger, and you don’t rewrite Silent Night” (New Revised Version).

Rereading that post brought to mind a legend I had heard all of my life involving the real song “Silent Night” and a wartime Christmas truce. I researched the story and found that it actually happened. Here is a nice Christmas story for your Christmas celebrations to share at Christmas gatherings during this Christmas Season (was that anti-pc sentence a little too obvious?). I would normally post a story like this a little closer to Christmas Day but I just found out there is a movie depicting this event and I thought you might be interested in acquiring or renting it. There are some cautions for parents contained in this review in Christianity Today but the positives seem well worth the investment. I just ordered the DVD and I look forward to viewing it this Christmas. Here is the story that inspired the film.

The year was 1914 and soldiers were having to spend Christmas Eve night on the battlefields of France during World War I, the Great War, as it was called. After only four months of fighting, more than a million men had already perished in the bloody conflict. The bodies of dead soldiers were scattered between the trenches. Enemy troops were dug-in so close that they could easily exchange shouts.

On December 24, 1914, in the middle of a freezing battlefield in France, a miracle happened.

The British troops watched in amazement as candle-lit Christmas trees began to appear above the German trenches. The glowing trees soon appeared along the length of the German front.

Henry Williamson, a young soldier with the London Regiment wrote in his diary: “From the German parapet, a rich baritone voice had begun to sing a song I remembered my German nurse singing to me…. The grave and tender voice rose out of the frozen mist. It was all so strange… like being in another world — to which one had come through a nightmare.”

Silent Night
Holy Night

A man named John McCutcheon wrote a song about the incident. These lyrics are from his work called “Christmas in the Trenches”.  His poem has also been released as an illustrated book with CD that you find at John’s website.

The cannon rested silent, the gas clouds rolled no more,
As Christmas brought us respite from the war….

“They finished their carol and we thought that we ought to retaliate,” another British soldier wrote, “So we sang “The First Noël” and when we finished, they all began clapping. And they struck up “O Tannebaum” and on it went… until we started up “O Come All Ye Faithful” [and] the Germans immediately joined in …. this was really a most extraordinary thing — two nations both singing the same carol in the middle of a war.”

McCutcheon’s lyrics continue…

“There’s someone coming towards us!” the front-line sentry cried.
All sights were fixed on one lone figure trudging from their side.
His truce flag, like a Christmas star, shone on that plain so bright
As he, bravely, strode unarmed into the night.

It is recorded that enemy soldiers greeted each other in the no man’s land that was a killing zone on December 23rd. The soldiers wished each other Merry Christmas and agreed not to fire their rifles on Christmas Day. The spontaneous cease-fire eventually embraced much of a 500-mile stretch of the Western Front. According to the reports of soldiers at the scene, hundreds of thousands of soldiers celebrated the birth of the Prince of Peace among the bodies of their dead.

Soon one by one on either side walked into No Man’s Land.
With neither gun nor bayonet, we met there hand to hand.

Other soldiers told of how the “enemies” exchanged badges and buttons from their uniforms. Others shared photos of wives and children and some even exchanged addresses and promised to write after the war ended. The German troops rolled out barrels of dark beer and the British reciprocated with offerings of plum pudding. Some soldiers produced soccer balls and a spirited match broke out as fellow soldiers shouted encouragement.

At one location along the front the men who just the day before sought to kill one another now gathered together to bury their dead. Together, with heads uncovered, they held a service to memorialize their fallen comrades. A solitary voice began to sing Silent Night, in French. He was joined by another voice — this one singing in German — the words of a Christmas song known and beloved by all.

But the miracle of peace was temporary. Slowly, under threats from their officers, the troops returned to the trenches and the recoils of rifles split the temporary “Silent Night.” Some soldiers admitted aiming so their bullets flew well above the heads of the “enemy.”

Soon daylight stole upon us and France was France once more.
With sad farewells, we each prepared to settle back to war.

But the question haunted every heart that lived that wondrous night:
“Whose family have I fixed within my sight?”

My name is Francis Tolliver, in Liverpool I dwell.
Each Christmas come since World War I, I’ve learned its lesson well:

That the ones who call the shots won’t be among the dead and lame,
And on each end of the rifle, we’re the same.

