Grace is God drawing sinners closer and closer to him. How does God in grace prosecute this purpose? Not by shielding us from assault by the work, the flesh, and the devil, nor by protecting us from burdensome and frustrating circumstance, not yet by shielding us from troubles created by our own temperament and psychology, but rather by exposing us to all these things, so as to overwhelm us with a sense of our own inadequacy, and to drive us to cling to him more closely.

This is the ultimate reason, from our standpoint, why God fills our lives with troubles and perplexities of one sort and another it is to ensure that we shall learn to hold him fast. The reason why the Bible spends so much of its time reiterating that God is a strong rock, a firm defense, and a sure refuge and help for the weak is that God spends so much of his time showing us that we are weak, both mentally and morally, and dare not trust ourselves to find or follow the right road. When we walk along a clear road feeling fine, and someone takes our arm to help us, likely we would impatiently shake him off; but when we are caught in rough country in the dark, with a storm brewing and our strength spent, and someone takes our arm to help us, we would thankfully lean on him. And God wants us to feel that our way through life is rough and perplexing, so that we may learn to lean on him thankfully. Therefore he takes steps to drive us out of self-confidence to trust in himself, to in the classic scriptural phrase for the secret of the godly man's life "wait on the Lord."

The Bible is realistic about troubles:

• Trouble seems to be woven into the fabric of living (Job 14:1).
• Many of our distresses are caused by our own sin and foolishness (Prov. 21:23, Ps. 78:32-3).
• Some difficulties are created by other people (Ps. 9:13).
• God allows trouble but is always in control (2 Chr. 29:8).
• We have a refuge and strong defense in the Lord (Ps. 59:16).
• He invites us to call upon Him in our distresses (Ps. 50:15).
• We can expect deliverance in keeping with His will (Ps 107:6, 143:11).

Old age can be a most rewarding period of life. For those who have found the satisfaction of a loving and close relationship with the Heavenly Father through faith in His Son, the "sunset years" can be more appropriately labeled the "golden years".

Henry Durbanville felt that way. In his book The Best Is Yet To Be he wrote, "I feel so sorry for folks who don't like to grow old...I revel in my years. They enrich me...I would not exchange...the abiding rest of soul, the measure of wisdom I have gained from the sweet and bitter and perplexing experiences of life; nor the confirmed faith I now have in the...love of God, for all the bright and uncertain hopes and tumultuous joys of youth. Indeed, I would not! These are the best years of my life...The way grows brighter; the birds sing sweeter; the winds blow softer; the sun shines more radiantly than ever before. I suppose 'my outward man' is perishing, but 'my inward man' is being joyously renewed day by day.

Robertson McQuilkin wrote, "God planned the strength and beauty of youth to be physical. But the strength and beauty of age is spiritual. We gradually lose the strength and beauty that is temporary so we'll be sure to concentrate on the strength and beauty that is forever."

Once there was an old man who lived in a tiny village. Although poor, he was envied by all, for he owned a beautiful white horse. Even the king coveted his treasure. A horse like this had never been seen before such was its splendor, its majesty, its strength.

People offered fabulous prices for the steed, but the old man always refused. "This horse is not a horse to me," he would tell them. "It is a person.  How could you sell a person? He is a friend, not a possession. How could you sell a friend?" The man was poor, and the temptation was great. But he never sold the horse.

One morning he found that the horse was not in the stable. All the village came to see him. "You old fool," they scoffed, "we told you that someone would steal your horse. We warned you that you would be robbed. You are so poor. How could you ever hope to protect such a valuable animal? It would have been better to have sold him. You could have gotten whatever price you wanted. No amount would have been too high. Now the horse is gone, and you've been cursed with misfortune."

The old man responded, "Don't speak too quickly. Say only that the horse is not in the stable. That is all we know; the rest is judgment. If I've been cursed or not, how can you know? How can you judge?"

The people contested, "Don't make us out to be fools! We may not be philosophers, but great philosophy is not needed. The simple fact is that your horse is gone, and you are cursed."

The old man spoke again. "All I know is that the stable is empty, and the horse is gone. The rest I don't know. Whether it be a curse or a blessing, I can't say. All we can see is a fragment. Who can say what will come next?"

The people of the village laughed. They thought that the man was crazy. They had always thought he was a fool; if he wasn't, he would have sold the horse and lived off the money. But instead, he was a poor woodcutter, an old man still cutting firewood and dragging it out of the forest and selling it. he lived hand to mouth in the misery of poverty. Now he had proven that he was, indeed, a fool.

After fifteen days, the horse returned. He hadn't been stolen; he had run away into the forest. Not only had he returned, he had brought a dozen wild horses with him. Once again the village people gathered around the woodcutter and spoke. "Old man, you were right, and we were wrong. What we thought was a curse was a blessing. Please forgive us."

The man responded, "Once again, you go too far. Say only that the horse is back. State only that a dozen horses returned with him, but don't judge. How do you know if this is a blessing or not? You see only a fragment. Unless you know the whole story, how can you judge? You read only one page of a book. Can you judge the whole book? You read only one word of a phrase. Can you understand the entire phrase?

"Life is so vast, yet you judge all of life with one page or one word. All you have is a fragment! Don't say that this is a blessing. No one knows. I am content with what I know. I am not perturbed by what I don't."

"Maybe the old man is right," they said to one another. So they said little. But down deep, they knew he was wrong. They knew it was a blessing. Twelve wild horses had returned with one horse. With a little bit of work, the animals could be broken and trained and sold for much money.

The old man had a son, an only son. The young man began to break the wild horses. After a few days, he fell from one of the horses and broke both legs. Once again the villagers gathered around the old man and cast their judgments.

"You were right," they said. "You proved you were right. The dozen horses were not a blessing. They were a curse. Your only son has broken his legs, and now in your old age you have no one to help you. Now you are poorer than ever."

The old man spoke again. "You people are obsessed with judging. Don't go so far. Say only that my son broke his legs. Who knows if it is a blessing or a curse? No one knows. We only have a fragment. Life comes in fragments."

It so happened that a few weeks later, the country engaged in war against a neighboring country. All the young men of the village were required to join the army. Only the son of the old man was excluded, because he was injured. Once again the people gathered around the old man, crying and screaming, because their sons had been taken. There was little chance that they would return. The enemy was strong, and the war would be a losing struggle. They would never see their sons again.

"You were right, old man," they wept. "God knows you were right. This proves it. Your son's accident was a blessing. His legs may be broken, but at least he is with you. Our sons are gone forever."

The old man spoke again. "It is impossible to talk with you. You always draw conclusions. No one knows. Say only this: Your sons had to go to war, and mine did not. No one knows if it is a blessing or a curse. No one is wise enough to know. Only God knows."

Sam Duncan lay in the semi-darkness of his nursing home room performing the only two activities of which he still considered himself capable: watching and waiting. Although his eyesight was dim, he could still make out the steady brightening of the light of dawn through the window next to his bed. And although his hearing was too far gone to catch the rumble of the medicine cart, as it worked its way up the hall toward his room, he could sense that the time for his morning pills was near. He waited for the nurse to push open the door and greet him and his roommate Arthur, who was still snoring loudly in the bed next to his.

Most of the accepted measures of quality of human existence no longer affected Sam. While time, in terms of years, seemed to slip away unnoticed, the hours of the day crept by in agonizing slowness. Time no longer meant anything to him. Schedules all belonged to the nurses and aides and family members who waited on him. He himself had no claim to time. The staff dieticians and cooks decided what he would eat, and when. The aides assigned to care for him on any given day decided when he would be bathed, dressed, shaved, and even toileted. His family decided what clothes he needed, what treats to bring to him, and when he should go out. The activity director decided when he needed exercise, stimulation and entertainment, and he was delivered into her hands by the aides upon request.

There were few days when Sam could tell you what had occurred the day before, or even the hour before. He had little memory for what he had eaten for dinner Tuesday or breakfast Saturday. He seldom knew the day of the week or the correct month, although seasons were still instinctively evident. The minutia of every day had ceased to have meaning for him even before his nursing home days had begun ten years earlier, and he felt no concern or remorse over loss of interest in such trivia. But if you asked him if he remembered Pearl Harbor, or the day Franklin Roosevelt died, or what he was doing the day JFK was assassinated, he could tell you with detailed clarity what had gone on. He recalled vividly his wedding day, the day he and Martha buried their firstborn infant son, the details of the funeral of his grandson Sam who was killed in Vietnam, and what the weather was like on the day Martha died.

Sam also remembered the friends who had been most dear to him. They had all been gone for many years: Boots Martin, who had served with him in Germany in WW I; Alvy Hankins, who had gone to school with him and farmed outside of town; Dick Travis, who had been his business partner for nearly forty years ... all dead and buried long ago. It hadn't seemed unnatural that he had outlived them all, just part of life. But when he had outlived all of his children, the burden of life had become heavy, cumbersome. And now, at 102, it was nearly unbearable.

