The Cross Is Not Enough

The cross is not enough!  Now, I don't want to diminish the power of the cross.  For on the cross, Jesus paid the price for our sin.  It was there, that Jesus died in our place.  The cross was the place where the judgment of God was reconciled with the grace and mercy of God.  It was the place where the unconditional love of God is so clearly seen.  "When we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." Still, the story of Jesus does not end with the cross.  It does not end with death and Him being placed in a tomb.

This time of year, believers all over the world celebrate a resurrected Jesus!  They celebrate a stone that was rolled away and a tomb that lays empty!  While our culture tries hard to sell us on the concept of a rabbit that apparently has worked out some arrangement with artistic chickens, our focus as believers is on a Savior who was miraculously raised from the dead. It is in this event that all of our hope and faith hinges upon.  Paul said to the Corinthian believers that "if Christ has not been raised, then our faith is in vain."  Without the resurrection, our faith would be much like a house built on quick sand or a screen door on a submarine.  Our faith would be without foundation and our hope would be nothing more than an exercise in futility. Oh, but thank God for the resurrection!!!

On the cross Jesus dealt with our sin, but it was the resurrection that conquered our most powerful enemy.  Those that stood at the foot of the cross and mocked Jesus by telling Him to save Himself, were clueless to the fact that He had come to actually save them.  That salvation, though it included the cross, would have stopped short had He determined to "save Himself," by coming down from that cross.  Oh, He could have pulled off a self preserving miracle, but their salvation, our salvation, depended on something more.  Our salvation required a much bigger miracle.  Our salvation wasn't dependent on Him flexing His muscles and annihilating those who were crucifying Him.  Our salvation hinged on Him annihilating our biggest enemy.  The enemy none of us can defeat, yet all of us face....death!  Our salvation demanded He defeat death!  Our hope for living, truly living, is anchored in a Savior who could stare death in the face and kick its butt.  Like a scorpion that's lost it's stinger, or a viper that's lost its fangs, death was rendered powerless the very moment that stone was rolled away. "O death, where is your sting?  O grave where is your victory?"  It is only because of the resurrection that death no longer has power over us as believers.  Death is no longer reigning in us, but His life now flows through our veins.  We are no longer dead men, dying, but alive men, living.

This day, and every day I celebrate a risen Savior.  I'm thankful for the cross, oh but I'm also thankful that He didn't stop there.  The cross was just an upper-cut and and right hook to the head of the enemy.  The knock out punch came when my Savior and Lord stepped out of the tomb to declare to us all that death has been defeated and life is available to us all.  The resurrection is enough!!!

For more, listen to Tim's Podcast - "The Cross Is Not Enough"

He Was Despised And Rejected

He rode into Jerusalem to throngs of people welcoming Him with open arms.  Unfortunately, there were many who were not quite so welcoming.  There were those who just did not like Him at all.  Jesus, wasn't oblivious to this fact, and it didn't prevent Him from coming to town.  As a matter of fact, one of the reasons He came to town was to offer these who had consistently rejected Him another chance.  Over the course of the next couple of days, Jesus would confront these who rejected Him.  He wasn't there to pick a fight or to stand on a soapbox.  He didn't come to argue or debate.  He didn't come to Jerusalem to condemn them.  He came to reach out to them.  He came to plead with them.  He came to warn them. He desperately wanted to awaken them.  He wanted to open their blind eyes to the truth.

The Pharisees and Sadducees didn't want any part of it though.  They didn't want Him up in their business.  They didn't want Him meddling in their lives.  They liked things just the way they were and viewed Him as a threat to their way of life.  They didn't want to hear what He had to say.  They just wanted Him to shut-up!  So, since He refused to appease their desire for non-confrontation, they determined to take matters into their own hands.  If He wouldn't keep His mouth shut, they would shut it for Him.

Jesus was despised and rejected because He loved enough to speak the truth.  He was rejected because loving humanity was worth that risk.  Jesus risked rejection by choosing to truly love. He could have been comfortable sticking with only those who readily accepted Him, but He chose to continually reach out to those who wanted nothing to do with Him. In reaching out to them, He never changed His message.  He refused to allow their rejection of Him to change His approach.  He wasn't interested in tickling their ears or appeasing their desire to sign off on their lifestyle.  He didn't come to tolerate their intolerable behavior.  He risked rejection by pointing out the corruption in their hearts. He didn't do that to condemn them, but to prevent them from condemning themselves. He did it all because He loved them. That love resulted in a cross.

