Sanitation Outreach

It has been said in recent years that Christians should be the best environmentalists around. If it is true that God is our creator and has given us access to the resources of the world—not to rape, but to utilize for our good and his glory—then we ought to pursue lifestyles of moderation, protection, and good stewardship of everything around us.

Last week I realized that our care for our environment should not be seen as an isolated area of our faith, but integrated with an overall view of how we interact with, and reach out to, the world. Care for my environment came to mind recently as I have been jogging within my neighborhood. I began picking up trash around our entrances, and along 17th Street (unfortunately, each time I run I can pick up several handfuls of styrofoam, wood, cups, cans napkins and newspapers).

Here is the connection: I don’t think I would have started picking up trash if I had not joined the neighborhood association board (memories of a Seinfeld episode may come to mind for those around my generation). It is not that I felt obligated to pick up trash as a board member, but because of this new role I had some new heightened awareness that we seek to live in a clean, safe and friendly neighborhood. And here is one more link in my thinking: I would not have pursued this role if God had not called me to be salt and light in the world, and to reach out to my neighbors (Christians should not only be the best environmentalists, but also the best neighbor).

And so I come back to picking up trash. As I picked up a nasty flattened coke can last week I prayed, “God, you are a god of redemption, re-creation, and restoration. Use me in this neighborhood, and would you restore the hearts of these people to yourself as I seek to restore in a very small way the beauty of your creation.”

Guide me, O though great Jehovah, pilgrim through this barren land. No, I am a barren pilgrim, limping through this barren land. This week I was barren to the point of despair due to my utter inability to handle difficult relationships which were in need of a wisdom that appeared far beyond and above my ability to grasp. Sometimes we are barren to the point of despair in our lack of hope, sometimes it is due to our physical circumstances, for example our health.

In 2 Corinthians, Paul was enduring pressure far beyond his ability to despair (2 Cor 1:8). Was it persecution? Definitely. Was it related to his “thorn in the flesh,” some physical suffering? Probably. At any rate, every one of us can relate to this deep despair, so dark that we felt in our hearts “the sentence of death (2 Cor 1:9). A couple in our church is literally facing the sentence of death in the waning days of a painful form of cancer.

So often we ask the question, “Why?” Why is there cancer? Why is there suffering? Why am I depressed? Why do I have to feel overwhelmed? Why don’t I have an answer to give in this seemingly impossible situation? One of the most powerful explanations for answering those questions, and the question of suffering in general, is given in the very same verse: “…But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead .”

Why do I feel overwhelmed in some of my pastoral duties? Why does a loved one have chronic back pain? Why are several friends out of work and feel far beyond hope? Why is this dear couple facing prolonged agony and a certain anticipation of death by one of the most insidious forms of cancer? Why? That they might not rely on themselves but on God, who even raises the dead.

God, I am a barren pilgrim; barren, without hope, under great pressure, far beyond my ability to endure, despairing at times, feeling even the sentence of death. Barren…but for the grace of God. Father, may we not rely on ourselves, but on you who are with us, who sustains us—not only through our trials of life, but even through the very trial of death. The God who literally raises the dead.

When I tread the verge of Jordan,
Bid my anxious fears subside;
Death of deaths, and hell’s destruction,
Land me safe on Canaan’s side.
Songs of praises, songs of praises,
I will ever give to Thee;
I will ever give to Thee.

Seeking to Understand the Incomprehensible Grace of God

A grace-centered Bible study I’m working through asks the question, “As God thinks of you right now, what is the look on his face? This is in fact a thought provoking question! The answer given is, “If you imagined God as anything but overjoyed with you, you have fallen into a performance mindset.”

Understanding God is so hard…ok, it’s impossible (Rom 11:34). We have been studying Exodus and have seen how God was not pleased with most of the people who participated in idolatry, complaining and sexual immorality. The NT—rather than saying, “God doesn’t get angry anymore,” in fact uses Exodus as an example and a warning to us (1 Cor 10:1-11)! And how about the prodigal son and his father? Was the father overjoyed while his son had turned his back and was living in sin? Yes, he loved him (evidenced by the reunion), but could anyone imagine the father was overjoyed in the midst of the separation?

Perhaps a big part of the answer lies in Heb 6:9. Where, after a serious warning not to sin and fall away, it is written of true believers, “We are confident of better things in your case.” In other words, true believers will not ultimately continue to slop pigs. They will turn back to the Father. And as our heavenly Father looks on us he sees only the righteousness of Christ. With his perfect knowledge, even in our sin, he sees holiness and perfection, and he knows that we will turn back.

Still, we must hold all of this in tension. As beautiful as the gospel is, if it drives us to become less concerned or less serious about the law, then we never have understood it or been changed by it in the first place.

I praise you, heavenly Father, who weave together these infinitely complex and mysterious strands of thought into a perfectly consistent reality and existence, with perfect justice and perfect interaction with your creatures. You are not obligated to reveal to us exactly how this works; in fact our imperfect knowledge drives us back to you in humble, utter reliance upon your grace.

Something absolutely terrible happens to pastors as they begin to lead a church. It is not intentional or conscious, but it happens in the most subtle way. We forget that what Jesus said to Peter and Andrews also applies to us: “Come, follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” We somehow forget that the Great Commission doesn’t just mean make the disciples better disciples, but make new disciples.

I was reminded of this recently when a mother and son set up an appointment to meet with me because of some problems they were having. They were not in the church, and they were clearly not Christians. I have to confess, my first thought was, “I don’t have time for this,” and, “This is a distraction.” After all, I have a sermon to prepare, I have a staff meeting to go to. I have a blog to write.

Thankfully, as they walked in I woke up. God, this is not a distraction. This is exactly what I am called to do. It ought to be my chief delight to listen to people’s problems and have the privilege of sharing the gospel.

God, give me a passion for the lost. May I always have some outlet, some area of my life where I have the opportunity to talk with, and listen to, others with different beliefs. And may I not shrink back from sharing with them the love of Christ. And God, may my church not only encourage me to do so, but join me in it as well!