Breakfast on the Shore

John 21:1-14

Taken from an Evening Message

Sunday, January 6, 2013, at Champion Baptist Church

What would you have done after such a stressful month?  The disciples had seen their Leader arrested, executed, and then resurrected.  It didn't seem real to them so I think they just looked for some routine in their lives, a "return to normalcy" that would never actually happen, but they just decided to go fishing.  It’s not even all of them; only seven of them.  We can’t be sure who the missing four are, because two are unidentified, but one that is there is Thomas.  Nathaniel is another one that we haven’t heard much from, but he has held on, and has continued with the apostles. 

You may have heard Einstein’s famous quote about the definition of insanity: “Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.”  The disciples were not insane, but I find it humorous that they do the same thing after the Resurrection that they did at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry.  They fished all night and caught nothing, but after all, this is the way they had “always” done it.  I find in my own life that I am caught up in that same vicious circle.  I want to make a suggestion.  If you feel that you are in a “rut,” be it spiritual, emotional, or in the work place, try something simple before you do something drastic.  Before you quit your job, sever a relationship, or change churches, ask yourself, “what am I looking for in my life, and what am I doing to accomplish that?”  Sometimes, it’s not the boat, it’s not the place in the lake; it’s just which side of the boat you are casting the net.  Try a change in your routine – ask, “what is not working in my situation that I keep on doing?”

I wonder if it crossed the disciples’ mind that maybe they should try the other side of the boat, but seeing the rub marks on their side of the boat, seeing the hooks where they hung the lanterns, they felt it would be just a little “too much trouble” to re-work the fishing arrangement.  All it took was a subtle suggestion from a Stranger on the shore that, at the time, they did not know was the Lord.  Could I suggest that you take a little inventory.  Ask yourselves, “What have I been doing that has not been doing any good?”  Realize, I’m not asking you to look for “bad” things in your lives – that’s what you expect preachers to do; I’m asking you to look for those things that, of themselves, are not evil, just fruitless.

Usually, we can see what’s going on.  Try looking a different direction, maybe even re-arranging the order of your daily routine.  Then, look for a “stranger on the shore,” because you might just get the Lord’s counsel through that person.  Most likely, you don’t need to ask a real “stranger.”  Talk to your spouse, your parents or children, your friends, or someone else that you trust.  Sometimes, people who are not looking from your point of view – from inside – can see something you did not see.

The results were immediate to the disciples.  The nets filled up.  I wonder some times if Peter later saw the significance of this moment that Jesus was training them to increase their effectiveness as “fishers of men.”  First, he preached at Pentecost to Jews from outside Palestine, including Greek speaking Jews.  Then, there were the Samaritans who heard his words and received the Holy Spirit.  Peter ended up with Simon, a tanner, not the most respected profession of devout Jews.  Then, he was summoned to the court of Cornelius, a gentile, and saw the Spirit of God descend on them.  I wonder if it clicked that the Spirit of God had led him to cast the net in other directions, and see them fill up.  The number of fish, 153, has been seen by many as symbolic.  At times, that has been the official UN count of recognized nations of the world.  The fish are called “large” fish – they were all of importance and value.  Jesus had told them that the Gospel of the Kingdom would be preached to every nation of the earth before the end came. 

I think it also interesting that they had to find another way of harvesting them.  The boat did not work; they couldn’t just drag the nets up over the side like they had always done.  That was fine for smaller catches, but not this one.  They instead left the boat and dragged the net to land.  I can only begin to think of all this symbolizes: “But we’ve always pulled them into this boat, and taken them to shore this way.”  The Gospel of the Kingdom says that we don’t trust the boat; we concentrate on the harvest instead.

When they got the fish to shore, something was happening that has always perplexed me: Jesus asks them to bring him some of the fish.  That alone is not puzzling; rather, it’s the fact that Jesus was already cooking fish.  The most I can tell you is the message that the Lord will win whom He will win; His kingdom will increase, but He has chosen to involve us, not for His benefit, but for ours.  The Harvest is for our blessing, our edification.  The Harvest has been determined; what is not sure is your part in it, or mine.  What will you do to become a part of the great catch of fish?  The resurrected Christ invites us all to breakfast.  I find it interesting that in Revelation, He calls us to commitment, and says that if we will open the door, He will have “supper” with us.  That’s the fellowship meal.  But to those who are willing to be part of the great harvest, He invites us to breakfast.  Many have called that the most important meal of the day, the one that sets the tone of all we do.  Would you be willing to have breakfast with the Risen Christ? You are invited.