That is the message the Prince of Peace brought to us on Christmas long ago. Perhaps those of us who celebrate the birth of the Savior could learn a lesson from this Christmas miracle as we engage those who do not share our beliefs and faith in Jesus. Those on the other side of the cultural trenches are not unlike us. The message delivered in Bethlehem was peace and goodwill toward all men. When we fight the cultural war we need remember that the whole purpose of Jesus invading our space and time was to love and ultimately die for those on both sides of the battle.

But perhaps the biggest lesson is how the power of a unified focus on Jesus can unite even bitter enemies. My heart aches as I see Christians splitting ranks over things that don’t amount to a hill of beans on an eternal scale. I picture Jesus weeping over the churches of America like He wept over Jerusalem. I picture Him weeping over how Christians in this country divide over non-essentials and fail to communicate the joy and life-changing power of the good news of the gospel. Jesus gave this final command to His followers…

“Go out and train everyone you meet, far and near, in this way of life, marking them by baptism in the threefold name: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Then instruct them in the practice of all I have commanded you. I’ll be with you as you do this, day after day after day, right up to the end of the age.”  Matt 28  The Message

Pretty straight forward. Nothing in there about personal gain, power, or prestige. The power of what happened on that Silent Night united enemies centuries later on a French battlefield.  My Christmas prayer is that the miracle of God becoming man will unite you and me, His followers, to seek what actually matters. To really make it about Christ and not about us. While we still have the chance.

 

Ronald Reagan had a favorite joke that he told so often that the joke itself became a joke with staff members. A CBS News piece related the story as remembered by former Reagan aide Ed Meese. The joke was told about twin boys who were six years old. Worried that the boys had developed extreme personalities — one was a total pessimist, the other a total optimist — their parents took them to a psychiatrist.

First the psychiatrist treated the pessimist. Trying to brighten his outlook, the psychiatrist took him to a room piled to the ceiling with brand-new toys. But instead of yelping with delight, the little boy burst into tears. “What’s the matter?” the psychiatrist asked, baffled. “Don’t you want to play with any of the toys?” “Yes,” the little boy bawled, “but if I did I’d only break them.”

Next the psychiatrist treated the optimist. Trying to dampen his out look, the psychiatrist took him to a room piled to the ceiling with horse manure. But instead of wrinkling his nose in disgust, the optimist emitted just the yelp of delight the psychiatrist had been hoping to hear from his brother, the pessimist. Then he clambered to the top of the pile, dropped to his knees, and began gleefully digging out scoop after scoop with his bare hands. “What do you think you’re doing?” the psychiatrist asked, just as baffled by the optimist as he had been by the pessimist. “With all this manure,” the little boy replied, beaming, “there must be a pony in here somewhere!”

“Reagan told the joke so often,” Meese said, chuckling, “that it got to be kind of a joke with the rest of us. Whenever something would go wrong, somebody on the staff would be sure to say, “There must be a pony in here somewhere.’”

This may seem like an odd lead in to a Thanksgiving article but regular readers know that odd linkings are part of my brain function. On this Thanksgiving Joni and I could choose to be the pessimist in the joke. This has been a tough year. Joni has been in the middle of her breast cancer treatment for eight very long months. Her prognosis is good but we know it is never certain. So we could choose to wonder why this has happened to us.

Forgive me if this is a bit crude but I can tell that when you start digging through the crap that life dumps on us you will very often find the pony. We have found so many blessings in the midst of the storm. This is just a partial list of the blessings we are grateful to God for on this special day of Thanksgiving.

• Experiencing the peace that is inexplicable. How can we find peace in the middle of a battle with cancer? It is only through the comfort of the Holy Spirit. Paul talks about this in his letter to the Church at Philippi.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Phil 4 NIV

• The friends who have been there with us throughout this trial.
  
• The countless “strangers” who are praying for us. Many are praying for Joni because of this blog. Others through prayer lists around the country. What an amazing blessing to realize that people who don’t even know us are praying for us.
  
• The privilege of glorifying God through this trial. When I first told our sons about their Mom’s diagnosis I told each of them the same thing. “If our faith in Christ doesn’t work now it is not of much value”. It has worked. And it is of great value.
  
• The realization that we can get through anything with Christ.
  
• A changed perspective on life’s little irritants. Joni’s cancer has changed how I view my world. My biggest concern is that I will forget this lesson when the treatments end and the tests are good. In the words of the Apostle Paul…God forbid.
  
