So THAT’s Why!

When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into deep water, and let down the nets for a catch.” – Luke 5:4

My last two posts dealt with my high school reunion, where I had hoped to find minds and hearts more open to the thought of eternity, especially after the recent deaths of some of our classmates. We’re all in our seventies now, and yet it seemed most of my peers are still focused on the present, or at times like reunions, the past, even as the future looms ahead, and the end is getting closer by the minute.

When I think of the future, I smile, even though I realize there’s not as much of this life ahead of me as there is behind, and what’s left will fly by faster than ever. It’s what comes after this life that gets me excited. I know I can’t possibly fathom what awaits believers in the Resurrection, but I know it’s going to be beyond wonderful.

I looked for opportunities to share my faith with my old friends, starting with the quote of the day: “Life is like a roll of toilet paper. The closer you get to the end, the faster it goes.” I got a few chuckles, but precious few people were interested in continuing a conversation on that subject. Although undoubtedly for some people this would be their last reunion, it baffled me that so many of these septuagenarians seemed unconcerned and not the least bit curious about what comes next. I was aching to tell them about the hope that I have – that my Savior, who could be their Savior, too, has beaten death, has been raised to everlasting life, and has promised that same life to anyone and everyone who believes in Him. What could be a more exciting topic of conversation that that? And yet, as fast as they changed the subject, one would think that they’d prefer any other subject to that one.

(I was wishing I had worn my favorite t-shirt, the one that says, “If being a Christian is boring, you’re doing it wrong.”)

According to the women in my book study group, staunch Reformists, the people I tried to share the gospel with didn’t respond, because they were lost and literally couldn’t respond, not unless God was drawing them to Himself. So, saving them was up to God, not me. And what’s more, according to them, the Lord decided long ago who would be drawn to Him and who wouldn’t.

I thought, So, if that’s the case, why evangelize? Why pray for the lost, if I have no control over other people and it’s already been decided, anyway? The tenets of Calvinism, if true, weren’t much motivation for me to continue praying for people and talking to them about Jesus.

Last week as I was reading the gospel pf Luke, I was still trying to trust God in this matter, even though I didn’t clearly understand – which is the true test of faith, isn’t it? In chapter 5, Jesus had finished speaking to the crowds from Simon (Peter) and Andrew’s fishing boat. When He told Simon to put out into deep water and let down the nets for a catch, Simon said something I could identify with completely that morning:

Simon answered, “Master, we’ve worked hard all night and haven’t caught anything.” (Luke 5:5) Boy, could I relate! But what followed brought tears to my eyes, because I recognized it as the attitude I should aim for:

” … But because you say so, I will let down the nets.”

Because You say so … And as you probably know, Simon obeyed and got the catch of a lifetime.

When my mother used to say, “Because I said so!” in response to my whining “WHYYYYYYY????” that answer used to bother me. But once I had my own children, I realized that in certain situations that’s a perfectly valid reason.

Even more when it’s God’s reason. When I can’t think of a rational reason to do something the Lord wants me to do, that Still, Small Voice says, How about doing it just because I’m asking you to do it? And of course, how could I say “no” to the One who loves me so much He died for me?

Sometimes He just says, Trust Me. And I know He’s worthy of my trust.

So, that was my answer to the nagging question I brought home with me. And for now, it’ll have to do.

Prayer: Father, You know all things, and I know next to nothing. Thank You for loving me anyway. Jesus, You told Your people to go and preach the gospel to everyone. Help us to obey that Great Commission, even though we don’t always see results. Help us to remember and accept that You don’t ask for results, You only ask for obedience. Help me to say, Like Mary, “behold the handmaiden of the Lord.” In Your name, amen.

One Bright Spot, One Possible Flicker

So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. – I Corinthians 3:7

My last post, describing my 55th class reunion, might have been what the kids would call a “downer,” since the weekend as a whole was disappointing to me. I had anticipated that with the recent deaths of so many classmates, there would be more opportunities to share the gospel, more openness to spiritual (eternal) things. But what I encountered were, for the most part, people who not only were clueless about the hereafter, but who didn’t care. I found it baffling. And a bit depressing.

At the cocktail party on the last night of the weekend, I had a conversation with an old classmate that started with the topic of the fleeting nature of life. At that point she brought up the concept of reincarnation, not that she believed in it, but that she found it interesting. She said she wasn’t sure what she believed about an afterlife, and it seemed she might have been looking for some answers. Delighted that she wasn’t cutting off the discussion at the first mention of spiritual things, I began to share my faith and was able to tell her why I believe what I do.

I told her that I needed an anchor, something by which I could know the unchanging Truth. Since my emotions are woefully unreliable, and since the world’s opinions and fads are like shifting sands, my anchor is the Bible, since it doesn’t change. I told her that concerning death, according to the Bible, we only live once, we die, and then we face Judgment. I said the Bible explains that we are all fallen people (sinners) and that our sins separate us from a holy God. To get to God, we need forgiveness, but forgiveness requires making atonement. According to the Bible, atonement requires a sacrifice, and the sacrifice had to be perfect … which we are not.

“But God … “ But Jesus, the Son of God and the onpft Person who ever lived, became that atonement! He paid the penalty for our sins by dying on the cross – and He rose from the dead! So, if we believe in Him, our sins have been paid for, we are forgiven, and we can live with Him forever!

