There is a special hospital in London for those whom other hospitals consider a lost cause. It is a hospital for those who are diagnosed as "terminal."

Most people would consider such a hospital to be a very sad place, but it is not. Actually, it is a hospital filled with hope and a lot of life. The emphasis in this London hospital is on life and not on death. The truth is that several of the patients have seen remissions in the disease process instead of death. A great deal of the credit is given to the way the facility is run.

The basic philosophy is different from most other hospitals. In this program the patients are expected to give themselves away in service to the other patients. Each patient is given another patient for whom to care. So, for example, a person who is unable to walk might be given the task of reading to another who is blind. The blind person would then push the wheelchair of the one who could not walk but who gives directions on where to push the chair.

Is this not the new commandment to which Jesus referred? He calls us to be disciples who love one another. We are the ones who are healed and strengthened when we learn how to give and how to love.

Adapted by Bruce Larson, Passionate People (Dallas: Word Publishers), p. 203.

A junior high music teacher had just organized a band in her school. The principal was so proud of the music teacher's efforts that without consulting her he decided that the band should give a concert for the entire school. The music teacher wasn't so sure her young musicians were ready to give a concert, so she tried to talk the principal out of holding the concert, to no avail. Just before the concert was ready to begin, as the music teacher stood on the podium, she leaned forward and whispered to her nervous musicians, "If you're not sure of your part, just pretend to play." And with that, she stepped back, lifted her baton and with a great flourish brought it down. Lo and behold, nothing happened! The band brought forth a resounding silence.

Sometimes we in the church are like that junior high band, unsure of our parts, tentative in our roles, reluctant to trumpet forth the music of faith that God desires of us. And that's because we have trouble deciding what's most important.

An incident a couple of summers ago in San Antonio, Texas, illustrates what I'm talking about. It was a hot, 99-degree August day when a ten-month-old baby girl was accidentally locked in a parked car by her aunt. Frantically the mother and the aunt ran around the auto in near hysteria, while a neighbor attempted to unlock the car with a clothes hanger. The infant was bawling at the top of its lungs, beginning to turn purple and foam from the mouth, a combination of anxiety and the intense heat inside the car.

It had quickly become a life-and-death situation when Fred Arriola, a tow-truck driver, arrived on the scene. He grabbed a hammer from his truck and smashed the backside window of the car to free the baby. Was he heralded a hero? Not so. According to an article in the San Antonio Tribune, he is quoted as saying, "The lady was mad at me because I broke the window. I just thought, 'What's more important -- a baby or a window?'"

Most of the choices we make in life are not between what is trivial and what is important. Rather, most of the choices we make are usually between what is important and what is more important.

Lucy stands with her arms folded and a resolute expression on her face, while Charlie Brown pleads with her. "Lucy," he says, "you must be more loving. The world needs love. Make this world a better place, Lucy, by loving someone else." At that Lucy whirls around angrily and Charlie goes flipping over backwards. "Look, you blockhead," Lucy screams. "The world I love. It's people I can't stand!"

In these days of specialization, it is rare to see a professional baseball pitcher last through nine innings of a game. If he does, it is called "going the distance." More often than not, a pitcher will grow tired. His fastballs start to lose a little of their zip, and the curveballs are not as sharp as they were at the beginning of the game.

The manager will go to the mound and signal to the bullpen for a relief pitcher. Especially in recent years the strength of a professional baseball team has many times been judged by the strength and performance of those relief pitchers who come in and complete the game. In these days of selfishness and putting ourselves first, it is rare to see a love that lasts and lasts, that "goes the distance." More often than not, those of us who should be demonstrating this kind of love grow tired and weary as the "game" wears on.

Our demonstrations of love are not as caring, and the compassion grows a little less Christlike. Is it not time that we begin to love others with a love that heals, a love that goes the distance and finishes its work?

A number of years ago Henry Drummond wrote a classic sermon titled "The Greatest Thing in the World." He concluded his sermon by suggesting that if you put a piece of iron in the presence of an electrified field, that piece of iron itself will become electrified. And in the presence of that electrical field, it is changed into a magnet. As long as it remains in contact with that field of power, it will continue to attract other pieces to itself. We are like that piece of iron. In the presence of Christ, we experience his love and take on his likeness. We are changed, electrified by the Holy Spirit, to attract others to the same love of God that we experience.

Love is the most powerful of the potent four-letter words hate, fear, work, life. And maybe love is the hardest of all to understand. Jesus says, "A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another." This is absurd, if not impossible: how can anyone command love? I can hear my grandmother's voice enjoining my big brother the only person I have ever bitten (but he had it coming!) and me to love each other because God had given us to each other as brother and sister. We glared at each other and marveled at her naiveté. The idea of loving somebody because we were supposed to boggled our minds.

We have cheapened love by using the word carelessly. We have confused the sentimentality of the Hallmark card with the deep, dark mystery of love that is manifested for us in the incarnate Christ. Yes, love can be warm, enfolding and sheltering. Yes, love can feel good. But love can also be strong and difficult. It can be an impossible challenge.
 

This past week, I again read a quotation by Morris Niedenthal, who teaches and preaches at the University of Chicago. He says that Jesus accepted people just the way they were, but he never left people just the way they were because he loved them. Jesus always made them better. So often on Sunday morning, I say to a child at the communion rail as I bless them and trace the sign of the cross on their forehead, "Receive the sign of the cross upon your forehead so that you would know that you are baptized and that God loves you just the way you are." But Jesus never leaves that person just the way they are. Jesus always makes people better. Jesus never accepts people just the way we are and leaves us just the way we are and always makes us better. Or to put it another way, Jesus sees beneath the soil to the seeds of human possibility. Or, Jesus sees inside the seeds to the possibility of what we can become.

Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, the Roman Catholic theologian, once wrote: "Sometimes after the mastery of the winds and the waves and the tides; after the mastery of the sun and the sea and the laws of gravity, we shall harness for God the energies of love. And when we harness the energies of love, for the second time in human history, we shall discover fire." … What if we harnessed atomic fusion? Wow! But what if we harnessed the energies of love? The world would then be transformed.