Sam had never been a complainer. Life was what it was. He didn't second-guess nature or the Creator. When he and Martha lost that first baby son, they had grieved and comforted one another, and eventually gone on with their lives. And God had blessed them with six healthy children who had survived well into old age. The death and destruction he had seen in the trenches during "the war to end all wars" was etched in his memory for all time, and yet he had survived it, both physically and emotionally. But when his grandson, young Samuel Wilks Duncan III, had been killed in Vietnam at the tender age of nineteen, it had taken much prayer and effort to overcome his sense of anger and grief. And when Martha died in 1989, at the ripe old age of ninety, and his own heart beat on strong and steady, even though he knew it was broken, he had shaken a mental fist at God and demanded to know why. Why must he be left to bear the burdens of life alone? At 93, why couldn't he go home, too?

That had been ten years ago. Ten years of slowly declining health, gradual loss of sight, hearing, movement and body function. Ten years of being taken here and there, regardless of his own wishes, by those whose job it was to provide him with comfort, stimulation, and quality of life. His grandchildren became so busy with their own lives that they seldom visited. And when his last surviving daughter had died of cancer last year at the age of 75, Sam couldn't help but wonder if God was allowing him to be put to the test, as he did Job. He felt very keenly the truth of Jesus' words in the Gospel of John:

... when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.

And so Sam had formed a mental list of Psalms from which to pray in all of his various moods:

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I bear pain in my soul, and have sorrow in my heart all day long? -- Psalm 13:1-2

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning? Oh my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer; and by night, but find no rest.  -- Psalm 22:1-2

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff -- they comfort me. -- Psalm 23:4

As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God. -- Psalm 42:1

Do not cast me off in the time of old age; do not forsake me when my strength is spent. For my enemies speak concerning me, and those who watch for my life consult together. -- Psalm 71:9-10

Sing praises to the Lord, O you his faithful ones, and give thanks to his holy name. For his anger is but for a moment; his favor is for a lifetime. Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning. -- Psalm 30:4-5

Joy comes with the morning ... Sam's litany came to an end as the nurse pushed through the door with the medications.

"Good morning, Sam. Wake up, Arthur! It's time for your pills. It's a special day, Sam. Do you remember what day it is?"

"I don't know. Tuesday, maybe?"

"No, Saturday. You're going to have a lot of company today. This is your birthday, Sam. Do you remember how old you are today."

"I guess I'd be about 103."

"That's right. One hundred and three years old. Everyone is coming for your birthday party today. All of your grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and I've heard you even have a couple of great-great grandsons."

"I think they even named one of them after me."

"Well, April will be in in another hour or so to give you your breakfast and bath. When you're all dressed and ready, we'll take some pictures with all of your friends. Happy Birthday, Sam!"

One hundred and three. As he swallowed his pills, Sam's mind drifted back to the lighthearted days of his youth, when he and his friends used to say things like, "I'll never understand that if I live to be a hundred." Things don't really change, Sam thought. I've lived to be more than a hundred, and there are so many things I still don't understand. "Do not cast me off in the time of old age." "Weeping may linger with the night, but joy comes in the morning." Sam sighed and laid back to watch and wait.

"Everyone is searching for you," the disciples tell Jesus.  Jesus has been busily healing, teaching, and casting out their demons with an authority that had even the scoffers talking.  Maybe you have been caught up in a time when your full attention was required by all those around you; maybe you know a little of how Jesus felt as he withdrew to pray.  People will seek you out for what you can offer. "Everyone is searching for you," or maybe just "I need you."  Every "care-giver" understands the need to be a "care-keeper" too.  If you have ever taken care of a sick person for a long time, or a loved one in old age, you know the thoughts…"Oh! how my life would be easier without this responsibility."  Jesus is our example in being a blessing for people as He withdraws to draw on the strength of God bringing that strength to share.

Jesus was sought after because he was the fullest expression of God seeking relationship with a broken humanity.  Do you remember the words from God called to the man and woman (Genesis 3:9) "Where are you?"

"Everyone is looking for you," the disciples tell Jesus, and Jesus says, "That's good because I'm looking for them. That's why I've come. Let's go to all the people in these parts with the good news that God is with them and loves them."

The British writer C. C. Montague once told a remarkable short story about a man in his early fifties who awoke one morning with a curious numb feeling in his right side, which affected him from head to foot. The man had lived an active life, achieved a reasonable degree of success, but was now alone in the world, his wife being dead and his children grown and married. He saw the numbness as the beginning of old age. As he pondered his situation, he came at length to a decision. This moment was an opportunity for him, while his strength and vigor remained, to carry out an experiment in which he had long been interested. He was a lover of the mountains and a first-rate climber. He would go to the Alps, and throw away all caution in climbing and climb higher than he had ever climbed before. He had nothing to lose by such an experiment. No precipice could frighten him anymore, after all, his life was nearly over. He would climb as he had never climbed before. And, when he reached the limits of strength and endurance, that would be that.

So Christopher Bell went to Switzerland to a special place that he had in mind, and one morning some weeks later started out alone to climb a 12,000 foot ridge over the steepest route. He noticed as he started his walk that the numbness was with him in his right leg and arm, but that he did not seem to notice it so much as he went on.

By mid-afternoon he was part-way up the ridge, slowly and painfully cutting steps in the ice wall with his axe. He was beginning to tire, and the way ahead was ever steeper and more dangerous. But he felt no fear. Never had the world seemed so beautiful. Never had the zest of climbing been so great. He came at last to a precipitous cliff, sheathed in ice, which was even steeper than the vertical. It had several overhangs which seemed almost impossible to negotiate. But without hesitation he began the ascent, cutting holds for hands and feet with his axe, and holding on against gravity with his free arm. The progress was slow, but at last he reached the most hazardous spot of all: a place where the overhang was directly above him. Progress could be made only inch by painful inch, and at tremendous expenditure of strength and endurance. He began to feel the drag of a huge fatigue, the ache in all his joints, which warned that his strength was failing. And yet, knowing that one relaxed muscle could let him drop hundreds of feet to his death, he went on and on until he reached the moment when he could no longer raise his arm to chop the steps in the ice which were his only safety. He looked up at the overhang still above him, and knew that he could not make those last few feet. And he knew also that he had reached at length the moment he had sought.

Suddenly, however, he became aware of something above him, on the upper side of the overhang. He could not see, but he could hear voices, and presently an ice axe came sliding over the edge of the overhang and fell into the abyss below. He knew that somebody was above him, and that whoever was there was in trouble. Then he heard a cry of distress. New strength began to flow into his arms and legs. He knew no numbness, no cramps, no fatigue. He knew only that he must get up there to give what help he could.

Swiftly and yet carefully he began to climb again, cutting the steps with his axe, pulling himself miraculously upward. And then suddenly he had made it, and saw above him two people: a woman dangling helplessly on a rope, a man above her unable to move from a precarious perch since his whole strength was necessary to hold the woman. Bell came to the rescue and was able to bring these two people to safety. Together the three surmounted the ridge, found a hut, and spent the night in warmth and conversation. Bell had, of course, rescued the man and the woman. But they had also rescued him. For, if he had not heard their distress, he would have yielded to exhaustion and lost his own grasp.

What a marvelous parable of our place in this world. God has placed us here to serve one another and to serve Him. It is in giving away our lives that we receive new life. It is in serving that we find greatness. It is in losing our lives that we find them. Whose life is better because you have been here? It is only in adding to the lives of others that we find value in our lives.

C. E. Montague, Action and Other Stories (Doubleday and Company, Inc., 1929). Cited in Harry C. Meserve, No Peace of Mind (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and Company, 1955), pp. 139-141.

There's a story from World War II that's been told many times which occurred over the Pacific. Eddie Rickenbacker and some colleagues on an aircraft were shot down and managed to inflate a raft. The food and water were soon expended, and all hope for their rescue seemed to fade. As they related the story later, they described how together they had formed a prayer band and had prayed earnestly for deliverance. It was just at that time that a seemingly miraculous circumstance occurred. A seagull, clearly far off course, began to circle the raft, came lower and lower until at last they were able to capture it. They drank its blood and ate its flesh and were strengthened and sustained. The next day they were found and brought safely to shore. They told the story, and there was spread across the pages of the newspapers of the United States this answer to prayer.

The story then began to take a rather distorted turn. Without anyone really meaning to be judgmental or to cast aspersion on anyone else, there arose the notion that if only one had ample faith, a seagull would come. Now its a spiritual cause and effect; if only we had ample faith, our seagull would come. What about the hundreds of young fliers who had gone off to the Pacific, had been shot down, and were never seen again. We should resist with every fiber of our being the notion that somehow these were persons who had little if any faith, else a seagull would most certainly have come. The presence of the seagull for the persons on that raft was certainly a token that deliverance is always possible; at the same time, there was and is no indication in the New Testament that such deliverance on its own terms is promised. John dies in the prison; almost all the disciples are martyred. There were many persons in Jerusalem and Judea and Samaria in the time of Jesus who were not healed. There were many fliers for whom no seagull came. "Blessed is he that taketh no offense."