As I explained to her that this is my hope, even as I see this life passing by with lightning speed, her face was warm, receptive, and smiling. As we parted, she thanked me enthusiastically, saying that when one has something good, one should share it, and she recognized that I had something wonderful. I didn’t “lead her in the sinner’s prayer” on the spot, but I believe the seeds were planted, and God is perfectly able to cause them to take root and grow. I’m hoping and praying that if she and I are both still around for the next reunion, I’ll have a sister to fellowship with.

The only other lengthy spiritual conversation I was able to have had a much different tone, but then it was with a much different person. After the last party I spoke with another old friend. She said she was glad we got to talk, because for years she had sensed judgment and condemnation from me. I was stunned. I had no clue what she was talking about, but I apologized if she had gotten that impression. She said she wanted to invite me to her church, but by her description I could tell it didn’t preach the same gospel I know, so I was glad I could honestly tell her I had other plans. She went on to tell me repeatedly that she was a “good person,” listing her good works. I probably disappointed her when I told her that none of us is good, that’s why we need Jesus. I explained the gospel the way I had explained it to my other friend earlier that night, and she insisted that that’s what her church taught … but that she is also a good person. Throughout the conversation, she kept insisting that she was happy, but I have to wonder, if someone is happy, do they have to tell people they are? After I had that thought, oddly, she suddenly remarked that I seemed very happy and asked what had happened to me that made such a difference, to which I responded that it’s Jesus. It’s always been Jesus.

It didn’t seem that I changed her mind that night, and she certainly didn’t change I’mimwi Her final comments about my obvious joy give me hope.

As I wrote in my last post, I am beginning to realize more and more that it is really only God who can draw people to Himself. I can share the gospel with others in the best way I know how, I can love them and pray for them, but unless God opens their hearts, they remain lost. I don’t like it, but Truth doesn’t need me to like it to be Truth.

A couple of weeks after getting home I was still wrestling with the thought, If certain people are going to come to God, and if the others are literally unable to come, if it’s already been determined, why do I pray for them? And what’s the point in sharing my faith?

Then the Lord showed me something that, while not explaining it fully, gave me peace enough to just trust Him.

(to be continued …)

That Might Explain It

No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him. John 6:44

Recently I attended another high school reunion – our 55th. We have these gatherings every five years, but because of Covid the last one was four years ago. So, our much anticipated 50th ended up being 51 years after graduation.

Even in the four years since the last reunion, we had lost some classmates, and I don’t imagine we’ll get to the next reunion without losing more. The most recent loss was John, whose passing had shocked everyone – a sudden heart attack in the middle of his workout at the gym, and he was gone.

I thought surely by now my former classmates would be pondering their own mortality, the rapidly passing time, and whether or not there was anything awaiting them after this life. I fully expected numerous opportunities to share my faith in my resurrected Savior.

John’s “celebration of life” was an event attended by hundreds of people. Musicians played classical music, a choir sang “What a Wonderful World,” a soloist sang a Cat Stevens song, and for two hours people reminisced about John – his athleticism, his success in business, his philanthropy, his humor. Stories were shared about this wonderful, funny, successful, athletic, generous person – who has now left this world forever.

I listened for some hint of John’s faith, any mention of God, heaven, eternity, any shred of hope offered to the people there, all of whom will also leave this life very soon. But there was nothing – not even the generic mention of “a better place.”

At the reunion dinner that followed, people talked about how wonderful the service had been. All I remembered was a hollow performance. I tried to express my thoughts to my friend Laurie about the hope of life after death, but she adamantly insisted that by remembering John, in a sense, we’re keeping him alive. I was baffled that I seemed to be the only person wanting more than fading memories of me after I leave this world.

Laurie and I later encountered a couple of people we had known in our school days, who were just saying goodbye to another man I didn’t recognize. This man was unusually thin and frail and was breathing oxygen from a small tank. (I later learned he was in hospice care.) After he was out of earshot, one of the others said, “He asked me, ‘How’s your spiritual life?'” with an expression of amazement that said he thought that was the strangest thing anyone had ever asked him. (I was touched that he had dragged himself to the reunion for one last ditch effort to reach his former classmates before his own departure.)

Laurie laughed, “I’m glad he didn’t ask me!” Then she looked at me and added, “He should have asked Ann!”

The others looked at me curiously, and I responded, “As a matter of fact, the older I get, the more important those things are to me…”

But no one asked me to elaborate. The subject was changed quickly, and the conversation continued as if I had left the building.

During the other events of that weekend, I reconnected with former classmates with a growing awareness of how fleeting time is. The boys who had proudly flaunted their long hair in high school now have much less of it. One of my girlfriends has Parkinson’s. Several of “the girls” didn’t make it to St. Louis, either because of sudden health issues of their own or a health emergency involving their husbands. Some are now widowed. And of course, some we will never see again in this life.

How can they be so indifferent to the speed at which we are all careening towards eternity?

Generally speaking, with a couple of exceptions, which I’ll write about next time, I returned from the reunion feeling let down. And baffled that so many people in this stage of life seem to have no concern whatsoever about the future, even after seeing a classmate “in excellent health” be working out in the gym one moment and gone the next. (Where is John now???) Many had also seen an old friend about to leave this life who is perfectly at peace – God bless him. – but appeared unimpressed.

Back in Louisville, I met with my book group to discuss R. C. Sproul’s Chosen by God. I still struggle with the Calvinistic view that some of us are chosen, others aren’t. But it might be starting to make sense to me in light of recent experience. I’ve long known we can’t save ourselves by our own efforts; we’re saved through faith, not works. But is it true that we can’t even believe without God’s help? According to Ephesians, apparently yes.

