I still remember, and I’m sure that I’ll ever forget, where I was on that fateful Tuesday morning in September 2001.

I still remember the images and sounds, as if I had just been there this morning:  smoke billowing from buildings;  shaky footage of people running from what looked to be a solid wall of dust and debris;  reporters frantically switching between New York and Washington, trying to make sense out of the chaos.

I still remember the tears, the looks on people’s faces as they watched the terrible events unfold.

I still remember the words of disbelief I heard that morning, echoed in my own mind.  “This looks like a movie…” “It can’t be really happening.”  “Maybe it’s some kind of hoax.”

I still remember how the realization gradually settled in that this was really happening.  And I remember the feeling in the pit of my stomach – sorrow, anger, fear.

Little as we want to admit it, that group of men accomplished their goal that September morning.  Their goal was not simply to fly planes into buildings and kill lots of people.  At least one set of hijackers ended up in a field in Pennsylvania.  But simply killing lots of people was not their goal.

Their goal was that of all terrorists – to plant terror in people’s hearts.  To create panic and fear so deep that it changes the way we look at things, the way we think about things, the way we live.  Anyone who flew on an airplane before 9-11, and has flown since, can attest to the simple fact that all these things have changed for us.

I still remember, and I’m sure you do too.  How could we ever forget?

But I still remember other things, too.

I still remember the awed voices of reporters, as new videos showed men and women rushing back to Ground Zero to help anyone they could.

I remember the litanies of fallen heroes, and photos snapped of their lives before the tragic day – firefighters, police, ordinary people.  A group of passengers who courageously took matters into their own hands.

I still remember the images of bright lights cutting through the darkness so volunteers could continue the search for survivors throughout those long nights.

I still remember watching with pride and approval as local, state and national governments worked swiftly to respond to the crisis.

I still remember being amazed how tiny towns, cities, small businesses and large corporations came together in those few days to do amazing things – providing care for victims and families; feeding the many workers who tirelessly dug through the rubble; giving shelter and food to millions of passengers whose flights had been displaced.

Our divided nation came together that day, as the world gathered around us.  We put aside our differences for a time – black, white, Hispanic, Asian, Republican, Democrat, Libertarian, Christian, Muslim, Jewish, pro-life, pro-choice.  Finger-pointing was put on hold.  Congresses passed new legislation quickly and efficiently.  For those few days and weeks following the attacks, we were the United States of America.

For the first time in my young life, I was proud to be an American citizen.  I was proud to see how my country could come together to meet the challenges  before us.  I was proud of our president and the many leaders who stepped up and did what was right in a difficult time.

The spirit of those times was astounding and comforting.  For once, we could clearly see God’s hand at work in a powerful way.

And I wonder… where is that country now?  Where is that spirit?

I’m not talking about all the current controversies and issues today.  Do we need healthcare reform, and what should we do about it?  Whose fault is the state of the economy, and how can we fix it?  What laws should we have about divisive matters like abortion, immigration, and gay rights, and how can we ever find a balance?  These are certainly important questions and decisions, but there’s an American spirit that has transcended those kinds of things in the past.

I’m talking about the spirit that brings us together in the face of challenges.  It’s the spirit that brought us together then, and in many other crucial times in our nation’s history.  It’s a spirit that assigns value, not blame.  A spirit that points out needs, not fault.  A spirit that puts aside differences, not friendships.  A spirit that seeks the good of the other, not the good of the self.  A spirit that values brotherhood above borders.  A spirit that seeks to build, not destroy.  A spirit of reconciliation, not divorce.

We’re a melting pot, for sure.  We will always have differences of religion, cultures, philosophy, morals, and values.  Since the earliest settlers first set foot on these shores, that’s the kind of place this has been.  We’ve seen the spirit that can divide us because of our differences, but we’ve also known a spirit that can rise above all that.  It’s the spirit that brought us together to fight for our freedom, and that drew us through contention to unite into a nation.

Who says this other spirit has to be the status quo?  Who says we have to wait for tragedies like 9-11 or Hurricane Katrina to bring out the true spirit of America?

I still remember.