In his nearly incredible report out of South Africa, No Future Without Forgiveness (New York: Image Doubleday, 1999), Archbishop Desmond Tutu's cosmic context of holy love is unmistakable: "There is a movement, not easily discernible, at the heart of things to reverse the awful centrifugal force of alienation, brokenness, division, hostility, and disharmony. God has set in motion a centripetal process, a moving toward the center, toward unity, harmony, goodness, peace and justice, a process that removes barriers. Jesus says, 'And when I am lifted up from the earth I shall draw everyone to myself' as he hangs from His cross with outflung arms, thrown out to clasp all, everyone, and everything, in a cosmic embrace, so that all, everyone, everything, belongs" (p. 265).

"Cosmic embrace." There's our answer to the sort of "purity laws" and taboos, even in Leviticus, that bear no gospel for man or beast. In cosmic embrace we rediscover the depth and scope of holy love.

Some years back neurologist Oliver Sacks wrote a fascinating vignette of an intriguing neurological difficulty. As some of you know, Tourette's Syndrome is a bizarre mental disorder that causes victims to have any number of physical and verbal tics. Some Tourettic people have constant facial twitches, others find themselves uncontrollably uttering verbal whoops, beeps, and sometimes also raunchy swear words. One man with Tourette's whom Dr. Sacks knew was given to deep, lunging bows toward the ground, a few verbal shouts, and also an obsessive-compulsive type adjusting and readjusting of his glasses. The kicker is that the man is a skilled surgeon! Somehow and for some unknown reason, when he dons mask and gown and enters the operating room, all of his tics disappear for the duration of the surgery. He loses himself in that role and he does so totally. When the surgery is finished, he returns to his odd quirks of glasses adjustment, shouts, and bows.

Sacks did not make any spiritual comments on this, of course, yet I find this doctor a very intriguing example of what it can mean to "lose yourself" in a role. There really can be a great transformation of your life when you are focused on just one thing focused to the point that bad traits disappear even as the performing of normal tasks becomes all the more meaningful and remarkable.

Something like that is our Christian goal as we travel with Jesus. Our desire is to love one another—to love the whole world finally, I suppose—as Jesus loved us. To do that, we need an infusion of a kind of love that does not arise naturally from the context of the world as we know it. So as we lose ourselves in Jesus and in being his disciples, and all our tics disappear as we focus on that love, we find even our ordinary day-to-day activities infused with deep meaning as a love from another place fills our hearts. Because if sacredness happens to us at all, it happens among the pots and pans of the everyday and not just on Sundays when we feel particularly jolted by worship or on Tuesdays when we volunteer for some service project (vital though those things are, too). If we are to love as Jesus loved us, this becomes for us a daily reality that is possible if and only when the love of Christ fills us to the brim.

Jesus' words in verse 31 about his NOW being glorified are properly odd-sounding considering what had just happened in the fact that Judas had fled the upper room to go forward with his dirty business. How strange that upon predicting his betrayal and upon seeing his betrayer exit the room that Jesus feels somehow "glorified." No mother would claim that her parenthood had been fulfilled upon seeing her son get arrested for cocaine possession. No politician would declare victory upon seeing his country attacked by terrorists. Yet Jesus sees the specter of betrayal and loss and diminishment and so much else that is dire and yet feels glorified. Even in the glow of Eastertide we in the Church do well to remember what the true nature of glory is for us. We in the Church are not "glorified" when we amass political clout, business influence, or power and glitz as the world reckons those things. The nature of our glory lies elsewhere in sacrificial love, in service, and, yes, even in laying down our lives for the sake of the kingdom if it comes to that.

Hate is an emotion we can't help. Hate is a feeling we cannot overcome. If we hate someone, it is because we just can't help ourselves. We're human. We have no choice but to hate. That is a lie. Unfortunately, it is a lie many people believe. They believe this lie in order to excuse their hatred. After all, if we can't help but hate, if hate is a feeling we simply cannot help, then hatred is never our fault, is it?

But we can help it. Hatred is a choice. We choose to hate, just as we choose to love. Oh, I know, there are people out there who believe love isn't a choice, that love is primarily an emotion, a feeling, a stirring in the loins. These are the same people who stay married for six months, then divorce. These are the people who love the idea of love but seem unable to stay in it. Love is a matter of the will - something we decide to do. Love is a choice.

Legend has it that a wealthy merchant traveling through the Mediterranean world looking for the distinguished Pharisee, Paul, encountered Timothy, who arranged a visit. Paul was, at the time, a prisoner in Rome. Stepping inside the cell, the merchant was surprised to find a rather old man, physically frail, but whose serenity and magnetism challenged the visitor. They talked for hours. Finally the merchant left with Paul's blessing. Outside the prison, the concerned man inquired, "What is the secret of this man's power? I have never seen anything like it before."

Did you not guess?" replied Timothy. "Paul is in love."

The merchant looked bewildered. "In Love?"

"Yes," the missionary answered, "Paul is in love with Jesus Christ."

The merchant looked even more bewildered. "Is that all?"

Smiling, Timothy replied, "Sir, that is everything."

A few years ago American Express quietly introduced its most exclusive new card. The Centurion Card is absolutely black, and is actually made out of titanium — the hardest known naturally occurring metal. In fact, when one of these titanium Centurion Card expires, the member has to send it back to American Express for recycling. The titanium can't be cut up or shredded. Besides, titanium is too valuable to be thrown away.

Jesus introduces and invokes a whole new mindset, heartset, soulset into the universe. Jesus established The Titanium Rule. Anyone figure out what it is? Here's a hint: you find it in his understatement in this morning's text that "it is enough for the disciple to be like the teacher."

The titanium rule does not focus on "doing;" it focuses on "being" and on "loving." Jesus asks his followers to "Love one another as I have loved you." Love others as the Christ who hung on the cross for our sins loved us. Love others as the God who "so loved the world that He gave his only begotten Son" loved us. Love others with a love that enables you to lay down your life for them. How did Jesus put it in his Farewell Discourse (John 13, 14, 15, 16, 17), when he introduced his "Great Commandment:" "Love one another as I have loved you."

And how has Jesus loved us? In that same Farewell Discourse defines how he has loved us: "Greater love has no one than this, than that he lay down his life for his friend."

There is a story about a man who had a huge boulder in his front yard. He grew weary of this big, unattractive stone in the center of his lawn, so he decided to take advantage of it and turn it into an object of art. He went to work on it with hammer and chisel, and chipped away at the huge boulder until it became a beautiful stone elephant. When he finished, it was gorgeous, breath-taking.

A neighbor asked, "How did you ever carve such a marvelous likeness of an elephant?"