“For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God.” Ephesians 2:8

Could it be that most of the people I encountered that weekend had no interest in thinking about God, because they were quite literally unable to? From all appearances, these people didn’t know Him – and didn’t care. Had I been looking into the faces of dead souls? And if they had no ability to even be interested in spiritual things, much less grasp them, that meant there was nothing I could have said to make them interested, unless the Lord Himself opened their minds.

That doctrine always puzzled me before, probably because I can’t imagine being indifferent to God – I have wanted to know Him for as long as I can remember. And as this life’s end is looming on the horizon, I can’t imagine not caring what comes next. But according to Sproul and others, we can’t even care without His help.

I’m still pondering these things, but for now, I have no other explanation.

Prayer: Lord, thank You for giving us the gift of salvation, even though none of us deserves it. Thank You for the gracious gift of faith which enables us to have this relationship with to You, the faith which drew us to You in the first place. Please open the hearts and minds of those we love. Draw them, as well, so that they, too, may find eternal life in You. And help us to be faithful witnesses, even in frustrating times. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Running to Win

[L]et us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. – Hebrews 12:1

Last Saturday was the culmination of a month of festivities in our new home town. The Kentucky Derby is for many Louisvillians the most exciting two minutes of the year, and Marty and I have been privileged to witness it live from one of the many parties each year.

Tom and Julia have been throwing Derby parties for over twenty years, so it’s a special tradition for friends and neighbors, who arrive with hats and “fascinators” on their heads, dishes to share in their hands, and dollar bills for “betting” in their pockets.

A couple of years ago, I couldn’t have named one horse in the race before we got there, but it didn’t matter. To make the race more interesting, we all drew names out of an envelope so we would have a horse to root for.

When it was time for the big race, the guests gathered around the TVs in the living room, den, and patio. The bugle sounded, the band played Stephen Foster’s “My Old Kentucky Home,” and the horses were led out onto the track in front of 150,000 cheering fans. The sunshine, the bright colors, the music created a solemn but festive mood, and we recognized among the throngs of ordinary people some celebrities who had come to Churchill Downs to see and be seen. We had only lived in Louisville for a few years and weren’t exactly life-long Derby fans. Still, having the name of a horse in my hand and being included in the event, I was starting to get into the spirit.

When the starting gun went off and the horses shot out of the gate, the roar of the crowd at the track was joined by fans in the living room, the dining room, and the patio. I knew that all over the world, on countless televisions, laptops, and phones, millions of eyes were fixed on the horses thundering down the track.

Just then, an unexpected wave of emotion came over me; I had a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. (The more pragmatic side of me thought, What the heck…???) Suddenly I felt for the jockeys hanging on and urging their horses forward and for the beautiful creatures that were running their hearts out toward the finish line.

The cheering that came from all directions grew louder as the finish line came into view, and one horse that had not been expected to do that well came around the outside and passed the one in the lead just in time to take the prize! The cheering reached a crescendo, and I sat there in tears, realizing that I had not been watching just a horserace but an object lesson from God, a reminder to encourage me.

The author of the book of Hebrews wrote out a list of great people of faith in Chapter 11, which some call “the Faith Hall of Fame” – Noah, Abraham, Moses, David, and others, whose lives were filled with miracles and whose stories made it into the Scriptures. (Hebrews 11:33-35a)

The passage also commended others, whose names are unknown in the world but known to God. These were tortured, jeered at, destitute, persecuted, imprisoned, and put to death. (“The world was not worthy of them.” – vs 38a) I have always found those verses comforting, knowing that just because I’m not a spiritual “celebrity” and my prayers haven’t always produced miracles doesn’t mean I’m not a child of God or that I am not serving Him well.

But it’s the opening verse of the next chapter that came rushing back into my spirit so unexpectedly that afternoon.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. – Hebrews 12:1

For every one of us who believe in Jesus, we are also in a race, and it can be grueling. I know from experience that sometimes I can feel as though I am struggling on my own to just get through the week, the day, or the hour. You might feel that way, too.

You might be reading this in a hospital room. Maybe visiting hours are over, the floor is quiet, and you feel everyone in the world is asleep except you.

You might be experiencing unspeakable grief, so horrendous that people don’t know what to say to you, so they say nothing, and you’re left feeling utterly alone.

You might be the only Christian in your family, or in your class at school, or in your workplace. Every day seems like a swim against the current, and the enemy might be whispering to you, You’ve done your best, now it’s time to give up.

Or you might just be at a party, where everyone around you is going wild over two minutes of watching horses run. And then, out of nowhere, there’s a reminder…

We are surrounded by a “cloud of witnesses.” – Not just 150,000 in the stands, but millions upon millions who have gone before us. Not just the spiritual “celebrities,” but also countless ordinary people throughout history, who served an extraordinary God, along with a myriad of angels, reminding us,

“You’re not alone!”

Can you hear them cheering us on? Perhaps not, but they are! They are rooting for us, encouraging us not to give up, and constantly declaring, reminding us,

“Don’t give up! He is worthy! He is sufficient! He is faithful!” This is what I was “hearing” from God, and when the race was over, I looked down and saw that the Lord had added an exclamation point.

I had the name of the winning horse in my hand.