I remember the spirit that has driven us toward greater things.  And I think that together, you and I might just be able to bring it back.

©2012 Notes From Jon. All Rights Reserved.

As an example, the cries for a mass “exodus” from the public schools is louder now than ever… if you have doubts, visit www.exodusmandate.org.  They have posted a video making a startling comparison.  The video tells the story of Dunkirk, a town on the French coast.  In 1940, at the height of WWII, more than 300,000 Allied troops were trapped in Dunkirk as the German Nazi army closed in.  Rather than allow their capture, an event that might have been a death knell for the Allied cause, French and British civilians gathered 860 boats of various sizes – from fishing boats to pleasure yachts – and ferried the soldiers to safety in Britain.

The founders of the Exodus Movement compare Christian children in today’s public schools to those troops at the village of Dunkirk – besieged by enemies who seek their utter destruction.  The best course of action, the movement claims, is a grassroots effort, much like the improvised armada of Dunkirk, that pulls all Christian children to “safety,” whether it be in Christian schools or to homeshool environments.

There is a constant tightrope for us as Christians.  We are called to be “in the world but not of the world,” a phrase we hear often that is actually drawn from Jesus’ prayer for his disciples in John 17:14-15.  It is a tightrope we constantly walk, and admittedly most of us (myself included) have trouble with one side or the other – that is, we are either too much “of” the world, or we are not enough “in” it.

I would say the trend of Evangelical Christians today is toward the latter.  I can certainly understand this point of view.  In a world that grows increasingly hostile to the Christian faith (at least, to the Christian faith that keeps its substance), it’s easy to put up our defenses.  To avoid the sin that is so prevalent around us, it is easier to separate than to resist.  And so we build our own little cocoon, piece by piece.  We surround ourselves with all things Christian – books, movies, music, church friends.  And as we make our exodus from the public arena, we seal off the cocoon at last.  We’re safe.

Problem is, when we are in the cocoon, we don’t have any way to influence the world outside the cocoon.

Isn’t this what the concepts of “epiphany” and “incarnation” are all about?  Jesus could easily have appeared as a fully-grown man, walked up to the cross and died.  For that matter, he could have found a quicker, less painful and humiliating way to die.  You and I understand this idea, too – we call it efficiency.

But that’s not what happened, is it?  Instead, Jesus took the inefficient route – he really came to be “in” the world.  Born in the messy business of childbirth, surrounded by cattle and dung.  Learning and practicing the all-too-mundane carpenter’s trade as he grew into a man.  Sleeping under the stars, a homeless man wandering from town to town with his band of friends.  Spending the great majority of his time not holed up in the courts of the temple or surrounded by the holy-rollers, but out in the streets, with beggars, prostitutes and thieves. Attending weddings, telling jokes, breaking down in tears because he’d lost a good friend…

It doesn’t sound like Jesus kept himself in a cocoon.  In fact, the holy people of the day accused Jesus of leaning toward the “of the world” bit they were so afraid of!  If there was any Dunkirk-ery going on, it was not geographic or social in nature, but spiritual.  Rather than Jesus being an allegory of Dunkirk, Dunkirk is an allegory of Jesus – who rowed in, got his hands wet, and pulled us from the water that meant certain death for us otherwise.

Jesus was in the world – he pitched his tent, but he didn’t build a permanent home.  He touched the world, but didn’t hold on too tightly.  He listened to the world, but he remembered and reminded us of the story that is beyond the world.  He enjoyed the world and its God-given pleasures, but he regarded them as shadows of the true pleasures that awaited beyond this world.  He took the world in, but he didn’t let the world take him over.  It was only by walking this balance – not efficient, but definitely effective – that Jesus was able to touch so many lives so deeply while he was here that his story is still being spread today.

Jesus is our role model in all things – so why not in this?

How must our cocooning seem to those who really need rescuing from danger?  Think how it must look to people outside the cocoon. We’re saying “come join us! Things are better in here. Just give up all the fun stuff and then we’ll talk.”  Why would anyone want to be a part of that?  No wonder people treat most Christians with distance at best, contempt and loathing at worst.

