The Gospel Well

I, along with others, was asked this question by a good friend teaching a seminar at General Assembly this year:

“What characteristics (in anyway you want to explain them) would you list that describe a man being animated and enjoying the Gospel in contrast to a man who is living out of a religiously-moralistic understanding of Christianity?”

I share this with you because I talked yesterday in the sermon about the need to regularly focus on the Gospel – the good news of our salvation.  A great treasure we have in jars of clay.

Here was my answer, which applies to men and women equally:

            I got this as I was going into or just starting chemotherapy.  So, take that into account, but here is the mental image that came to mind.  And I don’t exactly claim originality, but other than Scripture, I don’t have a source for this imagination of mine.   Here goes:

           Imagine, if you will, a well in the center of an area, surrounded by a hundred other wells.  That center well is the Gospel Well and it is fed by “living waters” that Christ provide.  That means, when we dip and drink from the Gospel Well we find life.  We also find that the water is always fresh to our need and there is never a moment when we dip into that well and find it empty.  Never is there a gate-keeper saying that we have had too much or that the Owner of the well has given enough, but no more.  Always, and each day, we have a need to run to that well.  We find life, animation, hope, mercy, redemption, forgiveness, love, and on and on.  There we have a precious foretaste of the full satisfaction that we find in Christ.  As Peter said,  “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God.”  (John 6:68-69).   And so we must turn to Christ and come to know again Who He is.  Isn’t this what the Woman at the Well learned? (John 4)  She’d been drinking from the wrong wells.  

            But what of those other wells?  You and I know them too well, unfortunately.  They are the well of performance, the well of pleasure, the well of reputation, the well of self-righteousness, the well of judgment of others, the well of despair, the well of guilt, the well of addiction, the well of lies, the well of greed…and a hundred others by similar names.  This is our problem:  we run to those wells days after day, looking for what only the Gospel well can provide us.  And yet, we continue to dip our buckets into these wells looking for life. What do we find?  Stagnant pools that don’t bring us life, but instead lead us away from Christ.  They effectively empty.  And we pay the price – emotionally, spiritually, financially, relationally, physically – for such empty drink.  We drink and still parched.  We drink and are still empty inside.  And why do we do this?  Because we continue to drink from the Well of Lies – crafted by the father of Lies himself.  We’ve drunk too deeply of the kook-aid and been pointed from one well to another.  

            But the Gospel Well is rich and free – all the time, anytime.  There is no lie or false advertising in the Gospel, only our ever growing realization of what we need to drink.  And drink deeply.  

Isaiah 55 (all of it, because there is no good place to stop!)

“Come, everyone who thirsts,

come to the waters;

and he who has no money,

come, buy and eat!

Come, buy wine and milk

without money and without price.

Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread,

and your labor for that which does not satisfy?

Listen diligently to me, and eat what is good,

and delight yourselves in rich food.

Incline your ear, and come to me;

hear, that your soul may live;

and I will make with you an everlasting covenant,

my steadfast, sure love for David.

Behold, I made him a witness to the peoples,

a leader and commander for the peoples.

Behold, you shall call a nation that you do not know,

and a nation that did not know you shall run to you,

because of the Lord your God, and of the Holy One of Israel,

for he has glorified you.

 

“Seek the Lord while he may be found;

call upon him while he is near;

let the wicked forsake his way,

and the unrighteous man his thoughts;

let him return to the Lord, that he may have compassion on him,

and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.

For my thoughts are not your thoughts,

neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.

For as the heavens are higher than the earth,

so are my ways higher than your ways

and my thoughts than your thoughts.

 

“For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven

and do not return there but water the earth,

making it bring forth and sprout,

giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,

so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;

it shall not return to me empty,

but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,

and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

 

“For you shall go out in joy

and be led forth in peace;

the mountains and the hills before you

shall break forth into singing,

and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.

Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress;

instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle;

and it shall make a name for the Lord,

an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.”