Prayer: Father, Thank You for Your promise that we are never alone. Thank You for the cloud of witnesses that have gone before us, who can attest to Your faithfulness. Help us take hold of that reality and live our lives accordingly, in Jesus’ name. Amen.

“Good Christian Men,” Repent

To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’

“But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’

“I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” – Luke 18:9-14

This was found on X recently. I don’t know who wrote it, but it is a good reminder/wakeup call:

Satan is not opposed to good morals.

He’s opposed to Jesus Christ.

Read that again because most Christians miss this completely.

Satan doesn’t care if you’re a “good person.” He doesn’t care if you volunteer at the food bank, recycle your trash, and help old ladies cross the street. He doesn’t care if you’re kind, generous, and well-liked by everyone in your community.

He cares that you don’t bow the knee to Jesus.

Here’s the deception that’s damning millions:

Satan has convinced people that morality equals spirituality. That being a “good person” is the same as being a Christian. That if you just live right, treat people well, and avoid the “big sins,” you’re acceptable to God.

This is a lie straight from the pit of hell.

The Pharisees had impeccable morals. They followed the law meticulously. They were respected, disciplined, and religiously devoted.

Jesus called them children of the devil.
Why? Not because their morals were bad. Because their morals replaced Christ.
Satan’s greatest trick isn’t making bad people worse. It’s making good people think they don’t need a Savior.

Think about it:

The atheist who feeds the homeless thinks he’s good enough without God.

The Buddhist who meditates and practices compassion thinks she’s enlightened without Christ.

The Muslim who prays five times daily thinks he’s righteous without Jesus.

The moral Christian who goes to church, pays his tithe, and avoids scandal thinks he’s saved without surrender.

All of them are headed to the same place: eternal separation from God.

Because morality doesn’t save. Jesus saves.
“For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast.” Ephesians 2:8-9

Satan loves moral people who reject Jesus. They’re his best advertisement for the lie that you can earn your way to heaven.

They’re living proof that you can:

•Be kind without Christ
•Be generous without God
•Be disciplined without the Holy Spirit
•Be respected without redemption

And still be lost.

The most dangerous people in hell won’t be the murderers and rapists. They’ll be the moral, upstanding citizens who thought their goodness was good enough.

Their morals became their idol. Their goodness became their god.

And Satan smiled because he’d accomplished his goal: Keep them from Jesus.

Here’s what most Christians don’t understand:

Satan doesn’t need to make you do bad things. He just needs to keep you from doing the ONE thing that matters: surrendering to Christ.

If he can get you to:

•Trust your morals instead of Christ’s sacrifice

•Rely on your goodness instead of God’s grace

•Believe in your works instead of Jesus’ finished work

He’s won.

You can live a moral life and still die lost. You can be a good person and still face judgment. You can avoid all the “big sins” and still end up separated from God forever.
Because the only sin that damns you eternally is rejecting Jesus Christ.

“He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life: and he that believeth not the Son shall not see life; but the wrath of God abideth on him.” John 3:36

Not the murderer who repents and believes in Christ is damned.

Not the thief who turns to Jesus on the cross is damned.

Not the prostitute who washes Jesus’ feet with her tears is damned.

The moral, religious person who rejects Christ is damned.

That’s why Satan loves morality without Jesus. It sends people to hell with a smile on their face, convinced they were good enough.

Stop trusting your morals. Start trusting Jesus.

Your goodness won’t save you. Your works won’t redeem you. Your morality won’t justify you.

Only the blood of Jesus Christ can wash away your sin and make you acceptable to a holy God.

Everything else is just Satan’s distraction from the one thing that actually matters.

(Annie) So, as we finish up buying, making, wrapping, and giving our gifts this Christmas, let’s remember what Christians are really celebrating, which is the greatest gift of all – eternal life through God’s Son – Emmanuel, “God with us,” “the Way, the Truth, and the Life” – Jesus.

Blessings to you all.

Some Things Don’t Change

Then Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul? – Matthew 16:24-26

Stephen was a faithful follower of Jesus. He wasn’t one of the original Twelve. In fact, we don’t know whether he had ever encountered Jesus in the flesh. We do know that he was “full of the Spirit, faith, and wisdom,” and “God’s grace and power.” (Acts 6:3,5,&8)

Stephen had been one of seven men chosen to wait on tables, because the Grecian Jews had been complaining to the Hebraic Jews that their widows were being overlooked in the daily distribution of food (6:1) But he also “did great wonders and miraculous signs among the people.” (vs 8) We aren’t told what these were, but he got the attention of men from different provinces who gathered to oppose him. But as much as they argued with Stephen, “they could not stand up against his wisdom or the Spirit by whom he spoke.” (vs 9)

Since debating Stephen didn’t succeed, their next tactic was to stir up false witnesses against him. Their accusations spread quickly (Today we would say they went viral.). When the people were stirred up, they seized Stephen and took him to the Sanhedrin. (vs 12) There the false witnesses came forth and repeated their lies.

When it was finally Stephen’s turn to speak, he gave a lengthy and eloquent speech. He recounted the history of the Jewish people, beginning with God’s call to Abraham and continuing up to the building of the Temple by Solomon, after which he stated, “However, the Most High does not live in houses made by men,” (vs 48) quoting Isaiah for emphasis.

One could wonder why Stephen was allowed to speak for so long uninterrupted, but he was stating the truth right from the Scriptures – what could his opponents say?