The man answered, "I just chipped away everything that didn't look like an elephant!"

If you have anything in your life right now that doesn't look like love, then, with the help of God, chip it away! If you have anything in your life that doesn't look like compassion or mercy or empathy, then, with the help of God, chip it away! If you have hatred or prejudice or vengeance or envy in your heart, for God's sake, and the for the other person's sake, and for your sake, get rid of it! Let God chip everything out of your life that doesn't look like tenderheartedness.

Solomon Grundy,
Born on Monday,
Christened on Tuesday,
Married on Wednesday,
Took ill on Thursday,
Worse on Friday,
Died on Saturday,
Buried on Sunday.
This is the end of Solomon Grundy.

It is an old nursery rhyme that some of you may recall. It picks up one of the central themes of our text: the shortness of life on this earth. Jesus said to his disciples: "I am with you only a little longer."

Edgar Guest, a renowned American poet at the turn of the century, tells of a neighbor by the name of Jim Potter. Mr. Potter ran the drug store in the small town where Edgar Guest lived. Guest recalled that daily he would pass his neighbor and how they would smile and exchange greetings. But it was a mere casual relationship.

Then came that tragic night in the life of Edgar Guest when his first born child died. He felt lonely and defeated. These were grim days for him and he was overcome with grief. Several days later Guest had reason to go to the drug store run by his neighbor, and when he entered Jim Potter motioned for him to come behind the counter. "Eddie," he said, "I really can't express to you the great sympathy that I have for you at this time. All I can say is that I am terribly sorry, and if you need for me to do anything, you can count on me."

Many years later Edgar Guest wrote of that encounter in one of his books. This is how he worded it: "Just a person across the way a passing acquaintance. Jim Potter may have long since forgotten that moment when he extended his hand to me in sympathy, but I shall never forget it never in all my life. To me it stands out like the silhouette of a lonely tree against a crimson sunset."

[Suggestion for personal application of this story]

I have wondered how it is that I want people to remember me when I come to end of my life's journey.

[name some personal accomplishments each followed by]

But I really don't care if someone remembers me for that. I really don't.

I do hope that people are able to say of me at the end of my life's pilgrimage: When we were sick he came to us; when we needed help, he was there; when I was down, he lifted me up. In short, I hope that my ministry is remembered for simple acts of kindness. For if that is the case, then my life would have been worth it and I might have come close to fulfilling the greatest commandment in life: Love God and love your neighbor.

We need our laws. Laws tell us what is acceptable behavior and what is unacceptable behavior. To be sure, society will fail if it's people reject law. But law can only go so far. It can dictate to us what we can and cannot do but it is powerless to dictate to us what we think and what we feel. When Jesus says, "A new commandment I give to you," I want you to hear those words within the context of community law. When the disciples, or the Jews, talked about Commandments they were discussing laws for acceptable behavior in society. Now, I want you to hear how utterly strange these words really are, "A new COMMANDMENT I give to you: LOVE one another."

Did you catch it? A law telling us, no, commanding us to love. Rev. Richard Daggett says, this law invades the very depths of our beings; this law presumes to have jurisdiction over the way we think, the way we feel, over our opinions, our prejudices and biases, our concepts of superiority, over the way every fiber of our being, both inward and outward, responds to the world around us.

And then Richard says this: This law clarifies to us that while religion and law may exercise lordship over our actions, over the way we live, Christ wants lordship over everything we are. It is the law of the spirit and not simply the law of the letter.

And to whom does this new law apply? My brothers and sisters in Christ. It is to us.

The sign that you followed Abraham was circumcision.
The sign that you followed Moses was keeping the Sabbath.
The sign that you followed John the Baptist was that you were baptized.
The sign that you follow Jesus Christ is that you love one another.

Even when we are in mission we sometimes convey the wrong message.  A teen-aged boy informed his father of a wonderful activity that they were going to do at his church's youth group.  They were going to hand out blankets to the homeless. This was in Cleveland, Ohio where warmth is a necessity during the ruthless northeast winter.  The young man exclaimed with fervor, "We're passing out blankets so that we can tell them about Jesus!"  His father, simply and with certainty, corrected him.  He explained, "We don't give blankets to the homeless to tell them about Jesus.  We give blankets to the homeless because they're cold." 

Do you understand the difference? If we are motivated by the idea that we're going to make our church a bigger church, then our witness will ring false. If, on the other hand, we are motivated simply by the desire to transmit the love we have received from Jesus, then the world will gladly receive us.

In one of his sermons, the great preacher Fred Craddock told a story about something that happened many years ago while he was driving by himself cross-country. He had stopped at a small diner somewhere in the South to refresh himself with an early breakfast and some coffee. He had been driving through the night and now it was getting close to dawn. So before he got too sleepy, he stopped for a while.

As he waited for his breakfast order to come, Craddock spied a black man who had just come in and had sat down on a stool up by the lunch counter. The diner's manager then began to treat the black man with a contempt that was clearly borne of deep-seated racism. The manager was rude, insulting, demeaning toward his black guest. As he sat in his booth a little ways away from the counter, Craddock wrestled with saying something to chide this manager for his shameful, racist conduct. Eventually the black man quickly slurped down some coffee and then fled the diner. Craddock meanwhile remained silent. "I didn't say anything," he confessed. "I quietly paid my bill, left the diner, and headed back to my car. But as I walked through the parking lot, somewhere in the distance, I heard a rooster crow."

With that poignant, final image, Craddock evoked an entire cloud of denial, betrayal, shame, and regret. The rooster's crow following the disciple Peter's triple denial of Jesus has become one of the more famous images from the gospels. Of course, even so, not everyone knows it. I once heard Craddock say that one Sunday he was a guest preacher at a church and he preached that same sermon. After the service, a man came up to him in the narthex, shook Craddock's hand vigorously, and said, "Thank you, pastor, for that powerful sermon. That really hit home! Oh, but by the way, what was that business with the rooster?"

Bruce and Darlene Marie Wilkinson in their book The Dream Giver for Parents tell about a teenager who noticed that his father worried himself nearly to death, trying unsuccessfully to be everywhere and do everything to protect his child from life's difficulties. This young man wrote his father the following note:

"I am sure you remember, Dad, how you used to tell me stories when I was young and was afraid or insecure. Well, I have noticed that you are often worried about what might become of me when you're not there to help. Now I want to remind you of one of the stories we read together when I was little.