All of this ranting doesn’t make the fine line any bigger:  It’s still a tough road to walk.  But with Jesus leading the way, the path becomes clearer with every step.  We may not like where it leads us at times, but one glance at Jesus in Gethsemane reminds us that Jesus didn’t always like it either.  We may face ridicule sometimes.  We might even be persecuted, though we’re a long way yet from that.  We might even have to (*GASP*) enjoy the things of the world and enjoy them discerningly.  We might have to resist temptation rather than always run from it.

That path might not be as efficient and clean.  But it comes a lot closer to effectively following Jesus than the cocoon ever will.

©2012 Notes From Jon. All Rights Reserved.

Yesterday afternoon I had a very disturbing experience.  I was checking up on the news on cnn.com, when I saw that Soledad O’Brien was doing an extended piece on the Jonestown Massacre in 1978.  Next week will be the 30^th anniversary of that tragedy, and I realized that while I had heard a lot about Jonestown, I had never really found out much about what happened there.  In today’s information age, this kind of stuff is easy to find, so I decided to do a little research.

Now I wish I hadn’t.  But in a way, I’m glad I did.  The story might be familiar to many of you – but it wasn’t to me.

First, I saw some videos of Jim Jones, and he sounded just like a normal preacher – he had a powerful voice, a strong delivery, and a familiarity with the bible that showed in the little “scripture snippets” he wove into his narrative.  I didn’t agree with all of what he said, particularly his interpretation of some passages, but he seemed solid in his understanding.  But I did agree with his assertion that Christians should be involved in repairing a broken society.  In fact, if I didn’t know the rest of the story, I probably would have thought he was just another preacher like myself… just a bit more conservative.

Jones’ popularity and wide audience in his early ministry, along with his strong convictions for racial equality, made him a natural choice as director of the Human Rights Commission in Indianapolis.  His speeches about the treatments of blacks were impassioned and persuasive.  African-Americans were drawn to his cause and to his “church.”

When he met with resistance to integration, Jones did not follow the urging of other Civil Rights leaders to remain peaceful.  Instead, he encouraged a militant attitude, saying that perhaps more violent measures were required to “free” the black people from their slavery.  While not in line with other leaders of the day, Jones’ ideas were not radical, and they made him even dearer to his congregation, of whom nearly three-quarters were black.

He equated socialism and communism with the Kingdom of God (which isn’t hard to do, by the way).  He preached that everyone should share their wealth and resources just as Jesus preached, and he tried to form villages and communes that reflected these ideals.  Again, nothing unusual – many others were saying and doing similar things in these turbulent times.

After Jones’ ideals met with resistance in his home state of Indiana, he moved his ever-growing flock to California.  His numbers swelled, even as his ideas drew scrutiny from the media and the US government.  Finally, convinced that the US was trying to destroy him, Jones moved with his family and nearly 1,000 other followers to a remote spot in the South American nation of Guyana – a few hundred acres carved out of the jungle that they named “Jonestown.”

Because he shunned visits and especially media, many were unaware that Jones’ teachings were becoming more and more radical.  He used end-justifies-the-means arguments to get his followers in the Temple to do things that were questionable at best.  He actually had his people cheering as he explained why it was OK that he had sex with many of the women in his cult – his deep godly love for his “children” made them all “attractive” to him.

And why would they question?  His followers had watched Jones fight for racial rights, had seen him defend the People’s Temple against attacks by the government and media.  He constantly declared that his actions were motivated by his love for them, so they followed as he gave them instructions for forming a socialist paradise.  They did not question as he asked them to do things that seem, to you and me, very wrong.

Concerned for the safety of their loved ones, family members of the Jonestown residents urged the US government to investigate Jim Jones and his People’s Temple.  The investigation led a US Senator, Leo Ryan from California, to fly to Guyana with a contingent of family and other officials.  Jones was receptive at first, but soon his paranoia won out.  Jones ordered his followers to murder Senator Ryan, asserting that if Ryan’s contingent made it back to the US, they would spread lies about Jonestown and the US government would take action.

Then came the most chilling part – listening to the tape that was made as Jones met with his followers following the murder of Senator Ryan.  Using scripture and using affirmations of his love for them, Jones tells his followers that they must take action.  They mostly agree, and come to the microphone to ask questions about their next course of action.