Fighting for the Greater Reality

The longer I live, the more and more I am convinced that a large part of the Christian life is a fighting for the greater reality of God at work in our lives.  A fighting for perspective that see beyond the moment we live in at the present, for the reality that is both our present and our future.  We are a myopic bunch – we can only see what is right in front of us.  Meanwhile, God is ordering our days and nights, is present with us in real ways – especially through His Spirit, and is keeping His promises.

This fighting has been much of what my last week has been about – at least in my mind and in the quiet moments when I consider “what in the world are you doing, God?!”  As you may have read in my last blog post, I didn’t fair well during, but especially after the last chemotherapy cycle.  I was emotionally, physically, and spiritually spent – and not in a good way.

One of the reasons this was true, I have come to believe, is that I lost the mental/emotional/spiritual fight for perspective before I ever started.  This time, two weeks ago, I began to feel a sense of dread and foreboding.  I knew what was coming and I hated it.  I was defeated going in and I came out defeated coming out.  I did not fight for the greater reality of God’s goodness and His faithfulness.  It wasn’t that I was actively doubting those, but I wasn’t fighting to see them either.  If your honest, you do the same thing in your life and in the struggles you face.  And don’t diminish those struggles, just because you are not struggling like I am.  This is a common Christian experience – I think.  We forget that “God has not given us a spirit of timidity (or fear), but of power and love and discipline.” (1 Timothy 1:7).

Another verse that has been much on my mind, is 2 Corinthians 5:7:  “we walk by faith, not by sight.”  I am learning in new ways what that means.  For me, right now, it means that I have to trust that God will be faithful to the promises He has made in His Word (to comfort the afflicted, to come near to those who are low, to hear & even answer prayers, etc).  And to trust especially when I cannot see where His answer are coming from.  That is the faith that sees, despite not seeing.  That is the way the Christian fights for perspective and for the greater reality, even when what is seen out of my two eyeballs seems to scream that God has left me, doesn’t care, or isn’t there.  Those of the lies of the evil one, who does not give me a pass on his evil attack on me or God’s reputation, just because I’m going through chemotherapy.  No, that’s actually makes me ripe.  All the more reason to engage in this battle.

And how do we engage in this fight?  It’s both simple and profound.  Pray, read Scripture, seek encouragement from the Body, worship & rejoice in the goodness and faithfulness that can be seen (if we open our eyes there is much), reflect on how God has come near in past circumstances, journal/write/blog your thoughts, have coffee with a friend who will speak truth into your life.  To name a few.  Thank you for joining me in this fight where you can ad for learning to fight your own battles.   This moment is real, but it is not the only reality.  Fight for the greater reality.

This Moment is Real, but it is not the Only Reality

Like my dinner that ended up on the living room floor – a side effect of the constipation, which is a side effect of the nausea meds, that are used to control the nausea, which is a side effect of the chemotherapy, of course – I feel the need to work through some of my emotions and thoughts.  You have been warned.  It has not been pretty the past few days.

Days that end in Y are hard, much of the time.  The Monday after a chemotherapy are the hardest.   Here’s why:  I’m ready to feel better and return to some activity at home and in the office.  And Lydia is ready to be done with being a single parent (for all practical purposes).  And yet, the transition is stilted and fraught with landmines – physical and emotional.  In that way, that Monday can be very hard for all involved.

Tonight through tears, I cried out to God.  I told Him I was mad, but that I needed Him to meet me there.  It’s the first time that I have been able to express that emotion in prayer.  I don’t tend towards outward anger, in general.  I am much more prone to depression, which I remember somebody calling “anger toward inward.”  I suppose this is progress through the emotional side of this suffering.  I think I have a long ways to go.

I hate that my children have to come to me with their small, sweet voices to ask if I am okay, if they see me writhing in pain, or after I have lost the contents of my stomach.

I hate what this is doing to my wife, who has been a rock, but can only withstand so much.  Our marriage is as strong as ever, but this tests our endurance and patience, as we suffer together

Speaking of patience, I hate that I have so little when my children are just being children.  Never a strong suit before this, but a real test.

I hate that I can’t be the pastor I want to be, though my congregation and fellow elders make no demands on me, other than to focus on my health as needed.

