As Jesus went on from there, he saw a man named Matthew sitting at the tax collector’s booth. “Follow me,” he told him, and Matthew got up and followed him.                                                                                                                                                       Matthew 9:9

I don’t remember much from college classes over 40 years ago, but I have a vivid memory from art history class that has come back to me lately.

A painter named Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio was commissioned to paint a depiction of St. Matthew for a wealthy cardinal’s burial chapel. His first attempt showed a simple man being patiently helped along by an angel. The picture was not well received, as it made St. Matthew look too much like an ordinary person!

The artist’s second attempt was deemed more acceptable, with the saint looking nobler and the dictation of the gospel more dramatic and supernatural looking.

 

Although I liked both pictures, I remember thinking even back then that it was a shame to discard the picture of an ordinary man fulfilling an extraordinary task, as that is more the way most of us experience divine help.

As a believer for more than half a century, I have found times of supernatural events – bending or breaking of natural laws, dreams, visions, voices – have been very few and far between. Far more common in my life have been “coincidences” – those “What-are-the-odds-?” moments that never fail to delight me. If I were to have daily visions or hear God’s voice “coming out of nowhere” with unusual frequency, I’m guessing I would be deemed mentally unstable and relocated someplace where I couldn’t hurt myself or others.

Was it even likely the gospel writers took dictation directly from an angel? Possibly. God can do whatever He wants. But most of the stories told in the gospels are of events that happened with one or more of the disciples present, or others such as the woman at the well (John 4) who were likely to tell the writer what had happened. The gospel writers were merely writing down what they had seen and heard.

Still, as I’ve been reading the book of Matthew, a few of the details have caused me to wonder, “Wait a minute… How did he know that?”

I have been trying to imagine how each of the gospel writers might have gained the information they are telling, assuming that it was all by natural means. Of course, God can do miracles any time He wants to, but He is also very skilled at using people and things that “just happened to be” in a certain place and time.

In Matthew’s gospel we are told about Herod the tetrarch, who ruled over Galilee during the time of Jesus. Herod had stolen his brother’s wife, and when John the Baptist confronted him with his sin, John was imprisoned and later beheaded.

In Matthew 14, we are told that when Herod heard the reports about Jesus, “he said to his attendants, ‘This is John the Baptist; he has risen from the dead!’ ” (Matthew 14:1-2)

How did Matthew know this?

Our pastor said something last Sunday while preaching from the gospel of John that might help answer my question.

In John 4:46-54, Jesus had come from Judah to Galilee. A “royal official” came to Him and begged Him to heal his child, who was close to death. Our pastor reminded us that in Galilee a “royal” official would have worked under Herod.

Was it this official who told Herod about Jesus’ miracles?

Jumping over to the gospel of Luke, we find a list of the names of women who followed Jesus and supported Him financially. Among these women was Joanna, “the wife of Cuza, the manager of Herod’s household.”

How did the wife of Herod’s household manager end up following Jesus?

We might note that Herod, although a Jew, was a sort of puppet king put in place by the Roman government. The Jews of the day despised him, considering him a traitor.

But wait – weren’t there other people the Jews despised and considered traitors? – Oh yeah, the tax collectors. But Jesus actually chose a tax collector to be one of His disciples…

Matthew. 

We don’t know how long Matthew had been a tax collector before Jesus called him to be His disciple, but it seems likely he had connections with Rome, maybe even knew some of his fellow “traitors” who were part of the palace staff. Perhaps Matthew had told the royal official about Jesus’ miraculous healings, encouraging him to come to Jesus when his child was sick. Perhaps this “royal official” was Cuza, and his wife Joanna was so grateful for the healing of their son that she became a follower of Jesus.

Why would Jesus choose a despised tax collector to be one of His disciples? Why would He have allowed the wife of the household manager of one of His greatest enemies to follow Him? Why would He choose to accept a criminal on the cross next to Him to be one of the first to enter His kingdom?

(Why would He choose you? Why would He choose me?)

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”  (John 3:16)

That’s “whoever.” Whatever our race, nationality, situation, or time in history when we were born – none of it is a mistake. You are part of God’s strategy! Who are you in a unique position to tell the Good News? You might be the only one who can reach that person. Don’t wait for a vison, a voice or an angel – just keep your eyes open for that “divine appointment.” And when you see it, go for it.

Prayer: Lord, thank You for calling ordinary people like me to spread Your Good News. Help me not to compare myself to others, but to see how You can use me. Here. Now. Thank You for giving me everything I need to fulfill today’s assignment. I’m excited to serve You! In Jesus’ name, Amen.

 

“Be faithful unto death … ”         Revelation 2:10

 

Fifty years ago I met the love of my life at the Casino.

(I know, doesn’t sound very romantic, does it?) The “Casino” was a snack bar in the Portage Point Inn where the kids could get soft drinks and snacks, listen to the jukebox, and play games like ping-pong and pinball. It was the favorite evening hangout of the teenagers that came to the little northern Michigan town from all over the Midwest in the summer.

When my family arrived after twelve hours of driving from St. Louis, it was the first place I wanted to go, knowing I’d find friends there that I hadn’t seen since the last summer.

I already knew Marty’s brother Dave, who was ten days younger than I was, but I had only seen his older brother from a distance and had been smitten by the tanned, dimpled face and sun-bleached hair. I had seen him emerging from scuba diving onto the dock in his black wetsuit and had watched him and the other college-aged guys playing volleyball. But I had never heard him say a word – and I almost didn’t that night, either.