Throughout the 45-minute tape, Jones smoothly and skillfully guides their comments and discussion toward his desired outcome (once you know the end of the story, you can easily tell where he’s leading them).  Early in the tape, they suspect that the government is going to come and take them and their children back to the US.  In just a few short minutes, they progress to the certainty that the US army will invade with guns and kill everyone in Jonestown, and torture their children.

There is only one course of action, Jones says, only one solution.  They will lay down their lives, rather than have their lives taken from them.  Jones orders them to bring in vats filled with a deadly mixture of kool-aid and cyanide poison.  With calm voices, he and his assistants organize the people to follow the predetermined plan – they will kill the children first, to make sure they are safely “taken care of.”

You can hear the people milling about, getting their cups of kool-aid.  Meanwhile, music plays and Jones tells his “children” how much he loves them, and what good things await them on the other side.  You can hear the agonizing cries of children as they experience painful spasms, and the heartwrenching despair of the mothers as they watch their children die.

Then the adults have their turn.  Some take time at the microphone to express their love for Jones, and their “appreciation for all you’ve done.”  “We’re doing this for you,” one lady tells him, presumably as she drinks the poison.

There is no remorse in Jones’ voice as he tells his followers to remain calm, to face death with dignity.  There is no audible sound of his sorrow that his “children” are dying painful deaths.  Eventually, all you hear is a few moans and silence, except for sad and soulful music playing from a record player in the background…

Why did I write all this?  It was horrible to hear, horrible to recount in words – I can still hear the children’s screams as I type.  I’m trembling, as I have been for the last day.

I tremble because all of this was done in the name of God. Because Jim Jones sounded nearly all the preachers I’ve ever heard – myself included.  The rhetoric is the same, the same imagery and figures of speech.  I imagine if I played this for someone in my church who didn’t know what the tape was, and took out a few key parts, they’d likely think it was a church business meeting about something very sad and important.

I tremble because of how easily the people were manipulated.  Jones had done good things for them – fought for their rights, for their freedom, for their equality.  He had expressed his honest religious and political beliefs, and told them he was always acting in their best interests.  And they believed him.  And they followed him – from Indiana, to California, to Guyana… to the grave.

I tremble because I see how easy it can be for those in leadership – and especially in spiritual leadership – to misuse the position they’ve been given to accomplish their own ends.  We see it all the time, and while the consequences are rarely so ghastly, they are equally as life-destroying:  Ministers who abuse their emotional influence and lead their congregants into affairs; Holy men who convince their followers that violence is the only way to resolve their disputes; Priests who use their positions of power to exert sexual influence over children; Pastors who use their time in the pulpit to convince their listeners of a particular social or political viewpoint.

I tremble because I never heard the story of Jonestown in seminary, never hear of it being discussed in churches.  And I wonder how God’s people can so easily forget something that was done in the name of their God, and how we can be so easily led away from God by someone claiming to speak on God’s behalf.

I tremble because it could happen again.  And I’m writing so that I’ll never forget.

©2012 Notes From Jon. All Rights Reserved.

How can a Christian respond faithfully in times like this?  The answer might surprise you!

Desperate Times and Desperate Measures
A Christian’s Response to Economic Uncertainty

1 Kings 17:1-16, Mark 12:41-44
(also Matthew 6:19-34)

Intro: Letting Go

I had chances growing up to see all kinds of things.  We went on vacations once a year to places as far north as DC, and as far west as the Grand Canyon.  Strangely, though, I have only vague memories of some of these places.  I remember, for instance, the powerful feeling I had standing at the edge of the South Rim, but I don’t really remember any specific vistas, nor do I remember much of the long trip out west.

Strangely enough, one clear memory I have of growing up is going to the circus.  I remember cotton candy, silly toys that cost a lot and broke before I got home.  I remember animals and clowns – I even remember where we sat one time we went.