And the meaning for us? The basic assurance is that all things are working together for good, as Paul reminds us in Romans 8, and that nothing can separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. But this is no guarantee of deliverance from all of the difficulties which beset us. Indeed, we are reminded in John 16 that "in the world we will have tribulation; but we can be of good cheer, for he has overcome the world." The true meaning of faith, then, is the capacity to believe even when no seagull comes, to know that beyond the vicissitudes and tribulations of life there is life transcendent; there is no more suffering nor sorrow nor crying.

What's a bad girl like you doing in a list like this? The author of the book of Hebrews tells of a great cloud of witnesses that surround us in our own faith walk. The usual biblical heroes and heroines are there. The biggest surprise in the list is Rahab. Rahab was not an Israelite after all. She was a harlot who plied her trade in pre-Israelite Jericho. Who is this woman anyway? And what is she doing in a list like this?

Rahab's story is told in the Old Testament book of Joshua. In the story we hear that Jericho was next on Joshua's list of cities to be conquered. Joshua sent two spies into Jericho to size up the task of triumphing over this great city. After sneaking into the city they were made welcome in the house of a harlot. That's how Rahab entered Israel's story.

The king of Jericho had spies of his own, of course. They informed him that Rahab was housing two spies of the people of Israel. The king of Jericho, therefore, sent a message to Rahab calling upon her to take a great patriotic action and give up the spies. But the king's message had come to late. Rahab had already hidden the spies on her roof. She told the king's messengers that two unknown men had come to her house but that they had left the city before the gate was closed the night before. "You can probably catch them if you hurry," she told them.

Then Rahab went to the Israelite spies on her roof. The intent of her mission is astounding. She confesses to them her faith in the God who has brought them here! "I know that the Lord has given you the land," she said to them, "and that dread of you has fallen on us, and that all the inhabitants of the land melt in fear before you. For we have heard how the Lord dried up the water of the Red Sea before you when you came out of Egypt .... The Lord your God is indeed God in heaven above and on earth below" (Joshua 2:9-11). The author of Hebrews has it right. Rahab is a woman of faith. She has heard the stories of the Lord's deliverance and she has believed. In Rahab we meet a harlot who believes; a sinner who is a saint.

Now Rahab had a request for the spies sent by Joshua. "Give me a sign of good faith," she says to them, "that you will spare my father and mother, my brother and sisters and all who belong to them and deliver our lives from death" (Joshua 2:12-13). The spies agreed. "Our life for yours!" they promise her.

Rahab then let the men down a rope from her window that they might escape the city. She gave them complete escape instructions. The spies promised again that they would remember their oath to protect Rahab and her family. They gave Rahab a scarlet cord and told her to let it hang from the window of their escape. This would be a sign of protection for Rahab and her family would all be spared because of the sign. "According to your words, so be it," Rahab declared (Joshua 2:21). How nearly do Mary's words in response to the angel's promise match those of Rahab! Mary said, "... let it be with me according to your word" (Luke 1:38). Was Rahab Mary's teacher in faith?

Joshua and the army of Israel soon conquered the city of Jericho. The sign of faith, the scarlet cord, hung from Rahab's window. Rahab and her family were saved by her faith. Faith bloomed in a powerful way in this person we would least expect. That's what Rahab is doing in a list like this."

We come together this evening to recall in our hearts and minds the events that occurred on Thursday of what the church calls Holy Week, the last week in the life of our Lord. One-third of all the events that we have about Jesus’ life occurred during this week: Reminding us of the great significance of these last days. The disciples have gathered in a home, whose we are not sure, but we do know that it had a furnished second floor.

As they gather they participate in what is called a Seder meal, one of the highlights of the Passover week. The Passover festival, of course, had been done for centuries before Jesus came on the scene. It commemorated that time when the Jews were in bondage in Egypt. Moses warned Pharaoh to let his people go, but Pharaoh hardened his heart. So God sent a death over the land of Egypt, but miraculously this death passed over the homes of the Jews. Thus, the season of Passover was given birth.

The meal itself was a symbolic one reminding the Jews of the sufferings of their forefathers and the power of God's deliverance. The foods that were eaten were symbols to remind the Jews of their captivity in Egypt. Apple sauce was eaten to remind them of brick mortar and the fact that they were forced to make bricks with no straw. A bitter herb is eaten to remind them of the bitterness of their captivity. It was this symbolic Seder Meal that he disciples were partaking of that night in the upper room.

It was at the conclusion of that meal that Jesus himself added two more symbols. He took a loaf and broke it and gave it to his disciples saying: Take eat, this is my body which is broken for you, do this in remembrance of me. Then he took a cup with wine. He drank from it and gave it to his disciples saying, “Drink ye all of this, for this is my blood which is shed for you and for many for the forgiveness of sin.” Thus was born our sacrament of the Lord's Supper, out of the experience of an ancient Jewish custom.

Leonardo da Vinci by his famous painting has forever impressed upon on our minds the last supper of our Lord. The scene that he depicts is that moment when Jesus announces his impending betrayal. The disciples look at one another with great shock, all, that is, except Judas, who refuses to look Jesus in the face and clutches his money to his breast. I wonder as we look at those disciples around the table if we can see ourselves. For me they represent all that is good and bad about our humanity.

It was one of the most wonderful and exciting moments in the history of the Christian faith. The Holy Spirit had fallen fresh on the lives of believers. People were filled with the passion and fires of the Holy Ghost. They were shouting joy from all directions. They were gathered from every persuasion and city, every nation and province, all glorifying God, speaking in foreign tongues but understanding each other, expressing different voices but still in one accord. This was the time of Pentecost, when God saw fit to pour out the spirit which spawned the birth of the Christian Church.

Today we need the fervor, fire, tongues, passion, and Spirit of Pentecost. Today the Christian Church needs a rebirth of the spirit, where souls are on fire with the love of Christ, where barriers are broken down and superficial divisions which sequester and divide people are bridged through a unity of the Spirit. Today more than ever the church needs to recapture the fires of Pentecost so that souls can break free from bondage, and healing, deliverance, and the full power of God's anointing can be experienced in every medium and every idiom by people filled with Holy Ghost madness.

Too many churches today are devoid of the Spirit of Pentecost because they are dry, stale, and discordant, where parishioners are in a somnambulist stupor; where worship services are vapid, staid, and wooden; where the preaching is dull, flat, and insipid; where the singing is Geritol-tired and without the vim, verve, and verse which speaks of a crucified, died and risen Lord; where if anyone taps his foot and says, "Amen," he is stared into silence, and if anyone shouts, "Thank you, Jesus," or "Help me, Holy Ghost," parishioners call EMS, the DS or 911! Too many churches have become mausoleums for the dead rather than coliseums of praise for a living God. They have lost the spirit of Pentecost! They have lost their enthusiasm. They have lost their joy for Jesus and find themselves suffering from what William Willimon calls "Institutional and Spiritual Dry Rot." Pentecost marks the beginning of a new spiritual movement in Christ; a movement birthed through the fires of the Holy Spirit; a movement steeped in the spirit of hope, renewal, and spiritual transformation. It is a movement where souls are on fire with the passion of the Holy Spirit and the Church today more than ever needs to recapture that spirit. If the Church is to survive the next millennium it must recapture some of the praise and enthusiasm it had two millennia ago. The spiritual energy and vitality of Pentecost has sustained the Church through two millennia.

I believe that most of us are experiencing the crunch - the crunch of living - of doing business on the planet called Earth. The simple life has somehow eluded our grasp - even things that we could once take for granted like enough gas for our cars, sufficient oil for our homes, uninterrupted education for our children, and the prospect for a raise that would provide us a little higher standard of living - these things are no longer commonplace.

Often we are tempted to ask the question, "Where is God in this whole mess of living?" And the answer, I believe, is that God is the still point in a turning, increasingly chaotic world. God can still bring calm to chaos; he is still a source of hope in the face of despair; with him we can even snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. Yes, God is the still point in a turning world.

The psalmist knew that, for the world of chaos was turning even in his day. He said it this way, "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore, we will not fear though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea; though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble with its tumult." God is the only answer to chaos, for he is our refuge and strength. From him alone we can receive strength to go on. He is the source from which we must draw the power to overcome. There is no situation that can be deemed impossible, a lost cause, or insolvable as long as we continue to entreat the help of the Almighty. "We shall not fear," the psalmist says, even if our whole world is blowing up around us, for the Lord is still with us; he has not abandoned us.

"Be still, and know that I am God," the psalmist continues. Oil isn’t God. Cancer isn’t God. Money isn’t God. Yahweh, the God of Jacob, is God. He is still present, he has not abandoned the world. He is the author of life and love, so he doesn’t send cancer, sickness, or death. He doesn’t place greed and anger in the hearts of people; chaos and grief are not from him. He is the still point in the turning world; his love is constant - it doesn’t change.