As I walked into the Casino, there was the gang, crowded around a table that was just a little too small, and there in the middle of them was Dave’s cute older brother! My heart skipped a beat, and as sometimes happens when I’m nervous or excited, my mouth kicked into gear. I began to talk. Well, chatter, really – uncontrollably!

(“Help! I’m talking and I can’t shut up!”)

Marty was just sitting there with a slight, somewhat amused smile on his face. I remember going back to the rented cottage that night, smacking my forehead, and thinking, Well, Ann, you finally met Dave’s brother, and you blew it!

(Years later my mother-in-law told me that Marty had come home that night and casually asked her about the age difference between her and his dad, and she had known something was up.)

I was entering my senior year in high school and Marty his senior year in college. I was in awe of this “older man” and doubted he would be interested in a kid like me. When he offered to teach me how to scuba dive, I told myself he was just being nice. When he hung out with the high school kids instead of drinking with the other college students, I concluded, It’s because he’s not a drinker. And that made me like him all the more.

I’ll skip the sappy details. I finally figured out that he liked me as much as I liked him. And while I was terrified to introduce him to my sister Susie, who was closer to his age and had always been much “cooler” than I was, years later he told me I needn’t have worried.

“I could tell right away she was even more spoiled than you were.” (Thanks, honey… I think…)

Although our relationship seemingly started with “love at first sight,” there is no such thing. It was attraction at first sight, which does not guarantee a good relationship!

But happily, it doesn’t preclude one, either.

A successful relationship, whether with a spouse or with God, depends on commitment, not emotions. It involves making hard choices when one knows what’s right but doesn’t “feel like it.” Believe me, we’ve had plenty of those.

Decades ago I wrote a song for our anniversary. (A HUGE thanks from this technologically challenged blogger to fellow blogger Sue Love for helping me get the recording on this post.) As you plow through my nostalgia, I do hope you’ll catch the wisdom in the middle.

Anniversary Song (A Long, Long Time)

I remember the night I first met you
You seemed kind of quiet and shy.
You were special to me, but I didn’t want to be
Hurt again – I just knew you’d make me cry.
But I found out you weren’t like the others;
You were such a friend, so loyal and true.
And as summer turned to fall, I knew in spite of all,
I had fallen in love with you.

There was a warm wind and stars in the heavens,
And as your hand held tightly to mine,
Darlin’, all I could say was, “I love you today,
And I might for a long, long time.”

Well, some folks think that “love” means emotion,
So it comes and goes their whole life through.
Some folks never know that when the magic goes,
If you keep on lovin’, it’ll come back to you.
I was so afraid we’d lose the special feeling,
And someday we’d find our love wasn’t true,
But then God opened up my eyes and made me realize
Love is not what you feel, it’s what you do.

And so we stood side by side at the altar,
As our wills and God’s power combined.
With His help I could say, “I do love you today,
And I will for a long, long time.”

Oh, I thank the Lord for bringing us together,
As I recall our lives through the years;
Through all the moves, the jobs, the fun, with two daughters and a son,
He has brought us through the trials and the tears.
Now every trial’s a little bit less trying,
And every joy is deeper than before.
And I can truly say, in each and every way,
Every day I grow to love you more and more.

Now there’s a warm wind and stars in the heavens,
And our arms and our lives are entwined,
And I’m glad I can say that I love you today,
And I have for a long, long time,
And I will for a long, long time.

c 1987 Ann Aschauer

Prayer: Lord, thank You for Your commitment to us and our salvation – all the way to the Cross! Give us strength to show that kind of commitment to others – beginning with You. In Your name, amen.

So the Lord God banished him from the Garden of Eden to work the ground from which he had been taken.                                                                                                                                                                                 Genesis 3:23

 

Last week Marty and I started watching the Amazon series “Banished.” Seeing the “redcoats,” I thought at first it was a patriotic film in honor of Independence Day. But this series is set in eighteenth century Australia in a penal colony that would later become Sydney. .

Like most people, I knew that Australia was where British criminals were sent, but little more. I had never bothered to envision what life might have been like for them.

The storyline was one of constant oppression by one person or group toward another.

For example, an officer tells a soldier under him that there aren’t enough women to go around; he must “share” his woman. If the soldier refuses, he will be hanged, and she will belong to the officer anyway. (Women are property here.)

One convict, a blacksmith, routinely steals the food of another, simply because he is bigger and the others are afraid to resist him, leaving his victim to starve. When the starving man complains, the authorities claim not to believe him, only because they don’t want to lose their only blacksmith.

Time and again, one person pulls rank on another, simply because they can. Any offense, from murder to petty theft is punishable by hanging (with or without evidence). In the penal colony there is neither justice nor mercy, and anyone confronting the authorities with their hypocrisy is met with indifference – or punishment.

I have lived a pretty sheltered life and have never seen this degree of bullying outside the playground or movies. Having been raised in a loving family, it’s hard for me to fathom that kind of brazen selfishness so shamelessly acted out.

The theme of oppression is one that is strikingly relevant today. Certainly race has a great deal to do with the hostilities here in the U.S. But in “Banished,” interestingly, every character is white and English. Clearly something else is in play besides race, and that something could be summed up in a word:

POWER.

Throughout history, many have proven that they cannot be trusted with power. Given a little authority over another human being, insecure people become tyrants, treating those under them as their own personal property, manipulating them to benefit themselves, or just bullying to show off – because they can. Where there is no chain of authority, the power lies with the biggest, the strongest, or the shrewdest. Cruelty approaches the demonic when the bully not only doesn’t care about whom he’s hurting or what is right and wrong, but really doesn’t care if he’s hated. The basest appetites rule, and the one with the power has regressed to a point where he is hardly recognizable as someone who was once a creature made in the image of God.