More than once Jesus challenged His followers to take up their cross and follow Him.  I'm thinking "our cross" must too include being despised and rejected.  However, that rejection never happens until we determine to truly love.  We never truly take up our cross until we are willing to love enough to risk being rejected.  If we truly love, it is a certainty that there will be those who reject us.  Jesus, Himself, told us we could count on it.  On the road to our cross, sure there will be times when people will receive us, but we too must be prepared for those who despise and reject us.  I think its safe to say that if our journey does not include moments of being despised and rejected then perhaps we're not following very close to the One we claim to be following.

For more listen to Tim's Podcast - "The Road To The Resurrection - Part 1" and "The Road To The Resurrection - Part 2"

Bethel....A Place Where I Met God

I asked her how many? She said she lost count a long time ago. Her daughters both chimed in, “Over 200.” She had provided a home for over 200 foster kids over the course of the last 20+ years. Over 200!!! I’m sure in the beginning she had never dreamed of being “mom” to that many kids. But there was this one child that needed a mom and she started there. Then there was another, and another, and another.

I knew much of Donna Myer’s story as over the years she had shared much of it with me. But, during this pastoral visit in the hospital I learned so much more. We talked about how she walked away from a good paying job, cleaned out her savings and retirement fund to move with her husband, Terrell, to the country to build a home not just for themselves but for kids who needed a home. They purchased acreage on Bethel Road and their home became known as Bethel Ranch. Bethel means, "house of God,” “holy place,” “the place where I met God.” It was their dream to build a place where young people would have an encounter with God. A place where the hurting could meet the Healer. A place where the lost could find the Savior. A place where those in turmoil could find peace and those in bondage could find freedom. A place where those who were rejected could find love and acceptance.

They didn’t wait til they saved up lots of money so they could build a massive house with lots of rooms. They started with what they had. They had a couple of extra rooms, so they took in children who needed a home. Then they added more rooms and took in more children who needed a home. Their vision was to create a place that could be home to up to 120 children. That vision has yet to be completely realized, but they refused to allow what they did not have to keep them from using what they did have.

When they began, Donna and Terrell agreed to simply be foster parents and not to adopt any of the children. But, then there was this one girl and boy early on who changed that. They couldn’t bear the thought of them being placed somewhere else, so they adopted them. Through the years, they would adopt others. To be honest, if Donna could have figured out a way to adopt them all, I think she would have. She was a momma and couldn’t stand the thought of any child growing up without a momma.

When her husband died, Donna didn’t retreat. She didn’t shut things down. She just kept taking in kids who needed a momma. She spent her life pouring it out for those who were in need. Over the last couple of years, she has been struggling physically, yet she kept at it. She continued pouring out herself for others. In recent months, her body had become riddled with cancer and physically she started to decline. I awakened this morning to the news that she had gone on to be with the Lord. I was praying this day would not come. I was believing God for a miracle. Afterall, this world needed her. Montgomery, Texas needed her. Bethel Ranch needed Donna Myers. I didn't want to face the reality that her kingdom business just might be about completed.  

I remember one of the final conversations I had with her at the hospital. I asked her if she was scared. She chuckled and then looked me square in the eye and said, “Oh, no I’m not afraid to die.” She was completely ready to meet Jesus and that bothered me. It bothered me from an earthly perspective. It bothered me in a selfish way. What I’m trying to say is I wasn’t ready for Donna to go. I wasn’t ready to release her. I’ve made enough of these visits to the hospital through the years, however, to know when somebody has about finished their race. I left that night with the selfish wish that she would run just a few more miles. I prayed on the way home for God to give her the strength to fight but deep down I knew that Donna was closing in on her finish line and I struggled with that. She had spent her life pouring it out as an offering before the Lord, and she had run her race, she had finished the course. She was okay with a miracle of healing, but she was equally okay with going on the meet Jesus.

I, like so many others, am better off having met Donna. My life will never be the same. Her life served as a model to us all of how Christ intended for us to live our lives. “No greater love has any man than this: to lay down his life for his friends.” Donna lived this out better than anyone I know. She laid down her life a living sacrifice before the Lord. Donna loved much and she loved many. She lived a life worthy of the One who sacrificed all to give her life. She left this world empty having poured herself out completely.  She left absolutely nothing on the table. Her life serves as an inspiration to me and everyone else she met.

