Thinking Out Loud

“I really hate to ask you this, but could you…?” 

“I’m so sorry to bother you; but, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, would you mind…?” 

Call them “qualified questions,”  “reserved requests,” or “asking with an asterisk.”  Whatever you want to call it, I have done it a lot in my life.

I just hate asking for things.  There is probably a psychological term that describes this behavior and the underlying emotions and thought processes, along with various theories as to why it exists among humans.  I would like to think that I hesitate to ask for things out of regard for other people; I really don’t want to be a nuisance or a bother; I don’t want to put anyone out, inconvenience them, make them late, exhaust their energy or resources, or distract them from something more pressing that they need to do.  Yeah, that’s it!  I hesitate to ask because I am such a great guy, such a thoughtful and considerate person!  That would be a wonderful explanation, but I think there is a better and more accurate one: Pride. 

I hate to ask because it is an acknowledgement that I need help, an admission that I don’t have all the answers and resources that I need, and an indication that I can’t do this by myself.  In short, I am human, imperfect, and limited in my abilities, “So, can you help a brother out?”  It takes humility to ask, and sometimes I just don’t have enough of it.

Perhaps that is why God wants us to ask.  From a knowledge and awareness standpoint, He doesn’t need us to do so because our omniscient, loving Father already knows what we need before we ask Him (Matt. 6:8).  But, amazingly, Jesus follows those words in the Sermon on the Mount not with a statement on the pointlessness of petitioning God, but with a lead-in to the Model Prayer.  “God already knows what you need, so….pray in this way…ask like this” (Matt. 6:9-13).  “Ask.. seek… knock…; your Father who is in heaven knows how to give good gifts to His children” (Matthew 7:7-11). 

So, don’t be afraid to ask.  Just humbly let Him know that you need Him and His divine help.  You can’t exhaust His resources; He’s not only “got” time, He rules time; He has unlimited power; you won’t distract Him; He can hear and process millions of requests in a single moment, and does so non-stop every single day.  And He wants us to get specific.  I think that is why Jesus asked a blind man who was crying out for mercy from the Son of David, “What do you want Me do for you?” (Mark 10:51).  “Let me hear your heart, Bartimaeus!  What is it specifically that you desire for Me to do for you?”

“Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God”  (Phil. 4:6).

“You do not have because you do not ask” (James 4:2). 

Proud Tim is still learning that.

Ask your child or grandchild this question:  “When do you think I love you more?  When you are fussing and fighting with your brother or sister, when you talk back and disobey, and when you get into trouble at school?  Or, when you have been keeping your room clean, getting your homework done without being asked, and bringing home good grades?  When do you think I love you the most?”

How would they answer? 

Many of us probably feel quite confident that our children would say, “You love me just the same in all those situations.  I know that you can be upset with me at times and disapprove of my behavior.  You may even punish me sometimes for my actions.  But, I always know that you still love me, even when I disappoint you.  I don’t confuse your approval with your love.  I know that your love for me isn’t conditioned upon my performance, whether good or bad.”  It’s not likely that your 8-year-old would use those exact words, but you get the idea.

We would like to think that we have done a sufficiently effective job of communicating our unconditional love to our children.  Yet, if 20 years of parenting has taught me anything, it is that my perceptions do not always reflect reality, and what I think I have said is often not what was heard.

So, go ahead and ask them the question, and brace yourself for the possible answers.  Regardless of their response, it is a great opportunity to reaffirm your love.  And that is something that simply can’t be done too often.

“Sweetie, I just want you to know beyond a shadow of a doubt…”

“Son, just in case I haven’t told you…”

“God doesn’t love you any more…”

I’m sorry.  I failed to complete that thought.

“God doesn’t love you any more today than He did yesterday, or last week, or last year.” 

I hope that this doesn’t disturb you.  Rather, it should be overwhelmingly comforting and assuring.

One of the aspects of our humanity is potentiality.  We possess a potential for change, the possibility of “becoming” more (or less) than what we are at any given moment. 

