A Familiar Voice

Do you know the face in this picture? Some of you perhaps do; others would not. But many more of you would recognize his voice, especially if you heard him say, “And now you know the rest of the story.”

I heard Paul Harvey’s signature tagline when I was a boy riding in the car with my dad. Both of us would listen with rapt attention, waiting to find out how the story would end. We were rarely disappointed; somehow the conclusion always seemed to satisfy. For over 70 years, Harvey’s words crooned out of radios around the nation. His voice was familiar to millions of Americans as he used it to both inform and entertain.

There is something comforting, even holy, in a familiar voice.

This Ash Wednesday morning our staff gathered around a conference table, as we do every Wednesday morning. Before delving into business and treats, we begin staff meetings with a devotion and prayer. Befitting the day, we read the penitential Psalm 51, each person reading a verse. I was looking down at the Psalm as we began, reading along and listening. All at once I realized that I didn’t know who had started reading, but that I could identify the speaker by their voice. I refrained from looking up as we read the entire Psalm, and, sure enough, I recognized the voice of each and every speaker.

This probably should not seem so remarkable to me. But it is. To some extent, I am marveling at the subtle distinctions among human voices, and marveling, too, at the human brain for being able to detect such subtlety, even despite the spectrum of ways we use our voices.

But there is something more awesome than the mechanics involved. I knew the voices of my colleagues. I know them, and they know me. It’s a wonderful experience to realize that this is true in your life, that you know others and are known by them in return. It’s comforting, and holy.

Some One else knows our voice, no matter how much or how little we use it. We can rest in the comfort that our Holy God knows our voice. And Jesus assures us that we know his (John 10:4). May it be so.

By the way, the “most listened to man” in broadcasting was named Salesman of the Year, Commentator of the Year, Person of the Year, Father of the Year, and American of the Year. In 2005, George W. Bush presented Paul Harvey with the Medal of Freedom, the nation’s most prestigious civilian award. His business partner and producer was his wife Lynne Cooper Harvey, who died nine months before him. The first anniversary of Paul Harvey’s death will be this February 28. And now you know the rest of the story.

More Light

I know it’s not just in my head – not anymore.
At first, in late December, it probably was my imagination.
Because I knew that it must be true, despite the lack of discernible evidence.
But now I can notice it, I can see it with my own eyes.
Maybe you can, too.

The days are getting longer.

For many weeks our 24-hour days have been marked by more darkness than daylight. But the night is beginning to recede. I couldn’t tell in those days right after December 21, the winter solstice, but now I can. The daylight greets us a little sooner every morning and stays with us a little later each afternoon. Light is growing in our world and everyday will progressively push the shadows of night aside.

We experience many different kinds of darkness in our lives – pain, illness, loss, grief, loneliness, anxiety, fear, sadness…and tragedy. Sometimes the darkness is so thick we have no reason to hope.

For the people of Haiti and for all those connected to them, January 12 was a terribly dark day. The sun seemed to vanish on that Tuesday at 4:53pm in Haiti. And still the darkness overpowers the light.

It’s too early to see the light in this horrible disaster. We have little evidence of it. But we have faith, and so we trust and pray that light is growing in Haiti. Maybe our prayers and generosity can speed the return of light and hope.

May Christ, the light of all people, ever be on the increase in our hearts, communities, and world.

Surprise

Things are not always as they seem to be.

I was recently in Target with a bunch of high school students.

Wait. Let me back up.

December is a unique time of year. We smell things, see things, hear things, and do things that we rarely smell/see/hear/do throughout the rest of the year. Like go shopping with a big group of senior high youth.

That’s not typical for me.

Really.

December is also a popular time for giving. And it’s a time when we more easily remember others. Like our favorite charities. Or old friends and distant family. Actually, I think this is one of the best things about the season. It’s a nice balance to the self-centeredness that our culture promotes. A little more than usual, we think about family, friends, and people in need. I’m not sure why, but we do.

For our high school youth group at church, some of the people we remember are recent high school graduates – particularly those studying at college, perhaps for the first time away from home, likely studying for their first round of college finals. So what could we do? Send real mail…a care package.

So 27 of us went to Target. I wasn’t the only adult, thankfully. But we still looked like quite an odd mob of people, gathering in the front of the store, waiting for the last of us to arrive.

As I was calling out directions to the group, I saw a security guard out of the corner of my eye. A minute later I was interrupted by the guard and the store manager.

“Excuse me,” the manager said; “can I help you?”

“No,” I though it my head. In respect to him, I do admit we looked like a curious assortment. But what did he think we were going to do? Rob the place? Wreak havoc? Play capture the flag? (I’ve actually done this in other department stores…guess I’ll think twice before doing it in Target.) The security guard and the manager must have looked at us, and thought “trouble…this can be no good...we don’t want this to get out of hand.”

Things are not always as they seem to be.

Our appearance was motley, but our purpose was generous and kind. And somehow 20 care packages got put together that night.

Like the store manager, our eyes have limited sight when it comes to matters of faith. Our imaginations can be too rigid. We look at the world and most of what we see looks like trouble.

War…AIDS…terrorism…tension…disagreement…slander…gossip…marital infidelity.