It's the story of the rooster who got up before dawn every day to sit on the roof of the farmhouse and crow so that the sun would rise. Because that's what he really believed: that it was his responsibility to make the sun come up. He was always afraid that if he didn't crow, everything would go wrong. He kept worrying: What would happen if I fell ill, or even died?  How would the crops grow, and the children wake up in time for school, and the frost melt, and the flowers blossom if I weren't there to make the sun rise? The world would become cold and dark; all the grass and the trees would die and the people too eventually.

Then one evening, Rooster attended a party and overslept the next morning. The other animals realized that he was not there to make the sun come up and were just about to panic when they saw a glimmer of light on the horizon . . . It was the sun rising without Rooster! Rooster was miserable when he found out that he had nothing to do with the sun's rising every morning. And embarrassed!

But he was also extremely relieved. What a weight off my shoulders, he thought, that I don't have to make the sun come up! Every morning, there it is. There must be Someone Else taking care of all this.

Dad, you light up my life, but it really isn't your responsibility to "make the sun rise for me." I know that you know Someone Else is taking care of me.

That was a lesson that Mary and Joseph had to learn. And it's a lesson I hope you and I have learned as well. God will take care of those we love and God will take care of us. Mary and Joseph went on with their lives following Christmas, and so shall we. They faced life's many challenges, but they did it with love and with faith in God. It was not easy, but they knew God was with them, just as God is with us. It's good to know. Indeed, it's the best Good News in the world.

Bishop Gerald Kennedy tells this story:

The late Bishop Francis J. McConnell was once president of DePauw University. He always liked to be on the land, and after retirement he lived on a farm in Ohio. When he was at DePauw he had a small acreage where he raised chickens. He said that everything went all right except in the middle of the night the rooster would start to crow and wake everybody up. He could not understand the behavior, so he stayed up one night to find out the trouble. He said that along about two o'clock in the morning, the interurban train coming out from Indianapolis would swing around a curve, and the headlight would shine into the chicken house. The rooster, thinking it was the sun, would begin to crow. And the bishop said, "It is not only roosters that mistake headlights for dawns."

Indeed it is not! If men can sometimes bring the darkness, so sometimes in their pride and in their limited knowledge they can promise dawns which never come, and bring disillusionment.

The sort of clothes we wear, the kind of house we live in, or the quality of our furniture should not be the result of other people doing so or because it is customary among those with whom we associate. But whatever is done in these things in the way of self-denial or deadness to the world should result from the joy we have in God, and from the knowledge of our being His children, and from entering into our precious future inheritance. Not that I mean in the least by this to imply that we should continue to live in luxury, self-indulgence, and the like while others are in great need; but we should begin the thing in a right way. Aim after the right state of heart; begin inwardly instead of outwardly. Oh, how different if joy in God leads us to any little act of self-denial! How gladly we do it then! How much does the heart then long to be able to do more for Him who has done so much for us!

Most nice respectable American churches don't talk about sin, judgment, or hell. Why? Because they are post-modern. Most Americans read the Bible selectively, omitting those parts they don't like. The first thing many American churchgoers throw out is the concept of hell, because (in their view) a nice, well-behaved God wouldn't let anybody go to hell. After you lose hell, you lose a sense of sin. Nobody is guilty of anything. Everybody is just a victim.

The call to repent has no meaning. Dr. Calvin Miller of the Beeson Divinity School claims that instead of repenting we play a nice little game entitled, "It's not all that bad." It sounds like this---"Yes, I did have a brief affair, but my wife was not meeting my needs. I didn't divorce her, so don't call it adultery; it's not all that bad." "Yes, my daughter and her fiancée share the same bedroom when they visit us, but most engaged couples do. After all, this is the 21st Century; it's not all that bad." "Sure, I sometimes drink too much, but never in front of the kids. I don't do any harm and it never causes me to miss a day of work. It's not all that bad." Many American churchgoers live in a state of denial.

When Charlie Brown did something wrong, he felt humility. But when Bart Simpson does something wrong, he feels entitlement. What a huge moral slippage this reveals in our culture. (1) Jesus message of good news always began with the word "repent." "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near." (Matthew 4:17) Jesus bragged on a notorious sinner, a tax collector, because he uttered this simple prayer, "God, have mercy on me, a sinner." A prayer of repentance always rings bells in heaven. (Luke 18:10-14) The greatness of this tax collector was that he knew how to repent, how to say, "I'm sorry." All of us can be forgiven, if we are humble enough to say, "I'm sorry."

To be servants requires courage, sacrifice and lots of love. Jack Canfield and Mark Hansen tell the story of Betty Tisdale. (Chicken Soup for the Soul) She was the wife of a Naval Doctor in Vietnam. She had compassion on the hundreds of orphans in Saigon. She made 14 trips to Saigon by using her life savings. With great determination she managed to airlift orphans from Vietnam during the time it was falling into the hands of the North Vietnamese. It was not a simple task. First, she needed birth certificates. She went to the hospital and created them herself. She managed to make 219 eligible certificates that satisfied the government. Next she had to find a place for the children to stay when they arrived at Ft. Benning, Georgia here in the states. Again she met resistance and the Secretary of the Army wouldn't answer her calls. Determined to carry out her mission, Betty called his mother and pleaded her case. Virtually overnight, her son, the Secretary of the Army, responded.

Now she was challenged as to how to get the children safely out of Vietnam. She was unable to charter a plane. She went to Ambassador Graham Martin and pleaded for some form of transportation. He agreed to help as long as the Vietnamese government cleared their release. Two Air Force transport planes flew the children to the Philippines. Because her husband was dedicated to helping his wife he used $21,000 of his own money to charter a United Airlines plane to take the children to the states. Within a month all 219 children were adopted and placed in homes in the US.

When Jesus advocates a life of self denial, he is not talking about being a martyr, nor is he wanting us all to be Mother Teresa or a Betty Tisdale. He is talking about denying ourselves the demand for power, honor and status and being servants.

Faith is a paradox. Life in the kingdom is not acquired with honors, prizes, achievements, awards and success. It is realized with sacrificial love, unwavering faith and belief that God has a seat reserved just for us. It's better than the 50 yard line. It is not just good for a single game or a single season. It is good for eternity.