When I married Kim, I loved her.  But 22 years later, I can safely say that I love her much more now than I did in 1988.  When my children were born, I immediately loved them.  But Hannah and Coleman are far more dear to me now than they were 20 and 17 years ago, respectively.  My love for each of them has grown and deepened with time.  

I love God far more now than I did when I first accepted His grace through Jesus Christ 38 years ago.

But, God’s love for me hasn’t changed one bit.  He loves me now as He always has, as He always will.  He loves me infinitely.  That will never change.  It can’t change.  With God there is no potentiality, only actuality; perfect, infinite actuality.  God is not “becoming” anything.  God is.        

The nature of the Triune God is eternal.  He is timeless and changeless.  All that God is, He has always been.  All that God is, He will always be.  “From everlasting to everlasting, you are God” (Psalm 90:2).  He is the “I Am” (Exodus 3:14), the One “who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty” (Revelation 1:8). 

God loves us for His Name’s sake, that is, He loves us because of who He is.  It is His nature to love.  It is His essence, substance, and being.  God is love (I John 4: 8,16).  He can’t not love us.  And that love is not conditioned by time or circumstances.  He can be pleased or displeased with us, our actions, and our thoughts, but He will never stop loving us.

Take strength today in the assurance of God’s infinite, unconditional love for you. 

Seriously, He can’t love you more than He already does.  And He cannot love you less.

The 2010 World Series came to a close on Monday evening with the San Francisco Giants achieving victory over the Texas Rangers, winning the best-of-seven series 4-1.  It was the first Major League Baseball championship for the Giants since the relocation of the franchise from New York City to California in 1958.  Despite the loss in the World Series, Rangers’ fans had a lot to celebrate this year, with their team winning a post-season series for the first time, not just once but twice, with a Division Championship Series victory over the Tampa Bay Rays and a League Championship Series triumph over their much-despised nemesis, the New York Yankees.  Although loyal, passionate fans like the Bobby Ross, Jr., Family and other friends of mine in Texas and Oklahoma were rooting wildly for the Rangers, I was quietly pulling for the Giants.  Growing up in Kentucky in the 1970s not far from Cincinnati in the era of the Big Red Machine and later living deeper in the Southeast with the Braves being the regional favorite, I’ve just always been a National League guy.  Pitchers should bat.  I’m just sayin’.     

However, it was the Rangers and one of their star players who provided one of the most inspiring and encouraging back-stories this season.  Outfielder Josh Hamilton had a career year in 2010.  He won the American League batting title with a batting average of .359, led all of baseball in Slugging Percentage and On-Base Plus Slugging stats, and was awarded the Most Valuable Player Award in the ALCS.

Josh Hamilton speaks with complete openness about his faith in Jesus Christ and credits his Lord and Savior with giving him strength and perseverance in his battle with drug and alcohol addiction.  When Hamilton has stumbled, as he did in a widely reported 2009 incident in a Tempe, Arizona, nightclub, he has acknowledged his failings with sincerity and humility and has taken full responsibility for his actions.  It has been encouraging to see how the Rangers’ organization and fans have embraced and supported Hamilton.  In one of the classiest moves in the history of sports, Hamilton’s teammates had their initial clubhouse celebrations with ginger ale instead of champagne when they defeated both the Rays and the Yankees.  It was their way of demonstrating their love for their teammate, their respect for his character and faith, and their sensitivity to his struggle with substance abuse.

It would have been easy for the Rangers to have turned their backs on Hamilton in 2009.  They could have walked beside him with an apparently sympathetic arm around his shoulder and, upon reaching the curb, they could have abruptly left him there alone.  Or worse, they could have gone ahead and completely thrown him under the bus.  But, they didn’t.  They continued to believe in him, support him, and provide the kind of framework and family that would best insure his success in the future.  It appears that the Rangers chose well.

