With all the talking I do, it’s a little ironic that I often find myself searching for meaningful words.  Human language is adequate for making small talk.  I remember distinctly the men sitting on the front porch of my grandmother’s house in south Georgia, chewing the fat for hours.  Never at a loss for words, that bunch.  

But when it comes to shedding light on the greatest burdens of the heart, language betrays us all too often.  Take what’s going on in Haiti right now for instance.  In my mind, I can only imagine the gut-wrenching fear that must be searing the hearts of the three million survivors of that tragedy.  At least they are survivors so far.  Who knows what lurking, unseen, microscopic horror awaits them.

So I view the images on CNN and the other news websites.  I witness (without the odors and sounds) the death that accompanies the crushing weight of tons of concrete and steel.  And I search for words – for language that would convey what is in my heart.  But I am frustrated by the fact that I don’t really know what is in my heart.  Futilely, I attempt to position myself in their place – the place of the Haitian who, even before the earthquake, for the most part lived on the lower rungs of poverty.  And even though I’ve been close to Haiti, I’ve never crossed the border.  I have, however, seen the countless workers who were able to slide over in the Dominican Republic to earn a few pesos in the cane fields.  Believe me – they are poor.

But what do you call their condition now that their rickety houses lie in rubble?  What is their condition now that their water taps are dry?  What do you call it when you, along with millions of your neighbors have nothing to eat – not even garbage?  And what do you call it when you have little more than a ragged tarp to cover your head? 

You might argue, along with Pat Robertson, that they are victims of their own devilry, but I just can’t see the Lord making the same argument.  Maybe God did punish them for their worship of voodoo and the accompanying immorality.  But if that’s the case, that God punished the Haitians for their disobedience, what does that say about us?  What godly beating awaits you and me, since we are the enlightened ones?  We ought to know better;  we have the Bible, we can read, and we have no excuse. 

Truthfully, I have no explanation for why these tragedies occur.  Doesn’t God have the power to head off a catastrophic earthquake or hurricane?  Can’t he stop tsunamis?  As to why he doesn’t act to stop human suffering, I just don’t know.  But I am awestruck when I see these people, with hands raised, praising God and thanking him for being their father.  Personally, it humbles me because I find that I whine about much less. 

In the end, my language still fails me.  I am unable to speak what is in my heart.  But I would suspect that they aren’t finding words very useful right now. When it’s all said and done, I would hope that what I see would compel me to act – to do something.  I would hope that I would do more than say, “May you be warmed and filled.”  I pray that I will share, out of my wealth, with those who began with nothing and lost even that.

Okay, so I prayed that God would reveal my sin to me and lead me to obedience.  And to be honest with you, I put a little disclaimer in there, “But please don’t be too hard on me.”   Like I have a right to ask.  So within a few days, I began to get little rebukes from people – my wife, my friends…nothing too harsh, mind you – nothing like being thrown to the wild beasts or anything.  And to be even more honest, everything they said was true – painfully so.

But to show you how spoiled I have become, they devastated me.  I mean, any pretension that I was perfect or even close to it was suddenly rendered null and void, and my numerous imperfections became all to vivid to me.  What I had hoped God would do to me was to lead me closer to him – you know, to know him – to have an encounter of sorts.  Instead, I find that my focus has been all on me and how I am percieved by everyone else.  In that regard, nothing’s changed.  It’s still about my image – not that it was really all that good to begin with, but I hoped it was better than it really was. 

Ironically, even though I’ve worked hard to keep others from knowing the real me, I find that I am longing for someone to dump all this on.  I am wishing that I could just go to a brother and let him know what a jerk I think I am – I want to be specific with him.  Isn’t that what the Spirit meant when he instructed us to “confess our sins to one another?”  Instead, I’m sitting here watching the fire burn down in my little wood burning stove feeling oh, so sorry for myself. 

Fortunately, all this has served to put the spotlight on my number one problem with God: I care more about what others think of me than I do about finding Him.  What I mean is that I have wanted my entire life to make people like me.  So I have leaned upon my ability to make others laugh – I’ll do anything for that.  The sky’s the limit.  I care more about that than I do anything else.  As a result, I hold back on the tough stuff – like sharing the Lordship of Christ, for example.  Wouldn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.