I wonder what they will remember about this time in their childhood.  I hope and pray that it is moments of joy, punctuated with moments of pain.  But not pain without a purpose.  May it increase their faith and understanding of need for the Lord.  I’m not sure I could stand otherwise.

I wrenched my knee, which remains painful, but I think is getting better (I hope).  I hate that it’s an added physical impediment, but I have never regretted being a dad to my son, chasing and playing tag on a scooter.  I’d do it again for the moment of joy with him, in the midst of so many joyless days.

This last cycle I lost the mental battle.  I am learning how much of this is mental, even when the physical side is the most visible.  I went into the last chemo cycle already defeated.  I can’t be sure, but I am fairly certain that that had an impact on my experience this past weekend.  I am trying to figure out how I can keep a positive spirit and attitude, but not make it about my will and ego.  I need to be strengthened by God, not self.  And yet, I am entirely sure what that looks like.  I’ve lost my way a bit in this regard.

I don’t want your sympathy (and yet, I am thankful for it) and I wish I didn’t need your prayers.  Though I do want and need them.   I’m also bad at taking advice and being cared for.  I’m just not good at it.  Typical man, I suppose.

One of my biggest laments is that I cannot go (or should not, for fear of infection with a diminished immune system) to the hospital.  Last week, during chemo, someone connected to our church was in the hospital, and I couldn’t go.

I’m tired of vomiting.  I think my esophagus may agree.

Last night, one of our children had a meltdown.  The end of the school year is always hard.  The end of  the school year when you dad has been diagnosed with cancer and is undergoing chemo – well, that’s a different kind of hard.  One of the thing that I told this child, I realized I needed to hear too.  We talked about how our emotions (whether good or bad) in a moment  are real – very real.  But they are not the only true reality.  This moment is real, but it is not the only reality.  This – this is what I need to fight for emotionally and mentally.  There will be an end to this.  There will be a return to health, Lord willing.  And we are still a family that is clinging to God and Who, more importantly, will not let us go.  This moment is real, but it is not the only reality.

Sermon Manuscript: Mark 9:14-29

This is a sermon manuscript, which is written for the ear, not the eye.  So, it’s full of grammatical errors and incomplete sentences, I imagine.  Also, I try to attribute thoughts to others, but my sermon is the product of much reading of others.  So, if I have written something really good, it probably came from someone else.

Mark 9:14-29

Help My Unbelief

[Announce Scripture]:  Mark 9:14-29; PB:  844-5.  One of my favorite passages and verses (I know I have a lot):  “I believe, help my unbelief”.  After two sermons on miracles in the Gospel of John, I want to turn our attention to one more desperate father and one more healing from Christ.  This is a story that we will find ourselves somewhere in, but I hope that we also find our Savior in this story.   

[Read Scripture] Please read with me Mark 9:14-29

[Prayer of Illumination]  Please pray with me…

[Introduction]: 

Do you ever think of your life as a story?  Or maybe you picture yourself in a movie, complete with a soundtrack.  And in general, we love a good story.  And some of us love to tell a good story.  Part of the fun of our Wednesday night gatherings is the opportunity to fellowship over a meal and tell the stories of our week.  Sometimes, they are of our foibles or our frustrations, but in those moments we understand ourselves as living in a story.  Obviously, you know that my use of the term “story” does not imply fiction, but the truth of our lives as we experience them.  Aren’t you glad that the Bible gives us stories?  Yes, we get lots of other things we need:  teaching, prophecy, poetry, included.  But we also get stories.  And here we have another story from the Gospels.

What are the five elements of story (you may have learned slightly different terms): the plot, the characters, the theme, the conflict, and the resolution.  Well, we definitely have that today in this story from the Gospel of Mark.  And we have those in our lives.  Do you know conflict in your life and your heart?  Aren’t our lives full of characters, especially here in the Deep South – we have some real characters here.  And whether we know it not,

Let me tell you the theme of this story that were going to explore, and thus the theme of this sermon:

Theme:   You can have an imperfect faith, if you have a perfect Savior. 