It is wonderful that Christians can be inspired and encouraged by examples like Josh Hamilton and the Rangers.  It would be more wonderful if professional athletes were regularly inspired and encouraged by the way churches consistently care for the wounded and struggling among them, whether they be members, leaders, or ministers.

“Therefore, strengthen the hands that are weak and the knees that are feeble.” (Hebrews 12:12)       

The subject of death and dying continues to be very much on my mind and heart of late, not only because of my Mom’s passing away on September 16, but also because of several others around me who have recently lost loved ones.  My friends and preaching brothers, Jeff and Dale Jenkins, buried their father last week in Birmingham, Alabama.  Another dear friend and fellow minister, Lyle Asbill, will be leading a funeral service for his father-in-law this afternoon in Shawnee, Oklahoma.  This Saturday I will speak at a memorial service in California for a friend, Todd Nance, who recently passed away after a long, courageous battle with cancer.  Todd and his wife Kristen were special friends to me and my family in the early days of the McDermott Road church plant in Plano, Texas.

I want to recommend (highly) a book that I read last week which I found to be extremely meaningful, challenging, and comforting.  The Art of Dying, written by Rob Moll, was just published this year.  The book is subtitled, Living Fully Into The Life To Come.  The back cover reads, “Rob Moll recovers the deeply Christian practice of dying well.  For centuries Christians have prepared for the “good death” with particular rituals and spiritual disciplines that have directed the actions of both the living and the dying.”  Moll focuses on the comfort, peace, absence of fear, and acceptance that Christians and their loved ones should experience as death approaches.  He deals pointedly with end-of-life issues, but with great compassion and sensitivity, even when he challenges conventional thinking.  Below are a few excerpts from The Art of Dying.

For Christians in previous centuries, death was a sacred moment long prepared for.  It was considered one of the most important events in life, an event on which hung all of eternity… Christians sought to learn from the dying because of their increased spirituality as they neared eternity.

Death, Christians believed, was not just a medical battle to be fought, though they did use medicine for healing.  Nor was death simply about the loss of precious relationships to be mourned.  Instead, it was a spiritual event that required preparation.  The dying performed it in public as evidence of their faith and to provide instruction to others.  Rather than waiting for illness to overtake them, the Christians were actively involved in their own dying, in control – to the extent possible – of the dying process. 

I remember having difficulty visiting a hospice Alzheimer’s patient during meal times.  The smell of the institutional food and mixed nutritional drinks combined with very sloppy eating was often difficult for me.  But my presence recognized the sacredness of this person with dementia, and it taught me not to be too confident and haughty in my own temporary health.  The elderly and dying reflect our own future selves.  That is perhaps the hardest task of caring for an old person, the inner undertaking of accepting our own limitations.

What we do and what we say when someone dies is an expression of what we believe about life and how we want to live… A funeral is the church’s opportunity to express those beliefs, to tell the story of the gospel and tie it into the life of the deceased and those gathered to worship.

There is beauty and blessing in being with someone as she moves from this world to the next.  As we attend to another believer whose soul is returning to God, we capture a glimpse of the beautiful destiny that awaits us.  We are reminded of our need for him.  We are spurred on to live with eternity in view, knowing that it is our living well that will define our death.

Dying is an art only because through it God is at work.  Only in God’s hand can something ugly and terrible be transformed into a thing of beauty and purpose.  In the end death is as mysterious to us as resurrection.  In our churches we spiritually enter into Christ’s death and resurrection in the waters of baptism.  In the same way, we must practice for our deaths, prepare to care for others as they face it and look for the hand of God who welcomes us through death to life everlasting. 

Moll reminds us that death does not have the last word.  It is merely a transition of our souls into the presence of Christ.  God has spoken.  Jesus has promised.  Christ is risen.  Victory is ours.            

“Répondez, s’il vous plaît .”

“Reply, if you please.”

“Please respond.”

Weddings.  Birthday celebrations.  Graduations.  Special dinners.  Ceremonies marking promotions, retirement, or other significant milestones in life.  Award presentations.  All of these are events to which you might receive a special, personal invitation.  In this age of email, text, and Twitter, there is something extraordinarily nice about receiving a printed, formal invitation to an event. 