Only the fool says in his heart there is no God. Only the fool tries to go the world alone. Martin Luther looked at all the pressures of his life one day and said, "I have so much to do today, that there will be no chance of getting it all done unless I spend at least four hours in prayer."

If your life is crowded, if grief or worry is consuming too much of your world, return to the still point and seek refuge in God. Receive renewed strength from the God of our fathers who spared not even his only Son so that we could not only have victory after death but also victory in life. Be still, and know that God is still God.

Listen to these great hymns that were sung during Jesus’ day in the Synagogues and Temple worship in Jerusalem.

• Hide me in the shadow of thy wings. 17:8.
• In the shadow of thy wings I will take refuge till the storms of destruction pass by. 57:1
• Oh to be safe under the shelter of thy wings. 61:4
• In the shadow of thy wings I sing for joy. 63:7
• Under his wings you will find refuge. 91:4

How do we know these songs were sung? They are the songs found in the book Psalms. Psalm 17, 36, 57, 61, 63, and 91 speak of the protective wings of God. So when Jesus expressed his desire to comfort Jerusalem he used an image widely understood, “I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gather’s her chicks under her wings.” But Jesus’ desires go unfulfilled for Jerusalem was “unwilling,” Jesus said, to receive the shelter he offered.

But let us not miss a significant point being advanced here: In the Psalms it is Yahweh who longs to gather Israel under his protective wings. Here in the Gospel of Luke it is Jesus. An equation is being drawn. Jesus equals God. How very sad then that Israel refused.

There were six cities in ancient Israel which were designated as cities of refuge. When someone took a human life without premeditation or malice he could flee to one of these cities and there be safe from retribution. Tradition tells that once each year the roads leading to such a city were cleared of rocks and debris to make it easier for a man who was fleeing for his life to reach the haven of safety. Christ is God's great haven of safety, a refuge from life's turmoils, sin, and death.

He, Jesus, is the friend on whom we can rely in all things. Ralph Earle, the great biblical scholar who taught at Kansas City's Nazarene Theological Seminary and helped edit The New International Version of the Bible, often told the story of John G. Paton who was a pioneer missionary to the New Hebrides. Dr. Paton soon discovered that while the natives had words for house, tree, stone, and the like, they had no words for love, joy, and peace. Worst of all, they had no word for believe. One day as he sat in his hut filled with frustration, an old native entered and slumped down in a chair. Exhausted from a long journey, the man said, "I'm leaning my whole weight on this chair." "What did you say?" asked Dr. Paton. The man repeated, "I'm leaning my whole weight on this chair." Immediately, Dr. Paton cried, "That's it!" And from that day forward for that primitive tribe, "Believe in Jesus" became "Lean your whole weight on Jesus."

No one else can bear the weight of our trust. As the Psalmist simply prescribed, "It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in man. It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in princes" (Psalm 118:8-9 NIV).

Paul considered himself Christ's ambassador. What is an ambassador? He is an authorized representative of a sovereign. He speaks not in his own name but on behalf of the ruler whose deputy he is, and his whole duty and responsibility is to interpret that ruler's mind faithfully to those to whom he is sent.

Paul used this "ambassador" image twice both in connection with his evangelistic work. Pray for me, he wrote from prison, "that utterance may be given me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains; that I may declare it boldly, as I ought to speak" (Eph. 6:18-20). He wrote also that God "gave us the ministry of reconciliation...So we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We beseech you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God" (2 Corinthians 5:18-20).

Paul called himself an ambassador because he knew that when he proclaimed the gospel facts and promises and urged sinners to receive the reconciliation effected at Calvary, he was declaring Christ's message to the world. The figure of ambassadorship highlights the authority Paul had, as representing his Lord, as long as he remained faithful to the terms of his commission and said neither less nor more than he had been given to say.

In a Peanuts cartoon Linus comes running across the beach to Charlie Brown shouting "I can swim, I can swim!"

"Well, I'm glad to hear that Linus, congratulations!"

"Yes sir," Linus says, "If I'm ever aboard an ocean liner and it sinks four feet from shore, I won't have a thing to worry about!"

Isn't that true for most of us? Peter, you and I can go about 4 feet on the power of our own faith, but thereafter we need to rely on the strong arms and hands of our Sovereign Lord.

The Lord Jesus Christ whom we exalt at Christmas is not just a baby in a manger. He is not a character in a children’s story. He is far more.

• The first time he came, he came veiled in the form of a child. The next time he comes, and we believe it will be soon, he will come unveiled, and it will be abundantly and immediately clear to all the world just who he really is.
• The first time he came, a star marked his arrival. The next time he comes, the whole heavens will roll up like a scroll, and all the stars will fall out of the sky, and he himself will light it.
• The first time he came, wise men and shepherds brought him gifts. The next time he comes, he will bring gifts, rewards for his own.
• The first time he came, there was no room for him. The next time he comes, the whole world will not be able to contain His glory.
• The first time he came, only a few attended his arrival—some shepherds and some wise men. The next time he comes, every eye shall see him.
• The first time he came as a baby. Soon he will come as Sovereign King and Lord.

There's an urban legend about the University of Chicago Divinity School. Each year it is said they have what is called "Baptist Day." On this day each one is to bring a lunch to be eaten outdoors in a grassy picnic area. Every "Baptist Day" the school would invite one of the greatest minds to lecture in the theological education center. One year they invited Dr. Paul Tillich. Dr.Tillich spoke for two and one-half hours proving that the resurrection of Jesus was false. He quoted scholar after scholar and book after book. He concluded that since there was no such thing as the historical resurrection the religious tradition of the church was groundless, emotional mumbo-jumbo, because it was based on a relationship with a risen Jesus, who, in fact, never rose from the dead in any literal sense. He then asked if there were any questions.

After about 30 seconds, an old, dark skinned preacher with a head of short-cropped, woolly white hair stood up in the back of the auditorium."Docta' Tillich, I got one question," he said as all eyes turned toward him. He reached into his sack lunch and pulled out an apple and began eating it.

"Docta Tillich.. CRUNCH, MUNCH "My question is a simple question, ...CRUNCH, MUNCH..."Now, I ain't never read them books you read ..CRUNCH, MUNCH..."and I can't recite the Scriptures in the original Greek

...CRUNCH, MUNCH ..." I don't know nothin' about Niebuhr and Heidegger

...CRUNCH, MUNCH...He finished the apple. "All I wanna know is: This apple I just ate, was it bitter or sweet?"

Dr. Tillich paused for a moment and answered in exemplary scholarly fashion: "I cannot possibly answer that question, for I haven't tasted your apple." The white-haired preacher dropped the core of his apple into his crumpled paper bag, looked up at Dr. Tillich and said calmly, "Neither have you tasted my Jesus."

The 1,000 plus in attendance could not contain themselves. The auditorium erupted with applause and cheers. Dr. Tillich thanked his audience and promptly left the platform.

Have you tasted Jesus? Please pass this on Saints! Jesus has risen... and he's coming back one day! Taste and see that the LORD is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him.

A MORE CONDENSED GENERIC VERSION GOES LIKE THIS:

Bob Allred tells the story about a country preacher who was listening to a seminary professor cast doubt on the core issues of the faith. When the professor finished his lecture, the elderly pastor got up, took an apple from his lunch bag and started eating it as he said, "Mr. Professor, I haven't read many of them books you quoted." Then he took another bite of the apple.

"Mr. Professor, I don't know much about the great thinkers you mentioned," as he took still another bite of his apple.

"Mr. Professor, I admit I haven't studied the Bible like you have," as he finished his apple and dropped it back in the bag.

"I was just wondering, this apple that I just ate, was it sour or sweet?"

The Professor responded, "How could I know? I haven't tasted your apple."

To which the old preacher replied, "With all due respect, sir, I was just wondering if you had ever had a taste of my Jesus?"

The blind man says "Whether or not the cure was approved by the FDA, I once was blind, but now I see. You all argue and explain all you want, but that's enough for me."

An incident from the American Revolution illustrates that tragedy can result from procrastination. It is reported that Colonel Rahl, commander of the British troops in Trenton, New Jersey, was playing cards when a courier brought an urgent message stating that General George Washington was crossing the Delaware River. Rahl put the letter in his pocket and didn't bother to read it until the game was finished. Then, realizing the seriousness of the situation, he hurriedly tried to rally his men to meet the coming attack, but his procrastination was his undoing. He and many of his men were killed, and the rest of the regiment was captured.

Nolbert Quayle said, "Only a few minutes' delay cost him his life, his honor, and the liberty of his soldiers. Earth's history is strewn with the wrecks of half-finished plans and unexecuted resolutions. 'Tomorrow' is the excuse of the lazy and refuge of the incompetent."