But when he turned to the leaders and confronted them personally, he sealed his fate:

“You stiff-necked people, with uncircumcised hearts and ears! You are just like your ancestors: You always resist the Holy Spirit! Was there ever a prophet your ancestors did not persecute? They even killed those who predicted the coming of the Righteous One. And now you have betrayed and murdered him— you who have received the law that was given through angels but have not obeyed it.” (vs 51-53)

That was all it took. The infuriated leaders stoned Stephen for what he said. Even so, his last words were in prayer for those who were killing him, just as Jesus had prayed on the cross for His executioners.

Up until that time, for the most part, the fledgling Church had remained in Jerusalem, “praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord was adding to their number daily those who were being saved.” (Acts 2:47) Some call this the Church’s “honeymoon stage.” Life was pleasant and easy.

But after Stephen’s death, persecution broke out against the Church. As a result, believers scattered in all directions, taking the Gospel with them, telling the Good News wherever they went.

Which was what they were supposed to be doing do in the first place!

Charlie Kirk reminds me of Stephen, whose enemies could not refute what he said. Charlie always showed up prepared. He knew the Scriptures (in context!), he was logical, and he challenged opponents without losing his temper or resorting to name-calling or yelling. He clearly had self-control, one of the fruits of the Spirit. It wasn’t long before lies about him were being spread online, but one had only to watch a complete interview or Q&A session to see the kind of person he was – not perfect but living out his faith with everything he had.

Like the Church in the earliest days, the Church in America, unlike any other place or time in history, has enjoyed a rare level of freedom and, if not favor, at least a modicum of respect from the general population. As a result, many of us have grown complacent and spiritually lazy. If we doubt that, we have only to ask ourselves, “When was the last time I shared the gospel with an unbeliever?”

(But the Great Commission does not have an expiration date.)

Charlie Kirk was one of the exceptions. He didn’t wait for unbelievers to come to his church. He went to where they were, in an environment where people were open to new ideas and not afraid to challenge and be challenged. In a world where nastiness is too often the norm in “discussions,” Charlie encouraged civil discourse. And among Christians, millions of us watched his debates and cheered him on.

But just as Stephen was murdered by those who weren’t able to defeat him with words, Charlie Kirk was killed by one man who resorted to a gun instead of words to make his point. And from the level of public rejoicing over his death, it is apparent that there are many who believe violence is an acceptable way of solving differences. For us spoiled American Christians, this is a disturbing wakeup call.

But just as the persecution ignited by Stephen’s martyrdom caused the Church to finally carry out the Great Commission, Charlie Kirk’s assassination has awakened today’s sleeping, complacent Church. Countless believers, especially the young, are coming forward, inspired to be more like him and carry on his work of sharing the gospel boldly, respectfully, and intelligently.

We’re finally ready to start doing what we all were supposed to be doing all along.

The world hasn’t changed much in the last two thousand years. The Gospel hasn’t changed. Human nature hasn’t changed. And the Great Commission hasn’t changed.

Are we ready to get to work?

Prayer: Jesus, You have called us to take up our crosses and follow You. You ask us to do what takes strength and courage – more than we have in ourselves. But Your Spirit lives in us, and as You empower us, we are ready to be obedient. May the pain of last week’s tragedy be the birth pangs of revival in our nation and the world, in Jesus’ name. Amen.

The Cross Still Offends

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. – John 1:5

The Cross Still Offends

by Pastor Rich Bitterman

The bullet tore the air in half.

A folding chair rattled. A Bible dropped. A young man slumped sideways beneath a white event tent, eyes wide with the weight of eternity.

It was supposed to be a conversation. A “prove me wrong” segment. But this time, rebuttal came not with words, but with a rifle.

Charlie Kirk didn’t get to finish his sentence.

I got the news just before prayer meeting. I contemplated this death as I prepared to lead the saints in prayer. But I didn’t feel like praying. Not tonight. My hands were still. My mouth was ready. But my soul was pacing. Angry. Grieving. Tempted.

Tempted to grow quiet. Tempted to sit this one out. Tempted to wonder if any of this, faith, boldness, public gospel witness, is still worth it.

Because hatred in this country isn’t simmering anymore. It is boiling.

Europe is trembling. Israel is burning. Rockets lit the sky over Gaza again. And now, here on American soil, the blood of a Christian apologist paints the pavement of a university quad.

What do you do with that?

What do you say when courage gets gunned down in daylight?

Charlie Kirk was no perfect man. None of us are.

But he had backbone where most of us don’t anymore. He was a believer. Unashamed. Unafraid. He understood that real conversations only happen when truth is welcome at the table. And the truth he carried most was Christ.

He brought the gospel into public space on purpose. Because the gospel isn’t supposed to stay in church basements and private Bible studies. It is meant to confront. It is supposed to offend. It was not made for safety.

The Word became flesh and they nailed Him to a tree.

So of course they came for Charlie.

Of course they reached for a gun.

This is what evil does when it runs out of arguments. It doesn’t reason. It kills.

That’s the part that catches in my throat. Not just the sadness, but the strategy of hell behind it.

The Enemy wants us afraid. He wants us to see what happened to Charlie and backpedal. He wants the rest of us to whisper, to soften the message, to believe the lie that faith should stay private.

But Christ never whispered. He preached in temples, on hillsides, in courtrooms, at dinner tables. And when they told Him to be quiet, He picked up His cross.

Not a symbolic one. A real one. Heavy. Bloody. Splintered.

