Running in Church (Friday Devotional)

But Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of heaven belongs.”

- Matthew 19:14

“No running!”

Over the course of Vacation Bible School this week, I’ve heard those words shouted again and again to children making their ways through the church hallways. It is, of course, a perfectly sensible command. First and foremost, we want to make sure nobody gets hurt. Furthermore, we don’t want anybody to get so far ahead of their class that they get lost. Finally, we want to instill a proper sense of reverence in the kids, an understanding that this is God’s house and it’s worthy of more respect than a playground.

So whenever I’ve heard a weary teacher telling one of their kids to stop running—or when I’ve said it myself—I’ve fully understood the valid reasons behind the instruction. But as the week has progressed, hearing those words over and over has also made me ask myself a question: when was the last time I was so excited in church that I wanted to run?

You see, the children who have raced down the halls this week have all had something in common—they’re happy to be there! They’re in a rush to get to their next activity. They’re eager to catch up with their friends. They’re excited to see what more the Lord has to offer. And so they do what children have done since the days of Jesus—they run to him.

As adults, we tend to favor moderation and restraint; we try to disguise what we’re feeling because we’re afraid of standing out or looking silly. But children don’t share our hesitation—they are beautifully reckless in their affections. And while our adult sensibilities tell us that enthusiasm needs to be tamped down, Jesus says something else: “Let the little children come to me, and do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of heaven belongs.”

God loves you with the fierceness and audaciousness of a shepherd who leaves the flock of ninety-nine to chase after one lost lamb—and He longs for you to love Him the same way. He wants your eyes to light up with wonder when you worship. He wants your heart to swell when you pray. He wants the church to be a people of joy. Ours is not a God who wants reserved, cautious faith from His people—He wants us to come to Him like little children do, full speed ahead. In other words, for all the importance of safety and reverence, maybe we could use a little more running in church.

Reflecting on the Problem (Friday Devotional)

Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst.

- 1 Timothy 1:15

In 1908, with political alliances fraying in Europe and rumblings of war already beginning, The Times of London posed a big question to some of the leading thinkers of the day: “What is wrong with the world?” The answers were as varied as you might expect. Some pointed to political instability, others to social issues, and some scapegoated specific leaders and groups of people.

But it was the response of G.K. Chesterton, one of the most renowned Christian writers of the 20^th century, that is remembered today. Asked what was wrong with the world, Chesterton’s response was succinct:

“Dear Sirs,

I am.

Sincerely, G.K. Chesterton.”

When we think about problems—whether in our families, our churches, our nation, or our world—we rarely take Chesterton’s perspective. We look outward before we turn inward, ready to find fault and cast blame. Sin is something we are victimized by, not something we are guilty of. Other people are the problem.

But the apostle Paul took a different perspective. Instead of seeing himself as the hero of his story, he understood himself as the worst sinner of all, someone utterly unworthy of salvation on his own merits. When he thought about his past deeds, his present temptations, and the inadequacies he struggled with every day, he could only draw the same conclusion G.K. Chesterton did 1,900 years later: he was the problem.

But Paul didn’t need to despair any more than Chesterton did in 1908 or you do today—because while we are the problem, Jesus is the solution; Christ came into the world to save sinners. The grace of God is great enough to save even the worst of sinners if you will come to him in repentance and faith, trusting him to redeem you.

When problems rear their ugly heads, sin tells you to look anywhere but the mirror, to find someone you can blame, someone you can condemn, someone you can hate. But sinners saved by grace ought to have a different perspective, looking with humility at our own culpability and then seeking forgiveness and redemption. Instead of leaping to judgment in times of turmoil, may we turn first to reflection.

Sleeping Through the Sirens (Friday Devotional)

Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity.”

- Luke 10:30-33

This past Sunday started and ended as a lovely, sunny day. But as everybody in North Texas knows, the afternoon was another story. For about half an hour, all you could see was a torrent of wind and water, as 70 mph gusts blew pouring rain in every direction. Trees bent sideways to their breaking points, debris flipped down the street like tumbleweed, and every car on the road either pulled over or slowed to a stop in the middle of the road.