Boy how I wish I had someone to unload on and know that they would still love me in spite of my stupid imperfect behavior.  And isn’t that what church is all about?  Or at least it should be.  No pretense! No phony, pious, religious language!  No facades or masks! 

So why do I find it difficult, almost impossible, to just saunter up to my brother, any brother, and open up?  Is it just because I fear that I’ll be found out?  Or is it also because I fear that I won’t be loved any more? 

I don’t know the answer.  I just wish I had that kind of community.  And maybe I already do have it, so I also wish that the well-constructed barriers I’ve erected would be destroyed and I would be able to walk freely among God’s other children, unclothed (spiritually speaking, of course) and let the real me be seen by anyone.  I wish that I didn’t care who knew what about me. 

I pray for that kind of boldness.

Have you ever considered the possibility that we’ve been doing church all wrong for 1700 years?  What I mean is that for the first 300 years of the church, there were no church buildings, no professional clergy, and no hierarchy.  Churches were more organic – more of a community than an institution.  Part of the reason for this, to be sure, was more of necessity than by design.  The earliest disciples were running from the law.  The last thing they would want to do is to erect a building and put up a sign, Christian Church Meets Here!  Might as well have one that reads, If You’re Looking For Christians To Kill And Imprison, Look No Further!  Wouldn’t be prudent, would it? 

But in terms of the church’s impact on it’s world, it was a period of unparalleled growth.  The number of those who identified themselves as believers and followers of Jesus grew exponentially.  I’m guessing that when you’re life is in danger for confessing the Name, only those who are most serious about following Him would be willing to identify with the church.  You probably wouldn’t find many nominal Christians in a culture that viewed killing Christians as a sport.

In my opinion, even though we don’t face persecution in the West, there’s still something to be said for “doing church” there way.  Not that I’m opposed to meeting with the hundreds of disciples I meet with on Sunday morning.  But I like the intimacy of the smaller group.  I like the informality of it.  Rather than being spectator to the “big show,” I’m participating – I’m part of the process. I have ownership.  This is my family, the people in this small house church, in a way that I don’t have in the big assembly. 

I don’t make New Year’s resolutions primarily due to my failure to have ever kept a single one.  In fact, it seems like the more I pledge to lose weight, the fatter I get.  Still, I want to make a concerted effort in 2010  to make sure my house church is a real community of believers.  Specifically, I want to be more open about my own struggles and look more diligently for brothers and sisters who have been afraid to open up about theirs.  I want to share the good news of redemption and freedom from guilt and condemnation with people who haven’t yet believed on the Lord Jesus. 

And who knows – even though I’m not expecting it, 2010 could be the year the persecution comes my way.  If it does, our small group of disciples will be ready to go underground.  If not, and I hope it doesn’t, I’m just going to enjoy getting closer, in a family way, to my brothers and sisters in Christ.  What’s wrong with that?

Some of my friends tell me that the thrill is gone from church.  So rather than being defensive about it, I have been reflecting on it.  It didn’t take too long for me to hit on that old B.B. King tune, The Thrill Is Gone.  It doesn’t matter if you’re like the majority of the college kids in my house church tonight and don’t recognize B.B. King’s name – just remember his song and his name for my acronym – B.B. King.   It’ll help you remember what I would be looking for if I were given the freedom to create the perfect church.  So let’s go for it.

I’m looking for a church that:

Bears Burdens -  Galatians 6:2.  Notice that the burden for burden bearing in this passage is not on me looking for someone to bear mine, but to find someone whose load I can lighten.  I don’t know how it works, but I do find that when I look out for the needs of others, mine seem to pale in comparison.  Still, I am often in need of someone to help me out too.  Putting it mildly, I am far from perfect.  In fact, more often than not, I am a mess.  At other times, things not of my doing seem to come out of nowhere and weigh me down.  At times like these, I am hamstrung.  I can barely move. I need someone to take some of the load off.

Unfortunately, church isn’t a place where I find that I can do that easily.  The assembly is too large to hear what I have to say every week.  What would happen in our church if all 800 people suddenly wanted to unload on the whole assembly?  Somehow, I need to find a way to connect to other believers who are willing to bear and need to have burdens born.  You know, like in smaller groups. 

Bears With Me – Colossians 3:15; Ephesians 4:2. Part of the reason I am so unwilling to unload on others is that I don’t want them to view me in a different light.  I know that I am broken, but I don’t want to set me apart as essentially more broken than you are.  I fear being written off as too far gone, too imperfect to ever be viewed as an integral part of the body.  I need for you to bear with me NO MATTER HOW LONG IT TAKES. 