• An even deeper appreciation for my bride. Her courage and faith have been inspiring…and humbling.
  
• Priorities…priorities…priorities. I want my life to count for eternity. Every day is a precious gift and not to be taken for granted.

As you face this Thanksgiving you may be looking at circumstances that may make it hard to be thankful. I understand that it can be hard at times. But I also know the value of continuing to dig through the pile. More often than I would have ever dreamed possible there is a “pony” in there somewhere. Don’t miss a blessing this Thanksgiving.

We know that God, who raised the Lord Jesus, will also raise us with Jesus and present us to himself together with you. All of this is for your benefit. And as God’s grace reaches more and more people, there will be great thanksgiving, and God will receive more and more glory.

 That is why we never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day.

I pray on this Thanksgiving that you will never give up. And never quit digging for the blessings that are hidden.

 

 

This Thursday most Americans will sit down to the ridiculous excess that we call Thanksgiving dinner. I will be one of them. If my pattern continues I will eat too much of the wonderful food prepared by my bride. I will probably complain that I ate too much as if that is anyone’s fault other than my own. I will be genuinely thankful for having my family together. That will be extra special this year because Joni’s cancer is a reminder that such gatherings are not guaranteed. I will thank God for the bounty of food that will be before us. But I don’t think I will really comprehend how blessed I am to be a citizen of the United States.

A story that I read in the Miami Herald gave me a big helping of perspective as I look forward to Thanksgiving Day.

Streaks of grime cover the boys’ bodies and insects crawl on their heads as they scour through heaps of trash alongside buzzards that seem large enough to carry the kids away. Brothers Carlos, 11, and Noel, 9, are dragging a pair of plastic bags filled with fast-food refuse while Ruben, 14, chases after a dump truck spilling fresh rubbish. This is life for the children at the main municipal dump in the capital of Honduras — a life of far-too-early desperation in a country where nearly two-thirds of the population lives in poverty.

Many Latin American nations have pepenadores, Spanish slang for people who scour garbage dumps for recyclable goods they can then sell. But Honduras has the highest rate of children working at dumps — an estimated 2,000, according to UNICEF, the United Nations Children’s Fund.

”Every barrio has a dump,” said Rick Beck, a Christian missionary who visits the Tegucigalpa city dump each week to deliver food and prayer. “It’s a way of living. The problem has to be attacked spiritually, physically and emotionally.” Soledad Ramírez, director of social programs for Tegucigalpa, said the effort to get the kids out of the dump will require a long-term commitment.

”It’s not just to rescue the kids. It’s to educate them and insert them into society,” she told The Miami Herald. “Many of these children grew up in the dumps. There were even children in cribs there.”

I don’t want my ministry to be a travel agency for guilt trips. But I do want to be tender enough to the gentle nudging of the Holy Spirit to realize the need and then to gladly offer back a portion of what I have been given. It breaks my heart to think of these precious children digging through the refuse of the other poor to survive. What a disturbing image to picture a crib in the middle of a garbage dump.

We are so blessed…and so oblivious.

Picture this scenario.

Here comes 6-year-old Giovanny, yanking at the brothers’ trash bags to pick through crumpled boxes of fried chicken. He’s known as El Pollo — The Chicken — for his love of the morsels he scrapes off the tossed-out bones.

We laugh about the five second rule when food falls on the floor. But for most of us it would mean nothing to toss that food away and get something else. Imagine gnawing on the remains of someone else’s scraps to get a morsel of nourishment. It is a disgusting thought. But it is a heartbreaking reality for Giovanny.

And I realize that I am so blessed…and so oblivious.

When the dump trucks roll in, it’s a mad dash to get to the refuse. Men and boys tend to push the women off the mounds, and no one seems bothered by the smell, which at times is so foul it burns the nostrils and makes the eyes tear. The pepenadores are too busy collecting anything they can use — some shoes they can wear, a semi-broken toy they can still play with, a piece of cake they can eat, a bit of metal, plastic bottles or paper they can sell.

”The problem is that they make more money in that dump than they do with an education,” said Kim Beck, who helps her missionary husband deliver food.