And one of my favorite things to watch was the trapeze artists.  What amazing skill they had, to fly through the air from bar to bar, flipping and twirling and ending up in just the right place at the right time.  I wasn’t the most adventurous child, but I could sure dream.  And I often imagined myself as a trapeze artist, flying gracefully through the air to the cheers of thousands.

That dream was shattered sometime in my teenage years, when I visited a particular ropes course on a youth trip.  A popular activity during the 80’s and 90’s, ropes courses were usually located at camps or in wooded areas.  Ropes or wires were strung between trees, and strategically linked together to make obstacle courses in the sky.  You might have to “walk” a shaky rope bridge with little help, negotiate a rope ladder, or slide down a zip line.  The courses were designed to build teamwork (you often had to work together to overcome an obstacle), and to give young people an esteem boost as they overcame their fears and achieved something difficult.

I had always been pretty good with heights, so I loved ropes courses.  It became something of a competition within a group – who could go through the fastest?  I thought I was fearless, until I encountered the largest ropes course I’ve ever been on.  It had multiple levels in the trees, and took even the fastest person 20 minutes or so to finish.  It had all the classic elements put together, plus a few I’d never seen.  And in one of those new challenges I met my match.

It was something like a Tarzan swing – two ropes hanging down, and you swung from one to grasp the other in order to move to the next challenge.  I came to the obstacle with confidence, thinking I would simply swing, grab the other rope, and get myself steady as I held onto both ropes before I went on.  But there was a problem – the ropes were too far apart for me to hold them both.  In order to make it, I’d have to let go of one completely, and jump to the next – just like a trapeze artist.

I made my initial swing, and as I realized I would have to let go, I froze.  I held on tight to the rope as it swung back and forth and eventually came almost to a halt.  I just couldn’t imagine that moment in the air when there was nothing to hold onto.  Sure, I was harnessed and someone on the ground held the rope that would keep me from falling.  But then I discovered the extents of my fearlessness – I had to face the new challenge of letting go of one thing completely so that I could grasp the other.

We’re going to talk about “desperate times and desperate measures” this morning, and I was facing that in a very real way!

Tough Choices

Today’s stories are about two widows who had to make similar choices.  They could choose either to hold onto their material things, or to trust in God… but they couldn’t do both.

1 Kings 17:1-16 (NET Bible)

(1) Elijah the Tishbite, from Tishbe in Gilead, said to Ahab, “As certainly as the LORD God of Israel lives (whom I serve), there will be no dew or rain in the years ahead unless I give the command.”

(2)  The LORD told him:  (3)  “Leave here and travel eastward. Hide out in the Kerith Valley near the Jordan.  (4)  Drink from the stream; I have already told the ravens to bring you food there.”

(5)  So he did as the LORD told him; he went and lived in the Kerith Valley near the Jordan.  (6)  The ravens would bring him bread and meat each morning and evening, and he would drink from the stream.

(7)  After a while, the stream dried up because there had been no rain in the land.  (8)  The LORD told him,  (9)  “Get up, go to Zarephath in Sidonian territory, and live there. I have already told a widow who lives there to provide for you.”  (10)  So he got up and went to Zarephath. When he went through the city gate, there was a widow gathering wood. He called out to her, “Please give me a cup of water, so I can take a drink.”  (11)  As she went to get it, he called out to her, “Please bring me a piece of bread.”

(12)  She said, “As certainly as the LORD your God lives, I have no food, except for a handful of flour in a jar and a little olive oil in a jug. Right now I am gathering a couple of sticks for a fire. Then I’m going home to make one final meal for my son and myself. After we have eaten that, we will die of starvation.”

(13)  Elijah said to her, “Don’t be afraid. Go and do as you planned. But first make a small cake for me and bring it to me; then make something for yourself and your son.  (14)  For this is what the LORD God of Israel says, ‘The jar of flour will not be empty and the jug of oil will not run out until the day the LORD makes it rain on the surface of the ground.’ ”

(15)  She went and did as Elijah told her; there was always enough food for Elijah and for her and her family.  (16)  The jar of flour was never empty and the jug of oil never ran out, just as the LORD had promised through Elijah.