“Banished” is an appropriate title for this series, because it’s about people banished from their mother country, and seemingly alienated from the human race, as well.

Recently there was a discussion on a local station about racial tensions and related events in the news. My friend Marilyn, a black woman on the panel, was asked what her views were on racial reconciliation. She replied that she really didn’t like the term.

“The word ‘reconciliation’ implies that there was once a good relationship that has been lost and needs to be restored,” she pointed out. “But between the races, there has only been the oppressor and the oppressed.” Interesting point.

The need for reconciliation goes much further back than this century. It even goes further back than slavery in the U.S. It  goes clear back to Creation, when God made people in His own image.

“God is love.” (I John 4:8) But Love needs an object. So the God of the universe created the first man and woman in His image, someone to lavish His love on. They enjoyed sweet fellowship with their Creator daily in the Garden of Eden – a perfect relationship in a perfect place. They had access to countless delights. All they had to do was refrain from eating the fruit of one tree.

But soon the couple were enticed to disobey, being persuaded that the God who had given them everything was somehow holding back something good. When they had tasted the one forbidden fruit, their eyes were opened, but it was not to see wonderful new things. It was to see their own sinfulness. Having been corrupted, humanity was banished from the Garden, and Mankind has lived in a fallen world ever since.

We blew it. Yes, “we.” Before pointing a finger at anyone else, we must consider that “All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” (Romans 3:23) We all need reconciliation, but in our sin we have burned our ships, and there’s no going back without God’s help.

Here’s the dilemma:

God is just. We have all separated ourselves from Him and can’t return to a sinless state; “The wages of sin is death.” (Romans 6:23)

But God is also merciful, and He loves us.

So, now what?

Jesus’ death on the cross was the only way God could act both justly and mercifully. Jesus paid the price we owed, the price we could never afford to pay for ourselves. Through believing in Him we can be reconciled to God and live forever in the home He has prepared for us.

All of us are criminals. All of us are rightly condemned. But pardon has been extended to us. We can accept it and go back to the Father who loves us. Or we can reject the offer and remain alienated and without hope.

Do we dare pass up such an offer?

Prayer: Lord, thank You for offering the pardon I desperately need but don’t deserve. I accept! Help me now to live the life You created me to live, in Jesus’ name. Amen

 

 

 

 

“From the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.”                                                                              Luke 12:48b

The above verse has always convicted me; I’m privileged, and I know it.

When I was still quite young, my parents took me to see the film “To Kill a Mockingbird.” I was only in about fourth grade, but I was old enough to recognize “NOT FAIR!” when I saw it. I remember years later reading Black Like Me and seeing movies featuring scenes involving the KKK that made my blood boil.

Thanks to my church, I had an awareness not only of racial tensions, but also of the plight of children who had no homes, parents, or enough food. I thought of them with a twinge of guilt whenever I put coins into the little cardboard church bank, where I saved up for the annual Sunday school offering for the hungry.

Thoroughly aware of all my privileges (white and otherwise), I lived the first few decades of my life in guilt. When meeting new people I was reluctant to disclose where I lived or the private school I had attended. In college I dressed in the faded jeans and T-shirts that were the norm then. I went through occasional bouts of depression and self-loathing, and from the ages of 17 to 30 I battled an eating disorder.

I married Marty at the age of twenty. He was clearly a better man than I deserved, and although I was thrilled to be his wife, at times my unworthiness added to the guilt I was already feeling, until a certain moment of enlightenment.

Shortly after we had splurged and bought a new car, we were notified that we owed some back taxes that we had been unaware of. The amount seemed staggering at the time.  This was the closest I had ever come to having “financial troubles,” and I wondered if I was finally going to be transformed into “a good [poor] Christian.”

Well, Lord, is this when You’re going to teach me how to be poor?

I’d had silent conversations with God before, but they usually ran through my head with few surprises, so I was never really sure if it was the Lord speaking to me or just my imagination. But occasionally His answers were so unexpected I was sure the words weren’t coming from me.

Poor? [Chuckle] You haven’t learned how to be rich yet.

Huh?

Ann, you’ve spent your whole life apologizing for what I’ve given you! 

The answer startled me. I had to think about it for a moment.

Wow, I have … How ungrateful of me.

I confessed my ingratitude, accepted the Lord’s forgiveness, and vowed to be more thankful in the future. I gave the financial hiccup over to Him, and waited to see what He wanted me to do.

As it turned out, I didn’t have to do anything. The Lord solved the problem so quickly I almost sank into the guilt trip again. (Why do some people have such a hard time receiving grace?)

My hard-working husband got a promotion at work, and one of the perks was driving a company car. He told his boss thank you, but he didn’t need it, he had just bought a new car. His boss asked him how much he had paid and reimbursed him for the amount.

Which happened to be just what we owed in taxes.

I saw the Lord’s blessing differently this time – not as something to be ashamed of, but an opportunity to praise Him for His goodness. I underwent a major change in my attitude.

I had done volunteer work most of my life, starting with being a teen-aged “candy striper” at the children’s hospital. Through my twenties I did ministry of various kinds every chance I got. After my little revelation I continued doing ministry regularly, but for vastly different reasons.

Before, my motivation had been guilt and trying to make up for my privilege. As if I could somehow pay God back (Silly, proud woman!) and show everyone that I was really a good person, and please-don’t-hate-me. (Besides, it beat doing housework.)