At 3:00 a.m. one cold morning, a missionary candidate walked into an office for a scheduled interview with the examiner of a mission board. He sat in the waiting room until 8:00 a.m. when the examiner finally showed up. Without a word a explanation about his five hour delay, the examiner said, "Let's begin the test. First, please spell baker."

The young man responded, "B-a-k-e-r."

"Very good," responded the examiner. "I'm impressed. Now let's see what you know about figures. How much is two plus two?"

The applicant replied, "Four."

"Fine," the examiner said, "You have passed the test. I'll recommend to the board tomorrow that you be appointed."

At the board meeting the next day, the examiner spoke highly of the applicant. He said, "He has all the qualifications of a missionary, as I discovered in my test. First, I tested him on self-denial. I told him to be at the office at 3:00 a.m. He left his warm bed and came out in the cold without a word of complaint. Then, I examined him on patience. I made him wait five hours to see me. I tested on temper. He failed to show any sign of it. He did not complain and did not question my delay. Finally, I tried his humility. I asked him questions a small child could answer, and he showed no offense. He has all the characteristics to be the kind of missionary we need."

The American businessman was at the pier of a small, coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellow fin tuna. The American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them. The Mexican replied only a little while.

The American then asked why didn't he stay out longer and catch more fish. The Mexican said he had enough to support his family's immediate needs.

The American then asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?"

The Mexican fisherman said, "I sleep late; fish a little; play with my children; take siesta with my wife, Maria; stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos; I have a full and busy life, señor."

The American scoffed, "I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing; and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat; with the proceeds from the bigger boat, you could buy several boats; eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman, you would sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then Los Angeles and eventually New York City where you will run your expanding enterprise."

The Mexican fisherman asked, "But, señor, how long will this all take?"

To which the American replied, "Fifteen to 20 years."

"But what then, señor?"

The American laughed and said that's the best part. "When the time is right, you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich; you would make millions."

"Millions, señor? Then what?"

The American said, "Then you would retire and move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos."

Sometimes our American culture thinks only about things that are bigger. Bigger is always better. We get so caught up in the success syndrome of our culture that we forget the way of Jesus which called us to simplicity and, in our text today, to a life of self-denial.

A radio news series about honesty in America talked about excuses. The commentator said that people use three types of excuses when guilty of wrongdoing.

The first is outright denial - a rejection of any involvement. Sometimes this is done even though the person is obviously guilty.

The second is the "It's not my fault" excuse. The person looks around for someone he can blame. (Often it is a loved one - a husband or wife or parent. Sometimes it's the boss.)

A third form of excuse is the "I did it, but...." approach. In this instance the person blames circumstances for his shortcoming. Either he's been struggling with some illness or the assignment wasn't clear or the car's been giving him trouble.

A biographer of the Duke of Windsor, Alistair Cooke, remarks, "The Duke was at his best when the going was good." Aren't we all? Is that true of your faith? We believe in God when things are going well, but give us a few problems, a disappointment or two, and we begin to doubt.

But the parable is saying to us: God is in charge of the harvest, hang in there, because things will work out in God's way and in God's time. Our faith cannot depend just on the good times and good health.

It just may be that our theology is like that of director/actor Woody Allen, who accuses God of being an underachiever. He writes, "I would believe, if only God would give me a clear sign, like making a large deposit in my name in a Swiss bank."

Jesus says that the signs are not always clear, especially in the beginning. It is finally not for us to determine God's will. It is, however, our task to do the right thing as we know it given our limited perceptions. Jesus himself is the Good News: even the agony of the deception, denial and betrayal of some of his best friends, the wondering if God had forsaken him, and the humiliation of the cross did not keep him from saying finally, "Unto thee I commit my life."

Barbara Brown Taylor once said that if a man in the church loses his job, the pastor may well call this person to offer sympathy and prayer. But suppose that a pastor one day got wind of the fact that a certain member of his congregation had gotten a big promotion at work along with significantly more pay. And suppose the pastor then called this person and said, "Charlie, I've heard your news and so was wondering if it would be OK if I came by sometime to pray with you about this. I'm concerned about the temptations this new venture may throw your way as well as what it may do to your ability to serve here at church. So I'd like to pray for God's strength for you in the face of this new success."

Probably we'd be taken aback. But as Brown Taylor notes, that is only because we do cordon off parts of our lives from the total claims Jesus makes on us. We act as though we are our own after all and so why would the church have anything to say to us so long as life is chugging along smoothly? If we ask that, however, we reveal that we, too, quietly resist the same self-denying sacrifice that seems so offensive to some outside the church. It looks as though the only way you will ever see this self-denial as a source of comfort is if you die and are reborn. You need to kill off ordinary ways of defining value and bring to life a whole new set of values. The place to start is by admitting that without God, you are lost in sin's wilderness and unable to find your own way out. Once you know that, you are wide open to the call of the one who hopefully says, "Follow me."

For some people, it is the way they handled a crisis, or an accomplishment, or a particular event in their life, that defines their life. Let me give you some examples . . .what do you think of when I say these names?

• Washington - Crossing the Delaware River
• Lincoln - Gettysburg Address
• Benedict Arnold - Act of treason
• Herbert Hoover - The Great Depression
• Neil Armstrong - Walk on the moon
• Pete Rose - Illegal betting on baseball

The Bible is full of these defining moments:

• Adam and Eve - Their sin in the garden
• Abraham - His willingness to offer His Son Isaac
• Moses - The Dramatic Exodus from Egypt
• Judas - His act of Betrayal
• Thomas - His expression of Doubt
• Peter - His Thrice-Denial of Jesus
• Saul - The Damascus Road

After the tomb was found empty and Jesus appeared to the early church on many occasions, doubt disappeared, and the early church had overwhelming confidence in the Lord. The church today must live and be about its ministry with the same Easter confidence. We say we rely on God’s mercy for our salvation; we need to give over all areas of our lives to God’s control. What aspects of ourselves are outside God’s control? Our temper? Our money? Our time? We need join the psalmist and say, "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me." Our trust in the Lord must be complete. We are no longer defeated people but powerful Easter people. Little children in danger or in despair literally run and throw themselves into the arms of their mother. This is confident faith. When was the last time we ran and thrust ourselves onto the Lord? A cautious step in his direction is better than none at all, but believing with abandonment is called forth by an empty tomb. God wants us to fall head over heels in love with him so he can bring the greatest joy and purpose possible into our lives.