 Your faith fan falter & fail, if you know Jesus.  You can struggle with unbelief, when you also believe that God is bigger than it.  Isn’t that who we are?  And where we live most days?

BB:  We’re going to take a slightly different approach this morning.  We’ll get the outline of the story and then we’ll look at the details as we consider the characters in this story.    So, my main points our The Story, The (Usual) Suspects, and The Savior.

Pondering the Why/Why Me Question (Part 2)

This part 2.  Last week I introduced the topic here.  As I said there, this is not a mutually exclusive list, nor should it be considered exhaustive.  Just my thoughts on the topic…         

             Fallen World:   We live in a world that is not as God originally created, that has been marred by our sin, and that results in great tragedy.  Children are born with disabilities, we get diseases and cancers, and tornadoes ravage the countryside.  To name just a few things that happen in a fallen world.  Basically, things aren’t the way they are suppose to be!   Maybe I have a gene mutation (something that we are looking into through genetic testing – more on this some other time).  Maybe I ate too many lemonheads that I chased with Mt Dew (maybe not healthy, but probably not the cause of cancer).  Stuff, you know, happens in a fallen world.  And it is often nothing we would ever want or ask for.  And yet, God uses our pain to draw us closer to Himself.  And sometimes He brings healing on this side of heaven and sometimes we have to wait.   In either case, we have the sure promises of His world.  He is making right what we have fowled up through our sin.    Creation eagerly waits with us, for the our full redemption (Romans 8:19)

                   Discipline:  I should probably start with Scripture to gets off on the right foot:  “For the Lord disciplines the one he loves, and chastises every son whom he receives” (Hebrews 12:6).  This verse, and the broader context, makes clear that the Lord disciplines his children.  The problem we have with this notion is that we hear the word discipline and we think punishment.  That is a very narrow view of discipline.  If we think through the analogy, we can think about all of the positive and negative reinforcements that parents provide children.  Another word that we might use positively is train.  We trained or disciplined not to run out in the street and we are working on not talking back!  So then, I see this trial as part of the Lord discipline of me.  He is disciplining me to depend more fully upon Him, to not look so closely to this world for comfort and pleasure, and to live out my testimony more fully.  To name a few things.  To be clear, I do not think the Lord is punishing me.  He is not paying me back for my transgressions.  That would violate the Cross of Christ.  When Christ said, “It is finished”, from the Cross, I believe Him.  That is, my sins were fully punished and forgiven there.  God will not punish, what He has forgiven through Christ.  That said, the Lord is fully committed to my sanctification and he may well use my cancer to as a sanctifying agent.  In that, I am blessed that God would love me that much.  (See also paragraph 10 of John Piper’s article, Don’t Waste Your Cancer, “We waste our cancer if we treat sin as casually as before”).

              God’s Sovereignty:  I told you these weren’t mutually exclusive points.  In fact, maybe I should have started with this one, as it is an overarching reality.  As a Presbyterian/Reformed-type fellow, my reading of the Bible leads me to see God’s sovereignty as one of the big themes of Scripture.   That God is sovereign (in charge, over all things, past, present, and future) is a very good thing.  I do a pretty good job of just messing things up, so I don’t think I’m fit for the job.    But, let’s be honest, God’s sovereignty also raises questions in our hearts.  The “why me” question for one.   And the “if God is_____, then _______?”  These questions are real and sometimes difficult.  However, I would rather have a good God whose ways I don’t understand (Isaiah 55:6-9) be sovereign, than an impotent god who is merely responding as best he can to the chaos of this world.   That’s not really a choice, but it’s one I don’t want all the same.  So, when I think of “why?” and “why me?”, part of my answer is to run to the arms of the one whom I know is in charge, of my little life and of this big world.  (See also paragraph 2 of John Pipers booklet:  “We waste our cancer if we do not believe it is designed by God.”)