 

Peter had jumped in the water in his enthusiasm to see Jesus, leaving the other six to drag the nets through the water to the land.  When Jesus gave the command for fish, however, it was Peter who returned and finished the job.  For two thousand years, faithful believers have been pulling in the nets for the great harvest, and now, in these times, which may be the last days, the Lord Jesus is looking for people who will finish the job, through their praying, their giving, and their going.  Will you be a part of that powerful force?

A Shepherd's Story

In December of 2010 I wrote this story to present to the congregation of Champion Baptist Church for a special Christmas event.  I used it again in an evening service this year.  Of course, most of it is speculation, but the principles in it are what drove the first century church, what made it spread.  The central idea is the power of all that we do that is of any lasting importance.  In my own heart, Christmas and Easter are inseparable.  They were both needed in order to "fulfill all righteousness."  I hope that you enjoy the story, told from the point of view of a Shepherd born about 20 B.C.

Let me introduce myself.  I am Lemuel, and I have always been a shepherd.  My father before me was a shepherd, and all of his family.  As I write these words, I am old and barely able to hold a pen.  You might ask, “How does a shepherd know to write?” and you would be asking a good question.  I was a grown man before I first took up a pen, but it was out of necessity.  However, I’m getting ahead of myself.

You have read about me in the New Testament, though not by name.  I was one of the “shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flocks by night.”  I was only sixteen at the time, and was only there because my father had sent me to the field with my uncle.  It has been many years, and I have forgotten the reason I was there, but I know that it was planned by God.  I had spent the entire night in the pastures many times before; I think the first time was with my father when I was six years old.  But that night would change my life forever.  We shepherds know many things about the sky, and the wonders of the sky.  I always loved to watch those stars that suddenly shoot across the sky and die, and once a star spent several evenings with us, moving slowly across the sky, with a long tail of light trailing behind it.  But that night, what we saw was sudden and brilliant.  I know now that it was an angel, a messenger of God, and I marvel now when I think of it, that a created being who, only a moment before, had seen the face of God Himself, was now in our presence.

The light around him was blinding, and though we could understand his words, they were spoken with a roar that surpassed any thunder I had ever heard.  He told us not to be afraid.  He said he had wonderful news.  He told us that on that same day, a Baby had been born, and he called Him “Christ the Lord.”  My parents, though Jews, were not highly religious, but I had heard of a promised Christ: “Messiah” is what we called Him, and from the stories my grandfather had told me, I expected Him to ride into Jerusalem one day on a war horse, slay Herod with His sword, and put a descendant of David back on the throne.  Then He would lead us in killing the oppressors all around us, including the hated Romans.  I did not expect Him to be announced as a Baby, but when you hear a sound like thunder in the midst of an almost unbearable light, you tend to throw out your preconceptions and accept what is being said.

The other shepherds and I had almost gotten used to the sound and the voice when suddenly there appeared a whole multitude of angels with the first one saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will towards men.”  The light and sound were all around us, and I still remember noticing that I had no shadow, since the light was coming from all directions.  As suddenly as it had happened, it was over.  For a moment, until our eyes adjusted, we were in total darkness.  When we could see each other again by the starlight, my uncle looked at me and said, “We are going to Bethlehem to see the Messiah!”

The first angel had told us how to find Him: He would be in a manger, wrapped up tightly in strips of cloth.  I was amazed at how quickly we found Him.  The family was from Galilee, we found out, a very young couple, and though they believed the baby to be the promised Messiah, they were as astounded as we were that it had happened, of all people, to us!  You see, shepherds and carpenters are not exactly at the top of the VIP lists in Palestine, and we were amazed that God had used us instead of prophets, priests, and kings.  We left there rejoicing, and proclaimed the coming of the Messiah to anyone who would listen.  Many people had realized that something different had happened that night, and they were more than ready to hear our story.

