The clapping of hands in the Bible has more to do with human aggression than the praise of God. Often we clap our hands to applaud a person or cause, or to the beat of a song—in church too—and there is nothing wrong with this. But let me show why clapping hands in praise to God is nowhere found in Scripture.Read More »
The king of Aram was flustered. His every plan against Israel was being discovered, and he was ready to make an end of the traitor in his camp. Then one of his men explained to him, “My lord, Elisha the prophet reports everything you say, even your pillow talk!” I embellish but the news must have surprised the king, and it humors me just a little.Read More »
When I was a small boy, my family took a summer vacation to Myrtle Beach in South Carolina. Although the beach and commercial district was nothing near its present size, it was still a busy area—especially for a lost kid. Somehow I got separated from my family and before I knew it, I was walking alone on quiet side streets unable to get back to all the beach and water I knew were so near.Read More »
There is an enthusiastic, hardworking kind that fills churches these days. A false spirit it is, however, crept in the pews, once rarer to find but now easily spotted from the pulpit to the door. What’s its name? I call it…“Churchy”.Read More »
God can work amazingly with what you do simply.
My brother and I loved playing in the backyard of our childhood home, back in the days when kids enjoyed the outdoors. Probably the single most irksome thing about our wonderland was Mrs. Modell’s black walnut tree hanging overhead. The tree was huge and jutted across a third of our yard. It wasn’t so much the tree we hated, but those troublesome walnuts.
Throughout spring and summer the tree grows its fruit, or the nut and seed. The nut at this stage is encased in a lime green husk that’s hard as a baseball. They gradually grow larger and resemble clusters of lemons or green apples. When they fell early (or we knocked them from the tree), we learned to let them alone because they left a foul scent on our hands.
In autumn the husk softens as it ripens and then falls to the ground. This is when the backyard became a little less enjoyable for us, for a number of reasons. The old car that sat under the tree made sure we always knew when the husks fell…every single time. Then, they rot and change from greenish-yellow in color to dark brown or black; and the liquefied mush stains anything it touches. Inside that mess is a tough, corrugated nut that looks like a round sea coral.
My brother and I usually didn’t take the time to clear away the husks before mowing the yard, so whole or sharp pieces of nut were always a threat to our bare feet as we ran about. It was only when we became teens that we began to harvest the nuts for our mom and her friends. Drying out and removing the rotted husks required patience unless we were prepared to dive in and get dirty.
O, Taste and See!
That memory causes me to reflect on Philippians 3:14: “I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus”—not in the sense of any effort I put into harvesting those nuts. Instead, I notice the parallel of the subject: the goal…here the nut and fruit of the tree.
My brother and I learned that there was a useful and tasty goodness within those husks that made all that seasonal drama worthwhile, albeit in our yard and not on a farm. It was why the squirrels waited patiently as the seed ripened.
Similarly, living our lives with Christ in mind is like putting up with the annoying and unpleasant aspects of those husks knowing that something wonderful abides. Jesus compares the kingdom to a man who discovers treasure in a field, hides it again, and then quickly buys the field (Matt. 13:44). That field may have been the most miserable boondocks to him until then; but finding that treasure changed everything.
The anthem “Shout to the Lord” ends with a great affirmation: “Nothing compares to the promise I have in you.” Do you believe that? That’s where I stand. Christ is all the world to me—even if it means muck, stinky hands, and the constant thud of husks hitting the ground.
I’m not sure where things went off the rail in my apologetics course, but there was a schism growing between the class and the professor. Our prof was a swell man and a true scholar. I’d often sit amazed listening to him march through church history, doctrines, councils, and personages, all without notes, and facilitate great discussion.
Since most of us had other classes with him, we knew what to expect of his sessions. They were challenging but not difficult. Yet something baffling began happening in this class. Students started receiving low grades and didn’t understand why. When we inquired, our work just wasn’t up to par and not what he had explained. When it happened with a major topical essay, it was a last straw for some.
Mad and I Won’t Be Silent!
One of my buddies in the class got downright angry, and his response surprised me. He was taking the matter to the dean of the department. This guy was well-liked for his gentle and friendly demeanor, so I was stunned at his reaction. To me his response was overboard.
Now, I wasn’t happy about my grade either. I had written the biggest and most deeply researched paper I ever composed in grad school and was happy with what I had produced, knowing I had satisfied the professor’s requirements. When I received a “D” for it, I was dumbstruck; and so it went for most of the class, now for the second or third time.
I didn’t know what the solution was, but I knew it wasn’t being up in arms and reporting the professor, as I was encouraged to do. I was grieved because my friend had the wrong spirit about him. He was furious and hostile. I advised him to talk with the professor instead of going to the dean. He flatly rejected the idea.
A Surprising Message
The most curious thing then happened. One day soon thereafter I returned from that class and discovered that the professor had emailed me in that short time. It was a surprise since I wasn’t sure when I had given him my email address. But it was his memo that was still more surprising.
He too knew something wasn’t right in the class, and he wrote to ask for my opinion about how to resolve it. Talk about shocked!
I used the moment to voice the concerns of the class. I told him that we were grasping all that he taught and meeting his stated demands; however, if there was more he desired, it wasn’t being fully communicated. Then, I offered him some simple suggestions. Well that solved everyone’s problem. The professor re-graded papers and graciously tossed out other low scores.
In Step with the Spirit
I’m still struck by that lesson and favor from the Lord. When I read that email, my first thought was about my classmate who chose to lash out in anger rather than to be prayerful and find a satisfying resolution. That opportunity wouldn’t have come had I harbored a contemptible attitude.
Another occasion taught me like principle. I had to confront a matter with a superior since no one else would—not easy. I took a weekend just to pray about it. On Monday when I addressed my leader, he replied, “Yeah, the Lord spoke to me about that.” I didn’t have to say more.
I’ve learned that if I stay in the spirit of Christ, God will work out the kinks.
A 'Mike' for Christ 