Keeps Me Pointed Toward Eternity – Hebrews 10:25.  According to this verse, one of the primary reasons we meet together is to encourage one another to keep on thinking about the brevity of life and the certainty of the Last Day.  Maybe you’re better at this than me, but it just isn’t in my nature to think much about the fleeting nature of life and the final judgement.  It must be a trend because I don’t hear much about it from pulpits any more.  Personally, I need to be reminded – a lot.

Infuses Me With The Word Of God – Hebrews 4:12. In the end, all I will have known about myself and my God is what he revealed to me.  Everything else is speculation on my part.  Unreliable information, at best.  Yet, I find that I am drawn to rely on my own understanding more than anything else.  I want more than anything to set myself up as a god and do my own thing.  Fortunately, the word of God cuts to the heart and roots out the foolishness that so easily takes root there.  I need for my church family to minister the Word to me.

Never Lets Me Love This Life More Than I Love God – Revelation 12:10-11.  Once again, I am naturally drawn (in my flesh – my sinful nature) to put the focus on me and my life.  Not only do I want to stay alive at any cost, but I want to stay happy at any cost.  In the flesh, I am willing to do whatever it takes to make sure I realize those desires.  Please, church family, don’t let me do that.  In my spirit, I want more than anything to be an overcomer.  Keep me focused on my goal.

Going Into All The World – Mark 16: 15-16.  The secular world evangelizes with every opportunity.  Think about it – it controls the information.  The news and entertainment media, the textbooks, universities, public schools, all are under the control of unbelievers whose deepest desire it to rout the army of God.  At the same time it is disseminating its lies and propoganda, it is foaming at the mouth against the evangelization of Christians.  But if we do indeed have the words of life as we believe that we do, we can’t be intimidated into not speaking about our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.  It is not a time for timidity!  It IS the time for boldness!  And that is what I want the church I dream of to be doing – proclaiming the message that Jesus transforms lives to a culture so lost that it doesn’t even see that it is headed into total destruction. 

Maybe I’ll be thinking of other attributes I want to see in my church.  Maybe you have some to add.  If so, feel free to do so.

Don’t get me wrong – I really like my church. I believe that I am loved and accepted in spite of my quirkiness which I prefer to call my uniqueness.  Sometimes, I am overwhelmed by the a cappella music.  I even like the preachers – only rarely do I take a nap while they are speaking.  Our elders are all men of God whose desire it is to direct the affairs of the church in a way that would glorify God.  

I guess you could say that I am blessed to be a part of this church.   I haven’t always felt that way about my church.  I’ve been a part of “fellowships” where I dreaded going – and I was the preacher.  I went, I preached, I sang, and I went home.  Always empty.  Not so with this church.  I always feel encouraged and uplifted. 

But I long for more.  I don’t even know what the problem is.  I can’t really put my finger on it, but I’m looking for something more organic – more intimate.  Not that I’m trying to assess blame – I’m sure the problem is with me.  I do, after all, have free reign within the structure of the church to create my own personal environment.  As a small group leader, I can do what I please.  So I’m certain, now that I think about it, that the problem is me.

I’m just thinking out loud here, but I want to try to identify the desire that seems to smoulder deep within my soul. 

For one thing, I am lonely for deep personal relationships.  Not that I don’t have lots of friends within the body.  I am sure that there a lots of people who respect certain aspects of my character and walk with God.  Shoot, I even believe that some of them would even cry if I died.  But I do not have those kinds of relationships where I consistently and meaningfully bare my soul.  You know, like in confess the many sins I’m always asking God to forgive me of. 

The question is, why not?  After all, I’m a grown man.  I could initiate, right?  I could ask my brothers to be my burden bearer, couldn’t I?  But I don’t, and I wonder why I am so filled with trepidation about asking brothers to have that kind of relationship with me.  Am I afraid that they would cock their heads to one side, squint their eye, and give me the brush-off, “Uh, I’ll get back with you on that.”  Or am I afraid that I couldn’t trust them with the things I’m ashamed of? Am I afraid that you won’t love me if you really knew me?   Or maybe I’m just plain embarrassed to open up about my life in a way that would force me to be accountable for my wrong-doing. 