When Jesus said, “Follow Me,” He didn’t hand out maps. He handed out crosses.

That’s what I remembered tonight.

I sat in our prayer space, surrounded by saints who had brought prayer lists and worn Bibles. And I realized I didn’t want to lead them in mourning. I wanted to lead them into battle. Not with banners or fists, but with open Bibles and tear-stained prayers.

The kind of war that kneels in gravel beside the wounded, hands them living water, and refuses to leave. The kind that speaks both mercy and judgment without flinching. The kind Charlie died for.

This world is not a friend to grace. But grace isn’t fragile.

“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?” Paul didn’t leave that question unanswered.

“Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?” —Romans 8:35

He piles up every fear you and I carry and then sets them on fire.

“No. In all these things we are more than conquerors.”

That means bullets don’t win. Slander doesn’t win. Prison bars don’t win. Death doesn’t win.

You can lose everything in this world and still walk into glory with your head lifted high. Because the love of God in Christ Jesus isn’t suspended by headlines or gunfire.

There are two worlds unfolding right now.

The one you see. And the one you don’t.

One is filled with chaos. The other is filled with crowns.

I believe that when Charlie Kirk’s body slumped to the concrete, his soul stood upright in heaven. Not limping. Not silenced. Not stunned. But crowned.

He didn’t fall. He crossed.

The great cloud of witnesses gained another voice. And I wonder if Stephen met him there. The first martyr. The man who got stoned for preaching what the crowd didn’t want to hear. The man who, in his final breath, saw the heavens open. The only time in all of Scripture we see Jesus standing at the right hand of God, rising to receive one of His own.

I like to believe He stood again.

Are you afraid?

Do you feel the tremble in your spirit?

Do you wonder if it’s still worth it to speak boldly, to carry your Bible, to preach the gospel in a world that doesn’t just disagree but wants you gone?

You’re not alone.

You’re not weak for feeling that. But you are called to something stronger than silence.

Don’t let fear become your theology.

The cost is high. But the reward?

The reward is Christ. And He’s not a concept. He’s a King.

Heaven is not empty.

It is filled with scarred saints who refused to bow to fear. Men who were stoned. Women who were burned. Children who sang while the flames climbed.

And every last one of them arrived.

There is no difficulty that can cancel the promise of God. There is no persecution that can derail your destination. There is no sniper’s bullet that can separate a soul from Christ.

Your life is not measured by how long you live on earth, but by how much of it was spent pointing to heaven.

Paul said, “I have fought the good fight… I have kept the faith.” Then he looked toward the reward. Not a monument. Not a mention in history books. But a crown. Handed to him by the One with nail marks still in His hands.

So let me say this clearly. We do not mourn like the world mourns. We do not write eulogies dripping with sentiment. We sing songs of resurrection. We carry the banner of a Kingdom that does not tremble.

Charlie Kirk did not die for nothing. He died carrying the same message you and I must now carry forward.

The cross stands tall. The tomb is still empty. And the gospel has not lost one ounce of power.

So pick up your cross. Wipe your eyes. And keep going.

The crown is worth it. The King is coming. And there’s still time to speak.

Even if they shoot.

Lord, give us courage. And if not safety, give us joy. For we carry not just the message, but the marks. And You are worth every bruise.

Prayer: Lord of eternity, give us the strength not to shrink back, not to slow down, but to follow You wholeheartedly, fearlessly. Help us to walk with You, run with You, and finish well. We thank You for the promise of eternal rewards in Heaven, most of all the promise of meeting You face to face and hearing the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” In Jesus’ name, amen.

Behind the Veil

Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed – in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. – I Corinthians 15:51-52

My mother once lamented that after a certain age, “it’s patch-patch-patch.” It does seem sometimes that the moment one problem is dealt with, another one crops up. I no longer wonder what old people do all day – they go to doctors, mostly “specialists.” They take supplements, do physical therapy, and research the latest treatment for whatever is ailing them on any given day. Not fun.

But I’m also spending my time reading, discussing, meditating on, and memorizing Scripture, and my thoughts often turn to the glorious future we (Christ-followers) have been promised. I look forward to having a new body, one without aches, pains, weakness, and sickness, that doesn’t get stressed and struggle to sleep. (Do people even sleep in heaven?)

Speaking of sleep, these thoughts have even entered my dreams.

Recently I dreamt I was walking on a city sidewalk, when suddenly I began to rise into the air. Looking around, I saw other people being raised up, too! It wasn’t a violent whoosh, like being sucked up by a giant vacuum cleaner, or slowly floating, like helium balloons. It was more like going up in an elevator – an invisible elevator.

As I looked around, I caught a glimpse of a familiar face reflected in the windows of one of the buildings. It was someone I hadn’t seen in many years …

It was ME – a twenty-year-old me! I only caught a momentary glimpse, but it was enough to thrill me – That person still exists! When I woke up, I concluded that I had dreamt about the Rapture, and that the moment my feet left the sidewalk, I had already received my new body.

A similar theme popped up in another dream, after learning that one of my high school classmates, Audrey – “Audie” – had passed away.

This time I was coming into a room where our class was gathered. The first person I saw was Audie! Startled, I wondered if the news I had received had been a mistake. Or was this a dream? I was seeing her so clearly that I asked, “This is real, isn’t it?” She just smiled at me mischievously, the way she used to in high school. In fact, she looked just the same as when we were in high school – dark brown hair, rosy cheeks, wearing a bright red t-shirt. She sure didn’t look like a ghost. I hugged her, she hugged me back. She sure didn’t feel like a ghost.