"Those who choose evil shall have their choice. Men who hate divine mercy shall not have it forced upon them, but (unless sovereign grace interpose) shall be left to themselves to aggravate their guilt and ensure their doom.

"They have loved darkness rather than light, and in darkness they shall abide. Eyes which see no beauty in the Lord Jesus, but flash wrath upon Him, may well grow yet more dim, till death which is spiritual leads to death which is eternal.

"What can be too severe a penalty for those who reject the incarnate God, and refuse to obey the commands of His mercy? They deserve to be flooded with wrath, and they shall be; for upon all who rebel against the Savior, 'wrath has come upon them to the uttermost' (I Thessalonians 2:16).

"God's indignation is no trifle. The anger of a holy, just, omnipotent, and infinite Being, is above all things to be dreaded; even a drop of it consumes, but to have it poured upon us is inconceivably dreadful."

Jim Somerville is pastor of the First Baptist Church in Washington, D. C. Once one of the most prominent churches in our nation's capital, it is still housed in a wonderful, ornate facility. However, there are few people who come to worship there anymore.

Washington has one of the highest populations of homeless people in America, if not the highest. They're everywhere, and sometimes they take refuge near churches. Jim couldn't help but notice that a group of homeless people were spending their nights on the church's property. In an effort to be hospitable, and to put a human face on homelessness, he and another young fellow from his church took their sleeping bags and spent a night with these people who had no roof over their heads.

They had to endure the initiation process, as if being homeless is a fraternity. First of all, if they were going to relate to these people, they would have to give up the sleeping bags. Nobody else had them. They were instructed as to how to make a good bed out of cardboard and to use other materials to insulate their "home." In the course of questioning their new friends, the pastor and his idealistic deacon asked them what were their greatest difficulties. The answer was obvious... where to go to the bathroom. And since there were women in the ranks, it was especially difficult for them.

So, the next day, Jim ordered a portable toilet to be delivered to the church and placed nearby where this group of people slept. It did not - how shall I put this - it did not go over well with some folk in the congregation. A day or two later, a padlock appeared on the outdoor facility... as I recall, courtesy of the grounds committee, or someone else "in charge." When we visited there in late February for a meeting, the padlock was still there. "What are you going to do?" I asked Jim. "Oh," he responded sadly, "the toilet will have to go."

But that's not the end of the story. Here's the interesting thing... One of those homeless men joined his church and has developed into one of its most active and committed members.

You never know, you just never know, what might happen when you extend a hand or even a cup of water - or a port-o-let - to someone in Jesus' name. You see, you never know who that stranger may be at your door.

The biography, Norma, is the story of well-known singer for Lawrence Welk, Norma Zimmer. One of the more poignant aspects of her story is that of her teen years. Her parents were a source of great pain to her because of their drinking. Though these years were difficult for her, she began to find an escape into a better world through singing. As a senior in high school, Norma was invited to become a featured church soloist by Carl A. Pitzer of the University Christian Church in Seattle. When her parents heard she was to sing a solo in church they both insisted they wanted to hear her, though they did not normally attend. She tells the story of that morning:

"I was excited and elated at the prospect of singing again. The choir processed down the middle aisle, and as we walked, I stole glances at the congregation, trying to find my parents.... I couldn’t spot Mom and Dad.

"Then in horror I saw them—weaving down the aisle in a state of disheveled intoxication. They were late. Few empty seats were left. My parents stumbled over the feet of other people to reach a place in the middle of the row. The whole congregation stared. I don't know how I ever got through that morning. The invocation, the congregational hymn, the prayer, the offering—and then I stood up to sing. ‘How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings.’ The song seemed interminable. I tried to think only of the words and kept my eyes from turning to the row where my parents sat.

"I took my seat, my heart pounding, my cheeks burning. Dr. Hastings started to preach. At first, I hardly heard him. Then his words reached me, ‘God is our refuge and strength, a tested help in time of trouble.’

"My own trouble seemed to bear down on me with tremendous weight that morning. I felt I had more than my share of grief, and I knew I needed help. I realized how desperate life in our family was without God, and that day I recommitted my life to Him. As Dr. Hastings preached that morning, Jesus came into my life nor only as Savior but for daily strength and direction."

God rules in the affairs of men. Napoleon, at the height of his career, is reported to have given this cynical answer to someone who asked if God was on the side of France: “God is on the side that has the heaviest artillery.”

Then came the Battle of Waterloo, where Napoleon lost both the battle and his empire. Years later, in exile on the island of St. Helena, chastened and humbled, Napoleon is reported to have quoted the words of Thomas a Kempis: “Man proposes; God disposes.”

This is the lesson with which history confronts us all. God is able to work his sovereign will—despite man.

Gorman Williams spent most of his life as a missionary to India. In 1945 he purchased tickets for a long-awaited vacation back to the United States. He had counted down the months and days until he would be home. A few days before he was to leave he heard about some Jews who had escaped the wrath of the Nazis. They had traveled by boat to India seeking refuge. Since it was a time of global war, the Indian government denied their request to immigrate. They were granted permission to stay for a short time in the lofts of the buildings near the dock. Their living conditions were wretched. But it was better than being sent to a concentration camp in Germany.

It was Christmas Eve when Gorman Williams heard about the plight of these Jews. Immediately he went to the dock, entered the first building and called out, "Merry Christmas! What would you like for Christmas?" The response was slow. "We're Jewish," someone called out. "I know," Williams said, "but what would you like for Christmas?" The weary Jews, fearful for their very lives, replied, "We would like some German pastries."

At that point Gorman Williams sold his ticket to the United States and purchased more German pastries than anyone had ever seen. He brought lots and lots of them and carried them in large baskets.

Later he told this story to a group of students. One brash, judgmental young man reprimanded him. "You shouldn't have done that," he said, "they were not even Christians." "No they weren't," the wise missionary quietly replied, "but I am."

2 Samuel 23:23 - "... And David set him over his bodyguard."

2 Kings 25:8 - "In the fifth month, on the seventh day of the month - which was the nineteenth year of King Nebuzaradan, the captain of the bodyguard, a servant of the king of Babylon, came to Jerusalem."

The term "bodyguard" means exactly what it says. This is a person who is employed to "guard the body," that is, to protect another person, usually a sovereign, or, today, a head of state. However, very wealthy persons also employed bodyguards on occasion, just as today we can hire one if we wish.

Look in the yellow pages of your telephone directory, and you’ll find many listings for guards. You have your pick of residence security guards, sporting event guards, payroll escort guards, men in motorcycles, men in cars, men with dogs - you name it, you have it through making a simple telephone call.

Or, perhaps, you are more inclined to associate the bodyguard with the present-day Secret Service agent. And that fits too. I don’t suppose any of us will ever forget the pictures taken when President Kennedy was shot in Dallas. Remember the actions of the Secret Service man who made himself a target to prevent any more bullets from striking the Presidential party? That is truly being a bodyguard!

In biblical times, these men were usually soldiers, who were singled out because of their good height, great strength, agility, and/or military prowess.

Actually, scholars are not sure of the organization of the bodyguard during the monarchy, because it seems to have been a flexible affair. But Saul’s (and, later, David’s) personal bodyguard is called the mishma’ ath, meaning, literally, "those who obey, who answer the call." So it would seem to have been on a personal choice basis.

David himself was captain of Saul’s bodyguard, as well as being personal bodyguard to Achish, king of Gath. In 1 Chronicles 11:25 we read that Benaiah ben Jehoida was one of David’s thirty "mighty warriors" and head of his bodyguard. Potiphar was head of Pharaoh’s bodyguard, and, as our second text tells us, we have mention of Babylonian bodyguards.

In reading Jeremiah 32:2, we gather that Zedekiah had a special body- or palace-guard, in whose quarters Jeremiah was prisoned for a while.

So you see, while it is necessary for men to fear men, while violence and hatred exist in the world, it will be necessary for men to be protected. It isn’t always possible - the action of the Secret Service man was too late - but the necessity exists. How wonderful it would be to live in a world where bodyguards would be an anachronism!

I am not sent a pilgrim here,
My heart with earth to fill;
But I am here God's grace to learn,
And serve God's sovereign will.

He leads me on through smiles and tears,
Grief follows gladness still;
But let me welcome both alike,
Since both work out his will.

No service in itself is small,
None great, though earth it fill;
But that is small that seeks its own,
And great that seeks God's will.

Then hold my hand, most gracious Lord,
Guide all my doings still;
And let this be my life's one aim,
To do, or bear thy will.

The bitter news of Dawson Trotman's drowning swept like cold wind across Schroon Lake to the shoreline. Eyewitnesses tell of the profound anxiety, the tears, the helpless disbelief in the faces of those who now looked out across the deep blue water. Everyone's face except one--Lila Trotman, Dawson's widow. As she suddenly walked upon the scene a close friend shouted, "Oh, Lila ... He's gone. Dawson's gone!" To that she replied in calm assurance the words of Psalm 115:3:

But our God is in the heavens;
He does whatever He pleases.