So these are the thoughts rumbling in my head about why I am dealing with cancer at my age, at my place in life, at all, etc…  And whatever answers may be forthcoming or not (God doesn’t always satisfy our curiosity or our felt need for answers), I hang my hat on these verses:   So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.  ~ 2 Cor 4:16-18

Pondering the Why/Why Me Question (Part 1)

When you go through a trial, adversity, or some suffering, a perennial question that comes to our minds is “why?”  And often that questions turns into a plaintive “why me?”  It is a real question, but it is often without clear answer or at least one that is readily forthcoming.   And sometimes those unanswered questions become a noose around our necks or millstone on our shoulders.  We are weighed down by the seeming silence from God.   This can lead to despair, anger, or further distress.   And Satan can use this question against us and against God. 

It is a natural place to go in our hearts and minds.   We want to know who or what to blame.  We want to know what lessons God is trying to teach us, so that we can get the learning process completed and move on.  We want to know if there is some better way to learn altogether.  We want to know how keep this from happening again.  And yet, despite those desires, many times we are not called to know, but to trust.  To depend upon God in the storm, rather than looking for the first exit ramp. 

I have thought of the why question a good bit, since this whole thing with cancer started back in late February and early March.  And I have cried out the “why me” question at least a couple of very specific times that I can remember.  The first of those was on Sunday, March 10^th (a few days after surgery), when for two hours I was in excruciating pain that the morphine barely touched.  The second time was when I vomited for the first time during the very first chemotherapy cycle.  You can understand why those experiences provoked the cry of lament, “why me?”

The more analytical pastor part of me has been thinking about the why question and I am pondering three answers.  In some ways, you might think the answers unsatisfying, but I find hope in them, particularly the second and third.  And these are not either/or answers.  They are not mutually exclusive.  In fact, I think it likely that all three are a part of the puzzle.  So, why did I get cancer?  Stay tuned…I’ll give you my answers, such as they are, next week. 

Preparing for Cancer – A rejoinder to myself

In some ways this is a rejoinder to myself and what I wrote about preparing for cancer a few weeks ago.  While I do strongly believe in what I wrote, as it applies to my situation and can for many others, I do not intend to imply that only those who’ve been worshipping and learning in church for years can successfully face cancer with faith intact.  I do think there is great value in learning Scripture and hymns and other things that point us to the truth of the goodness and sovereignty of God before we need them.  In that sense, some of what we do week to week is practice for when we need it. 

            That said, and I had this in mind from the beginning, there is something (really Someone) that is completely outside of our experience.  Our faith is in Christ and He is the anchor that holds when the storms of life begin to surround us.  He is the anchor that is the yesterday, today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8), regardless of whether we have been following and walking with Christ for a few days or a few decades.  He is not tossed about by the waves, as we are, and is able to hold onto us when we are unable to hold onto Him.   

            This is good news!  The anchor holds.  And it is this that gives our faith confidence – not whether we are being strong, faithful, or dependent – though the Lord may grant us those as a gift too.   I love this quotation from A.J. Gordon that was in the bulletin a few Sundays ago on this very idea:

“Christ in heaven is our hope in glory, and Christ in the heart is our hope of glory. An anchor is useless unless fastened at both ends, and Christ has fastened one end in glory, which the Holy Ghost comes down and fastens the other end of the anchor in our hearts. In older times the anchor used to be brought in first and the ship came in afterward. So Christ has gone in as the forerunner within the veil, and we shall come in afterward.”  What a great picture!  And what an awesome savior we have! 

 

Here is one more thing I came across this week using the metaphor of an anchor: 

Are you in a storm? Does it look like your ship is about to go under? If so, you need some anchors: 

The anchor of God’s presence: He is with you – “an angel of God whose I am and whom I serve stood beside me.”

The anchor of God’s ownership: You are his possession – “the God whose I am.”

The anchor that comes through serving God: “…the God….whom I serve.”

The anchor of faith: “So keep up your courage, men, for I have faith in God that it will happen just as he told me.”

With anchors like these, God’s servants will stand strong and true.

Acts, The Church Afire, by R Kent Hughes (comment on Paul’s Acts 27 shipwreck on p 338).