It was he who gave some to be prophets, some to be evangelists, and some to be pastors and teachers, to prepare God’s people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God (Eph. 4:12-13).

There’s that “Unity” word again.

Seems to be important to the Lord of the Universe, so I guess we’d better pay attention.

Now, everybody has widely differing ideas about what unity is and what we should be unified on, which can lead to a breakdown in relationships and division in the Church.

That was a joke…but only kinda.

There’s an oft-quoted approach to the idea of unity, that I think covers it pretty well:

In essentials, unity.

In non essentials, liberty.

In all things, charity.

Unity in the faith…that seems essential.

Unity in knowing Jesus as the Son of God and the source of our salvation…yep…essential.

Unity in the structure of a small group…not so much an essential.

Unity in worship music style…nope.

Unity in Sunday Morning Dress Code…huh uh.

Unity in the brand of Communion cracker and relative levels of gluten…

I’ll get back to you on that.

There’s a big picture, Beloved.

Keep your eyes on it.

Happy Tuesday

It was he who gave some to be prophets, some to be evangelists, and some to be pastors and teachers, to prepare God’s people for works of service… (Eph. 4:11-12).

Their job is to teach us to do our job.

Their job is not to do our job.

Because…it’s our job.

Let’s do it.

Happy Monday, Beloved.

But to each one of us grace has been given as Christ apportioned it (Ephesians 4:7).

Yeah, so, I was supposed to be this great evangelist.

Apparently Jesus didn’t get the memo.

Which is a bummer for Christendom, because I would have been awesome. Picture thousands of people packing the auditoriums, hearing my words, craving my wisdom, buying my books, cheering my name…

Oh.

Maybe Jesus knows better than I do…

There’s no “maybe” about it.

Happy Friday, Beloved.

Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace (Eph. 4:3).

Father, make us one.

Father, make us one.

So the world may know you have sent your Son,

Father, make us one.

Amen, Beloved?

Happy Wednesday

…God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:8)

It’s Valentine’s Day, right?

OK, so let’s talk love.

Forget the hearts and flowers.  Forget the candy.

OK, remember the candy.  Candy is good. But set it aside for the moment.

Seriously–put the candy down.

Real love sacrifices.  Real love gives, even when there is no reasonable expectation of a return on the investment.  Real love sees you at your worst, and does not turn away.

While we were still sinners.  While we were totally unworthy and unlovable.  Beyond pot bellies and vanishing hairlines. Beyond bad hair and no makeup.  While we were steeped in darkness, inside and out, Jesus died for us.

For you.

Want him to prove his love?

He did.  We call it the Cross.

When I write these One-a-Days, I often call you “Beloved.”  I’m not putting the moves on you, nor am I trying to be J. Vernon McGee. I’m praying, along with Paul, that you, “May…grasp how high and long and wide and deep is the love of Christ.”

In the Song of Songs, God gives us a picture of the love between a man and a woman.  Beyond that, though, he paints a picture of Christ’s love for his Church.

He calls the Church his Beloved.

He calls you his Beloved.

And so you are.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Beloved.

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than we can ask or imagine, according to the power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus…(Eph. 3:20-21).

Jesus brings glory to the Father.

Now this makes sense to me.

The Son, who has power and wisdom and authority beyond all measure or comprehension, willingly set it aside out of obedience to the Father. He chose to make the Father’s will his own, and to follow the Father’s plan even when it led him, quite literally, to the gates of hell.

Because he loves his Father.

Because he loves his Father’s children.

Yep, I would imagine that brings glory to God.

Happy Tuesday, Beloved

Unless the Lord builds the house, its builders labor in vain.

Unless the Lord watches over the city, the watchmen stand guard in vain.

In vain you rise early and stay up late, for he grants sleep to those he loves.  (Ps 127:1-2)

There’s no use denying it—I’ve got the crud.  For the last 24 hours, I have hardly stirred from my big green chair.  I have slept, eaten, napped, watched TV, snoozed, scrolled aimlessly through Facebook, slumbered, and slept.

I’ve been sick.

There are no spectacular symptoms I can point you to.  No raging fever, no projectile vomiting, no delirium—at least, none that I’ve noticed. I’m not bleeding, either internally or externally.  Neither pox nor pustules are in ready evidence. It’s just a cold.

Frankly, I almost wish I had some better symptoms.It would kind of justify the time I’ve been out of commission.  When you tell someone that you’re sick, they invariably respond with some variation of, “Oh, I’m so sorry. What’s wrong?  Is it your stomach? Is it your head?” It’s great to have a solid response, like “Yeah, it’s my head. I’ve been bleeding from the eyes for several days now…fever’s at about 107,” or, “It’s weird…I’m covered head to toe in some kind of itchy purple fungus.  The doctor gave me some ointment, and that seems to be helping…”

Instead, I’m stuck with, “It’s just a really bad cold.”  See, even to you I had to add the “really.” And I qualified the statement with a “just,” as though to admit that I know I sound like a punk. And you may say, “Oh, that’s rough.  I know what that’s like,” but inside you’re thinking

“Wimp!”