All of the anguish, the sudden loneliness that normally consumes and cripples those who survive did not invade that woman's heart. Instead, she leaned hard upon her sovereign Lord, who had once again done what He pleased.

In the Apostles' Creed a Christian confesses, "I believe in God the Father Almighty." Many consider the idea of God to be a problem. This prompts them to ask various questions about God which may be considered simple by some. One day a mother sat with her four-year-old girl. The child was watching a cartoon on television. She asked, "Mommy, who made the cartoons?" Her mother happened to see the credit line, "Hanna-Barbera." "Who is Hanna-Barbera?" "Just some people," the mother explained. "Who made the people?" A little annoyed, the mother answered, "God made the people." "But, Mommy, who made God?" By this time her mother lost her patience and her temper and screamed, "Carrie, go play!" Shrugging her shoulders, the child sighed, "Gee whiz! Ask a simple question!"

We have some "simple" but profound questions to ask about God. Is there really a God? Where did God come from? What is God like? Can we know him? Where is God? If we go to philosophers, we get a variety of answers. Sartre speaks of the silence of God; Heidegger of the absence of God; Jaspers of the concealment of God; Bultmann of the hiddenness of God; Buber of the eclipse of God; Tillich of the nonbeing of God; Altizer of the death of God. In contrast, the creed speaks of the almighty fatherhood of God.

Martin Luther gives the best definition of a god: A god is that on which one should rely for everything good, and with which one can take refuge in every need. Thus to have a god is nothing other than to trust and believe in him from the heart -- or, as I have often said, that only trust and faith in the heart make both God and a false god. If your faith and trust is right, then your God is right as well, and again where the belief is false and wrong, then the right God is absent, too. For the two belong together, faith and God. So that to which you give up and hand over your heart is truly your God.

In summary, then, Luther tells us what makes a god: "Whatever, then, your heart clings to or relies upon, that, I say, is properly your God." In other words, your God is whatever or whoever comes first in your life. 

A child is born! There is an optimistic ring to that powerful proclamation--even under the worst of circumstances. I have been told that in Europe during World War II families sought refuge from shelling in unfilled open graves in cemeteries. In these graves, women gave birth. As awful as life seemed at the time, when word was passed around the graveyards that "a child is born!" hope was mended for a moment in the hearts of those who heard. In the Jewish tradition, any child might be the Messiah, even if born in a graveyard. "You never can tell . . ." we say, and "Who knows what might happen because of this child?" In every tradition, a child is born of the seed of hope.

Dr. H. A. Ironside in his book In the Heavenlies (Neptune, N.J.: Loizeau Bros., Inc.) tells the story of an attempted assassination of the first Queen Elizabeth of England. The woman who sought to do so dressed as a male page and secreted herself in the queen’s boudoir, awaiting the convenient moment to stab the queen to death. She did not realize that the queen’s attendants would be very careful to search the rooms before Her Majesty was permitted to retire. They found the woman hidden there among the gowns and brought her into the presence of the queen, after confiscating the poniard that she had hoped to plant into the heart of the sovereign.

The would-be assassin realized that her case, humanly speaking, was hopeless. She threw herself down on her knees and pleaded and begged the queen as a woman to have compassion on her, a woman, and to show her grace. Queen Elizabeth looked at her coldly and quietly said, “If I show you grace, what promise will you make for the future?” The woman looked up and said, “Grace that hath conditions, grace that is fettered by precautions, is not grace at all.” Queen Elizabeth caught the idea in a moment and said, “You are right; I pardon you of my grace.” And they led her away, a free woman.

History tells us that from that moment Queen Elizabeth had no more faithful, devoted servant than that woman who had intended to take her life. That is exactly the way the grace of God works in the life of an individual—he or she becomes a faithful servant of God.

Note: Perhaps this is a fanciful illustration on the part of Dr. Ironside. We were not able to substantiate any parts of this story. 

Dante, the great poet of the Renaissance, was exiled from his home in Florence, Italy. Depressed by this cruel turn of fate, he decided to walk from Italy to Paris, where he could study philosophy, in an effort to find a clue to the meaning of life. In his travels, Dante found himself a weary pilgrim, forced to knock at the door of Santa Croce Monastery to find refuge from the night. A surly brother within was finally aroused. He came to the door, flung it open, and in a gruff voice asked, "What do you want?" Dante answered in a single word, "Peace."

Back in the 1700s song writer Charles Wesley, his brother, John Wesley, and Richard Pilmore, were holding an outdoor service, when a mob attacked them pelting them with stones. They were compelled to flee for their lives. They found shelter behind a hedge. When night came they found their way to a deserted spring-house, where they struck a light with a flint-stone, washed their faces in the clear, cold water, brushed the dirt from their clothes, and felt at least a moment's security from the missiles which had pelted them. Charles Wesley had with him a piece of lead hammered out into a pencil. He pulled it from his pocket, and composed a hymn sung by Christians around the world:

"Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to thy bosom fly;
While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is high!"

Wesley was thankful to God for the shelter he had found in the spring-house. And he wrote of a place of shelter open to all in Christ. People still need a shelter from life's storms. People still need a place of quiet refuge. People still need a place where they can connect with one another and with God. The church has what most people want today.

2 Kings 23:11 - "... by the chamber of Nathan-melech, the chamberlain, which was in the precincts;"

Esther 1:10 - "... the seven eunuchs who served King Ahasuerus as chamberlains,"

A chamberlain was an officer appointed to look after the personal affairs of a sovereign, in much the same way as a valet or bulter might do, although his duties were somewhat more extensive than those of the modern butler. These duties seem to have been to superintend the palace and attend to royal etiquette, rather in the way of a person today who is trained in the nuances of social and ryal protocol. Later, this post became one of special increasing influence, including the right of introduction to the king. The chamberlain thus became the chief minister.

We find references to this official in the biblical record as far back as the time of Joseph - there is an oblique reference here to Potiphar. The chamberlain as an official of the throne was introduced into Israel by Solomon, and was sometimes referred to as "steward" or "governor." As we will see with the cup-bearer, the chamberlain held a position of great trust and had to be a man of unswerving loyalty to his king. Since these officials had access to the women’s quarters of the palace, they were frequently eunuchs.

Erastus, the "chamberlain" of the city of Corinth, was one of those whose salutations to the Roman Christians are found in Romans 16:23. His office was apparently that of public treasurer, so that we can see how the position changed in concept after the time of the monarchy.

Shortly after the turn of the century, Japan invaded, conquered, and occupied Korea. Of all of their oppressors, Japan was the most ruthless. They overwhelmed the Koreans with a brutality that would sicken the strongest of stomachs. Their crimes against women and children were inhuman. Many Koreans live today with the physical and emotional scars from the Japanese occupation.

One group singled out for concentrated oppression was the Christians. When the Japanese army overpowered Korea one of the first things they did was board up the evangelical churches and eject most foreign missionaries. It has always fascinated me how people fail to learn from history. Conquering nations have consistently felt that shutting up churches would shut down Christianity. It didn't work in Rome when the church was established, and it hasn't worked since. Yet somehow the Japanese thought they would have a different success record.

The conquerors started by refusing to allow churches to meet and jailing many of the key Christian spokesmen. The oppression intensified as the Japanese military increased its profile in the South Pacific. The "Land of the Rising Sum" spread its influence through a reign of savage brutality. Anguish filled the hearts of the oppressed and kindled hatred deep in their souls.

One pastor persistently entreated his local Japanese police chief for permission to meet for services. His nagging was finally accommodated, and the police chief offered to unlock his church ... for one meeting. It didn't take long for word to travel. Committed Christians starving for an opportunity for unhindered worship quickly made their plans. Long before dawn on that promised Sunday, Korean families throughout a wide area made their way to the church. They passed the staring eyes of their Japanese captors, but nothing was going to steal their joy. As they closed the doors behind them they shut out the cares of oppression and shut in a burning spirit anxious to glorify their Lord.

The Korean church has always had a reputation as a singing church. Their voices of praise could not be concealed inside the little wooden frame sanctuary. Song after song rang through the open windows into the bright Sunday morning. For a handful of peasants listening nearby, the last two songs this congregation sang seemed suspended in time. It was during a stanza of "Nearer My God to Thee" that the Japanese police chief waiting outside gave the orders. The people toward the back of the church could hear them when they barricaded the doors, but no one realized that they had doused the church with kerosene until they smelled the smoke. The dried wooden skin of the small church quickly ignited. Fumes filled the structure as tongues of flame began to lick the baseboard on the interior walls. There was an immediate rush for the windows. But momentary hope recoiled in horror as the men climbing out the windows came crashing back in their bodies ripped by a hail of bullets.