I shed some tears this morning and I’m sure over the course of the next few days I’ll shed a lot more. I mourn with all those who mourn her loss, yet I am happy.  I'm happy that throughout the course of my life, I had the awesome privilege of getting to know Donna.  I'm happy having been impacted by this incredible woman of God.  But more than anything, I am happy that today, this woman of God who created a place called Bethel for so many others, arrived in heaven to find created for her, a place called Bethel.

Every Street Needs A Mrs. Berlehner

It's been around 30 years since I heard her standing in her front yard screaming at one of her boys, but that voice is imbedded in my mind forever.  Though sometimes that scream might be in anger, often it was just her animated personality out there for the world to see and hear.  She, along with her husband and three boys moved to my neighborhood when I was a kid.  They were different.  They were from New York.  They talked funny.  They pronounced the letter "r" funny and added the letter "r" to the end of words that didn't have an "r."

They were the Berlehners.  And through the years, we all became really close.  Kind of like family, I guess.  No, we didn't go on vacations together and I don't ever recall spending the night at each other's house.  Yet, we did life together. We kids roamed the street like we owned every inch of it. Man, that time of my life was an absolute blast. To be honest, I'm pretty sure we could right a book called the adventures of Phyllis Ct. and it would be a best seller (hmm....maybe I'll write it).   My mom was in charge of security on her end of the street and Mrs. Berlehner handled her end.  You've heard of "soccer moms?" Well, they were "street moms" and they made sure things were in order. Neither one had an issue with getting on to any of us kids if we got out of line.  It was a safe place to grow up. A safe place because of parents like ours who parented. Parents who peaked out the window to make sure all was good.  Parents who walked outside to see what their kids were up to. Parents who lived with the philosophy that if you mess with their kids, you are gonna have to mess with them. And parents who had no problem taking us to our parents when we got out of line.       

I haven't seen the Berlehners in years.  Until tonight.  And as so often is the case, reunions like this take place at funeral homes.  Mrs. Berlehner went to be with the Lord a few days ago.  I was so saddened to hear the news of her passing.  My mind immediately went back to those days during the 70s and 80s growing up down the street from this woman.  She was a hoot.  Full of life.  A New Yorker to the core.  She raised three boys of her own, but she played a part in raising many more during those days on Phyllis Ct.  She had an opinion about everything and made sure you knew it.  She kept me in stitches most of the time by just being herself.  I can honestly say I have never met anyone like her and I don't think I ever will.  She was truly a unique woman.

I miss those days growing up on that street.  My childhood was such an absolute blast.  And yes, Mrs. Berlehner played a huge part in all of that.  I'm sure we didn't think much about it back in the day, but those of us that grew up on Phyllis Ct. were blessed to have a momma like Mrs. Berlehner to keep an eye on us.  Every street needs a Mrs. Berlehner and I for one am glad my street had one.  She'll be missed but she's in a much better place.  And maybe I'm wrong, but I can picture her stepping outside the door of her mansion in heaven just to make sure everything is ok on her end of the street.   

Oh, But Thank God For The Rain!

As I sit here this morning listening to the rain, a day away from my 48th birthday, I can't help but be reminded of how a rainy day in 1937 changed everything as far as my life is concerned.  My grandmother was pregnant with my dad at the time.  It was an unwanted pregnancy and she wanted to terminate the pregnancy.  She knew someone who would do the procedure and one evening she attempted to convince my grandfather to go along with her desire to abort my father. When she woke up the next morning the money was on the table to pay for the abortion. Oh, but thank God for the rain!  The rain was pouring down the next morning.  My grandmother, unwilling to get out in the rain, put off the abortion.  A few days passed, then a few weeks, and eventually she decided to not follow through with the abortion.

I tremble at the thought of what would have been had it not been raining that day in West Virginia in 1937.  How not only would I not be here, but neither would my two brothers or sisters.  There would be no Benjamin or Josiah.  No Corey, Chelsi, Chad, or Caleb.  No Jaedyn, Paityn, Logan, or Reagan. And no baby Levi.  Oh, but thank God for the rain!

Tomorrow I'll turn 48.  I'll turn 48 because of a decision made by my grandmother 78 years ago to stay home rather than get out in the pouring rain.  And while I'm not all that pumped up about being a year closer to 50, I am pumped up about life.  I'm pumped up about being alive and I'm determined to live this life to the fullest.  So, if you ever see a grey headed man, nearing 50, out dancing in the rain, he's not crazy.  He's just so thankful for the rain!!!