After a few weeks, like all human experiences, the excitement died down, and I sometimes wondered if it had just been a fascinating dream, but I knew it was too real to be a dream, and, after all, my uncle and several other shepherds had the same memories that I did.  I have to tell you, though, that my life for the next several years was nothing special nor exciting, except that I had been driven to the Scriptures, and I paid attention to what was being read in the Synagogue on Sabbath days.  I was amazed at how many scriptures pointed to the Christ.  When Passover came each year, I saw how it was filled with hope for a Redeemer, and knew I had seen Him; however, I was somewhat distressed because I was not sure why we killed the lamb for the meal, and how that fit in.

I never saw another angel, nor any signs in the heavens.  I heard about a Star, and remember two years or so after the night at the manger when Persian noblemen, swords on their sides and mounted on fine horses, entered Jerusalem with expensive gifts, asking for the King of the Jews.  It scared our whole country.  Rumors were that they had found the same Child we had seen, and after visiting Him, had departed undetected.

When I was nearly thirty, I was in Jerusalem on business, and was surprised to see a familiar face.  It was the mother of the Baby, with a worried look on her face.  I recognized her husband as well, and spoke to them: where was the Child?  How was he?  I was alarmed to find they had lost Him, and were in tears and panic looking for Him.  I was with them when we found Him in the Temple, speaking as a scholar – no, better than a scholar – to the teachers.  He spoke of the business He had with His Father, and He wasn’t looking at Joseph when He said those words.  Shortly afterward, they left the temple, and I returned to the fields and continued to tend sheep.

Fifteen years later, my father and my uncle both had died.  I had taken my own family and moved to Galilee after we lost our land near Bethlehem (it's a long story and not important right now), and we were living near Cana.  The region I was in was known more for its fishermen than its shepherds, and as one of the few people who knew how to raise quality sheep, I was able to develop a rather profitable business which grew comfortably and actually became better than the family business we had lost near Bethlehem.

A few years after moving there, a prominent family asked me to provide sheep for a wedding feast, and I brought them a week before the feast. I had been invited, as a courtesy, to return to the feast the next week, and went, I will admit, planning to "settle up" with the bridegroom's family, since the feast was nearly over. I was surprised to see once again the mother of the Child.  I knew He would be a man by now, and wondered why I had not heard of Him.  I was 46; He would be 30 by now, and should have established Himself.  I wondered why He had not.

I’m sure you know the story.  It was told everywhere; how He turned water to wine.  That was when I began to follow Him.  Oh, I was not what you call an “apostle,” but I was one of hundreds who were following Him at times.  I saw the work He did.  I was there when He preached the Sermon on the Mount, and at a later event I feasted along with 5,000 others on the loaves and fishes; that time I had brought my whole family with me.  My sons were getting old enough by then to tend the business, and I spent more time following Him, even when He returned to Jerusalem.  I could tell the stories to you again, but you’ve read what was written by others.  I knew both Matthew and John, and later met Mark when Peter visited my church.  Even Luke was introduced to me by Paul many years later as they traveled through my region, and Luke asked me for any insights I had on the Christ I had known.  He was astonished when I told him I had been one of the shepherds.  He had heard the story, but I was the only one of the shepherds he had ever met, and yes, it is the story I told him that is recorded in his gospel.  But again I digress.

You all know how Jesus talked about being fishers of men, and about laboring in the harvest, but have you noticed that most of His references to Himself were of sheep and shepherds?  This was language I understood, but the concept was still hard for me at times.  Sometimes He was the Lamb of God, and at others, He was the Good Shepherd.  Yet I listened and learned.  I began to have a nagging worry in the back of my mind as I thought of the Passover lamb, the scriptures about the suffering Messiah of Isaiah, and the need for shed blood to take away sins.  I put these thoughts out of my mind.

I followed Jesus, and saw His declining popularity among the people in that last year of ministry.  I was there when most left Him behind.  I was in the crowd on that last fateful trip to Jerusalem, and I am ashamed to admit that I was one of the disciples who scoffed when He told us He would be killed in Jerusalem.  After all, He was the Messiah, and had been announced as such by the angels themselves.

We were astonished when we heard the news that fateful morning.  Jesus had been arrested during the night, betrayed by one of the Twelve, and denied by another.  They were going to put Him to death.  Several of the others who had followed Him like I had ran to the place of crucifixion.  We thought there might be something we could do.  This was so sudden.  We had not been in the upper room with Him that night before; only a select few of His disciples had.  I was somewhat disgusted that none of them except John was there at the Cross.  As I watched, He died.  I thought, “We could have done something!”  But who was I – just a shepherd who had never been in the inner circle.  Jesus had spent time with me, and had addressed me directly a few times, and I still think that those “shepherd” allegories were for me, but really, I was only a footnote in the story of Christ.  I had once mentioned to Him that I was one of the shepherds that had visited Him the night He was born, but He seemed unimpressed, and I never brought it up again.