You want to know what I think?  I think it’s all of the above. 

So I’m making a new committment: I am thinking of a couple of guys that I’m going to approach with this proposition – I want you to hold me accountable for the way I live my life and my obedience to the gospel.  Will you do that for me?

I might have to ask a few before I find willing partners, but I’ll bet that I won’t have to look too hard to find other brothers who are looking for the same thing as I am.

There I was, just rockin’ along doing just fine.  Then I got this bright idea that I should pray for God to break me.  You know, as in break down my facade, to uncover the real me, to expose who I really am, so I can become who God wants me to be. 

It wasn’t immediate, but within a few days, I was beginning to feel a sense of dread and doom slide over me.  All at once, I began seeing my faults, magnified and multiplied in my mind.  Right now, I have to be honest with you, it’s difficult for me to see any good in me at all.  All I see is failure.  Even the areas that I once thought I had mastered now seem as glaring failures. What kind of husband am I?  Not so hot.  Father?  Ditto! Grandfather? Teacher? Minister?  All the same.  Not much growth in those areas. 

I used to pray for God to rescue me, but I’m trying to pray that God will use my state of mind to help mold me.  And I know that someone is going to send me an e-mail asking if there’s anything they can do for me.  I appreciate it in advance, but I know that what I “feel” is not reality.  I know that I’m a redeemed and blood-washed son of the Almighty Father.  I know that, by his grace, I am set free from the reality of condemnation.  I’m okay, not because I’ve plugged the hole in the dike of my life, but because of his mercy and grace.

I also know that I’m not alone in experiencing the funk I’m currently in.  Paul said that we groan and long to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling.  I hope that is where I am right now – longing to finally be with the father. 

Truth is, all that depression does for me is to sharpen my appetite for the Father.  I want him now more than ever.  I long for his appearing – for the day when we will be caught up in the air with him.

Speaking of my wife, I have to be honest with you – we do have our differences.  Why, just tonight, we were looking for a nice movie to settle down to when a major dispute arose.  She, being the consummate female, wanted to watch a romance, a love story, a chick-flick.  In my opinion, that film genre (along with its counterpart, the romance novel) has done more to make it impossible for modern man to make a woman happy than anything else.  I mean, what man can compete with a six-foot five-inch muscle-bound man with abs of steel and buns to match who calls himself Antoine and speaks with a French accent and always rescues the female protagonist from her football-watching couch potato of a husband? The way I look at it, getting soft as we grow older is as normal as rain.  It’s part of the aging process, the natural flow of life. 

Anyhow, I digress.  She wanted to watch some Lifetime movie that was probably titled, The Man Is Always Wrong, while I was looking for something a little more earthy.  Maybe a time-worn western or a war movie. 

The conflict swelled until we settled upon a compromise: we would watch the Lifetime movie and after she went to bed, I could watch what I wanted.  Fair enough, right?

Okay, so we don’t always agree.  But you know what?  I am as committed to her as she is to me, and it’s been that way for almost thirty-five years.  And yes, we’ve had some real humdingers over the years – fights, arguments, and conflicts.  I’ve been so mad at her that I thought my head would explode.  And yes, she’s been mad at me (although, it was always without cause).  But we are still committed to our marriage – our relationship.  There are no other options, no matter what.  We are one flesh, pure and simple.

I bring this up because we live in a culture that seems to be infatuated with the idea that everything is disposable.  If you’re old enough, you might remember collecting Coke bottles from the road side to redeem for their five cent deposit.  Same with milk bottles and (I’m told) beer bottles.  Not so, any longer.  Everything’s plastic or aluminum.  Buy it, drink it, and throw it away.  Or if you’re really environmentally conscious, you could recycle it, but most drink containers wind up in the land fill where they languish for a few thousand years before disintegrating.

 If you’ve been in “church” for very long, you might have noticed that some folks seem to have the same attitude toward their relationships in the body of Christ.  Join ‘em! Disagree with “em!  Leave ‘em.  One day, you’re my brother in Christ, the next you’re just another person for me to deride. It’s scary, especially when you think again about what Jesus had to say on the subject of oneness. 

So how can we get back to the model of unity (something Christians have struggled with since the beginning of the church.  How can we do what Paul admonished the Ephesians to do to “make every effort to maintain the unity of the spirit through the bond of peace?”  Ask another way, how can we achieve being “completely united in mind and thought?” 