The Night God Showed Up

I looked around the room. I'm seldom nervous when it comes to speaking, but this day I was just a little.  It wasn't because I was worried about "performance."  I just wanted to make sure I connected.  I wanted to be sure I related to a group of people I struggle to relate to sometimes.  I didn't want to just get up there and yak for the sake of yakking.  I wanted to speak words that brought life, and hope.  I thought I knew what I was going to say, but in a moment all of that changed.

On the way to the nursing home I noticed a road sign that said, "Dead End."  I thought to myself how ironic that sign was.  What a horrible declaration for those brought here, but the reality was sobering. This is the last stop for many of these elderly ones.  On the way home one of my boys asked me, "Dad, the ones that were here last time that aren't here anymore? Did they go home or did they die?"  The answer I had to give was a hefty dose of reality.  The residents here are brought to this place and often are left here and forgotten about.  I don't think any loving family member ever wants to make that decision to drop off a loved one at a place like this, but sometimes that decision has to be made.  And I'm sure that most have the intention of visiting regularly, but then life happens and many of these elderly people are left staring out the window waiting for those visitors who seldom come.
 
They seemed happy to have visitors on this day.  Some clapped to the Christmas songs, some sang along, and some had smiles on their faces.  But, when I stood up to speak, I saw tired, empty eyes looking back at me.

I remember years earlier visiting my grandmother in a place not much different than this.  I watched as my Mom would talk to her, comfort her, and kiss her on the cheek or forehead.  I usually stood paralyzed not knowing what to say or do.  I wanted to pray a prayer and have her walk out of there with me, but the reality is that never happened.  She never got better.  She just got older and weaker. I hated it.  I hated seeing her like that.  I hated the fact that I couldn't do anything to fix it.  So, I didn't go much.

Perhaps that's the same reason many never stop in to see those that have been put in homes like this.  It makes us uncomfortable.  What do we say? What do we do?  What if they don't know who I am? What if they smell? What if, what if, what if?????? So, we just don't go.  And there they sit staring out a window waiting for the visitors that never come.

As I stood there with all eyes on me, I was reminded of the reality of the Christmas story.  I was reminded of a God who made a promise to pay us a visit.  A God who had made a promise to show up.  He had sent out announcements centuries earlier announcing His arrival. Prophets such as Ezekiel and Isaiah were messengers He used to let people know He was coming.  Then to make sure nobody missed His arrival, He spoke through the prophet Daniel and gave us a pretty good idea of when He would show up.  Then, after much waiting, He showed up.  He came just like He said He would.  He wasn't one second late.  He showed up right on time, just like He promised.  He didn't forget about us.  He didn't leave us on our own.  No, this God, came to us. No, He wasn't wrapped up in nice shiny wrapping paper and placed under a tree like most Christmas presents.  He was wrapped in rags and placed in an animal feeding trough, right smack dab in the middle of a stinky, dirty stable.  He stepped out of the comforts of heaven and stepped into our broken world.  Like those residents in that home, we were incapable of moving one step toward Him.  We couldn't meet Him halfway, but that didn't stop Him from coming.  He made the decision to come to us.  So, past our mess, past our weakness, past our inabilities, past our disease, past our brokenness, past our filth, past our stink, He came.  He came just like He said He would.

He came to connect with us.  He came to have a relationship with us.  He came to reconcile us back to Him.  He came to make things right between us.  He didn't simply come to visit, He came to journey through life with us.  He came to love us without conditions. Then, He challenged us to love others in the way He loves us.  He challenged us be a reflection of Him to the world around us.  He instructed us to be His hands and feet.  To be His mouthpiece. To represent Him and His love to this broken world.

I pray I was His mouthpiece yesterday.  But I also pray I was His hands and feet.  I pray the hugs and handshakes were a reflection of Him.  I pray the visitation brought joy and a sense of hope.  I could really care less if any of them remember my name or what church I was with.  I hope and pray though that when our group left they were left with an idea of what it was like that night in the manger when God showed up. 
 

You Be The Judge

"America has voted!" This, Nick Cannon's famous line, precedes the announcement of who stays and who goes on America's Got Talent.  In recent years, the idea of letting America be the judge has become common place. From American Idol, to AGT, to The Voice, shows like this put viewers in the drivers seat.  "We the people," hold in our hands the power to judge the talent of performers.  We have the power to judge who is good enough to stay and who deserves to go home.  Never mind if we ourselves can't carry a tune in a bucket or have little to no recognizable talent, we have the power to judge whether or not someone else has talent.