“Lazy bum!”

“Weenie boy!”

“Haul your bacon out of bed and get something done!”

Well, maybe you’re not thinking that, but I am.  Because I’ll tell you, Charles Ingalls wouldn’t have called in sick today.  Virus? Ppfeh! That man worked a full-time job at the mill and ran a farm. Weekends?  That’s when he worked in his barn, hand-crafting furniture to put in the house he built by himself.

My plan for today is…maybe…to change from pajamas to sweats.

It’s humbling to be sick.  Frankly, I think that’s one reason God allows it. The occasional virus serves as a reminder that, not only is life not all about me, it’s not up to me.

Unless the Lord builds the house

its builders labor in vain.

Unless the Lord watches over the city

the watchmen stand guard in vain.

In vain you rise early and stay up late,

for he grants sleep to those he loves.  (Ps 127:1-2)

I don’t know about you, but I can get way too caught up in my own importance.  It’s not that I don’t matter. As a husband, and a father, and a teacher, God has given me very important duties.  My problem (and I suspect yours, though I’m too polite and subtle to mention it) is that I start to think that I alone can and must accomplish all that has been set before me.  Though I don’t forget God, I do sometimes relegate him to the position of cheerleader. Of course, it’s when I think I have to accomplish everything that I feel most powerless. When I let myself rest, or when plague forces it on me, I am reminded that there is a God who is knowledgeable, capable, and on my side.

Hmmm.

I’m going back to sleep.

Happy Thursday, Beloved

Oh, Yeah, life goes on

Long after the thrill of living is gone…

A singularly depressing and unwholesome song, yet possessing a kernel of truth.

I’ve rambled on before about how theater is kind of a metaphor for life.  I think of this again as I prepare for another round of Hunchback. It happens about this point in about every show.  Call time may be 6:00 p.m., but it will be 6:10…6:20…6:25 before all of us have dragged our sorry bones into the seats.  There is often a pervasive sense of…blah.  

I’m sorry—blah is a technical term.  It means ennui, or lassitude.  In any case, it will take some doing for us to rise to the occasion.

They tell me this is common in the theater.  You go through the work of rehearsal, building a show piece by piece.  The tension and excitement increase as you get closer and closer to opening.  Finally, there is the pure adrenalin rush of opening night.  This rush takes you through the Saturday evening show and the Sunday matinee.

Then you go home.

For five days.

When the next week rolls around, and the next, and the next, you can find that, in part, the idea of performing has slipped from the category of “get to” into “have to.”

It’s not new anymore.

But the audience deserves a show—the very best you have in you.  They paid for it, after all, and you promised it.

So you pray, you dig deep, and you go through the motions of setting props, getting into costumes, checking mics.  And somewhere in the process, you rediscover the joy that brought you here in the first place.

See the multitudinous connections?

Of course you do–you’re brilliant.

Hmm…marriage.  A lot of marriages—even Christian marriages—end in divorce.  Why?  Because the fun wears off, the adrenalin rush passes, and we get…blah.    But your spouse deserves the best you have in you.  They paid for it, after all, and you promised it.  So you pray, you dig deep, and keep loving, and serving, and being together.  And somewhere in the process, you rediscover the love that brought you here in the first place.

Let’s see…what about jobs?  Kids? Friendships?  Goals?  Dreams?  The pattern fits.

What about your walk with Christ?

Sometimes the joy is there, vibrant, thrumming through me like a power chord.

Sometimes not.

Sometimes, by the time my metaphorical Friday rolls around, I’m tired, drained, and flat out not in the mood.   Jesus tells me to abide in him.  To remain in him.  But—to be truthful—sometimes I’m just not into it.  I get tired. Bored.  What kind of idiot gets bored with the God of the Universe?

My kind.

Sometimes I feel like it’s all a show, and I’m just not up for it.

But I have an audience, and He deserves the very best that is in me.

He paid for it.

I promised it.

So I pray, I dig deep, and yes, sometimes I go through the motions.  I set the props, I put on the costume, I check my mic.  And somewhere in the process, I rediscover the powerful, sustaining love that brought me here in the first place.

Places, everyone.

The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives, and release from darkness for the prisoners…  (Isaiah 61:1).

Today is a holiday.

Juneteenth

Today we celebrate freedom for the captives, an end to slavery. It is good and right that we should do this.

There’s a bunch of political and social tension surrounding this holiday, but I choose to celebrate it for what it is–the joyful culmination of a long and bitter fight to end a great evil. Praise God.

Beloved, there is an irony built into this holiday that we shouldn’t ignore. On paper, the slaves had been free for well over two years prior to June 19, 1865.

They just didn’t know it–and their captors weren’t about to tell them.

Christ Jesus came to set a world full of captives free from the power of sin and death. He has paid the price, and we are free.

But some don’t know it yet–and their captor isn’t about to tell them. So they continue to live in bondage, waiting for a freedom that has already been bought.

Spread the Word, Beloved.

Happy Juneteenth