Mark 12:41-44 (NET Bible)

Then he sat down opposite the offering box, and watched the crowd putting coins into it. Many rich people were throwing in large amounts.  (42)  And a poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, worth less than a penny.  (43)  He called his disciples and said to them, “I tell you the truth, this poor widow has put more into the offering box than all the others.  (44)  For they all gave out of their wealth. But she, out of her poverty, put in what she had to live on, everything she had.”

You and I face hard times.  The economy is in awful shape, and getting worse every day it seems.  Gas prices are going up and down like a roller coaster.  The financial future is uncertain, for our world, our nation, and our own families.

But we don’t face anything like these two women did.  They both lived in hard times – even desperate times.  What would you do in their places?  What kinds of desperate measures might we take?

The widow in Zarephath faced hard times along with everyone else in the land: in the ancient world, a drought could be a devastating thing, and they had no resources to get water from hundreds of miles away.  Crops and livestock died, leaving few resources for food – especially for widows, who had no husband to take care of their material needs.  You’re down to your last little bit of stuff to make bread, and all you can imagine is that this will be your last meal before you starve.

So what do you do, when a man comes to you and asks for food?  Do you grasp tightly, and say, “Sorry, this is my last meal and I’m going to make the most of it”?  Is that the kind of desperate measure that’s called for?

The other widow that Jesus observed faced her own personal crisis.  Who knows what desperate circumstances had taken her down to her last two pennies?  Perhaps her husband and her sons had all died, and she had scrimped and saved until a few meager pennies were all that was left of the small family fortune.

So what do you do when the time comes to give your offering?  “Sorry, God, but you can see how tough times are right now.  I’ll give you something later when I’m able.”  After all, she would wait in the long line of people putting money in the temple offering box, and many of the wealthier ones would stand and make a show out of putting their large piles of money in.  Everyone could hear as the coins left a waterfall of “clinks” as they fell in the box.  How embarrassing might it be to come behind someone like that, and to hear the measly sound of your two coins: “clink… clink.”

We can learn a lot from these widows who faced similar times as we do.  They both had choices to make – desperate times mean desperate measures.  But when we think of desperate measures, we probably don’t think of the response that these two women made!   And their desperate measures said a lot about the God they worshiped and trusted.

Changing the Rules

Have you ever played games with a preschooler?  I’m finding more chances to do that lately, as Abigail is getting into games these days.  She’s got a few card games, computer games, and even board games like Candy Land and Hi-ho-Cheerio.  And I’ve noticed, as most of you, that preschoolers don’t always have the respect for rules that most of us adults do.  The point of a game is to win, after all.  So if the rules get in the way of that, then let’s just do something about it!  And as a daddy, I just laugh and go along with it – squelching that part of me that screams, “You can’t change the rules in the middle of the game!”

We laugh when children do it.  But I think that you and I change the rules of faith sometimes when it comes to money and material things, as well.

We usually tend to hold on more tightly to God in times of trouble – when we’re sick, for example, or when someone we love is sick or in danger.  We reach out in faith because we realize we don’t have any control over our situation.  That’s normal.  As the old saying goes, “there are no atheists in foxholes.”

But for some reason, things are often reversed when it comes to money and material things.  We may hold on tightly to God in times when our well-being is threatened.  But we are a people of the material – and when our material goods are threatened, we tend to hold on tightly to the things we have.

“I’ll just wait on the tithe this month,” we say, “Let’s just see how things look at the end of the month.”

Or, “I know those folks need help, but I just don’t know if the money will be there.”

And it’s not just about the money or lack thereof – it’s the uncertainty.  We don’t like the unknown, the uncertain.  We like to know what’s ahead, to be sure our retirement funds and checking accounts will always have a nice pad.  If that certainty is not there, it will affect the way we choose to use that money – including the ways we use our resources to help others

Like the trapeze artist, we’re getting ready to swing out in mid-air.  On one side is our material things, and on the other is the God we claim faith in – the God who has told us to store up treasures in heaven, not on earth.  We can’t hold onto both at the same time.   As Jesus said in our earlier passage, “you can’t serve both God and money.”

It’s easy to trust God and to give and help freely when things are good.  But what about in the difficult times?  Times like this are the true test of our faith – a chance to see just how much we really trust God to take care of us.