God also encourages us to hold fast to hope without wavering. Scripture says, "Where there is no hope, the people perish." Too many of us view too much of our lives and the world as hopeless. Without hope, no great strides will be made in the future; there is no venturesome faith without hope. Without hope we burrow into the ground and live the life of a mole instead of walking freely in God’s sunlight. In a difficult situation, a hopeful people find the challenge and opportunity to do something great with God.

Confident in our faith, with an unwavering hope, the Lord also encourages us to stir up one another to love and good works. We must do something. Faith and hope must move from the abstract to the particular.

Easter people are called upon to celebrate the Festival of the Resurrection each Sunday, for each Sunday is a little Easter. "... Not neglecting to meet together," is how it is written in Hebrews. To break fellowship with the worshiping community is to pursue a weakening faith. It is also a form of denial of all that Christ means. True faith, strong faith, is never faith in isolation but must always be faith shared and strengthened through regular worship. We must encourage one another to be regular in worship and strong in the faith.

The end is drawing near. The Lord will return soon to reclaim his fallen creation. When the Lord of the church comes again, how will he find us? Will we be acting like people who have been touched by the meaning of the cross and the empty tomb? Therefore, let us continue to draw near to the Lord with a true heart and a confident faith. We hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering. We consider how to stir up one another to love and good works. We do not neglect to worship but encourage one another. In sum, we will all be Easter people.

In Elie Wiesel's The Town Beyond the Wall, there is a rebellious character who has profoundly experienced the lonely place of human suffering and who chooses not to bear this in silence. He loudly laments, crying angrily to God that his fate is unjust, indeed, that God is unjust. It would seem that he had fallen into the snare of temptation, but he confesses: "I want to blaspheme, and I can't quite manage it. I go up against Him, I shake my fist, I froth with rage, but it's still a way of telling Him that He's there ... that denial itself is an offering to His grandeur. The shout becomes a prayer in spite of me."

Sometimes, when the lonely place is a place of great disturbance, it evokes our rage against God, clarifies how seriously we take God's power and presence and, thereby, brings us even closer to God. "The shout becomes a prayer in spite of me."

An enormously rich man complained to a psychiatrist that despite his great wealth which enabled him to have whatever he wanted, he still felt miserable. The psychiatrist took the man to the window overlooking the street and asked, "What do you see?" The man replied, "I see men, women, and children."

The psychiatrist then took the man to stand in front of mirror and asked, "Now what do you see?"

The man said, "I see only myself."

The psychiatrist then said, "In the window there is a glass and in the mirror there is glass, and when you look through the glass of the window, you see others, but when you look into the glass of the mirror you see only yourself. The reason for this, "said the psychiatrist, "is that behind the glass in the mirror is a thin layer of silver. When silver is added, you cease to see others. You only see yourself."

Whenever your devotion to money and material things causes you to be self centered, you in essence deny God's intention for your life. It is also a denial of the Christ, for Jesus came into the world so that we might be in union with God.

The Second President of the United States, John Adams, said, "Our Constitution was made only for a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate for a government of any other." In other words, unless our country remains Christian the Constitution will not function properly. Is John Adams right? Can our society survive without the Christian faith? There are many who would say that religion does not have the influence it once had. I agree. But they go on to say that religion is no longer relevant, that it is not necessary to creating a good world, that there are no absolutes, no objective truth. Are they right?

Dennis Prager, the Jewish social critic and scholar, says his favorite response to that question is a story, "Say you are walking down an alley at 11:00 p.m. in New York , Miami, or Los Angeles. The dim streetlights illumine your car 300 yards away. Suddenly, you see ten young men wearing leather jackets swaggering down the alley toward you. Would you feel more comfortable if you knew that those young men had just come out of a Bible study?" Every time Prager has asked that question the answer has been 'yes.'

In spite of what they say in polls, on the most practical level, people acknowledge religion's positive influence. Our society cannot exist without Christianity. So if society cannot function, if indeed our very Constitution will not work without the restraints of religion, then let me ask you a more critical question: Can Christianity exist without the cross?

Let me answer that question up front. No. Remove the cross from our faith and it is a house of cards. It will crumble under the slightest weight. Why is that? What is Christianity without the cross?

1. It is a sect without a savior.
2. It is a doctrine without self-denial

The film Chocolat is based on the book of the same name. The film relates the story of a small French town during Lent. Everyone is trying hard to avoid rich foods but what should open at the same time? A chocolate shop. It is agony to walk past the shop with its velvety chocolate smells. You can't help but think that the townsfolk had missed the point – especially when one of the most self-righteous characters breaks into the shop and gorges on the chocolates inside.

Lent is not about that kind of ‘self-denial.' There is very little value in simply giving up stuff! It's about giving stuff. Namely, the giving of your life to Christ. Giving up stuff for Lent, as the rest of the New Testament reminds us, does not really achieve anything.

How to Train Your Child to be a Delinquent

1. When your kid is still an infant, give him everything he wants. This way he'll think the world owes him a living when he grows up.
2. When he picks up swearing and off-color jokes, laugh at him, encourage him. As he grows up, he will pick up "cuter" phrases that will floor you.
3. Never give him any spiritual training. Wait until he is twenty-one and let him decide for himself.
4. Avoid using the word "wrong." It will give your child a guilt complex. You can condition him to believe later, when he is arrested for stealing a car, that society is against him and he is being persecuted.
5. Pick up after him his books, shoes, and clothes. Do everything for him so he will be experienced in throwing all responsibility onto others.
6. Let him read all printed matter he can get his hands on...[never think of monitoring his TV programs]. Sterilize the silverware, but let him feast his mind on garbage.
7. Quarrel frequently in his presence. Then he won't be too surprised when his home is broken up later.
8. Satisfy his every craving for food, drink, and comfort. Every sensual desire must be gratified; denial may lead to harmful frustrations.
9. Give your child all the spending money he wants. Don't make him earn his own. Why should he have things as tough as you did?
10. Take his side against neighbors, teachers, and policemen. They're all against him.
11. When he gets into real trouble, make up excuses for yourself by saying, "I never could do anything with him; he's just a bad seed."
12. Prepare for a life of grief.