You know the other things that happened.  The darkness that covered the earth.  The “accident in the temple,” where the veil that covered the Holy of Holies was ripped in two.  The earthquakes and the dead people that many said they saw walking into Jerusalem.  But I was very disheartened and confused, and I just wanted to go back to Cana.  I had bought some sheep in Jerusalem, most of them unsold sheep designated for the Passover sacrifice, intending to enrich our own flocks with these unblemished sheep.  I had started back, and was almost to the border of Samaria, when Caleb, another disciple you have never heard of, caught up with me.  He said that there were reports that Jesus was alive.  I sent the sheep on home with the group I was traveling with, and hurried back with Caleb.

By the time we got back to Jerusalem, the apostles were talking about the Living Christ.  They claimed they had seen Him, and seen the scars in His hands.  Don’t get me wrong; I wanted to believe them, but this doesn't happen every day.  I knew He had raised some people, like Lazarus, from the dead, but even Jesus had told us that was just a temporary thing.  During my three days of soul-searching after Jesus’ death, I had reluctantly come to grips with the fact that He was the Passover Lamb.  I knew that the lamb came to dwell with the family, and that they got attached to it, and then it was slain for the Passover meal; that used to really affect me when I was a child.  I knew that its blood was put on the frame of the door, and now I had finally understood that Jesus the Messiah had come like that lamb, had lived among us, and that He had come to die.  I had finally realized it was not our fault He had been crucified, but that He had intended this from the beginning, and I was content that His shed blood had taken away my own sins and made me clean before the Father.  It was a sad story; my heart was broken, but I was grateful for the Sacrifice.

But I didn't expect Him to come back.  That was an incredible surprise.  I would only see Him one time.  I was watching some sheep east of Cana, near the Sea of Galilee, and somehow ended up near the shore as the disciples pulled in a great catch of fish.  It was mildly surprising to see the Twelve, back in boats, fishing, looking as normal as anyone.  But what were they doing now?  They were walking toward a small fire on the shore, where someone was tending a fire, and I smelled the aroma of cooking fish.  I suddenly realized that the Man who was cooking the fish for them was Jesus Himself: He was alive after all.

As I neared the group, Jesus caught my eye and beckoned for me to sit and join them.  I noticed that there were other disciples, in addition to the Twelve, who had somehow showed up there as well.  It was not coincidence; He had drawn us there.  He talked of many things, but I was most touched by what He told Peter.  He asked him three times if he Loved Him, and after each time, He had a different instruction for Peter.  It didn't involve fishing or agriculture; it involved my field: “Feed My lambs; Tend My sheep; Feed My sheep.”

He looked at me and made eye contact after having said these things, and I knew that I suddenly understood what He had commanded better than anyone else in the group at that moment.  I knew what I was supposed to do next.  Shortly after this, He would return to Heaven, and I would never see Him in His resurrected body again, but once had been enough for me.  Somehow, this event brought me into a closer fellowship with the apostles, and I was one of the 120 that were in Jerusalem on the day of Pentecost.

From that revival, I returned to Cana with other merchants and visitors from my home town, and I began to tell them all I had learned from Christ.  With my sons well situated in our sheep business, I had more time to pray and study what I had heard the Christ teach.  We began to meet in the synagogue in Cana after the Jewish Sabbath services, but when there was mild opposition, we changed to meeting on the first day of the week, in honor of the Resurrected Christ.  We met in homes, often in my own, and I was set apart as the chief elder of the church at Cana.  For forty years I have done that now, and I am nearing ninety years old.  Our church has not grown large, but we have sent out laborers for the harvest, southward into Samaria, northward into Syria, and beyond our local provinces to new places where the Light has not yet shone.

I was never the great evangelist that Peter was.  Though honored that Paul and Luke once visited my home and spoke to our church, I was never the missionary that Paul was.  I have just been a shepherd.  I tend God’s people, I feed the lambs so they will grow, and I feed the sheep so they can be equipped to feed others.  In the process, I learned to read and write, and have even copied some of Paul’s letters so they can be circulated among the dozens of new churches that are springing up each day.