Enjoy the blessings that God has provided this Thanksgiving. But take a moment to reflect on how truly blessed we are in this country. Maybe a little perspective will help you realize that the position or title you were denied is not that big a deal. Or that person who irritates you at work or church is created in the image of God and in a fallen state…just like you and me. About 98% of what we get all exorcised over is trivial from an eternal perspective. What does the Lord delight in? It is not our wealth or power or position.

“This is what the LORD says: ‘Let not the wise man boast of his wisdom or the strong man boast of his strength or the rich man boast of his riches, but let him who boasts boast about this: that he understands and knows me, that I am the LORD, who exercises kindness, justice and righteousness on earth, for in these I delight,’ declares the LORD.” Jeremiah 9:23-24  

Count your blessings. Be grateful. Don’t feel guilty that you are blessed. But don’t forget the responsibility of that blessing. And maybe we should pray that we could begin to approach what was happening in the early church.

“All the believers were one in heart and mind. No one claimed that any of his possessions was his own, but they shared everything they had. With great power the apostles continued to testify to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and much grace was upon them all. There were no needy persons among them. For from time to time those who owned lands or houses sold them, brought the money from the sales and put it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to anyone as he had need.”  Act 4:32–35

Maybe that is not possible in this culture. I suppose I am naive. But I am sure we can do a lot better by being a little less oblivious to the suffering around us.

If you want to help the children of Honduras or anywhere in the world you can go to World Vision or Feed the Children and share a part of your blessings.

 

 

As I navigate through our increasingly more bizarre culture I alternate between laughing and crying. Yesterday I found out that our government has decided to redefine the plight of poor families in our country. For the thirty-three million Americans without enough money to buy food or families in which parents skip meals so their children can eat are now labeled as having “very low food security.” The experts feel that the term “hungry” does really describe their situation.

I think these bureaucrats have “very low common sense capacity”. Hungry describes the situation for too many people in this country. I realized that we do the same thing as followers of Jesus. Because we don’t want to offend anyone we manage to do exactly what the government is doing. We have “very low truth and grace security”. The late Howard Cosell signature phrase was “telling it like it is”. Our culture seems increasingly less capable of calling simple concepts by their name.

Our politically correct society has make sin an archaic and intolerant word. But no word as powerfully communicates any behavior that separates me from a Holy God. By reducing the power of the concept of sin we have negated the awesome gift of grace. You don’t need grace to rescue you from idiosyncrasies. I haven’t been moved by a hymn that says…

Amazing Grace. How sweet the sound,
That empowered a dysfunctional but spiritually seeking and fundamentally good person like me.

Somehow John Newton’s original line about saving a wretch like me hits a little closer to my story. I am not talking about self-bashing and looking for fault. I am talking about the mind boggling prospect of facing a holy and sinless God with resume that I would have to present. Am I a good person? Yeah, I think so. Am I up to that appointment without the redemptive endorsement of Jesus? No way.

The classic hymn He Took My Sins Away by Margaret Harris would lose some luster if many of us in the body of Christ were writing it about ourselves. Here is the refrain as she wrote it in 1901.

He took my sins away, He took my sins away,
And keeps me singing every day!
I’m so glad He took my sins away,
He took my sins away.

One hundred and four years later it might go something like this…

He recognized my dysfunctional past, He helped me find my inner voice
And showed me it was not my fault
I’m so glad He understood my syndrome
He took away my responsibility.

Same verse…everybody sing along now.

Ahh….responsibility…that is a bad word in our culture. Evangelist Mike Wells makes a sobering point in one his newsletters. He was talking to a man who was, in his words, addicted to pornography. Wells responded “I’ll bet your family is sick of watching pornography with you.” The man was horrified. “Oh no, I would never look at it around them!”  Wells asked him the uncomfortable question of how can you be addicted if you can choose when and where he watches pornography? So much of what we try to excuse as addiction is a choice that we make. We choose to find a private place. We choose to go online and we choose to type in the address of a site that is inappropriate. I will grant that not making these choices can be difficult but we are denigrating the power of Jesus Christ living through us if we say we can’t make them.

Any thing that breaks the covenant between myself and a Holy God is sin. God doesn’t have scales to weigh our sins. Really good people still fall short of the mark. I fall short and I need that fixed. Jesus came to fix it. That gift of forgiveness is incomprehensible.

Jesus called sin by it’s name…but He also calls us by name…His child. All it takes is accepting the gift of salvation.