Totally selfish motives.

Once I realized I could never repay God, my motivation changed, starting with acknowledging that Jesus had died for me, sins and all. In fact, my sins were why He died. Sin needs to be atoned for with a perfect sacrifice, and I sure wasn’t qualified to do that! So the Son of God, in His perfection, had laid down His life in exchange for mine.

Talk about a lavish gift … !

Now I still do ministry, but not to earn His love. I do it because I have His love. I want more than anything to offer Him back everything He has blessed me with, to make Him smile – to make Him laugh with delight! Marty’s career enabled me to be flexible with my time, giving to the community and being a positive influence with my students, using the gifts and skills given me throughout my life.

Past experiences – piano lessons, French, and my excellent education – all came in handy. (Mrs. Striker, who saw to it we didn’t pass seventh grade until we could write, spell, and punctuate perfectly, would be pleased with my blog, four books, and frequent letters to the editor.) Even my struggles with food, self esteem, and depression helped in working with youth.

Jesus said, “I have come that they might have life, and have it abundantly.” (John 10:10) But “abundant life” doesn’t mean having a lot of stuff! It’s being able to enjoy whatever God has given us (tangible and intangible) and letting Him use it to help others. Like the loaves and fishes, Jesus knows how to multiply whatever we offer Him.

How much should we offer Him?

Everything. Because it’s all from Him in the first place.

Prayer: Lord, whatever You have given is sufficient for whatever You are calling us to do. You’ve blessed us. Make us a blessing to others, in Jesus’ name. Amen.

 

 

“Search me, O God, and know my heart;                                                                                   test me and know my anxious thoughts.                                                                                       See if there is any offensive way in me,                                                                                        and lead me in the way everlasting.”

                                                            Psalm 139: 23-24

I am guilty of racism. 

There, I said it. The latest thing these days is for all white people to accept the fact that they are part of the systemic racism that is plaguing the country. A couple of people I know (or thought I knew) have been encouraging me to take this view of myself.

At first the implication startled me. I wondered if any of my black, Hispanic, Middle Eastern, or Asian friends had ever shared that opinion of me. If so, they never let on. I had never suspected it myself, although admittedly I’ve probably committed many sins I don’t realize or remember. Since I’ve had friends of all colors and backgrounds, have done ministry in various cultural settings, and have tried to love everyone the way Jesus would, I wanted to know where it was that I might have failed. I was told that since I questioned the idea, now my “defensiveness” was proving that this assessment of me was true.

(Please don’t misunderstand my confusion! I could make a long list of sins of commission and omission, failures and bad attitudes . I just wouldn’t have thought of “racism” as being one of them.)

But then I came across a verse of scripture that reminded me of something profound:

“For whoever keeps the whole law and yet stumbles at just one point is guilty of breaking all of it.”                                                  (James 2:10)

*GOTCHA!*

I remembered then that we don’t have to be hardened criminals to be under God’s condemnation; one sin is enough to make us guilty of all sin.

So that means I am guilty of racism.

And lying. And cheating. And stealing.

And adultery. And murder. And blasphemy. And idolatry …

You name it, I’m guilty! And no amount of regrets, study groups, zoom meetings, marches, activism, or good deeds can make me “not guilty.” Even if they could, I would wake up tomorrow, and the first selfish thought – the first hint of envy, anger, or self-righteousness – would plunge me back into a guilty state. I wouldn’t want it, but I would be helpless to change it.

I’m apparently not the only one who has struggled this way. Paul wrote almost two thousand years ago,

“For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do – this I keep on doing.”                                                           (Romans 7:18b-19)

So, as much as I want to be a good person, I can’t. There is nothing good in me.

– in just me.

But I have an Ally that I didn’t always know. When I was a hopeless sinner, Jesus offered to pay the penalty – to post my bail, so to speak – and die in my place. The perfect Man – God’s Son – who deserved nothing but good things, died a horrible death to break the power of sin in my life. Better yet, He didn’t stay dead – He rose back to life, the Victor over death, to open up the way for me (and anyone else who believes in Him) to have eternal life, as well!

Eternal life started the moment I confessed my sin and placed my faith in Jesus to save me. His Holy Spirit lives in me now and empowers me to live for Him, doing the good that was impossible for me do on my own. Any goodness in me is because of Him.  (Some of the best things He has done though me have been done without my even being aware of it.)

Anything evil in me … well, that’s the residual sin nature that I have to fight every day for the rest of my earthly life. The difference is that now I have a fighting chance! I may not have arrived, but I am going in the right direction, as He leads me and makes His will known to me day by day.

What about my “white privilege?”

I’ll be the first to admit I have been given all kinds of privileges, way more than I deserve, and I’ve been aware of them for a long, long time. The question isn’t how to get rid of my privileges, but How can I use whatever advantages I have to lift up the disadvantaged, to draw them closer to Christ and the “abundant life” I have known?

Jesus said,

“To whom much is given, much will be required.” (Luke 12:48)

In light of that convicting verse, I have a lot to do – and He will empower me to do it. It may mean getting involved in fighting racism. It might be in the area of serving refugees, helping the homeless, defending the preborn, doing music ministry in nursing homes and hospitals, writing more books, or living out the love of Jesus with one person at a time, one day at a time. His plan is unique for each of us.

What about my other labels – “Racist“? “White supremacist“? “Bigot“? (“Liar,” “thief,” “murderer,” etc.)?