I will die soon, and that does not frighten me at all.  My wife is already there with Christ, and my children, grandchildren, and their children are with me tending the sheep – the church that God has given us in Cana.  I am looking forward to seeing the glory of God again, as I saw it in that field near Bethlehem over seventy years ago.  The picture is still as clear in my mind as it was on that night, and I know I will see that glory again, and hear those roaring voices of praise again, but this time with a body that can appreciate it.

I consider myself blessed.  I have seen the Messiah as a baby, as a boy, and as a man.  I have seen Him as a prophet and as a sacrifice.  I have seen Him dead on a cross and glorified by the resurrection.  All that is lacking for me is to see Him in His fullness with eyes that are capable of beholding Him.  It won’t be long, and I anxiously await the face-to-face encounter with my Savior.  But until then, I will continue to do what He called me to do when I was just a little boy: feed His Sheep!

Living with Low Beams

Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.
Psalm 119:105

I'm the obsessive/compulsive type. If I had my way, God would have already given me a road map of my life. I would be able to chart all the major events, how and when they happen, and what plans need to be made. An optional added feature would be a "you are here" arrow that would show me my exact status.

I've always wanted to know God's long-term will, and I've wanted Him to be specific. Unfortunately for me, God does not work that way. He usually deals with us on the short term, and His will is made known generally instead of specifically.

I used to say it like this: "God's will is directional, not terminal." He leads us in the short term because He has planned many turns and twists in the fascinating life he has planned for each of us.

And then there's that "general/specific" thing. Basically, most of us are looking for the specific will of God: "Should I buy this? Should I change jobs? Should I get married? What should my major be?" On the other hand, God's revealed word tells us the generalities: character, conduct, preparation. If we are willing to accept the principles and standards of His general will as revealed in His word, we will be equipped to make those specific decisions when they arise. I have heard people say, "If only the Bible would tell me "do this/don't do that..." For those who have asked that, I have great news. The book of Proverbs is a treasury of practical living that comes across in the simplest form. For my own purposes, I likie to call it "Wisdom for Dummies."

It is interesting to see how God's word guides us. The verse I used to begin this meditation says that His word is a lamp and a light. The direction is what is most important to me. The lamp is for the feet and the light for the path. God's revelation shines on the next step we are to take, and lights the path just enough to take that step.

On the highway, I like my high beams. I want to be able to see as far ahead in the darkness as I can. If it were possible, I would want a clear view for the next five miles ahead of me -- now that would be "high beams."

But God's intent is the "low" beam -- pointed at the path. He gives us our daily bread and calls on us to trust Him for the moment and not to worry about tomorrow.

The best advice I can give anyone for finding God's will and way is to look to the low beams and allow Him to reveal the path in His own time and purpose. There is a time for high beams, and God knows what it is. We do best when we let Him control the lights.

Could Jesus Be Your Travel Agent?

Let's suppose, just for a moment, that in addition to being King of Kings, Lord of Lords, Wonderful Counselor, Creator, and Savior, that Jesus had come to this world as a Travel Agent!

Now let us suppose that He offered us a nice Caribbean cruise for a modest price, and that the mini-cruise would last three days and three nights. We excitedly get to our departure point, and find out that the cruise will leave Friday night at sundown. Then, we are surprised to find that it will return on Sunday before sunrise.

I think we would all want our money back. Well, first of all, Jesus is all-trustworthy. He would never offer something He did not mean. My first suspicion would be that a self-appointed representative had misrepresented himself.

For at least a thousand years, they have done this. How does someone believe that Jesus, who said He would be in the grave three days and three nights, enter the tomb on Friday night and leave it before Sunday morning? I guess my main problem with this is that I am old enough to remember when they taught simple arithmetic in grammar school, and the story we have been fed does not fit the equation.

It is an easy fix. Matthew 28:1 tells us that the women went to the empty tomb early in the morning "after the sabbaths." No, your translation, none of them, use the plural there, but any first year Greek student can tell you that the word "sabbath" is used as a plural there. Simply, this week that many call "holy week" had an extra holiday in it, in much the same way that happens to us when July 4 falls on a weekday.