Desperate Times

When we think of the phrase “desperate times call for desperate measures,” we might turn our eyes to the current financial crisis.  Times are tough – it’s time to get desperate and start looking out for Number One.  The budget’s getting tight?  Let’s cut back our benevolences and tithe.  We can always boost them again later when things are good.

Even if we don’t consciously think this, it’s something we’re tempted to think.  We don’t want to let go of that rope, because secretly we trust God with a lot of things – but not our money.

But the two widows in today’s passages teach us a powerful lesson.  Desperate times DO call for desperate measures.  But not in the way we think of it.  Desperate times mean we should be even MORE desperate to give and to help.  In desperate times, we shouldn’t give LESS, we should give MORE.

This is a hard concept for us to face, but in light of these two stories we’ve heard, and in light of Jesus’ words from the passage we read earlier, I don’t think we have any other choice but to see it this way.

This truth is practical, both materially and spiritually:

First, on the material plane.  We might want to dump ourselves in the category with the widows in our stories, in really “desperate times” financially.  But I don’t think any of us in this room can do that.  Let’s face it – probably all of us in this room are on the upper scale of things in this area.  We might not be close to Bill Gates or Warren Buffett in our income, but if we put things on a local scale, most of us in this room would probably be in the top 10-15% of income in our county and in Southside.

And if things are bad for us, how bad are they for those who are in REALLY desperate times?  When you have to face the choice between buying gas to get to work and buying food for your family?  Most of us don’t have to make that choice yet.

And even if we do have to make those choices, we’re never exempted from giving.  God never says, “Only give your tithe when you can afford to.”  He doesn’t say, “Only help others when you’re comfortable doing it.”  He simply tells us to give, and to help.

In times like this, it makes practical sense for us as the people of God to give MORE, not LESS.

And spiritually, it’s practical as well.  It helps us keep the rules consistent – we’re not switching rules mid-game.  We’re declaring that we have as much faith in God with our material things as we do with the rest of our lives.  And when we do that, we step to a whole new level of faith and our walk with God.

And just like Jesus said, we aren’t going to go hungry.  God will provide for us – more that we might imagine, in fact.  Tanya and I have found in our giving lives that God blesses us more the more we give.  There’s no formula to work out exactly how, and God’s not bound to it like a law – though he has promised that it’s more blessed to give than to receive.  And I think that all of you could provide examples as well.

Making it Work

So how do we work this out?  It’s not going to be the same for each of us.  All of us are in different places, financially and spiritually.  So each of us will have to think of what it means for us.

And to do that, we have to remember it’s not only a matter of material things – it’s a spiritual statement.  What do you and I need to do to fully let go of one rope and grasp on to the other?  We don’t have to give away every penny we have… we just have to be willing to if God asks.

In this way, there is a response for ALL OF US to make – every single one of us.

Our response might be financial and material.  Maybe we need to give more – and if we’re at all tempted to give less in these uncertain times, it’s a sign that we need to give MORE.  We’re in desperate times, so we need to take desperate measures.

I’m not asking you all to give more to the church – though if you want to, that’s fine with me!  But we do need to give even more in these uncertain times to people who can make things happen.  Pick up more food at the store for the food pantry, pick up things for Madeline’s House.

And if we’re already giving a lot, maybe we need to think of other ways to take desperate measures.  Maybe now would be a good time for you to volunteer at the shelter or the food pantry.  Maybe it’s time to check in on your neighbors – no matter what their color or what language they speak – and see if there’s anything you can do for them.

If there’s any time when we can make a radical statement about the God we believe in, it’s NOW.  Let’s be willing to let go of our things, and hold tightly instead to the God who has saved us, the God who has always provided for our needs, the who will bring us home to an unimaginable treasure someday.

These are desperate times.  Let’s take desperate measures, and show the world just how big our God really is.

©2012 Notes From Jon. All Rights Reserved.

I encourage you to have a look at Chuck’s post from last week: “Why I will not endorse a candidate for president.“

©2012 Notes From Jon. All Rights Reserved.

