I don't know if teachers still do this, but there was a time when teachers would threaten misbehaving or underachieving students with the words, "Be careful, young man (or woman), because some day this may go on your Permanent Record." This threat was enough to strike fear in the hearts of conscientious students everywhere. But has anyone ever seen their Permanent Record? Has anyone ever suffered dire consequences after high school because of some notation made on their Permanent Record? Author and journalism professor Michael Shapiro decided to investigate the matter. He found out from a retired New York City schoolteacher that there really is such thing as a Permanent Record. So Shapiro went down to his old high school and asked to see his file. All his grades and academic information from kindergarten through high school were stored in one big file. His extracurricular activities were listed in the Permanent Record. According to his Permanent Record, he was a mediocre student without many distinguishing achievements. And yet, Shapiro found comfort in reading his Permanent Record. He knew that he had left behind that mediocrity and created a successful career for himself.

One of the disadvantages of growing up in a very religious home like I did was that you never knew the end of Sunday night TV movies. When the annual showing of The Wizard Oz came on television every year, I sat through the tornado, saw the house that smashed the wicked witch of the East, and heard the munchkins sing about the yellow brick road. But then just as it got to the exciting parts, my parents announced that it was time for Training Union and Sunday night worship. In spite of all my protests, my parents packed me off to church. I didn't get to see the wizard or learn how Dorothy managed to get back home until I was an adult!

One of my favorite songs in that delightful musical is the one where the scarecrow, the tin man and the lion take turns singing, "If I Only Had…" It's a game that many of us still play today. "If I Only Had…" In the movie, each character had a different need. The scarecrow wanted a brain; the tin man wanted a heart; the lion wanted courage. And through it all Dorothy was looking for a home.

Like us, they were not complete persons. Each one needed something to balance out their personality or their lives. Like us, they seemed to emphasize one part of the personality to the exclusion of another. But it is only when a person develops wholeness that they truly find themselves. Only in wholeness are we at home with ourselves and with God.

Our Scripture passage for today reminded me of the song from the Wizard of Oz. In the text, Jesus makes a reference to the various parts of us in a way very similar to the musical's division of brain, heart, home, and nerve. Jesus says it this way: "Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength, and you shall love your neighbor as yourself."

In a cartoon, Frank and Ernest are standing in front of row after row of shelves of books. On top of one of the shelves is a sign, which reads, "Law Library." Franks turns and says to Ernest: "It's frightening when you think that we started out with just Ten Commandments."

It is sort of frightening isn't it? We started out with 10 and now we have an estimated 35 million laws on the books in the United States alone. Some of them are very good and deeply needed. But there are some that probably need to be repealed.

For example: Did you know there is a law in Florida that makes it illegal for a woman who's single, divorced or widowed to parachute out of a plane on Sunday afternoon?

In Amarillo, Texas, it is against the law to take a bath on the main street during banking hours.

In Portland, Oregon, it is illegal to wear roller skates in public restrooms.

In Halethorpe, Maryland, a kiss lasting more than a second is an illegal act.

And in St. Louis, there used to be a law that if your automobile spooked a horse, you had to hide the car. And if hiding didn't work, you had to start dismantling it until the horse calmed down.

Today we meet a scribe who wants to know which of the 10 Commandments is the most important. He wasn't trying to trap Jesus. He wasn't trying to be impertinent. This Scribe was a seeker. He wanted to know which one of the commandments would get him closer to God. It appears that he was running a sort of Spiritual Checkup on himself.

An ancient rabbi once asked his pupils how they could tell when the night had ended and the day was on its way back.

"When you see an animal in the distance and can tell what kind of animal it is" answered one pupil.

"No" replied the rabbi.

"When you see a tree in the distance and can tell what kind of tree it is" replied another.

"No" answered the rabbi.

"Well then" his pupils asked "how can we tell when night has ended and day has arrived?"

"It is when you look into the face of another man or woman and see that he or she is your brother or sister. If you can't do this, no matter what time it is, it is still night."

Jesus is the Light of the World and the most important thing we can do is to let His light shine by "loving God with all our heart, with all our soul, with all our mind, and with all our strength." And "Loving our neighbor as our self."

In the days of the circuit riders a minister was out riding one afternoon and came upon a man out working in his field.

"Fine day isn't it?" the minister called out.