The good pastor knew it was the end. With a calm that comes from confidence, he led his congregation in a hymn whose words served as a fitting farewell to earth and a loving salutation to heaven. The first few words were all the prompting the terrified worshipers needed. With smoke burning their eyes, they instantly joined as one to sing their hope and leave their legacy. Their song became a serenade to the horrified and helpless witnesses outside. Their words also tugged at the hearts of the cruel men who oversaw this flaming execution of the innocent.

Alas! and did my Savior bleed?
and did my Sovereign die?
Would he devote that sacred head
for such a worm as I?
Just before the roof collapsed they sang the last verse,
their words an eternal testimony to their faith.
But drops of grief can ne'er repay
the debt of love I owe:
Here, Lord, I give myself away
'Tis all that I can do!
At the cross, at the cross
Where I first saw the light,
And the burden of my heart rolled away
It was there by faith I received my sight,
And now I am happy all the day.

The strains of music and wails of children were lost in a roar of flames. The elements that once formed bone and flesh mixed with the smoke and dissipated into the air. The bodies that once housed life fused with the charred rubble of a building that once housed a church. But the souls who left singing finished their chorus in the throne room of God. Clearing the incinerated remains was the easy part. Erasing the hate would take decades. For some of the relatives of the victims, this carnage was too much. Evil had stooped to a new low, and there seemed to be no way to curb their bitter loathing of the Japanese.

In the decades that followed, that bitterness was passed on to a new generation. The Japanese, although conquered, remained a hated enemy. The monument the Koreans built at the location of the fire not only memorialized the people who died, but stood as a mute reminder of their pain.

Inner rest? How could rest coexist with a bitterness deep as marrow in the bones? Suffering, of course, is a part of life. People hurt people. Almost all of us have experienced it at some time. Maybe you felt it when you came home to find that your spouse had abandoned you, or when your integrity was destroyed by a series of well-timed lies, or when your company was bled dry by a partner. It kills you inside. Bitterness clamps down on your soul like iron shackles.

The Korean people who found it too hard to forgive could not enjoy the "peace that passes all understanding." Hatred choked their joy.

It wasn't until 1972 that any hope came. A group of Japanese pastors traveling through Korea came upon the memorial. When they read the details of the tragedy and the names of the spiritual brothers and sisters who had perished, they were overcome with shame. Their country had sinned, and even though none of them were personally involved (some were not even born at the time of the tragedy), they still felt a national guilt that could not be excused. They returned to Japan committed to right a wrong. There was an immediate outpouring of love from their fellow believers. They raised ten million yen ($25,000). The money was transferred through proper channels and a beautiful white church building was erected on the sight of the tragedy. When the dedication service for the new building was held, a delegation from Japan joined the relatives and special guests.

Although their generosity was acknowledged and their attempts at making peace appreciated, the memories were still there. Hatred preserves pain. It keeps the wounds open and the hurts fresh. The Koreans' bitterness had festered for decades. Christian brothers or not, these Japanese were descendants of a ruthless enemy. The speeches were made, the details of the tragedy recalled, and the names of the dead honored. It was time to bring the service to a close. Someone in charge of the agenda thought it would be appropriate to conclude with the same two songs that were sung the day the church was burned.  The song leader began the words to "Nearer My God to Thee."

But something remarkable happened as the voices mingled on the familiar melody. As the memories of the past mixed with the truth of the song, resistance started to melt. The inspiration that gave hope to a doomed collection of churchgoers in a past generation gave hope once more. The song leader closed the service with the hymn "At the Cross." The normally stoic Japanese could not contain themselves. The tears that began to fill their eyes during the song suddenly gushed from deep inside. They turned to their Korean spiritual relatives and begged them to forgive. The guarded, calloused hearts of the Koreans were not quick to surrender. But the love of the Japanese believers not intimidated by decades of hatred tore at the Koreans' emotions.

At the cross, at the cross
Where I first saw the light,
And the burden of my heart rolled away ...

One Korean turned toward a Japanese brother. Then another. And then the floodgates holding back a wave of emotion let go. The Koreans met their new Japanese friends in the middle. They clung to each other and wept. Japanese tears of repentance and Korean tears of forgiveness intermingled to bathe the site of an old nightmare. Heaven had sent the gift of reconciliation to a little white church in Korea.

Luke 10:35 - "And the next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper, saying, ‘Take care of him; and whatever more you spend, I will repay you when I come back.’ "

There is little allusion to inns in the Old Testament, since the rigid laws of hospitality among the Hebrews made them unnecessary. It was a sacred duty to offer refuge within the home to any traveler. The first mention that we find of an inn is in the story of the return of Jacob’s sons from their visit with Joseph in Egypt. But, there too, the inn itself was in Egypt, not Palestine.

Whatever inns they had were located close to watering places and were probably just camping grounds, or, perhaps, just niches in the walls. The people who stayed there had to provide their own food, cooking utensils, and other provisions for living and sleeping. So, in the Old Testament period, we cannot speak of innkeepers, because there were none such.

However, by New Testament times, travel had increased, and it became necessary for stopping places to be provided for these travelers. Many of them provided accommodations for animals as well as people, since sometimes whole families, with all their possessions, would be on the move. We think at once, of course, of the first Christmas night, when Mary delivered her Child in the stable, because the innkeeper couldn’t find room for her in the inn.

Even at that, the innkeepers provided only the barest of necessities, and as absolute minimum of food and shelter. And, unfortunately, they were often thieves, who weren’t above stealing everything possible from their guests. In fact, the Mishnah (Yeb 16:7) says that the word of an innkeeper was doubted and (Ab Zar. 2:1) places them on the lowest scale of society. The same was true of female innkeepers. They certainly weren’t known for their high moral standards. In fact, Josephus and the rabbis considered Rahab an innkeeper, rather than a harlot, but it comes down to the same thing in the end.

Isn’t it nice to know that today, when we travel, we have clean, commodious hotels and motels at which we can stop to rest and refresh ourselves. We don’t have to worry about the hotel manager sneaking in in the middle of the night and stealing our wallets! And certainly the food and accommodations that are offered to us are designed with our comfort and well-being in mind.

I have wondered frequently what the innkeeper who cared for the man left lying by the wayside would have thought if he had been sent ahead to the twentieth century and given a hotel to manage. Pipe dreams? Perhaps, but intriguing, don’t you think? If we were given the choice, I don’t imagine any of us would take his inn over that managed so competently by the hotel or motel managers today.

As I mentioned earlier, the faith teachers maintain that when Adam sinned, the world was turned over to Satan. The devil became the legal owner of the planet. The faith teacher's position accommodates the Gnostic view (particularly evident in Zoroastrianism, a Persian Gnostic religion), in which a good god rules the spiritual world and a bad god rules the physical realm. In such a philosophy the problem of evil is solved by blaming everything that goes wrong on the bad god (the devil); the good god is seen as no more than a counterbalance. One is left with the impression that the two gods each possess equal power both in quality and quantity. Everything that is wrong in the world is the fault of the bad god. And it's up to the initiate or believer to make sure the good god wins. Back when Jimmy Swaggart defied the orders of the Assemblies of God to refrain from preaching for one year, he assured the public that he was free of moral defect, for, he said, Oral Roberts had cast out the demons from his body over the phone. Oral Roberts confirmed Swaggart's report, insisting he had demons and their claws deeply embedded in Swaggart's flesh. Now that the rascals were gone, Swaggart and Roberts asserted, Swaggart could get on with preparing the way for Christ's return. Evidently, personal responsibility for sin can be dismissed by blaming it on an external force. Yet Flip Wilson's famous quip, "The devil made me do it" is hardly comedy when we're talking about the biblical view of sin.

For these metaphysical evangelists, even personal sins can be attributed to the bad god, since he is, after all, sovereign over this earthly realm as the good god is relatively in charge of the spiritual domain. Here again, then, is the echo of the Gnostics of old. When that heresy was revived toward the end of the medieval period, Calvin said, "They made the devil almost the equal of God." In this way, the problem of sin is replaced with the problem of Satan. It is facing Satan, not my own sin and rebelliousness, that becomes the great task of the Christian life. I'm not the problem the Devil is!

One Christian writer has said, "All cheap and easy talk about a God of sovereign power who is in control of a world in which there is so much poverty, suffering, and injustice is obscene. All self-confident talk about a powerful church that has the mandate and the ability to change society with this or that conservative or liberal social/political agenda or with this or that evangelistic program is increasingly absurd in a disintegrating church that cannot solve its own problems, much less the problems of the world. The only gospel that makes sense and can help… is the good news of a God who loves enough to suffer with and for a suffering humanity. And the only believable church is one that is willing to bear witness to such a God by its willingness to do the same thing"

Back in 1675, some nine years after the terrible fire in London, Sir Christopher Wren himself laid the first foundation stone in what was to be his greatest architectural enterprise—the building of St. Paul’s Cathedral. It took him thirty-five long years to complete this task, and when it was done he waited breathlessly for the reaction of her majesty, Queen Anne. After being carefully shown through the structure, she summed up her feelings for the architecture in three words: “It is awful; it is amusing; it is artificial.”