The whole "Friday" idea comes from a misunderstanding of why they had to take the bodies down from their crosses "before the sabbath." The sabbath mentioned there was obviously the Passover, which in God's timing was when He offered His Son as the once-for-all Passover Lamb. Sometimes, the Passover coincided with Saturday, but six times out of seven it did not.

On the week of Christ's crucifixion, it is easy to see that the Passover was on a Thursday. If Jesus was crucified on a Wednesday, His body would have been put in a tomb on Wednesday evening (Thursday morning to the Jews). The calendar would look something like this:

Nights in the tomb: Wednesday night, Thursday night, Friday night; days in the tomb were Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. He would haved left the tomb during the early evening hours after sunset on Saturday night. Three days and three nights.

This wouldn't be such an issue for me, except that Jesus, who meant what He said and said what He meant, specifically said "three days and three nights." One time, a very respected and famous Bible teacher tried to "explain" the dilemma to me using the IRS tax code. He noted that if a child were born on December 31, he could be claimed as a dependent for the entire year; if a child, sadly, died on January 1, he could still be claimed as a dependent for that entire year. So since Jesus was in the tomb part of Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, the whole 24 hours of each counted.

It was a well-researched explanation, but let me tell you: If a travel agent tried that with anyone, he would be in court the next week with a stack of lawsuits facing him.

Yes, Jesus could be my travel agent; in fact, He already is. I have a wonderful tour booked, including all lodging, accommodations, and amenities. It will be an eternal trip, and there is still available space for anyone who wants to join me.

But these people who claim to "represent" Him, who can't do the math -- I will be avoiding their places of business. I don't do "Good Friday" because I don't think the Bible does "Good Friday." Today I will enjoy an amazingly ironic secular holiday from work; I will miss the mail run and the bank that are closed. But outside of that, it is just another day.

The Big One is coming Sunday.

The Shadow of Death

Psalm 23 is one part of the Bible that everyone seems to know, even those who do not attend church. I've heard it read at funerals, in hospitals, and at other formal gatherings. Though there are many things that can be said about the psalm -- in fact, it's taking me several months to go through it on Sunday mornings right now -- the pivotal verse of the whole psalm would have to be verse 4a, Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me.



Not everyone in David's time thought of death as a shadow. Most of them saw it as people see it today, a brick wall, a deep pit, a thing of horrible fear and destruction. But David saw it as a shadow. Years ago, I was crossing a parking lot in the Metroplex when the shadow of a 747 passed over me, angling in for a landing at Dallas/Fort Worth Airport. While startling when not expected, the shadow did me no harm. A 747 could have done so, but the shadow was just a short moment of surprise. I jumped, but did nothing else.



For those of us who believe, death passes over us like a shadow. The Lord took the hit from the 747 when He paid the once-for-all price for our sin. Jesus took on the terror of death so we would not have to. One more thing about shadows: they are proof that light is on the other side of the object. The Shadow of Death tells me that there is more light on the other side of death than there is here.



Interestingly, Psalm 23 begins in the third person. The Lord is "He," this and "He," that. But after the valley of the shadow of death, He becomes "You." There is no coincidence in this transition from third person to first. When we face our death, and know we "fear no evil," God's continuing presence takes over. We have stopped knowing "about" God, and started knowing Him personally.



Finally, I like what the verse really says about fearing no evil. Most English translations say something like "Because You are with me." A Hebrew scholar can tell you that the actual phrase is thou art with my hand. I've never understood why that didn't get included with the translation. I remember the security of holding my father's hand in a dangerous time, and I have since been a father and experienced the security I could give a child by just holding a hand. I have felt my son's hand tighten on mine as I entered a dark room. It is nice to know that, when I finally have to face that valley of the shadow of death, I will have a Hand to hold, a Hand of Someone who has already made multiple crossings of that valley, and knows the path.

Christian in a Post-Christian World?

You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt loses its flavor, how shall it be seasoned? It is then good for nothing but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot by men.
-- Matthew 5:13

The mark of Christian maturity in any body of believers is the ability to distinguish between relevance and compromise. We are not to become like the world, but we have an obligation to be interesting to the world. The worst sin of the modern day church is making the Gospel -- the most exciting news in history -- boring. We have succeeded.