Jesus has given me a new label: “Child of God.”

I am free to identify with my Creator and keep my eyes on Him. My life’s goal is to be everything He wants me to be. With all due respect to the authors of the trendy best-sellers, I’m going to let Jesus define me. After laying down His life for me, He’s earned the right to call me whatever He wants.

Prayer: Father in heaven, You knew everything about me – my sin, my ingratitude, and my weakness, and You wanted me anyway. Thank You for paying such a heavy price to forgive me and adopt me into Your family. I am Yours. Make me what You want me to be, and use me to carry out Your purposes for me every moment of my life, in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.                                                                                                                                                         Philippians 2:4

Recently I had the privilege of being one of first invitees to come back to my church after eleven weeks of “attending” on line. We are coming back in limited groups, different people each service for a while; those who aren’t there in person can still live stream on line.

As much as I wanted to charge full speed back into church life as I’d remembered it, there were certain rules to be followed now, and I dutifully took one last deep breath of fresh air before donning my face mask upon arrival.

Although we all wore the masks from the moment we left our cars, we could still recognize one another. (I resisted the urge to say, “Trick or treat!”) Walking up the steps to the church entrance, it felt like forever since we had been there, and at the same time it felt as though no time had passed at all.

There was no cluster of people around the table in the foyer that usually held the bulletins, and the coffee stations looked sad with hand sanitizer in lieu of their usual fare. We walked directly into the sanctuary and picked up sterile bulletins from where we sat down. Every other pew was blocked off, and seating was spaced with 6-foot gaps between families. People were discouraged from using the rest rooms, which were limited to just one person at a time.

Watching a service on line, I had always sung along at home with the “socially distanced” worship team appearing across the screen (four singers, a piano, and a couple of guitars). I had sung with gusto, filling my living room the best I could. But somehow my “joyful noise” had been lacking.

However, that night at church when the music started with about a third of the usual congregation, I was overjoyed to hear us all singing the familiar songs again. I was surprised at how well our voices carried through the masks, complete with four-part harmony, some of us with hands lifted toward heaven. It felt like being in God’s throne room. Although it wasn’t close to the experience we used to enjoy, it was such a blessing just to be together again that I had happy tears in my eyes. Later I heard the pastor get choked up, too, as he led us in prayer.

I remember reading somewhere that when people have been starving for extended periods of time, it is a very bad idea to gorge on food as soon as it’s available. It’s reportedly healthier – and I would think, more gratifying – to take a little at a time and savor each bite, while the stomach gets used to being fed again.

Yes, I am REALLY looking forward to the day we can all gather again with no one left out, singing with smiles uncovered, enjoying hugs, hand-shakes, fist-bumps, high fives, whatever your thing is. We’ll “catch up” on one another’s lives over cups of coffee, while our children and grandchildren run around together, laughing and playing. We’ll lay hands on the sick and gather in small huddles to offer up impromptu prayers for one another. We’ll feast on the fellowship we’ve been missing during our times of isolation.

But for now, I’m happy to taste the morsels of joy I’ve missed so much  – the smiling eyes peeking out from masked faces, familiar voices, and gestures of “virtual hugs” from friends long absent. I’m trying to exercise patience and savoring the moments as they come.

If we take our blessings back one at a time, we have a better chance to truly appreciate each one, not to mention showing respect and compassion for those whose fragile health might still be making them uneasy about rejoining the community.

The fact that there are different opinions about the closing down of our society has become painfully obvious. It seems some people with opposing viewpoints are at each other’s throats, one side accusing the other of not caring if they die of Covid, and the other accusing anyone who disagrees with them of not caring if they go bankrupt and die homeless on the street. (I’m about to take a break from social media. I need a breather.)

I would describe myself as neither a terrified recluse or a defiant protester. As a friend used to say, “I’m a staunch middle-of-the-roader.” I believe and hope that there is a way to gather safely, to be the much-needed support system for one another, while at the same time being respectful of those who are still frightened of the virus.

(Sometimes I feel like I’ve had it, and I want to scream at the Corona virus, like a child having a tantrum, “JUST LEAVE US ALONE!!!” But obviously if that strategy had had any chance of working, someone would have done it by now.)

So for now, we take back our privileges as they become available, savoring each one, each moment, as a gift from the Giver of Life. As we set aside our preferences to show consideration to the needs of others, we have an opportunity to grow in the “fruits of the Spirit,” such as patience and self control.  With God’s help, we can benefit from the experience ourselves, as we can from every life experience when we give it to Him.

Prayer: Father in heaven, we confess that some of us get impatient with what we consider partial blessings. We long to get back to the full experience of fellowship with the Body of Christ. And yet we remember how Your Son Jesus suffered the separation from You as He hung on the cross to pay for our sins. Give us patience and a selfless, Christ-like attitude as we ease back into the blessed life we enjoyed and took for granted before – and may we never take it for granted again! In Jesus’ name, Amen.

 

 

 

“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world, and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.”                                                                                                                                                                                             Ephesians 6:12

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”                                                                                                                                                                                         Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

 

Every day the news reports have been full of turmoil, anger, and anguish. Images of the murders of African American individuals, violence, vandalism, and robbery haunt us. A sense of despair has gripped our nation like another invisible virus.

But one day in Louisville there was a different kind of story on the local news, one that began as sadly as the others, but which offered some hope before it was finished.