As Christians we strain to see a different reality, one in which God is breaking into. Even when evidence points to the contrary, we confess that the kingdom of God is near and is coming closer all the time. Somewhere in the midst of things, God is there. God remembers us, and God in Jesus Christ is working to bring the whole world home.

What looks powerless and meager, or even like trouble, might actually bring peace and love.

What looks like a group of troublemakers are agents of God, bringing encouragement to others.

You just have to look with eyes of faith.

Things are not always as they seem.

Frustrations of Serving

Serving other people is not always easy. Sometimes we talk about service as if it were glamorous. The way we say “God calls us to serve one another” makes it sound so noble and simple. While the call to serve might be divine in origins, at times serving other people stinks. Figuratively and literally.

Last week I joined a team of a dozen people for four days in Cedar Rapids, IA, to serve in flood recovery efforts. In June 2008 Cedar Rapids was devastated with the flood waters of the Cedar River. The river crested at 31.12 feet – over 11 feet higher than the previous record in 1851! Driving through the city on Interstate 380 makes it hard to notice the devastation that remains. But disaster officials have projected that the city’s recovery will not be complete for eight years or more.

Members of our team put hands to work mucking rotted garbage, finishing drywall, and painting homes. At times we were busy working; other times we were busy waiting…for orders, materials, skilled leaders, or communication. A seasoned contractor on our team particularly noticed the failure of coordination; “our work could be so much more effective and efficient if only…”

How often Jesus might have felt impatient with his disciples! If only his disciples would open their ears and put two and two together! Jesus’ ministry, too, might have been better coordinated, more effective and efficient ‘if only’. The Gospels convey a sense of Jesus’ exasperation with waiting on his disciples: “how long shall I stay with you? How long shall I put up with you?” (Mark 9:19).

For Jesus as for us, serving isn’t always easy or smooth. It involves patience and a great deal of humility. You’ll probably get dirty, too. But somehow, it makes all the difference in the world.

Perspective

Healthcare. Oh, how the debate saturates our media these days. Were it not such an important issue, I would certainly steer clear of writing about it, considering the extent to which it has consumed our national attention. And I rarely venture into commenting on politics publicly, given the volatility of the subject and its relationship to the church. But the church lives in the world and in this nation, and God would have us be good, informed, active citizens.

I won’t pretend to know what the U.S. should do. I don’t have the answer to this complex problem. I would hope that millions of other Americans might feel similarly. This doesn’t mean that we don’t have our own opinions or have something to add to the conversation. Be we Republican or Democrat, we do have constructive insights and concerns to offer.

Yet it would seem that a vocal number of Americans feel strongly enough as to raise their voice and their rhetoric above productive discourse. We saw it in town hall meetings last month. And I saw it at a busy commercial intersection on Saturday. While driving home from lunch, my family passed a crowd of people holding signs expressing their political opinion on healthcare. Even though my blood pressure rose, I recognize that they have a right to do so.

What bothered me most was not their opinion, but it was their reasoning, their perspective. I saw posters that began with the word “I” and expressed personal beliefs or status. As a person of faith in Christ, “I” is not a very good place to start. “We” is better. Still more Christ-like is to start with “the least of these.”

“Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others” (Philippians 2:4). You and I might have access to good healthcare; we may have health insurance. But we might not, along with too many others in this country. Whether big government or small government is our answer and our future, let us all keep the needs of the other central in our mind.

Letter from prison

A letter from prison recently arrived. Writing to give thanks for remembering her in prayer, she wanted our community to know that she had not forgotten about us. Furthermore, she would like to continue making an offering to a place that was making Christ known in the world.

It's powerful to hear God's words of praise and thanks freely expressed from a woman behind bars. The note reminded me a of a letter from the apostle Paul in the bible. He wrote lots of letters to communities of faith, just like the one our church recieved. In one of his letters he gave this advice: "Rejoice always, prayer without ceasing and give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God." (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18)

How might our lives be transformed if we tried to live into Paul's advice? Is it possible that our only requirement of living a relationship with God is to give thanks?

By The Numbers

I have a confession to make. I love the church, and I love Jesus. I suppose those are good things, especially for one who is serving as a pastor of a Christian Church. But sometimes this causes me great sadness. Well, not so much sadness as heartache. Or, on a good day, it gets me excited.

You see, I recently read that 50% of people living in Southeastern Iowa do not have a religious affiliation; they are “religiously unclaimed”. That percentage is also the national average. It would seem that half of the people in this nation (and in my neighborhood) are not meaningfully connected with the body of Christ. I suppose I could have guessed as much, but this statistic starkly confronts me with reality.

And what are people who love the church and love Jesus doing in response to such a reality? Too often, we – me included – are not doing or saying much. I am indicted. Here comes into play my sadness and heartache. I hurt to think that many people are needlessly suffering from isolation, anxiety, bondage, and fear, apart from the hope of Jesus Christ and the ministry of his church. It grieves me to hear that so many people do not know the love, freedom, life, and grace of God through Jesus Christ.

Now the question is: will this reality excite me enough to open my mouth and extend my hand to do something about it? Can I speak to the people around me, not in condemnation, but with invitation and testimony? “Let me tell you what God has done for me!” (Can we articulate what God has done for us??) This is not a time for complacency. This is a time for compassion and boldness. May God give us a fire in our bones which will not allow us to keep silent.