In answer, consider how many times the New Testament uses the phrase one another.  I’ll give you a few of them.  Warning! It’s kind of uncomfortable to me to read these verses:

Be devoted to one another.Honor one another. Stop passing judgment on one another.  Live in harmony with one another.  A continuing debt to love one another.  Accept one another.  Instruct one another.  Greet one another. Agree with one another.  Serve one another.  Bear with one another.  Be kind and compassionate to one another.  Speak to one another in song.  Submit to one another.  Teach and admonish one another.  Encourage one another.  Spur one another on.  Do not slander one another.  Love one another deeply.  Live in harmony with one another.  Offer hospitality to one another.  Clothe yourself with humility toward one another.  Love one another, love one another, and love one another. 

Get the picture?  The message seems to be, Don’t treat as an unholy thing the unity for which Christ shed his blood. 

If you had asked me when I was a very young man what the cause of church division is, I would have said that it was unfaithfulness to proper doctrine.  In my particular sect (as in “section” of Christianity), it would have been a departure from any number of important, even “necessary”, teachings.  Most of them, however, revolved around what we did when we came together.  In other words, what we did when we met to “worship.”  I was led to believe, and believed it all too readily because I want more simplistic answers than life actually gives, that those who were in disagreement with “us” on the issues were out of step with God’s will for their lives because their hearts were bad. 

My denomination, for example, taught that church music should be without instruments – voices only.  Anyone who practised something else did so because they were unwilling to be obedient to God. It was that simple.

Never mind that now, after years of reflection, I have no idea at all where they came up with that one.  And never mind that I actually prefer acapella music. And let’s just say, for the sake of the argument, that they are right on this one.  Were we right to exclude from the kingdom (as if we had the power to do so in the first place) anyone who had a different view on this subject? If not, why preach it in the first place? 

Another way of asking the same question is, why do people dispute with one another – especially about stuff that two good-hearted people disagree on? Who knows why people come to blows.  I sure don’t. 

Actually, I do know, and so do you.  I know full well why people fight and argue and go to war and kill their brother in a fit of rage.  I know because I’m pretty good at it myself. 

You see, the sad truth about me is that in spite of me being a cemetary graduate (a bad joke about preacher training schools), and in spite of the fact that I have been involved in church ministry for over forty years, I am still a horrible person.  I know what some of you are going to say, that I’m too hard on myself, but you are wrong to defend me.  I’m as guilty as the day is long.  Worse yet, I’m all into self-preservation.  Even though I know I am a sinful man, and even though I am reasonably sure that God knows the hard truth about me, I do want so to look good in your eyes.  And I will do whatever it takes to accomplish that goal of preserving the image – my image. 

Unfortunately, this controlling desire of mine to look unguilty (as opposed to innocent) leads me to engage in diversionary tactics.  Like the Lone Ranger would tell Tonto, “You create a diversion, and I’ll sneak up on ‘em from behind.”  I am fairly adept at creating spiritual diversions in a good faith effort to get the spotlight off of me, at least keep it off of my shortcomings.

Let me give you my best example:  My wife nails me on some finer point of the household law.  Like, “I’ve asked you a thousand times to shut the cabinet doors when you finish.”  Now, I know she just pulled that number out of her head.  I seriously doubt that she has a tally sheet with a thousand marks on it with “TIMES I TOLD HIM TO SHUT THE CABINET DOORS” written boldy at the top.  But she is right about one thing, she has “asked” (insisted would be a much more accurate term) me a lot of times to shut the cabinet doors. 

And so each time she makes a statement similar to that one (which by the way, sounds unfairly lawyerly), I am faced with a dilemma.  The right thing to do is to admit to what is obviously the truth, tell her that I am sorry, and take my lumps.  But the truth is, I’m far too prideful for that, so I tell that little Tonto in my head, “You create a diversion, and I’ll sneak up on her from behind.”  Then my little Tonto says in a tone far too sarcastic for a renegade Indian, “Hey, why don’t you get rid of some of the clutter in my closet before you start preaching to me about cabinet doors?”

That’s all it takes.  I knew it before I instructed little Tonto to utter the words.  I’m serious.  One minute she was pointing out one of my many flaws, and the next we are off to the races.  I know I’m not going to win, but at least the argument is on my turf now.  At least it’s not all about me.  Now, it’s about her anger.  “Look, Baby, you need to just calm down and discuss this rationally!” More gas on the fire.