“You are cordially invited to …”  “The honor of your presence is requested at …”  It is not a summons for jury duty or a subpoena to appear in court.  You are not being compelled to attend.  The invitation communicates your value as a person to the one who is inviting you, and the event is described in such a way that enhances your desire to be present. 

Jesus invites.  Jesus asks.  Jesus offers. 

As the eternal Son of God, a sharer in the Divine Nature, and the Creator of the cosmos who has all authority in heaven and on earth, Jesus has every right to compel His creation to submit to His will.  He could have entered the world as an authoritarian overlord who barked orders, screamed commands at His subjects, and demanded conformity to His iron-fisted rule. 

Instead, He came with an offer of eternal life, an invitation to salvation.  He didn’t “round up” disciples like a rancher herding animals, forcibly driving them to a destination.  As the gentle Shepherd, He said, “Follow me,” and left it up to individual hearts and minds to listen to His voice and follow in His steps. 

“Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.  Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For My yoke is easy and My burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30). 

Jesus invites us because He loves us and because He wants what is eternally best for us.  He doesn’t want us to have to suffer the consequences for our sins.  He desires our presence with Him for eternity.  He wants us to enjoy abundant life, even while we are here on this earth.  He longs to grant us forgiveness, peace, comfort, hope, and fellowship.  But He loves us enough to let us choose acceptance or rejection of His gift and grace. 

Have you RSVPed?

Stuff Christians Like, written by Jonathan Acuff, is a satirical look at many of the things Christians frequently say and do.  Let me rephrase that: it is extremely satirical.  As effective satire, it has you thinking at one moment, “How could he be so irreverent, insensitive, and off-base; I would have never written that.”  The next minute you are laughing and saying, “Man, he got that one right!”  In the introduction to the book, Acuff writes, “Do you love Jesus?  Me too.  This book is for you.  Do you think we Christians are weird?  Me too.  This book is for you.” 

Near the end of the book, Acuff shares a few entries that are less silly and more sobering than most of his material.  In one of them he compares some of our efforts at evangelism with sending a friend suggestion on Facebook. 

I will accept anyone’s friend request on Facebook…but I never accept friend suggestions.  If you’ve never used Facebook, a friend suggestion is a feature where you can send a note to someone and essentially say, “I think you should be friends with this person.”  You get the other person’s name and a little photo of them.  If you choose to accept it, then you send that suggested person a friend request…

The truth is that sometimes I drop Jesus into someone’s lap like I’m sending a random friend suggestion on Facebook.  I don’t really tell them much about him.  I don’t really invest in the life of the person I’m talking to.  I don’t even listen to their story.  I just rush to the end of my agenda and essentially say, “Yeah, yeah, regardless of what’s going on with you and your whole situation, I’d like to send you this friend suggestion to connect with Jesus.  Here you go, vaya con Dios, stranger.”  It’s kind of like a Jesus drive-by, me just spraying folks with the name of Christ and hoping it sticks.  I don’t think that’s a particularly good thing.  I can’t imagine that’s what God had in mind when he gave us the Great Commission.  So what can we do to change that?  How do we not just “friend suggest” Jesus?”

Acuff’s answer is to really invest ourselves in people’s lives, sincerely listen to their stories and their struggles, and then ask them, “Who is carrying all that with you?”  Very often, their answer is “no one.”  At that point we have an opportunity to meaningfully introduce them to a true Friend who can help them carry “all that.”  

Acuff concludes:

But it’s not one of those questions you can ask and then disappear as soon as you’ve friend suggested Jesus.  You have to be willing to carry “all that” with the person you’re talking with.  You can’t fade into the weeds of life like dissolving into the sea of profiles on Facebook.  That’s why witnessing is hard.  That’s why it’s easier to friend suggest Jesus to strangers than it is to introduce your friend Jesus to someone.  It’s not right, but I think that’s why it happens.  And I’m tired of it happening with me.”            