Imagine how you would feel if words like these were used to describe the work of your life! However, Sir Christopher Wren’s biographer said that on hearing these words, he heaved a sigh of relief and bowed gratefully before his sovereign. How could this be? The explanation is simple: In 1710, the word awful meant “awe-inspiring,” the word amusing meant “amazing,” and the word artificial meant “artistic.” What to our ears might sound like a devastating criticism were in that time words of measured praise.

There is no doubt a lesson in that story for those who would quibble over the relative merits of the various Bible versions and translations. Shades of meaning cannot alter what God has revealed in his Word!

Have you heard the story about man who lived in the Midwest, right smack in the middle of tornado alley? After several tornados came near his home, tearing up his neighbor's homes and barns, he decided to build a storm cellar.

He decided to go first-class and build a well-stocked cellar that would give him refuge in any storm. He spent an enormous amount of money.

But, as luck would have it, as soon as he spent the money for the shelter, tornadoes stopped coming in his direction. Oh, sometimes a warning would be posted on the news and he would go down into his cellar, but invariably it would be a false alarm. He began to wonder if he had spent his money for nothing. Finally, there came a major storm that roared through his property and flattened his barn. When he came out of the storm cellar, he looked at all the damage and then he looked up at the sky and said, "Now that's more like it!"

That man was ready. And he stayed ready. He didn't know WHEN the storm was going to come, he just knew it was going to come. So, he was ready. We don't know WHEN Jesus is coming back, He didn't tell his disciples, He didn't even know the time Himself, that was in the Father's hands. He did his part in getting us ready. Now it's up to us to "STAY READY."

Arie Brouer was a Reformed pastor, part of the Reformed Church in America. At one time he was the General Secretary of the National Council of Churches. As a Reformed pastor, he was part of the Calvinist tradition, and the tradition that has the strongest emphasis on God's sovereign rule over the whole creation. It was the Calvinists after all who invented predestination to affirm that God is in control of everything. Every single move that we make is controlled by God.

Then Arie Brouer got cancer. A terrible theological problem for any sensitive Christian, but I would think especially so for a Calvinist. His son asked him about it in the most innocent way. "What does faith mean for you now that you are facing this?"

Arie Brouer responded by saying that he had believed in God all of his life, and because he has cancer is no reason for him to stop believing in God. His son said, "But you and mom have spent a lot of your life trying to make this a better place for all people. This is a very strange way to be paid back."

Brouer said to his son, "Steve, I don't believe that God wants me to have cancer. But what I have come to believe during these days is that God can't do anything about it. That raises some very fundamental questions for me about what I have been taught and what I have believed over the years about the almightiness of God. Because if God can't stop this, then I have to come to some new understanding of God's almightiness, or perhaps reject it altogether. I haven't had time to think about this because I am too busy dealing with all sorts of survival questions. But I am going to work on it."

And he did. He counted the number of times God's "almightiness" is mentioned in the New Testament. He discovered it is only ten times. Nine of the ten times are in the Book of Revelation, the last book of the Bible, the vision of the end of history. He said, "I looked at those texts that talk about God's almightiness, and I discovered that every one of them has to do with God's ultimate triumph in history. They say that at the end of history, God's love, and justice, and peace, will prevail. At the end of history, God will prevail in the struggle, and that now God is with us in the struggle. And I said to myself, 'Arie, why in the world haven't you understood this before.'"

Years ago, an angry man rushed through the Rijks Museum in Amsterdam until he reached Rembrandt's famous painting "Nightwatch." Then he took out a knife and slashed it repeatedly before he could be stopped. A short time later, a distraught, hostile man slipped into St. Peter's Cathedral in Rome with a hammer and began to smash Michelangelo's beautiful sculpture The Pieta. Two cherished works of art were severely damaged. But what did officials do? Throw them out and forget about them? Absolutely not! Using the best experts, who worked with the utmost care and precision, they made every effort to restore the treasures.

By His sovereign grace, God can bring good out of our failures, and even out of our sins. J. Stuart Holden tells of an old Scottish mansion close to where he had his little summer home. The walls of one room were filled with sketches made by distinguished artists. The practice began after a pitcher of soda water was accidentally spilled on a freshly decorated wall and left an unsightly stain. At the time, a noted artist, Lord Landseer, was a guest in the house. One day when the family went out to the moors, he stayed behind. With a few masterful strokes of a piece of charcoal, that ugly spot became the outline of a beautiful waterfall, bordered by trees and wildlife. He turned that disfigured wall into one of his most successful depictions of Highland life.

The year was 1887, and a humble music professor named A.J. Showalter received some sad news. Two of his former students had just lost their wives. Both of these men were in despair, and looked to their old music professor for comfort.

Showalter had always been deeply devoted to his students. He had no comforting words of his own, so he turned to Scripture, where he found this verse from Deuteronomy 33:27, The eternal God is your refuge, And underneath are the everlasting arms . . ." Out of this verse, professor Showalter wrote a chorus to send to his students. You might recognize it:

Leaning, leaning, Safe and secure from all alarms;
Leaning, leaning, leaning on the everlasting arms.

Jesus did not tell his disciples that they would not have problems. In fact, their problems would dwarf most of our problems. What he did promise them was peace of mind. He would send upon them the gift of the Holy Spirit to give them courage and comfort. They would be warriors and not worriers. And that is the same promise Christ offers us today. Perhaps you have come to this house of worship today like Jake seeking "the assurance from someone that things are going to be okay." I can give you that assurance. God's Holy Spirit is here to give both courage and comfort. Let go and lean on the everlasting arms of God.

We begin by trusting our ignorance and calling it innocence, and by trusting our innocence and calling it purity. And when we hear these rugged statements of our Lord's (Matthew 15:18), we shrink and say:

"But I never felt any of those awful things in my heart." Either Jesus Christ is the supreme authority on the human heart or He is not worth paying attention to. Am I prepared to trust His judgment or do I prefer to trust my innocent ignorance? As long as I remain under the refuge of innocence, I am living in a fool's paradise. The only thing that safeguards is the redemption found in Jesus Christ. Purity is too deep down for me to get to naturally; but when the Holy Spirit comes in, He brings into the center of my life the very Spirit that was manifested in the life of Jesus Christ the Holy Spirit, who is unsullied purity."

An old legend tells how a man once stumbled upon a great red barn after wandering for days in a forest in the dark.  He was seeking refuge from the howling winds of a storm. He entered the barn and his eyes grew accustomed to the dark.  To his astonishment, he discovered that this was the barn where the devil kept his storehouse of seeds.  They were the seeds that were sown in the hearts of humans.  The man became curious and lit a match. He began exploring the piles of bins of seeds round him.  He couldn't help but notice that the greatest majority of them said, "Seeds of Discouragement."

About that time one of the devil's helpers arrived to pick up a load of seeds.  The man asked him, "Why the abundance of discouragement seeds?"  The helper laughed and replied, "Because they are so effective and they take root so quickly."  "Do they grow everywhere?" the man asked. At that moment the devil's helper became very sullen.  He glared at the man and in disgust he said, "No. They never seem to grow in the heart of a grateful person."

Zaleusus flourished about 500 B.c. His government over the Locrians was severe but just. In one of his decrees he forbade the use of wine unless it were prescribed as medicine; and in another he ordered that all adulterers should be punished with the loss of both their eyes. When his own son became subject to this penalty, the father, in order to maintain the authority of the laws, but to show parental leniency, shared the penalty with his son by ordering one of his own eyes to be thrust out along with one of his offending son. In this way, the majesty of his government was maintained, and his own character as a just and righteous sovereign was magnified in the eyes of his subjects.

In John Steinbeck's story "The Wayward Bus" a dilapidated old bus takes a cross country shortcut on its journey to Los Angeles, and gets stuck in the mud. While the drivers go for assistance, the passengers take refuge in a cave. It is acurious company of people and it is obvious that the author is attempting to get across the point that these people are lost spiritually as well as literally. As they enter into this cave, the author calls the reader's attention to the fact that as they enter they must pass a word that has been scrawled with paint over the entrance. The word is repent. Although Steinbeck calls that to the reader's attention it is interesting that none of the passengers pay any attention to it whatsoever.

All too often this is our story. Yet, John the Baptist calls upon us to take our sinning seriously. Why? Because God does? Repentance is not just changing our minds, or feeling sorry for something that we have done, or even making bold resolves that we will never participate in certain conduct again. Instead, repentance means to turn around and go in another direction. What John the Baptist wanted his audience to hear was: Turn your life toward this one called Messiah. This is not negative or down-faced. Rather, it breaks the chains of oppression and death that hold us back.

God moves in mysterious way,
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill,
He treasures up his bright designs,
And works his sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,
The clouds ye so much dread
And big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning providence,
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan his work in vain;
God is his own interpreter,
And he will make it plain.