"Its fine for you", the man replied, "All you have to do is ride around on that horse thinking about God all day long, while I have to sweat here in this field and then walk home afterward. I don't think it is right you should have things so easy while I have to work so hard."

"On the contrary", the minister answered, "thinking about God is one of the most difficult things you can do.  And to prove it, I'll give you this horse if you can think about God and nothing else for one minute."

"You're on," said the man and immediately he sat down in silence.  Thirty seconds later he looked up at the minister, and said, "Does that include the saddle?"

Jesus wants us to love God and others with our soul. The soul is that part of us that denies logic. It is a mystery. Loving with our souls goes beyond what people would consider as normal. We give forth our love because we want to and it probably makes no sense to outsiders.

During the course of earning her master's degree, a woman found it necessary to commute several times a week from Victory, Vermont to the state university in Burlington, a good hundred miles away. Coming home late at night, she would see an old man sitting by the side of her road. He was always there, in sub zero temperatures, in stormy weather, no matter how late she returned. He made no acknowledgment of her passing. The snow settled on his cap and shoulders as if he were merely another gnarled old tree. She often wondered what brought him to that same spot every evening. Perhaps it was a stubborn habit, private grief or a mental disorder.

Finally, she asked a neighbor of hers, "Have you ever seen an old man who sits by the road late at night?" "Oh, yes," said her neighbor, "many times." "Is he a little touched upstairs? Does he ever go home?" The neighbor laughed and said, "He's no more touched than you or me. And he goes home right after you do. You see, he doesn't like the idea of you driving by yourself out late all alone on these back roads, so every night he walks out to wait for you. When he sees your taillights disappear around the bend, and he knows you're okay, he goes home to bed."

G. K. Chesterton once said that the really great lesson of the story of "Beauty and the Beast" is that a thing must be loved before it is loveable. A person must be loved before that person can be loveable. Some of the most unlovely people I have known got that way because they thought that nobody loved them. The fact of the matter is that unless and until we feel ourselves loved, we cannot love. That's not only a principle of theology but of psychology and sociology as well. Just as abused children grow up to abuse their children, loved children grow up to love their children. Loved persons are able to love. Unloved persons are not. Christianity says something startling. It says that God loves and accepts us "just as we are." Therefore we can love and accept ourselves and in so doing, love and accept others.

Today as much as ever, people need to know that this kingdom is real and available. They need to see the joy and the possibilities of that kingdom in us. Because often people are too easily satisfied just to make do with what is quick and easy and cheap. People settle for sex or liquor or a rock band or the distractions provided by entertainment. They look to these things to save them, or at least to help them move forward in a grim world. But, as C.S. Lewis once wrote, we are far too easily satisfied. We're like a child who turns down an invitation for a day at the beach and chooses instead to stay sitting in a slum alley making mud pies just because the child really can't imagine how much better a day at the shore can be. "What could be better than making these slimy mud pies?" the child might think. Ah, if only he knew!

Or as Dallas Willard writes, when he was a boy, rural electrification was just happening and power lines were being strung throughout the countryside. But suppose even after the lines were up and running, suppose you ran across a house where the weary family still used only candles and kerosene lanterns for light, used scrub boards, ice chests, and rug beaters. A better life was waiting for them right outside their door, they were, not far from it, if only they would let themselves be hooked into the power lines. "My friends," you could proclaim, "electricity is at hand!" But suppose they just didn't trust it, thought it was too much of a hassle, and anyway didn't believe the promises that things might be easier with this newfangled juice running into their house. "If it's all the same to you, we'll stick with the old ways."

Maybe the kingdom is like that: it's here, not far away, it's real, it is right outside your door. The kingdom of God is at hand! A heart of love can help you draw near to it. Don't be so easily satisfied with the temporary pleasures of sex and money, power and food, cable TV and the wonders of technology. A better, exciting, hopeful, joyful kingdom of life is real. We need to be in the business of driving away the demons of doubt, despair, cynicism, arrogance, and anything else that hinders people from believing our message and so entering Jesus' kingdom. The kind of unclean spirits Jesus so routinely encountered have not gone off duty, my friends. Just look around. It is because they remain so real and powerful that we must proclaim and also live under the rule of God right now. The kingdom of God is at hand. We live knowing that this is true! We live to help others believe it, too.