A grocery store had been severely damaged and looted the night before. It had been the only source of food and medicine in the area, and now it was out of commission for at least several days. A group of compassionate people had come to help clean up the mess, and as they were sweeping up piles of broken glass, another sound could be heard …

A gathering of Christians stood in a circle in front of the boarded-up building, praying heart-felt and passionate prayers. Hands raised, they sang songs of worship. Moments later they were setting up tables and handing out bags of groceries to the people who needed them. These Christ-followers were not just helping out in tangible ways, they were fighting back against the spiritual forces that had fueled the hatred and destruction the night before. As I watched with tears in my eyes, a verse of Scripture came to me:

“Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” Romans 12:21

This is what Christians are called to do – feed the hungry, bandage up the wounded, and give comfort to the grieving. We can make a difference, whether it is through social action, petitioning to have laws changed, combatting lies with truth, or offering comfort and hope to people who are feeling despair. It may seem that we are hopelessly outnumbered, but we have God on our side!

His help is always just a prayer away.

So, before we do anything else, we need to enter the Throne Room, pour our hearts out to the King, and let Him show us His plan. Otherwise, we’ll only be spinning our wheels as our own plans wear us out.

To the unbeliever prayer may seem like empty words, a waste of time. But believers know its power, because we know the One who answers those prayers. I could see that power in the joy that radiated from those Christian people both that day and when they came back the next day. As the reporter questioned them, their faces were beaming. All they wanted to talk about was the Lord.

https://www.wave3.com/2020/06/03/prayers-answered-after-kroger-reopens-west-louisville/?fbclid=IwAR1HzM_K-tilRiyESRUxm8Hdbvi2ntARVCO3wSojpXErY1qqEKX2dTnwIas

A few days later a video showed a multiracial gathering in my home town of St. Louis, MO. Believers had gathered under the St. Louis Arch to worship and spend time in prayer for the end of racism in the country, and for the love of Jesus to be poured out through them.

Then two days ago I saw a photo of people in Minneapolis being baptized on the street where George Floyd was murdered. Faces both black and white were smiling, and in their smiles I could see hope – Light piercing the darkness.

I am grateful to those who spread these glimmers of hope in a world where it seems “good news is no news.” I’ve tried to share these images as much as possible as an antidote to the hatred and rage that seems to saturate the nightly news and social media.

The Gospel of Jesus Christ is Good News! But first there is the bad news:

“All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.”  (Romans 3:23)

In other words, nobody’s perfect … So what?

“The wages of sin is death … “ (Romans 6:23a) That’s eternal death.

“No Justice, No Peace.” But how will we ever have peace if we get the justice we deserve?

Answer: We look to Jesus Christ, the only perfect Person who ever lived, who was willing to take our judgment on Himself so we could be forgiven and clean. The price had to be paid, and He paid it. “Bail,” “ransom,” whatever you want to call it – that’s the Good News! 

“For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not by works, so that no one can boast.” (Galatians 2: 8-9)

PLEASE NOTE: although we may not be saved by good works, we are saved for good works. Anyone who calls himself a follower of Christ but doesn’t show it by his actions is only fooling himself.

“Faith without works is dead.” James 2:26

Sadly, in this world there will never be a complete end to racism, or for that matter any other form of sin, not as long as Mankind is terminally sin-sick and the majority refuse to accept the Cure.

Scripture warns us that when the righteous go against the current of evil, we will suffer for it in this world.

But none of that means we shouldn’t be faithful where we are and be a light in the darkness wherever we can, however small that light might seem.

No matter what is going on around you, you can work toward justice, equality, and better relationships between races, wherever, whenever you have opportunity. Just don’t forget the most important strategy of all – PRAYER.

It’s our lifeline – and our power cord.

Prayer: Lord Jesus, as we look around us, we can get so discouraged. Help us to look to You instead. We know that we can’t solve every problem in the world, but show us what we can do right where we are. May we bring hope and healing to those who are within our reach, and in doing so, glorify You, in Jesus’ name. Amen

 

The heart is deceitful above all things                                                                                                      and beyond cure.                                                                                                                       Who can understand it?                                                                                                                                                                     Jeremiah 17:9

Like many other cities, Louisville is reeling in the aftermath of the injustices of recent days. Our nation is rightly outraged about the killing of individuals at the hands of those whose job it was to protect them.  Closest to home was Breonna Taylor, a young EMS worker, shot by police in her own Louisville apartment in March.

In recent days and nights the streets have been filled with mourners, grieving the senseless deaths, but more than that, grieving that our system that was supposed to uphold liberty and equality is still poisoned with such reckless and irrational acts.

Gatherings of concerned citizens started out as peaceful, constructive demonstrations. But each night the  people just wanting their voices to be heard were joined by outsiders who escalated the tensions and hijacked the event, until the city saw rampant vandalism, arson, and looting that had nothing to do with the original purpose of the gathering. As I watched events unfolding on live news, it was clear that many of those present cared nothing about Breonna Taylor or her family. Images of the latecomers showed smiling, chatting, laughing faces moving through the streets like a parade of athletes who had just won the pennant and were ready to celebrate. Behind one reporter an individual covered completely in black, including his face, wielded a hammer, systematically smashing every window he could reach. Recycling bins and other objects were in flames, and we wondered how attempting to set fire to the Muhammed Ali Center was supposed to benefit African Americans, when racial justice was the original stated purpose of the event.

Over the course of several nights, buildings were destroyed and businesses robbed of everything, many of them businesses owned by minorities. Innocent people saw years of their hard work go up in smoke. They watched helplessly as their possessions were hauled away by those who clearly cared nothing for the lives of their brothers and sisters but only saw an opportunity to get free stuff. People who had gathered to make their voices heard left more wounded than ever. After the battle, it seemed the only winners were racism, greed, and violence.