I’ve watched this election with more interest than any before because it actually seems like people are ready for a change.  Republicans, Democrats, Independents – people seem to be looking for something different.  And political lines aside, I feel like Obama best embodies that idea.  He’s refused to play the game… OK, well, maybe not “refused.”  More like, stayed on the sidelines, with an occasional foray onto the field.  I’m pretty naive at times, but I’m certain that his advisers are telling Obama to “keep the high road.”

But still, he’s shown me hope that things might be heading for a change in our nation’s landscape – no matter who takes office in January.

This is informed by my faith, of course.  I have to have hope that human beings can aspire to improve ourselves and our societies – I need to have hope that God can make a difference in our world, even in the political arena.  But every time I’ve thought, “what would it be like to be in politics?” I hear the instant response from my conscience:

“Impossible.  How could I live as a follower of Christ and “turn the other cheek” when someone slings mud at me and my family?  How could I resist slinging some mud of my own when I get information that might make it easier to get me elected?” I know myself.  I’d make decisions that would override my integrity, if those decisions gave me a better chance of reaching my goal.

I don’t think I could play the political game with integrity.  But I’m glad to know someone can, and I hope he will ignore all those people urging him to do otherwise.

©2012 Notes From Jon. All Rights Reserved.

Side 1 - WWJD?

Side 2 - "Things aren't looking too good for you friend."

©2012 Notes From Jon. All Rights Reserved.

Album Cover: Before the Throne by Sojourn Music

Shea Gilbert, a friend of ours, stumbled on an interesting song I decided to check out.  I love it – the tune has a simple, hymn-like quality, and the lyrics express what (in my opinion) should be Christians’ proper prayer and concern for our nation (ourselves included).  It’s certainly not the “strong” position we’re used to hearing as Americans: it exhibits weakness, expresses doubts about our own motives and actions, it’s repentant and thoughtful…

It’s published by Sojurn Music, and it makes me want to hear some more of their music.  The lyrics are below, and you can find an mp3 recording here.

Falling down upon our knees,
Sharing now in common shame,
We have sought security,
Not the cross that bears Your name.
Fences guard our hearts and homes –
Comfort sings a siren tune.
We’re a valley of dry bones;
Lead us back to life in You.

Lord we fall upon our knees,
We have shunned the weak and poor,
Worshiped beauty, courted kings
And the things their gold affords,
Prayed for those we’d like to know –
Favor sings a siren tune.
We’ve become a talent show;
Lead us back to life in You.

You have caused the blind to see,
We have blinded him again
With our man-made laws and creeds,
Eager, ready to condemn.
Now we plead before Your throne –
Power sings a siren tune.
We’ve been throwing heavy stones;
Lead us back to life in You.

We’re a valley of dry bones
Lead us back to life in You.
We’ve become a talent show
Lead us back to life in You.
We’ve been throwing heavy stones
Lead us back to life in You.

©2012 Notes From Jon. All Rights Reserved.

A little more than a year ago, I heard on the news that a Beeson grad in Virginia was murdered.  I checked, and sure enough, she had graduated with me.  Nancy Copin was a Christian Church (Disciples) pastor in our area while she was in seminary, and we had a common link to the Mexico trip we both loved taking every summer.  I had hoped to contact her, since she was close by, about going to Mexico with us sometime.  But on Ash Wednesday last year, she didn’t show up at church for a special service.  Church members found her in the parsonage – she had been murdered, apparently in a failed robbery attempt.

There’s a part of me – and I imagine there’s a part of you, too – that wonders, “how could God let this happen?”  These were two very sensitive and compassionate friends, servants of God much better qualified and suited to ministry than I will ever be.  Their absences have left a hole that cannot be filled, and like most everyone, I have to wonder what their deaths might have accomplished – if anything.

I may never know, this side of heaven.  But their examples of service and faith remind me of the many things I learned from them, and I am surely better for having counted them as friends for a part of my life.

©2012 Notes From Jon. All Rights Reserved.

I don’t know why I felt compelled to comment on this, other than that I am grateful for what God was able to do through her, and rejoice at her homecoming – untimely though it was.

©2012 Notes From Jon. All Rights Reserved.