I'm not sure what the fascination is with shows like this, but I'm thinking it's less about being entertained and more about being empowered to pass judgement on others.  After all, who doesn't like being elevated into a position where we have say so.  I mean, this is America.  We were built on the idea of being an empowered people.  A concept I happen to really appreciate. And I know, with the decision to audition for a show such as these, one is willingly submitting themselves to being judged by those who view the shows. Still, I can't help but think that in our culture today, we are being conditioned to sit in a seat we were never meant to sit in.

As I observed my two boys the other day while watching one of these programs, I noticed I had two young "experts" in my household.  My 8 year old in his animated voice will proclaim, "they are HORRIBLE," when in his opinion someone needs to be voted off.  My 11 year old on the other hand will often walk in from the other room, needing only a few seconds to form his opinion and proclaim his judgment in very matter of fact way.  It's all fun and games right?  Or, is there something more here that we should be concerned about?

I want my children to have great reasoning skills and critical thinking skills.  I want them to be able to rightly judge right and wrong, truth and deception. I want them to think for themselves and have personal opinions.  What I don't want is for them to grow up thinking that their opinion is the standard for defining others.  I don't want them judging others from an elevated position of pride. I don't want them judging others with even a hint of condemnation.  From what I see in Scripture that behavior is completely inconsistent with the nature of Jesus and really unacceptable for followers of Christ.

John 3:16 is a pretty popular verse that churched people know well.  But it would seem many do not know the following verse.  Here, we are told that Jesus did not come into the world to condemn it, yet, for some reason many followers of Christ are very comfortable doing just that.  Oh, we don't call it that but that's exactly what we do when we are quick to pass judgement on others based on a sound byte, reading an edited statement often taken out of context, or hearing through the grapevine what someone has said or done.  Why is that?  What in us compels us to think this behavior is becoming of a believer? Why do we think it is so imperative to jump on social media and proclaim to our couple hundred friends that this person is an idiot, that person is a heathen, that person is a heretic, and that person is either the anti-christ or his brother.  What in us drives that need to jump in the seat of the judge and pass judgement on others many of whom we have never met? Why do we so desperately feel the need to stand on our personally erected soap box and expose to the world the faults, failures, and sins of others. I mean, when Adam and Eve sinned, God chose to be merciful and "covered" them.  Hmm.... what a stark contrast!!!


Think for a moment just how backwards this behavior is for followers of Christ.  Jesus, the Creator of the Universe, the only One worthy to cast the first stone, refused to do so.  That idea of "casting the first stone," came from an instance where Jesus refused to condemn a woman everyone else was ready to condemn to death.  Instead, Jesus chose mercy.  No, He didn't ignore her sin.  He didn't pretend she was innocent and He didn't simply sweep her sin under the rug.  He hated her sin as He does all sin.  But, Jesus didn't come to condemn her.  His purpose was to rescue her.  His purpose was to help her and to restore her. The religious leaders of the day were the ones who made the decision to expose her sin to the rest of the community.  It was the religious leaders who got it wrong that day.  Jesus chose to cover her with mercy and grace.

Mercy, what a concept!  No, it's not signing off on sin or granting others a license to sin, it's just offering them a safe haven when they do sin.  It's offering them a hand up when they fail.  It's offering them a second and third and forth and fifth chance. It's allowing them to blow it big time without pointing a finger in judgment or condemning them in the aftermath of their failure.

Let's face it, we are all in this same "sin" boat together.  Is it not insane to walk around comparing our sin with that of others?  I mean, pardon my frankness but that's as ridiculous as comparing the stink of our poo with that of others. Come on, isn't the measure of the stink irrelevant?  It's all poo! I don't know about you, but when I look in the mirror I see a man with issues.  A man far from perfect.  A man who will miss the mark at some point today.  Maybe, within the next hour or half hour.  Geez, I may blow it before I've completed writing down my thoughts here.  If I were to cast the first stone, I would need to make sure I was the target.  Concerning myself with my own challenges is hard enough without me worrying about others and how messed up they are. Jesus instructed us to quit worrying about the speck in other's eyes and to concern ourselves with the log in our own eyes.  The idea He's trying to get across is that if we'll take care to judge ourselves, we won't have time to sit in judgment of others.

There is a Judge, and I know for a fact, He looks nothing like me.  If you're comfortable trying to sit in His seat, go for it.  All I know is there is a story in Scripture of another who tried to sit in His seat and things did not turn out too good for him.  So, if you're confident enough to try to hop up in His seat, go ahead, you be the judge.  As for me, I'll stay away from attempting that.