A recent conversation got me thinking about how God calls people into ministry. I suppose every pastor senses God’s call differently, coming from different circumstances, having different personalities and influences on his life. Mine was quite sudden and dramatic after 10 years in business.

I resonated with the old saying, “Don’t become a pastor unless you can’t be satisfied doing anything else.” I lost all satisfaction in my daytime job and grew in my interest in the ‘business’ of church, even in the midst of politics, brokenness and dissention in my church at the time.

It is not all dream-come-true. There are challenges and headaches and disappointments. Sometimes I wonder with concern: Am I really ‘called by God,’ or does this profession just line up the most perfectly with my personality’s strengths and weaknesses, fears and aspirations, idols and disciplines?

But I am frequently reassured by the ‘fire shut up in my bones’ from Jeremiah, even if it is not manifest in my life in such vivid display. I was reassured of God’s call this week after a men’s group met at church early one morning and began to disperse. They left one by one, which left me alone in the church as the sun was coming up outside. As the last one left, I simply thought: I’m so glad I get to stay here.

A very close college friend has cancer. He has been battling it for at least five years, and he is only 38 years old. They just went in to see what they could remove, but his midsection was too riddled with cancer to do any good.

As heartbreaking as this is, and as good a friend as he is to me, I still just move on with my life and forget about his mortality…and mine.

I jog on the sidewalk of a busy street, but which is separated by a strip of grass and a bike lane. I feel safe enough. But last week, to avoid a stopped car in front of him, a pickup truck came over the curb, onto the sidewalk right in front of me at about 45 miles per hour. He barely corrected himself and continued down the sidewalk, merging back onto the road when he could in certain embarrassment. My first thought was, “He almost crashed into that car!” It took me a few minutes to realize, “He almost crashed into me!” It is too uncomfortable to dwell on the fact that one of my kids often bikes with me, and in front of me.

Show me, O LORD, my life's end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting is my life (Ps 39:4-5). All this to the end that I may live for you moment by moment, and die for you when my time comes; that I may cling to the cross and forsake all else; that I may gain Christ and be welcomed into his arms; that I may not fear evil and that I may not fear death; that I would trust your sovereignty even as I work out your will with both a sense of duty and delight.

Growing up, when I came across a word in the Bible I didn’t understand I would skip it. Ok, I still do sometimes. Deut 32:15 says, “Jeshurun grew fat and kicked; filled with food he became heavy and sleek. He abandoned the God who made him.” Jeshurun means “upright one,” and refers to other days when God’s people were obedient.

I confessed in a sermon last weekend my desire to “grow fat” with money—to gain financial security through home equity. I also shared of how I was failing miserably in that goal (as most are) with the drop in the housing market. It sure would be nice to buy low and sell high, pay off my next house, and live the rest of my life without mortgage or rent.

But is that what is best for me? It could be. But I think God knows that if this happened to me I would become “heavy and sleek;” that I would kick against him, that I may abandon the God who made me. I trust I wouldn’t deny my faith, but I may have a complete lack of exercising my faith, because God would appear less central to my survival.

Lord, give me neither poverty nor riches, but give me only my daily bread. Otherwise, I may have too much and disown you and say, 'Who is the LORD?' Or I may become poor and steal, and so dishonor the name of my God. - Prov 30 8-9

Fire and Brimstone

I read an article about this terrible plane crash a couple weeks ago, where the purpose of the article was to show how the passengers really didn’t have time to suffer and contemplate that they were going to die (about 20 seconds). Several thoughts came to mind as I read this.
First, if you look at your watch for 20 seconds, I would argue that this is a pretty long time. I would argue this would have been the most horrific 20 seconds of their lives as the plane turned upside-down in a nose dive. I shudder to imagine.

Second, the very point of the article is a telling commentary on our culture. We don’t like to think about death, we don’t like to contemplate suffering. So let’s just minimize this, let’s sterilize it by taking away the suffering, and at worst we can briefly think of annihilation, or eternal sleep, and get on with enjoying the peace and comfort of our lives.

A final horrifying thought came to mind: what if this last 20 seconds was much, much better for most of these passengers than the next 20 seconds, and for that matter, all eternity? In the last 20 seconds, there would have been at least hope. But in the next 20 seconds, and 5 minutes, and 2 weeks since, there would be no hope, only the agony of fire, and weeping, and gnashing of teeth.

Why in the world do I think and write about these gruesome thoughts? Because they are true. And because eternity is just around the corner for every one of us. And because one reason for the threat of the curse of hell is to cause the living to take it to heart and seek out heaven through repentance and faith in Jesus.

Father, forgive me when I live for this world and show by my words, thoughts and deeds my disbelief in our continued eternal existence. Praise God for complete forgiveness in Christ, that as with Lazar us he will carry me to your side; and may all who read this seek such forgiveness in him.