A rabbi was asked, "Which act of charity is higher - giving out of obligation or giving from the heart?"

All in the class were inclined to respond that giving from the heart had something more in it, but they knew the rabbi was going to say just the opposite, because in spiritual teaching nothing is logical. They were not disappointed.

"Giving from the heart is a wonderful thing," the rabbi said, "It is a very high act and should never be demeaned. But there is something much more important that happens when somebody gives charity out of obligation.

"Consider who is doing the giving. When somebody gives from the heart, there is a clear sense of oneself doing something; in other words, heartfelt charity always involves ego gratification.

"However, when we give out of obligation, when we give at a moment that every part of us is yelling NO! because of one reason or another - perhaps the beneficiary is disgusting, or it is too much money, or any of thousands of reasons we use to avoid giving charity - then we are confronting our own egos, and giving nonetheless. Why? Because we are supposed to. And what this means is that it is not us doing the giving, rather we are vehicles through which God gives...

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."

I think it was Charlie Brown who said, "I love humanity! It is people I can't stand!" Yet the costly love that Jesus embodies involves an intimate encounter with God's fierce and holy love. It involves pouring out self for real people, sinners all, with all their real-life quirks, faults, smells, and flesh-and-blood sins. 

That harried young mother in the doctor's waiting room (or maybe the next pew): perhaps loving her as yourself means offering to watch the toddler while she feeds the baby. That person in line at the bank who's stumbling over the English language and struggling to understand deposits and withdrawals: could loving him mean stepping out of line and helping him get it straight? That next-door neighbor struggling to keep his marriage together, that daughter who pushes your buttons every ten minutes, that husband scared of being laid off these are the ones who desperately need the strong saving love, the compassion and mercy, the challenge and holiness and presence of Jesus. In those moments, dare to risk being rebuffed or inconvenienced. Dare to look foolish and make mistakes. Dare to love God and that person, even if it wrings your heart with pain to do so. It's what we've been created, redeemed, and commanded to do. Hang your whole life on love, for the truth is, it's God's love, active in you. And his love will never fail.

The Quaker philosopher Rufus Jones, in his autobiography, relates a childhood incident that seems trivial in itself, but, seen in the light of what he eventually became, it was probably the turning point in his life that made him the great man he was. One day his parents told him to stay home and weed the turnip patch while they were gone. He had just begun when some friends came along and persuaded him to go fishing with them, promising to help him weed the garden when they got back. But, as every fisherman knows, it's practically impossible to keep track of the time when you're fishing especially if the fish are biting!

When young Rufus finally returned home after dark, his mother was waiting for him. Silently, she led him to his room. He knew what he deserved, so he offered not a word of excuse. "But then," he writes, "a miracle happened instead. Mother put me in a chair, kneeled down, put her hands on me, and told God all about me. She interpreted her dream of what my life was to be. She portrayed the boy and the man of her hopes. She told God what she always expected me to be, and then how I had disappointed her hope. 'O God!' she prayed. 'Take this boy of mine and make him the boy and man he is divinely designed to be.' Then she bent over and kissed me and went out and left me alone in the silence with God."

All around us are forces at work to distract, delude, and deter us from experiencing God's plan and vision for us as individual believers and as the body of Christ as a whole. We see people shattered on the rocks of delusion and despair. We see a skyrocketing divorce rate, abuse in the home, disease, crime, abortion, gangs, suicide, incest, child abuse, rape, drive-by shootings, drugs, and the inability of government to handle our problems because we are a people who seek man-made solutions and ignore the biblical mandates of Scripture. So, the list of problems grow.

Unfortunately, in the midst of this, we also see churches turned inward rather than outward as lights in the midst of this horrible darkness. Why? Because to a very large degree, the church—though very religious—has ignored the truth of this passage and lost sight of the vision it gives us of what life should be.

Let us not forget as we examine this passage that Christ's conflict was with the religious people. They were experts in the Old Testament Scriptures but they had missed the central truth of the Word of God. And the same can apply to us.

Wouldn't it be great if I won a million dollars? Well, maybe it wouldn't be so great. Not everyone has the same idea of a great time. One person's wish may be another's nightmare. Take, for example, the story of three men who were sailing together in the Pacific Ocean. Their vessel was wrecked and they found themselves on an island. They had plenty of food, but their existence was in every way different from what their lives had been in the past. The men were walking by the seashore one day after they had been there for some months and found an ancient lantern. One man picked it up. As he began to rub it and clean it, a genie popped out and said, "Well, since you have been good enough to release me, I will give each of you one wish." 