Jesus compared us to salt. He didn't tell us we ought to be salt, or that one day we would be salt; He said that we already are salt. The problem is, we are in danger of being salt without flavor. No one wastes their time "salting" salt. If it doesn't do the job, it is thrown out.

When we imitate the world; when we lower our standards so we can "identify with" the world, we lose the most important part of our effectiveness. Salt adds a "zing" to an otherwise boring meal. We are not interesting to the world "in spite of" our differences from them; we are interesting because of those differences. So much compromise has been allowed in the name of so-called "witnessing," but the truth is, when we dress like the world, when we sound like the world, when we use the same terminology as the world, we become a somewhat less exciting version of the very people we are trying to reach.

Those who do not know Christ are thirsty for something genuine, for something that is truly different, that comes from another world. We have that in Christ: standards and a lifestyle that throughout history have been so drastically different that the world around us has resisted, has fought, has investigated, and then has embraced the Gospel that Christ paid so dearly to give us.

So how is the world treating your faith? Are they embracing it or trampling it? Keep your flavor! It's what makes you valuable above all else!

Better than Bombs or Bullets

As I saw the news this past week of the tragic deaths at Fort Hood, I knew what the responses would be. From one side, we would be told "not to judge too quickly," and some people were even angry that the killer's name was mentioned, since it was definitely Arabic/Muslim. From the other side came the other extreme, that we needed to ship all Muslims back to the Middle East, and that we could trust none of them.

I hope that as you read this, your sentiments lie somewhere between. No, not all Muslims are terrorists, but sadly, in the past ten years, nearly all terrorists have been Muslims. Not since the Oklahoma City bombings have we seen an exception to this rule.

So what should we do? More bombs in the Middle East? Declare war on another Arab nation? These actions have not worked very well so far. I suggest a Weapon more powerful than any that has been unleashed on any nation. I suggest we unload a Prayer Bomb.

Jesus commanded us to "pray to the Lord of the Harvest, that He send laborers into the harvest." The Bible tells us that if we ask anything according to God's will, He will do it. What better indication of God's will than praying as He has commanded us to? Every time a believer asks God to send more laborers into the harvest, it is done immediately. I pray this daily, and lead my church in praying it when we are together. Our one small church has used this promise to unleash thousands of laborers into the harvest. Imagine what would be happening if every church in America began to pray this prayer, regularly and fervently.

So what does this have to do with bombs? I believe that we at our church are bombarding the kingdom of the evil one with these prayers, which he sees as "weapons of mass destruction." Prayer hits the very foundations of Satan's kingdom. It crumbles the base on which he has built. It destroys his work.

In one way, I, as a Christian, am like these radical Muslims. I believe that there is one true God, and one true way to salvation. I believe that the Christianity that Jesus Himself brought to earth is the only way to God's favor, and that all other religions are wrong. I don't even accept Allah as a true god, but see him as an imposter.

My difference is in my response. I do not believe that it is my job to "kill the infidels." I think it is my joyous obligation to love them, to pray for them, and to ask the Lord of the Harvest to send laborers into Allah's back yard with the truth of the Gospel.

Christ's coming put an end to the edge of the sword. True conversion is not brought about by intimidation or extermination. I desire no one's death, and wish that Osama bin Laden himself could find saving faith in Christ Jesus, the only way to God.

From my prayer closet, I am bombarding Teheran, Baghdad, Kabul, and Riyadh. I am dropping prayer bombs all over the Middle East that is cloaked in the darkness of deception. I'm also praying for Jerusalem, where Christ is excluded. I'm praying for Pyong Yang, for Calcutta, for Moscow, for Shanghai, and for Manila. I am an equal-opportunity bomber. I am dropping prayer bombs on New York, San Francisco, Chicago, and Miami. I am also remembering small communities, and I have dropped bombs in my own neighborhood.

One well-said prayer, in accordance with God's will, can do infinitely more than bombs, bullets, or ballots. We need to bombard the strongholds of Satan in our world, whether it's on the other side of the world, or in our own backyard.

I invite you to Command Center. We pray at our church. Especially I invite you to Wednesday night, where we get specific. I drop bombs because I love people. Pray to the Lord of the Harvest. May His Gospel sweep over the dark places of this earth like a spiritual Tsunami, wrecking the foundations of evil and deception. Pray for the light of the Gospel to shine in these areas. It's a prayer with a guaranteed answer!