Look, Jesus was very plain about this – so plain, in fact, that our missing it would be humorous if it weren’t so critical.  Don’t you remember what he said about the Pharisees?  Paraphrased, he said, “You’re good at doing all the external stuff.  You have your public “worship” down pat. You give a tenth of all you have.  Yes, you are very good about letting us all know about how good you are at keeping the law.  But you forgot one small thing – that ‘outward’ stuff means very little to me.  What really matters is judgment, mercy, and faith.” Earlier, he accused them of straining  out a gnat but swallowing a camel.  Another time he ordered them, “Go and learn what this means: I desire mercy, not sacrifice.”

They were good at doctrine.  They were good at all the “external” stuff.  I’m sure that their “worship” was orderly and proper - very religious…very pious…very orthodox. They had public sacrifice and prayer down to a fine art. They missed the point.

The point is that you can be very religious – prominently so.  Everyone may praise your wisdom and understanding of the scriptures.  But if you miss the priority that God places on humility, mercy, grace, and kindness, you’ve missed it all.  Francis Schaeffer calls it the “final apologetic” http://www.ccel.us/schaeffer.html.  How we treat others is the one distinguishing mark of a true Christian.  You can be right on issues and doctrines, but be as far from God as a man can get because you didn’t value what he values. 

Maybe that’s why Paul beat the drum of unity so hard – Make every effort to keep the unity of the spirit through the bond of peace  – because he knew how important it is to God.  Maybe I should think about that the next time I’m tempted to draw up battle lines and have a little skirmish in the name of Jesus.  Maybe you should think about that too.  Is my “issue” as important as treating you in a way that would send a clear signal to the lost that we are people who have walked with Jesus? 

Something to think about, something indeed.

It’s odd, I think, how the same event can be viewed differently by two people.  Excuse the reference to sports, but when my team, the Florida Gators lost a heartbreaker of a blow-out to Alabama the other day, I was a little depressed.  Okay, maybe depressed is too strong a word, but I was a little down for a few minutes after game was over.  My dear daughter-in-law Jil, on the other hand, was ecstatic, jumping up and down with gleeful joy, replicating the cheerleader moves she did all those years ago in high school. Yes, it’s true, I’m sorry to say -  my son married a girl from Alabama.

When John penned his vision, its purpose was to assuage the emotional pain of the persecution.  With their very lives on the line because of their faith in Jesus, the government was fully dedicated to the elimination of Christianity by killing every Christian they could find.  Apparently, they were so successful at it that the Christians were beginning to wonder if and when God was going to put a stop to it.  John’s Revelation was written to put their minds at ease – it’s okay, God’s on his way.  Just hold on.

The message was good news to them.  It gave hope that things were going to turn around, or that it would at least all be worth it in the end. 

To the persecuting unbeliever, however, the same event (the return of Jesus) would have been viewed as the worst imaginable news had they been able to see the truth of it, because they were to be the objects of God’s wrath.

John’s picture was one of a new heaven and earth.  I’m sure that the First Century believers held no nostalgic feelings for the old earth – it represented nothing but suffering of the worst kind.  For them, the good old days were yet to come. 

And replacing the old government of corruption and violence, would be the new one, headquartered in the new Jerusalem.  What a glorious thought this would be – the old Jerusalem had killed their Lord and had made it their mission to destroy them as well. 

Finally, the return of the Lamb/Lion of Judah, would culminate in God dwelling with men – redeemed men – for all eternity.  He would be their God, and they would be his people.  And this perfect, all-mighty, all-knowing merciful God would hold the broken saints in his lap and wipe every tear from their eyes.  For them, those who would dwell with God, pain, suffering, mourning, and crying would be destroyed, and replaced by the joy of being in the presence of the God who created the universe. 

In a word, Jesus would make everything right. 

While the faithful were rejoicing at the words of John, the unbeliever would have been writhing in anticipation of the arrival of Jesus and the new order because it would mean certain annihilation for them.  It will be payback time.  No more turning the other cheek, the power of the Almighty would be unleashed in divine retribution. 

John spoke of a lake of fire for the unbeliever.  It is doubtful that either they or the believer had in mind a conscious torment in literal fire.  It was more like annihilation – the second death, John calls it. 