And I slept through pretty much the whole thing.

After a morning that had started at 4:30 and included preaching in two worship services, I came home wiped out, ready to take a good nap before returning to church for the evening. But when Lindsey and I laid down to rest, we heard the rain pounding on the ground outside, so we went to see what was going on. After staring at the storm for a few seconds, dumbstruck by its violence, I nevertheless shrugged and went back to bed. Just as the tornado sirens began to blare outside, I drifted off to blissful sleep.

Sometimes it’s tempting to go through life like I did that afternoon, ignoring the storms we think are beyond our control. The attitude is that if a crisis isn’t my problem or my family’s problem, then it’s none of my concern.

But in Jesus’s famous parable of the Good Samaritan, we are given a biblical correction to that mindset. In the story, an innocent man is beset by robbers, beaten, and left for dead, only for two different men, both religious leaders, to then come across the man and choose not to help him. Whether because they feared for their own safety, because they were worried about becoming ritually unclean, or because they simply couldn’t be bothered, neither man was willing to make somebody else’s problem his own.

Only when a Samaritan—the least likely person to be the hero of a Jewish story—came upon the scene did help finally arrive. The Samaritan, far from disregarding the crisis before him, was moved with compassion and took extraordinary steps to help this stranger, going so far as to treat his wounds, take him to a nearby inn, and pay for the duration of his stay there.

Jesus makes clear from the story and the command which follows it—“go and do likewise”—that your neighbor’s problem is your problem, that mercy is not something reserved only for your inner circle. The call upon every follower of Christ is to practice grace as he did—generously, ungrudgingly, and without partiality. When storms are raging outside, believers can’t just sleep through the sirens.

The world is frequently a frightening, complicated, and dangerous place, and we don’t have the time or the resources to solve every problem—but that doesn’t give us license to shut our eyes, plug our ears, or throw up our hands in despair. Instead, look to the Good Samaritan’s example, refusing to walk away when God puts you in a position to help. Only one man could be the Savior—but you can be a neighbor.

Your Power Source (Friday Devotional)

Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up the other; but woe to one who is alone and falls and does not have another to help.

- Ecclesiastes 4:9-10

There are few everyday stresses which can match the instant anxiety produced by a low battery alert. Whether on your phone, your laptop computer, your iPad, or some other device, the sight of the battery icon suddenly turning red is enough to send anyone frantically searching for a charger and an outlet.

The trouble is, unless your device is brand new, one charge rarely seems to be enough to get you through the day. If I want to be able to work on my laptop throughout the day, I’ll almost certainly need to plug it in while I’m working or it’ll die mid-morning. If Lindsey and I want to watch a movie on her tablet after dinner, we’d better have charged it at lunch. And as for the ever-present smart phone, sometimes it feels like it only has two locations: its charger or my hand.

No device can run on its own power forever—and no person can either. Nevertheless, some mixture of pride, social pressure, and desperation makes us try to get through life with as little help as possible. Somewhere along the way we decided that individual accomplishments were more important than community accomplishments, that going it alone was nobler than sharing the work, the credit, and the rewards.

But like an electronic device, we simply weren’t built to run on our own power forever. God created us for relationship, both with Him and with our fellow human beings. That’s why God gave the first man a partner in the Garden; that’s why God’s promise to Abraham was that he would become a father to many; that’s why Jesus passed his mission on to an assembly of followers—a church—instead of a singular heir. As God says in Genesis 2:18, “It is not good for man to be alone.”

One of the greatest lies we’ve ever been told is that you can’t count on anyone but yourself, that the best life is the one built solely on your own strength, wits, and capabilities. The truth is that God calls us to give to one another and receive from one another—He doesn’t want us to be a collection of individual Christians, but one united church in Him. So as you go into the weekend, ask yourself: am I reaching out to others, or pushing them away? Am I willing to rely on what others have to offer, or am I stubbornly trying to go it alone? Am I running on my own power, or am I drawing from a power greater than myself?