Pastor Earl Palmer of the First Presbyterian Church of Berkeley tells about Rembrandt’s painting called The Adoration of the Shepherds:

“This is Rembrandt’s interpretation of the visit of the shepherds to the babe in Bethlehem. It is a simple scene in a stable. In the foreground are the mother and child, with Joseph in the shadows in the background. Peering into the manger where the babe is lying are the shepherds, with their sheep scattered around them. They could not leave the sheep in the field, they had to bring them along. Arching above the manger the artist has painted a ladder which suggests, in the shadows it casts, the form of a cross. Rembrandt was too great a painter just to put a cross in, with no justification in terms of the picture itself, but the ladder subtly suggests it. And on the beam against which the ladder rests is a rooster, the symbol of betrayal. The artist is suggesting that it is by means of the crushing inner agony of betrayal, and the outer agony of crucifixion, that the One in the manger would become the world’s Deliverer and Redeemer.

“But the striking thing about the picture is that the light illuminating the whole scene is not coming from outside but from the manger where the babe is lying. There is no halo over the babe, such as medieval painters often employed, but the light which illuminates the faces looking in is streaming from the manger. Their faces are put into sharp relief as they look down, and you can see that the light is coming from the babe himself. That is Rembrandt’s very remarkable way of saying that the story of Christmas is the story of light in darkness.”

When Charles Swindoll was a young boy, he was greatly influenced by this remark from an old Texan: "The problem with the Christian life is that it's so daily."

It's true. Following Jesus is a lifestyle that builds on past lessons and decisions, but it also depends on our dedication day by day. We cannot live off yesterday's successes, last week's prayers, or the Bible stories we heard when we were children.

Each new day is both a challenge and an opportunity. Our faith will be challenged, and we can use that challenge as an opportunity to grow in our relationship with God. Jesus Himself said that those who wanted to be His disciples were expected to be in a continual attitude of self-denial and obedience to Him. Here's how the Lord put it: "If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow Me" (Lk. 9:23).

As each day unfolds, we must pause and remind ourselves that this is a day dedicated to God, that it is to be used for His glory, and that it is best lived with a continual recollection of what Jesus did for us on the cross. Starting today, let's look at life that way. It's a daily commitment.

The Christian life is more than just
A prayer of faith made in the past;
It's dedicating every day
To live for Christ and what will last.

Dedication to Christ is not just a one-time choice, it's a daily challenge.

Our greatest Advent challenge seems to be the need to face the truth about ourselves. Both Isaiah and John tell us some very unflattering things about who we are and what we are capable of doing. Truth be told, all of us some of the time and some of us all of the time are in radical denial about the situation of our planet, our nation, and our lives. For example, like the people who heard John, we can claim an entitlement that keeps us from becoming the prepared and faithful people God calls us to be. The folks in John's crowd were tempted to say, "We have Abraham as our father." Meaning what? Meaning we can coast through life as the entitled ones refusing to face the demands that being Abraham's children require of us.

We do the same thing. Put your own entitlement in the blank. "We are Americans." Or, "We are Baptists." Or, "We have a rich worship tradition in our Church," Or, "We have _______." For God to prepare us for God's coming in Jesus Christ, we must lay down our entitlements, our selfish "rights," anything that may indicate a sense of ownership, and confess that God has the gift of God's Kingdom, and we cannot receive the gift until we first admit we deeply and honestly need it. Justice, righteousness, peace, and dozens of other gifts all come into our needy lives, not from our own bankrupt professions or clichéd confessions.  Advent is about receiving God's judgment on all our self-protecting behaviors so we can finally, at last, receive God's gift of uncommon grace.

Not long ago, a hard-rock singer reknowned for his notorious over indulgence in mind-altering drugs appeared on television to scream, lunge, and gyrate through one of his bestselling songs. Inasmuch as the rather badly garbled words were totally incomprehensible to me, I turned my attention to the bizarre, uninhibited attire of this widely heralded "artist." Not to dwell on the flamboyance of his appearance, I wish only to point out that dangling from an expensive chain around his neck was a large cross. Perhaps it was there as a counterstatement, a message of rebellion to institutional religion, or perhaps he simply counted it as an attractive piece of jewelry. I do not know. But more and more, the cross is appearing on necklaces, earrings, bracelets, and the like as fashionable symbols, which is all right, I suppose, except that the behavior of those brandishing them is not always consistent with what the cross represents. If a person in ancient Rome had adorned himself with a cross, it would have been the equivalent of someone today wearing the likeness of the electric chair around his neck. The cross was originally not considered to be a thing of beauty. It conveyed pain, humiliation, and death. It still does, except in the Christian context. Another dimension was added to Calvary ... victory.

Jesus issued a call to discipleship, but the invitation contained an inherent inhibitor: "If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me." A cross of adornment or embellishment was not what Jesus had in mind. Self-denial and risking the consequences of following the way of Christ are at the heart of the call to discipleship.

In the eighteenth century, a German artist, Stenberg, was walking through the market place of his home town when he was attracted to the face of a dancing gypsy girl. He invited her to sit for him in his studio as a model. Accepting his invitation, she enabled Stenberg to paint his famous "Dancing Gypsy Girl." There is more. The young girl was greatly impressed by what she saw in the artist’s studio, particularly a painting in progress titled "Crucifixion." Arrested by the painting, she said one day to Stenberg, "He must have been a very bad man to have been nailed to a cross like that." Stenberg replied, "No, he was a good man. The best man who ever lived. Indeed, he died for all men." The girl asked, "Did he die for you?" Stenberg had never really made such a personal application of his explanation. He was led to search the Scriptures, and in a few short weeks, he discovered the answer and surrendered himself to Christ. Returning to his painting of the "Crucifixion," he added these words beneath the likeness of Christ on the cross: "This I did for thee; what hast thou done for me?" There is more. A young aristocratic count, Zinzendorf by name, chanced to observe the painting, paused to meditate at both the depiction and the words, and was so moved that he went on to found the Moravians.

There are elements of power and attraction about the cross. There also is an inaudible appeal: "This I did for thee; what hast thou done for me?" Have we denied ourselves and taken up our cross, whatever it may be, and followed him?

A farmer repeatedly invited a friend into his apple orchard to taste the fruit and make some fresh cider. But, just as often, the friend said, “No, I would rather not.”

Finally, the farmer said, “I guess you are prejudiced against my apples.”

“Well, to tell the truth,” his friend said, “I have tasted a few of them and they are very sour.”

The farmer then asked which apples his friend had eaten. “Why, those apples which fell along the road over your fence,” he replied.