Next to Audie was a very tall, slender, elegant-looking woman, with white (or platinum blonde) hair and a silvery blue, shimmering dress. She had a slight smile on her face, and, like Audie, seemed just to be enjoying watching the party. I wondered why no one else was as excited and amazed as I was to see their classmate. – Was I the only one who saw her?

Then I noticed that the rest of the scene looked like a grainy old black and white movie.

In other words, Audie and her companion were more real than the rest of us.

“I suppose I should ask you what it’s like on the other side …” I thought out loud. The two just looked at each other and smiled, and I knew I wasn’t going to get any information out of them.

I don’t look to dreams for guidance. At best, they confirm what Scripture says. If my interpretation of a dream contradicts the Word of God, that dream should be ignored unless and until God gives me a better interpretation. But to me, these two dreams confirm what the Scripture from I Corinthians says – We will be changed, and when we are in our new bodies, we won’t be shadows or ghosts. We will be solid, living, breathing, hugging. Real – more real than we are now.

Yesterday I turned (gulp!) 72. If I had asked the much younger me what I expected life to be like at 72, I don’t think I would have imagined its being this interesting, exciting, and fun. Still, this body has its limitations, and I’m comforted knowing there are better things to come.

As I was getting out my Bible, I was thinking about how some have called it “God’s love letter to us.” With that in mind, I read from Song of Solomon. As I was reading chapter 4, the words of the Lover to his Beloved: “How beautiful you are, my darling! Oh, how beautiful! Your eyes behind your veil are like doves …” The word “veil” caught my attention. What follows is a lavish description of the woman the King’s beloved. Verse 3 repeats the phrase, “behind your veil.” In verse 7 the Lover declares, “All beautiful you are, my darling; there is no flaw in you.”

The Bible calls the Church “the Bride of Christ,” and describes a divine wedding that will take place at the end of the age. On that day the veil will be lifted, and as we behold Him face to face, we will be radiant, flawless.

So, if, like me, you feel like your veil has gotten a little rumpled lately, and the thought of being “flawless” makes you laugh (or cry), take heart. One day (maybe very soon) the veil of this earthly existence will be lifted, and we will be in our new bodies, free from everything that corrupts. Like the beauty that captured the heart of King Solomon – only better! – we will be the all-beautiful, flawless Bride of Christ.

But I’m guessing we won’t be looking at ourselves or one another. On that day we’ll only have eyes for our Bridegroom.

Prayer: Lord Jesus, as the world clings hopelessly to health, strength, youth, and beauty, all of which are fading away, we thank You that You have promised us new life in Your forever Kingdom, if we just trust in You. Help us to keep divine perspective as we await Your return for Your Bride. In Your name we pray. Amen.

Before Sitting This One Out …

[I]f anyone hears the sound of the trumpet but does not take warning and the sword comes and takes his life, his blood will be on his own head. But if the watchman sees the sword coming and does not blow the trumpet to warn the people and the sword comes and takes the life of one of them, that man will be taken away because of his sin, but I will hold the watchmen accountable for his blood. – Ezekiel 33: 4 & 6

I’m part of a group of women – prayer warriors – who pray together for the nation once a week. (At 71, I’m possibly the youngest in the group!) We may seem small, but we’re doing what we can, praying that the American people, especially the Church, will repent of our sins of commission, and especially our sins of omission. If you are one of the large block of American Evangelicals who do not vote, and who haven’t even registered to vote, before sitting out another election, please consider the following:

In the Bible we read about whole civilizations that experienced judgment (or consequences) for the evil actions of their leaders, although ordinary citizens of these countries had no say in what their leaders did. How much more will we be accountable if we do have a voice but remain silent as our leaders take us down the road to disaster?

Evil and corruption have inundated America, from our government to our media, to our education system, to our entertainment, and virtually every other area of our culture. The reason the country is in the state it’s in is because the Church has remained silent for so long on moral issues that have been redefined as “political.”

As Eric Metaxas pointed out in his book, Letter to the American Church, if the Church in Germany in the 1930’s had resisted Hitler’s forces, the outcome might have been vastly different. But precious few believers took a stand, while the rest just “sang a little louder” to drown out the bothersome screams of the Jews being transported past their churches to the concentration camps. It’s possible that the Christians in Germany in the 30’s were unaware of the scope of what was happening, and perhaps we could give them the benefit of the doubt. But today in America we have no such excuse. It is all too clear the direction this country is heading. “Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it.”

It’s true that there are no perfect choices in this election; the candidates are deeply flawed, but so are we! If we “sit this one out,” refusing to vote for “the lesser of two evils,” we are letting a vote for the greater evil go unchallenged. I believe we will be held accountable for what we could have done but didn’t. If we fail to vote out of sheer laziness, shame on us. If we’re neglecting to make our voice because we refuse to be associated with imperfect policies or people (not wanting to get our hands dirty), God is not impressed.

(Sticking one’s head in the sand leaves other parts of the anatomy vulnerable.)

If we believe Christians should “stick to preaching the gospel,” (exactly what Hitler told the German church to do) and not get into anything “political,” look around you – everything is political these days. Note that even what used to be the two “safest” topics of conversation – one’s health and the weather – have been politicized!

(I’m glad Queen Esther didn’t refuse to get involved in politics.)