I was in the Heart of Dixie on Saturday visiting my Dad when No. 19 South Carolina defeated No. 1 Alabama by a score of 35-21.  I think every television in the rehabilitation center was tuned in to the game.  You could hear the broadcast reverberating up and down the halls, creating a strange sort of “surround sound” effect.  Residents and staff were cheering wildly or yelling, “Oh, no!”  It was pretty much the same later in the day during the Auburn-Kentucky game.

The Gamecocks handed the Crimson Tide their first loss since 2007, snapping a streak of 29 regular-season wins and 18 straight Southeastern Conference victories.  Staying No. 1 is tough.  You know intellectually that a loss will eventually come, but it is still a tough blow emotionally when it arrives.  The defeat was probably made a little more bitter to Bama fans by the fact that it came at the hands of a Steve Spurrier team.  Spurrier is a coach that opposing fans in the SEC seem to love to hate, probably because he wins so much.  Or maybe it’s the visor!

During the week prior to Saturday’s game, coach Spurrier had challenged his team by saying,  “If fate is going to smile on South Carolina, then we have to give it a chance.  Who knows?  If you give fate a chance, something big may happen.”  

Spurrier’s phrase “give fate a chance” appeared numerous times in the post-game reporting.  It was hailed as a brilliant motivational and inspirational message to his team.  I kept waiting for a reporter to write, “What?  Give fate a chance?  Isn’t that an oxymoron?  That makes absolutely no sense.”  You can go with fate or put your hope in chance, but you can’t have it both ways.  Fate relates to what is considered to be predetermined and inevitable; it will happen, regardless of any other circumstances.  Chance has to do with probabilities, randomness, and “luck.” 

Seriously, when I first read Steve Spurrier’s statement I thought:  Give fate a chance?  This is going to be an instant classic.  Yogi Berra is going to be beating himself up and asking, “Why didn’t I say that?”

Deep down, I think Spurrier knows that the victory had nothing to do with fate or chance.  When a player suggested during the postgame celebration that the game ball be presented to fate, the coach proudly accepted it on fate’s behalf.  As a Heisman Trophy-winning quarterback, NFL player, NFL coach, and a college coach who has won a national championship and six SEC championships, Spurrier knows what it takes to win a football game: talent, heart, preparation, and execution.  Neither fate nor chance appeared on his resume when he was hired at South Carolina. 

By the way, God didn’t have anything to do with the outcome of the game either.  While He may be concerned about the character and integrity of players and coaches and whether they exhibit humility in victory and resolve in defeat, He doesn’t influence the numbers on the scoreboard or in the win-loss column.  With war waging around the globe, children starving by the millions, natural disasters leaving entire cities homeless and in need, and evil running rampant in this world, I wouldn’t dare risk offense to my Father by selfishly requesting a victory for “my team” or for assistance in finding a convenient parking space.  Don’t get me started on that last one!

The tension between faith and doubt, confidence and uncertainty, spiritual strength and weakness is something that we learn to live with in our walk of discipleship with Jesus.  Only when faith becomes sight will there no longer be any room for doubt.  Until then, we continue to work through periodic assaults which have the potential to undermine our faith.  Some of these simply result from life on planet Earth with its suffering, pain, hardship, and inequities.  Others are brought on by direct, intentional attempts by Satan to shake our trust in the Father.  He prowls and seeks to devour; he secures radar lock on our hearts and launches his missiles; he schemes and plots against us.   

Jesus encountered a distraught, heartbroken father who was desperate to find a solution to the torment and harm brought upon his young son by one of Satan’s minions.  In his emotional exhaustion, he spoke to Jesus in terms of “ifs” and “possibilities.”  The Savior challenged the man to steer through his doubts to more a confident faith in the power of the Son of God.  He replied, “I do believe; help my unbelief” (Mark 9:24).  The man humbly acknowledged the coexistence of faith and doubt in his heart and his longing for deeper trust.  His admission did not bring condemnation from Jesus, but a response of healing for the man’s son.  Jesus understands the spiritual tension within us and offers us strength to endure and overcome it.        