But racism, greed and violence are symptoms of a bigger problem: sin. Ever since the first man and woman disobeyed God in the Garden of Eden, every human being born has inherited the same sin nature that first rebelled against the Creator.

Sin wants to feel  superior to others because of color, gender, race, or any other random, irrelevant difference. Sin gives nothing and will do anything to get more – robbery, human trafficking, and dealing in substances that destroy the lives of others. Sin is OK with the suffering of others, as long as its own welfare is secure.

Sin wants all the attention and recognition and credit for every accomplishment. Sin will lie to gain popularity. It wants everyone’s approval and gets angry with anyone who disagrees. Sin doesn’t want to listen to others. Sin can’t be happy about the good fortune of someone else and may even rejoice to see others “get what they deserve,” ignoring the fact that we all deserve judgment.

You don’t need me to tell you that our society is broken and sick and desperately in need of a cure. But in the end that cure is not going to come in the form of a new law, program, better facilities, or any amount of money.

We should certainly strive for changes that make life better for others – shame on us if we don’t! Ultimately, however, we will never be able to root out the sin in the hearts of others – or even ourselves. We were born sinful, and the only way society can be changed is for individuals to be changed, from the inside out.

We need to be born again.

I stated that every human being born has had the sin nature of Adam. But there is one exception, and that’s Jesus. Without a human father, Jesus had the divine nature of His Father – God. He was both fully human and fully divine. (I know that’s hard to grasp, but stay with me here …) Jesus is the One who bridges the gap between unholy Man and a holy God. Sin (and racist or not, we all have sin in our lives) needs to be atoned for, and since only a perfect sacrifice is acceptable to God, the only One who could offer that perfect sacrifice is the perfect Man, Jesus. When He gave His life on the cross, He was paying the debt we couldn’t pay, so we could be forgiven, cleansed, filled with His Spirit, and given a new nature – not as perfect people, but people who desire to serve God in any way we are called to. First and foremost, serving God is loving Him, and loving others.

We need to admit our sin and need for a Savior, surrender our lives to Jesus, and ask Him to fill us with His Spirit. We won’t be instantly perfect, but He will set our lives on a different path when we repent. The word “repent” means “to change one’s mind.” As our minds are changed, our lives will be changed, as well.

Recent events have shined a spotlight on the depraved condition of the human race. To see these events unfold, one might think there is no hope for us as a society. But other events have been unfolding that are shining a light in the darkness. Stay tuned …

Prayer: Lord Jesus, we are so quick to point fingers and rail against the blatant injustices we see around us. Our world is broken. But in our anguish we have failed to acknowledge our own sin. We’ve tried to right wrongs without Your help and only made a bigger mess of things. Bring us back to You, our Creator, who made us in Your image. Fill us with Your divine nature, and help us to be a light in all this darkness. Have mercy on us, in Jesus’ name. Amen.

 

Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.         Colossians 3:2

This piece, originally entitled “What Else Matters?” was posted May 3 of last year. I wanted to share it again, for all my readers who are or have seniors missing their prom, graduation, and other festivities they thought they would be enjoying now. Feel free to share this with them. I hope it encourages those who are feeling the loss.

It was the morning of the National Day of Prayer. I was sitting in the auditorium at City Hall, listening to my daughter’s school choir singing a goosebump-raising rendition of “You Are God Alone.” They were warming up for the city-wide prayer meeting that was starting in half an hour. And I was crying.

My daughter Kelly had been having a rough time in high school. The migraines that had first appeared when she was four years old had continued to plague her through grade school and middle school and had caused her record absences through high school, in spite of years of prayers and attempts to find a solution through medicine, both traditional and “alternative.”

But in spite of enduring more pain than some people suffer in a lifetime, Kelly had found a few sources of pleasure in her life. By far her greatest joy was singing, and her favorite part of school was choir. When the students performed, Kelly’s face radiated with unmistakable joy. She had looked forward to the national Day of Prayer and taking part, and as I had said goodbye to her that morning and she left for school, I had whispered a special prayer of thanks to God for this special day.

My optimism had been short-lived, however. Kelly had called me from the parking lot of a McDonald’s half a mile from school to tell me about the migraine that had assaulted her shortly after she had walked out the door. When I had suggested that she come home, take some medication, and rest until the assembly, she had sobbed that if she didn’t show up at 8:00 she wouldn’t be allowed to sing with the choir.

There are definite advantages to a small Christian school, one of them being teachers who know each student well and practice grace along with discipline. As I called the office to explain Kelly’s dilemma, the choir director, who “happened to be” right by the phone, responded with compassion. She said to let Kelly come home, take a pill and a nap, and meet the choir at City Hall at 11:30 if she was feeling better.

But the medication that knocked out the migraine had a way of knocking out the patient as well, and when I had tried to rouse Kelly for the prayer meeting, she had been hopelessly (and predictably) dead to the world. Now as the choir finished their warm-up and filed off the stage, there I sat, with nothing to do but feel sorry for Kelly, thinking of all the important high school events she had missed and would never again get a chance to do. And yes, I’ll admit I was feeling pretty sorry for myself, as well. (When “BabyBear” hurts, “MamaBear” hurts, too.) So in spite of my efforts to contain them, the tears flowed.

I was digging through my purse, looking for a tissue when I came across my small New Testament. Since the prayer meeting didn’t start until noon, I knew I had twenty minutes to kill, and the last thing I wanted to do was spend them wallowing in self-pity. So I pulled out the Bible and prayed.