Here’s the point – you spend your life rejecting me, and I’ll have nothing to do with you in the end. 

Unfortunately, we’ve gotten away from judgement sermons.  We’re too much into the “If it feels good, do it” way of thinking to ever entertain the notion that there’s a cut-off threshold with God.  You spend a lifetime avoiding God, and you’ll spend an eternity without him.

Personally, I’m into searching for God, not because I fear the Judgement, but because I want every tear wiped from my eyes. I’m tired of mourning, crying, pain, and suffering.  I’m ready for some relief.  I am looking forward to the day when the corruption of the present order is done away with and is replaced by the new order.  I’m ready for God to make everything new.

I was in the midst of editing my blog last night when my cell phone rang.  You know how it is getting a phone call late at night.  As soon as I saw the number on Caller ID, I knew that it was the nursing home advising me that my wife’s mother had passed away.  In my haste, instead of hitting the save draft button, I hit the publish button. I’m sorry about that, but you’ll have to forgive me please.

It’s kind of ironic that in the midst of talking about death and dying that I would get a phone call like that.  Not that her death was all that sad because she was 95 and suffering like no one should have to suffer.  That was the sad part – being witness to a once independent woman lying helpless in a nursing home bed.  Unable to speak clearly, even though she deeply desired to communicate, unable to care for even her most basic personal needs, she had been reduced to what we all fear most – slow, agonizing death.

But seeing this drama unfold once again (it seems I’m seeing it more and more lately) got me to thinking about the meaning of life in the most basic of terms.  Specifically, I was thinking of  how do our words of faith compare to our life actions?  In other words, does what we say seem consistent with how we live? 

Most of us nod passing agreement to the idea that life is brief – that life is a hundred percent terminal.  We say things like, “There ain’t but two certain things in life – death and taxes.”  But somehow, at least for me, there is a disconnect between what I say about the brevity and uncertainty of life and what I spend my brief life pursuing.

I find myself obsessing about things that are admittedly very temporary.  I have, for example, a number of shirts, caps, and bumper stickers with the logo of my favorite college football team proudly displayed.  Did I mention that I’m a Florida Gator?  See, there I go.  I can’t seem to help myself.  But if there’s any question in my mind about the importance of collegiate athletics, just ask me who the national champion basketball team was last year.  For the life of me, I wouldn’t be able to answer. 

However, my obsession with the temporary doesn’t end with college football.  The wrinkled, sun-damaged skin I noticed the other day on the insides of my elbows and on my legs is really beginning to bug me.  It’s a sure sign that I’ve passed from the stage of my life where I might retain any illusion about my place among the aged and soon-to-be infirmed.  Yesterday, I slipped down the hill in front of my house.  My right leg shot out in front of me while my left one collapsed under me and bent my knee in an awkward angle.  In my youth, I would have looked around to make sure no one was watching me.  This time, I looked around for someone to help me.  I took an inventory of my joints: Knee okay?  Check!  Ankle okay?  Check!  I did this as my mind traveled up my body hoping that this would not be the end of my mobility. At my age, healing is taking a lot longer than it used to.

In the end, however, there is nothing that I could have done or can do to avoid the inevitable.  Either I will grow older and die, or I will die before then.  Either way, my physical body ain’t gonna do nothing but deteriorate.  It’s been doing it for fifty-seven years.  That’s the cold, hard facts.

At this point, a man who doesn’t seek God might be tempted to put a pistol in the roof of his mouth and pull the trigger.  What’s the use of going on?  I’m just going to die anyhow.  But I’m banking on God’s word being true – that I have purpose for living that involves far more than anything I might experience in this life.  It is more than any joy or pain.  In fact, it is of far more value than even my next breath.  It is eternal.  If the Bible is true, nothing, in the retrospection offered by resurrection, will seem important at all.

I get to thinking about this every time someone I love dies.  I wonder, already knowing the answer, if what I think is significant right here and now would retain its significance when I am in their shoes – when I am dead.  Money? Sex? Insults? Aging? Self esteem?  We could expand our list ad nauseum, but it would not change the fact that what we often sink our teeth into in life and think we can’t live without, will not matter one bit once we stop breathing and our heart ceases to beat.

Personally, I can’t wait for the day when I am able, in my resurrection body, to taunt death, “Where is your sting?  Where is your victory now?” Until then, I will simply have to be content with getting little glimples of eternity every now and then.