This is not a contest of Republican versus Democrat or liberal versus conservative. It’s a matter of good versus evil.

We can’t save America, but we are called to be salt (Matthew 5: 13), which doesn’t stop the decaying process altogether but does slow it down. Woe to us if we sit by, say nothing, and watch our country rot.

Is it too late now for the Church to speak up? There’s only one way to find out.

Prayer: Dear Lord, we see the state of the world today, and it’s easy to feel helpless to do anything about it. But You have enlisted us in Your army, and it is a vast army! You have armed Your people with “the full armor of God” and joined us together with the angelic armies of heaven. Give us each discernment to know what part we play in occupying until You come and help us not to shirk our duty. Give us courage to take a stand, strength to be faithful, and supernatural boldness and protection as we confront evil. In Jesus’ name, amen.

(Another) Answer to a Routine Prayer – from WHERE?!

And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left. Isaiah 30:21

It started out as a normal day. (Most of my adventures do these days.) Marty was playing pickleball, but what had become his new passion was off limits for me; twenty years of running had taken its toll on my knees, and starting-stopping-twisting-turning-type activities were a little too risky. I’ll stick with hiking, biking, and kayaking. A two-mile walk to the end of the pier and back is a perfect time to get in my morning prayers.

…or afternoon prayers. With my ADHD tendencies, I am grateful the Lord is patient. This was one of those days, and it was past noon by the time I started out with everything I needed. (When I used to walk the dog and also needed poop bags, treats, and leash, it’s a wonder I got out the door at all.)

My prayers were the normal stuff – offering my body to the Lord (Romans 12:1), offering Him my mind (II Corinthians 10:5, Romans 12:2), etc. As I gave Him my body, mind, and heart, I “put on the armor of God” – the belt of Truth, the helmet of salvation, the breastplate of righteousness (Ephesians 6). When “having my feet fitted with the readiness of the gospel of peace,” I prayed the usual things: that I would go where the Lord wants me to go, encounter the people He wants me to encounter, and speak the words He wants me to speak. This prayer often gives me a sense of anticipation – how will He answer it today? Though I get frustrated with myself, I know God is very good at working with what He has; if I make myself available to Him, He’ll do the rest.

It was mostly a solitary walk. The summer people were gone, and the chill in the air makes one reluctant to get out. But the trees were finally starting to change color, and the “wooly worms” crawled across the path, their black and orange colors (according to superstition) predicting a harsh or mild winter. One was solid orange. (Well, you’re a little optimist, aren’t you?) Across the channel I could see people walking the other pier, most of them bundled up, expect for a few kids in swimsuits jumping into the water. (Insanity isn’t a frame of mind, it’s a way of life.)

On the way back, as I waded through the hundreds of acorns, thinking either there was a bumper crop that year or the squirrels weren’t doing their job, I wondered if they were edible for humans, although I had never heard of anyone eating them. I made a mental note to google it.

I was almost home when a woman in a car stopped and asked me where the lighthouse was. It couldn’t be seen from the road, so I explained that she would have to park and walk past a couple of houses to get to the pier. I noticed three things about her: her walking stick, beautiful blue eyes, and an exotic-sounding accent, I guessed Russian, or maybe eastern European. As I tried to estimate how far it was, and about the spot where she might have trouble walking over some rocks and another section that was sandy, I finally offered to go with her. She parked the car, and I repeated the pier part of my walk, this time a little slower and getting to know my new friend Luda. We had a lot in common – our age, our love of the area, and our active lifestyle – at least until recently. Luda had been riding her bike 20 miles a day, sometimes as much as 50 miles when her husband was living, before an accident that had left her struggling to get around. She was about where I was a year ago, so we talked about hip replacement, and of course I had to tell her how much it helped me to get the sugar out of my diet. It was this sacrifice that had taken me from struggling to walk to walking pain-free in less than two days. She confessed her addiction to sugar – I think most of us can relate – and I told her about some of my recipes for sugar-free chocolates and the baked apples Marty and I have been having for dessert every night. She asked me what I cover the apples with to bake them, and when I said aluminum foil, she scolded me. “Don’t ever let food touch aluminum foil!” Wow, I thought, she’s even more of a health nut than I am. I could tell we were going to get along great! 😉 As we walked through the mass of acorns, Luda said casually, “You can eat these, you know.” (!) She described cooking them and told me about a website where I could learn about things growing in the wild that are good for food – just in case we might need that information to survive someday.

When we got back to her car, Luda told me that she had not wanted to go out that day, but she had forced herself to get out of that chair and go! She said she had walked farther with me than she ever would have by herself. (She wouldn’t have known where to go, anyway.) She had been on her way somewhere else but had “randomly” turned off onto the little road I was walking on, probably about the time I was praying, “Let me encounter the people You want me to encounter.”

Luda gave me a ride home, mainly so we could keep talking. When we pulled up to my house, I ran in to get her some of my sugar free chocolate covered banana slices and my card with my contact information on it. We hugged, and she was on her way.

OK, I have to get ready for church now. Even though there are no Russian Orthodox churches in Manistee (Yes, she is originally from Moscow.), Luda is willing to give my church a try.

Prayer: Lord, thank You for all the times you have answered my routine prayers and made my life a daily adventure. Thank You for sending me a new friend – so near, and yet from so far away! Thank You for Your perfect timing, even with two women struggling to get out – one physically, one mentally (“lol”), and our “random” meeting. Bless Luda today. In Jesus’ name, Amen.