Lord, Jesus, please encourage me. I don’t want to feel this way today!

I was not in the habit of looking for answers to problems by haphazardly opening the Bible; I hadn’t done that since college. But since I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, I opened the Book at random, planning just to read until I found something helpful, or until the prayer meeting started, whichever came first.

The scripture that first caught my eye was the last chapter of Mark:

When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they might go to anoint Jesus’ body. Very early on the first day of the week, just after sunrise, they were on their way to the tomb, and they asked each other, “Who will roll the stone away from the entrance of the tomb?”

But when they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had been rolled away. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man dressed in a white robe sitting on the right side, and they were alarmed.

“Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen!”                    (Mark 16: 1-6)

Something told me I had seen enough, so I stopped reading.

OK, what does that have to do with Kelly’s migraines? I wondered. But then I pondered the significance of the passage.

Jesus is alive … JESUS IS ALIVE! That means that death is not the end … for Him or for us! And it certainly means this life isn’t the be-all and end-all for those who trust in the Lord. – It’s barely the beginning!

Yes, my daughter had missed the National Day of Prayer, over a hundred days of high school, and numerous weekend festivities. She had missed Homecoming, but someday she would be at the greatest Homecoming in history. She had missed singing in the choir that day, but someday she would sing in heaven’s choir forever. Kelly loved Jesus, and she would get to spend forever with Him, at the never-ending, greatest celebration of all time. When one had that to look forward to … what else mattered?

What else matters? I asked myself, and I found that in spite of my pity-party, I was smiling. I decided that I would pour myself into the Day of Prayer and keep a better perspective on life from that day on, by remembering the one thing that really matters –

Jesus is alive!

Excerpted from BARRIERS (So, if prayers are so powerful, how come mine don’t get answered?)                           c 2015 Ann Aschauer

Prayer: Lord, we rejoice that You are alive! Keep us mindful of what really matters. In Your name, amen

DISCLAIMER: I am well aware that during this time of pandemic not everyone has had spare time on their hands! I know that some have been overwhelmed with trying to juggle working at home and home schooling kids. I know that some of you are working harder than ever to hold down your jobs in ways that are safe for everyone, and that some of you are risking your lives caring for the sick. – BLESS YOU ALL! This post was written more for those who have found themselves isolated, bored, and restless, a perspective where we have an extraordinary opportunity to hear from God – an opportunity we should not be wasting. On the other hand, when our lives are busier than ever – when we would welcome some boredom – this is something we may need even more.

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.”                                                                                                                                                                                                             I Kings 19:11-12

Elijah had prophesied a three-and-a-half-year drought for the rebellious nation of Israel. When the drought took place as predicted, the prophet spent three and a half years alone in the wilderness, hiding out from the evil and unrepentant Queen Jezebel, who was bent on killing him.

(You might say he was quarantined.)

During this time of isolation Elijah drank from a stream and was fed by ravens. The nineteenth chapter of I Kings describes the day the prophet heard from God. First he was assailed by all manner of natural disasters. Like special effects in a Hollywood blockbuster, a wind whipped through, powerful enough to split rocks, followed by an earthquake, then a fire. But it was only after these things had passed that Elijah heard the voice of God.

Today we have our own types of distractions, demands, interruptions, and crises coming from every direction, and sometimes it seems there is never a moment of quiet.

Until recently. Now for some of us our hyperactive minds have tended to think there’s been too much quiet, and reaching for a device to fill the void was almost an involuntary reflex. But as the quarantine continued and many have grown impatient, we have gone from filling the void to being bombarded by countless voices – opinions, rants, conspiracy theories, scandals, propaganda, trivia, and pointless chatter about every topic under the sun. How can staying “safe at home” feel so stressful? And how do we transition into the “new normal” without taking that extra stress with us?

Before turning on the noise again, let’s consider an alternative.

As abnormal as our present situation has felt, this lessening of daily demands may have been offering us an opportunity to hear a Voice we’ve possibly never heard before – a Voice well worth hearing.

Recently I came across this parable of a present-day “Elijah’s” experience that I wrote years ago. I wish I had found it a couple of months ago, but it’s still relevant – maybe more than when I wrote it – and it’s never too late to reevaluate our priorities and start making necessary changes. Check it out, and if the shoe fits, it just might be the last thing you’ll want to read on line today:

A young man was looking for God. He took his smartphone, read his text messages, checked his voicemail, and looked at his pictures. But the LORD was not in the smartphone.

He took his laptop and checked his emails, Facebook, and Twitter. But the LORD was not in the laptop.

He turned on the TV and checked the news, Netflix, Amazon, and Hulu. But the LORD was not in the TV.

Finally, the young man turned off all technology and sat in silence. And in the silence, there came a still, small voice …

As we wait for our society to finish reopening, instead of regretting the boredom, quiet, and isolation, let’s take advantage of every moment of solitude and quiet, while we still have a chance. Let’s use this time to develop a good habit to take with us into the “new normal” – the habit of not only talking to God, but also listening for his Still, Small Voice.

OK, I gotta go. I think Someone’s trying to reach me …

Prayer: Lord, we know that the battle for our souls takes place in our minds. Whether we are quarantined or back in our usual routine, help us to clear out mental clutter and make room for You. Help us daily to tune out the world and focus on Your still, small voice – to hear, to understand, to remember – to have Your divine perspective. Then help us to heed and obey what You tell us, in Jesus’ name and for Your glory. Amen