Though we may stagger, we do not have to fall.  “If the Lord delights in a man’s way, he makes his steps firm; though he stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand” (Psalms 37:23-24).  “Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.  Stand firm then, …” (Ephesians 6:13-14a).

Kerry Ellis’ new album introduced me to another song by the team of Tim Rice, Bjorn Ulvaeus, and Benny Andersson, this one from their musical Kristina which revolves around the story of Swedes who emigrate to the U.S. in the mid-1800s.  The song “You Have to Be There” powerfully captures the struggle between the doubts created by “life” and an underlying faith in God that ultimately cannot be destroyed.  You can click the title below to listen to the song.

You Have to Be There

You have banished me
From the land where I was born
Here upon a foreign shore forsaken
I have followed you and done thy will

Should I kneel to you?
When I rise you strike me down
Once again a little one you’ve taken
Everywhere I turn it’s darker still

What is it, Lord, that you want, that I am not seeing
What, in my innocent prayers, am I failing to say
Never before have I questioned the truth of your being
Never once have I dared
Never until today

All of a tremble I stand on the edge of confusion
Who is to save me if into the darkness I fall
Now that I need more than ever, my God to be near me
Do you hear when I call, are you there, after all

You have to be there, you have to
My life I have placed in thy keep
And without you I am drifting
On a dark and rising sea

You have to be there, you have to
Without you I’d drown in the deep 
Too far, too far from land 
The waters drag me down
I reach for your hand

Who, when I die, will throw open his arms to receive me
Who will believe me and take me into his embrace
When I have gone to my rest will you watch me and wake me
When my time comes at last, will you grant me your grace 

I am so small on this earth, I am nothing without you
Daring to doubt you at all is a knife to my heart
Little by little I’m losing my way in the shadows
I am losing my hold, and the world falls apart

You have to be there, you have to
My life I have placed in thy keep
And without you I am drifting
On a dark and rising sea

You have to be there, you have to
Without you I’d drown in the deep 
Too far, too far from land 
The waters drag me down
I reach for your hand

As I posted last week, my father experienced a series of severe, near-lethal cardiac events following my mother’s death on September 16.  He spent nearly two weeks in the Coronary Care Unit, including several days under sedation on a ventilator and an intra-aortic balloon pump.  He has now been hospitalized for 19 days, but is greatly improved and should be released to a rehabilitation facility very soon.  Dad’s cardiologists have been astounded by the rate and extent of his recovery to date.  Indeed, God’s response to prayer can be amazing!

The doctors have said that, technically speaking, Dad did not experience a series of heart attacks.  An arteriogram indicated that his six coronary bypasses from 2001 looked remarkably clean and free from blockages.  Rather, he had a classic case of takotsubo cardiomyopathy, sometimes called “broken heart syndrome.” 

“Takotsubo” (meaning “octopus trap”) was coined by cardiologists in Japan for a condition in which the left ventrical bulges dramatically into a shape that resembles the pots that are used by Japanese fishermen in trapping octopus.  The condition is also called apical ballooning cardiomyopathy and stress-induced cardiomyopathy.  My simple understanding of what happens is this: under extreme stress or grief (such as the loss of a loved one), adrenaline levels begin to run so high that the muscle of the heart is suddenly weakened to the point that its ability to pump blood (measured by ejection fraction) is radically diminished.  The result can be acute heart failure, lethal ventricular arrhythmias, and even ventricular rupture.

Dad survived the onset of this condition, and the encouraging news is that his heart, in time, can return to normal function. 

When the friends of Mary and Martha saw Jesus weeping at the tomb of their brother Lazarus, they said, “See how He loved him!”  Dad’s condition is just another indication to me of the depth of his love for Mom and the strength of their affection over the course of 52 years of marriage.

Please continue to pray for Dad as his broken heart, both physical and emotional, begins to heal.