“Ah, yes,” said the farmer, “they are sour. I planted them to fool the boys who live around here. But, if you will come beyond the gate into the middle of my orchard, you will find a different taste.”

On the edges of Christianity are some very sour apples—conviction, self-denial, and purity of life—which keep off hypocrites and mere professors. But in the middle of the orchard are delicious fruits, sweet and desirable. The nearer to God, the sweeter the joy.

Let me give you a modern day illustration of a man whom I believe both understood and exemplified Jesus' words on self-denial, cross-bearing and following Him. Some of you may be familiar with the name Dietrich Bonhoeffer. He was a Lutheran pastor who lived in Germany during the Second World War. Convinced that it was his Christian duty to work within his own country for the defeat of Adolf Hitler, Bonhoeffer became a part of an underground resistance movement. Unfortunately, his involvement was discovered and he was sent to a prison camp. He never returned. In 1945, at the age of 39, he was executed by hanging, just as War II was ending. We may not share in all of his views, but by any and all definitions he is a 20th century Christian martyr.

By the time of his death he had already done quite a bit of writing. Perhaps his best-known work (still available and popular today) is entitled, "The Cost of Discipleship." In it he offers many thought provoking statements on the Christian life. One of the phrases he uses over and over again (and something he accuses many modern Christians of buying into) is the concept of "cheap grace."

Listen to how he defines it: "Cheap grace is the deadly enemy of our church. Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, communion without personal confession. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ."

When a person becomes a Christian, he usually undergoes some radical life changes, especially if he has had an immoral background. Through the first steps of spiritual growth and self-denial, he gets rid of the large, obvious sins. But sad to say, many believers stop there. They don't go on to eliminate the little sins that clutter the landscape of their lives.

Gordon MacDonald, in his book Ordering Your Private World, told of an experience in his own life that illustrates this truth: "Some years ago, when Gail and I bought the old abandoned New Hampshire farm we now call Peace Ledge, we found the site where we wished to build our country home strewn with rocks and boulders. It was going to take a lot of hard work to clear it all out....The first phase of the clearing process was easy. The big boulders went fast. And when they were gone, we began that process on the smaller rocks. After the site was cleared of the boulders and the rocks, the stones and pebbles seemed to multiply. This was much harder, more tedious work. But we stuck to it, and there came the day when the soil was ready for planting grass."

Jesus did not have the need to respond to every need. I have always found it odd that people imagine Jesus met every need. When Jesus was Capernaum, he was not in Bethsaida! People in Bethsaida could have been healed. When he was in the wilderness, people back in town were suffering. Jesus might have met the needs of one or two per cent of the needy in Palestine of the day. Coming to terms with our human limitations in time and space and energy is crucial if we are to survive in ministry and Jesus was no exception. Jesus did not exercise his ministry on the basis of his need to be needed, but on the basis of what he could do as a bearer of the Spirit, nothing more. That is always enough – and never enough to meet all needs. Failure to acknowledge our limitations often leads to denial of the immensity of human need, because we are afraid of not being in control.

The Nicene Creed is a statement of belief widely used in Christian liturgy. It is called Nicene because it was originally adopted in the city of Nicaea (present day İznik, Turkey) by the First Council of Nicaea in 325.

We believe in one God,
      the Father almighty,
      maker of heaven and earth,
      of all things visible and invisible.

And in one Lord Jesus Christ,
      the only Son of God,
      begotten from the Father before all ages,
           God from God,
           Light from Light,
           true God from true God,
      begotten, not made;
      of the same essence as the Father.
      Through him all things were made.
      For us and for our salvation
           he came down from heaven;
           he became incarnate by the Holy Spirit and the virgin Mary,
           and was made human.
           He was crucified for us under Pontius Pilate;
           he suffered and was buried.
           The third day he rose again, according to the Scriptures.
           He ascended to heaven
           and is seated at the right hand of the Father.
           He will come again with glory
           to judge the living and the dead.
           His kingdom will never end.

And we believe in the Holy Spirit,
      the Lord, the giver of life.
      He proceeds from the Father and the Son,
      and with the Father and the Son is worshiped and glorified.
      He spoke through the prophets.
      We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic church.
      We affirm one baptism for the forgiveness of sins.
      We look forward to the resurrection of the dead,
      and to life in the world to come. Amen.

The Nicene Creed (325-381 A.D.) provides a fuller explanation of the Christian faith. It is called Nicene because a general council of the church, similar to Vatican II held in the 1960s, met in the city of Nicaea in Asia Minor. The Council was called to deal with the heresy of Arianism, which was a denial of the Trinity. The Nicene Creed goes into more detail than the Apostles' Creed on the Trinity and the person of Jesus.

A final version of the creed was formulated by another Council which met in Constantinople in 381 A.D. The creed is and has been from the start a topic of contention. In 598 a provincial church council meeting in Toledo, Spain, added the "filioque clause" which says that the Holy Spirit proceeded from the Father "and the Son." This added clause was accepted by the Western but not the Eastern church. It became one of the causes of the schism between East and West in 1064 A.D. Today the clause is still proving to be a stumbling block to closer relations with the Eastern Orthodox church. The Nicene Creed is familiar to most churchgoers in liturgical churches, because it is used in the worship service on festivals and certain seasons such as Advent, Christmas, Lent, and Easter.

We must remember that regardless of what happens, God will be with us. Wrote the Psalmist: "When I am afraid I put my trust in you." Well, let me ask you. Where else are you going to go? No matter the trials we face, God is still going to be the same. God is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow.

In his Pulitzer Prize winning book, The Denial of Death, Ernest Becker says that so many of the fears that we grapple with--fear of rejection, abandonment, failure, separation, and loss--are but manifestations of the one ultimate fear, and that is the fear of death. Perhaps he is right. How do we overcome that ultimate fear? Faith. It is the only antidote that will exercise the demons of fear that can haunt us.

A lot of what God had done throughout history hasn't seemed fair to people. Why was Jacob not denounced by God for his conniving ways?  Why was David not disowned by God for his disgraceful actions?  Why was the adulteress not condemned by Jesus for her open disregard of the moral laws?  Why was Peter not disavowed by God after his blatant denial of Christ in the courtyard? Why was Paul not banished by God forever because of his persecution of the Christians early in his life?  Why?  That is the question: Why?  And the answer is because there is nothing in the world so tenacious and resolute as the grace of God.  The Gospel of John tells us:  "God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him."