The first man said, "Oh, that's perfectly marvelous. I'm a cattleman from Wyoming and I wish I were back on my ranch." Poof! He was back on his ranch.

The second man said, "Well, I'm a stockbroker from New York, and I wish that I were back in Manhattan." Poof! He was back in Manhattan with his papers, his telephones, his clients and his computers. 

The third fellow was somewhat more relaxed about life and actually had rather enjoyed life there on the island. He said, "Well, I am quite happy here. I just wish my two friends were back." Poof! Poof! Everybody's idea of a "great time" isn't the same! 

So is it true? Are many Americans sitting around wishing, "Now wouldn't it be great ...if I won the lottery...if I had my dream house...if I was famous...." As Christians...as the people of God...what if instead of wishing for money or fame or success or more "things," we could just as earnestly wish with all our hearts and souls and minds and strength that we could love the Lord our God and love our neighbor as ourselves?

A story is told of an easterner who walked into a western saloon. He was amazed to find a dog sitting at a table playing cards with three men. He asked the men, "Can that dog really play cards?" One of the men answered, "Yeah, but he ain't much of a player. Whenever he gets a good hand he wags his tail."

When it comes to our feelings about our Creator, our Savior, our Lord, we need to let our tails wag a bit more freely.

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.

A man once observed a young boy out in a field flying a kite. He noticed that there was something odd about the way the boy was standing and holding on to the string. He walked up to the boy and then learned that the boy was blind. He said, "Do you like flying kites?"

The boy said, "I sure do."

This piqued the man's curiosity and he asked, "How is that when you cannot see it?"

The boy answered, "I may not be able to see it but I can feel it tugging'!"

We may not always be able to identify the love of God in this world. Like the little boy, we may not be able to see love but it has a tug that let's us know it's there.

A six year old boy was assisting his mother with some spring gardening. The mother was absorbed in her work while the little boy explored the miracle of growing things exploding everywhere. All at once the boy picked up a daffodil bud, and sat down on the ground, and studied it. Then with his two little hands, he tried to force it open into a full blossom. The result, of course, was disappointment and a mess: limp petals and a dead flower.

Frustrated, he cried out, "Mommy, why is it that when I try to open the buds, it just falls to pieces and dies. How does God open it into a beautiful flower?"

Even before his mother could answer, a broad smile broke across the child's face, and he exclaimed, "Oh! I know! God always works from the inside."  That is a parable of the Kingdom. God's works from the inside. His kingdom is alive and it is growing, in our love for one another. That's the "inside work" of the Kingdom.

Dick Hyman is a newspaper feature columnist who writes humorously about laws that are still on the books but outrageously irrelevant.  For instance, did you know that in Waterloo, Nebraska, barbers are forbidden by law to eat onions between 7 a.m. and 7 p.m.?  In Kentucky, there is a state law that orders all citizens to take a bath at least once a year.

All these laws seem ridiculous to us now.  We laugh at them because it’s foolish to keep laws which have long outlived their usefulness.  But have you thought lately about that law which will never be outdated?   Jesus said it was the greatest law: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength, and your neighbor as yourself.”

If we lived by this twin-pronged law of Jesus, we would not have to legislate in so many areas of life.

The love for equals is a human thing--of friend for friend, brother for brother. It is to love what is loving and lovely. The world smiles.

The love for the less fortunate is a beautiful thing--the love for those who suffer, for those who are poor, the sick, the failures, the unlovely. This is compassion, and it touches the heart of the world.

The love for the more fortunate is a rare thing--to love those who succeed where we fail, to rejoice without envy with those who rejoice, the love of the poor for the rich, of the black man for the white man. The world is always bewildered by its saints.

And then there is the love for the enemy--love for the one who does not love you but mocks, threatens, and inflicts pain. The tortured's love for the torturer. This is God's love. It conquers the world.

A seven-year-old girl wrote Dr. Michael DeBakey, the famed heart surgeon in Houston, Texas, a note that asked this question, “Does a plastic heart have love in it?”

Dr. DeBakey replied: “Yes, a plastic heart has love in it, a great deal of love. The love in a plastic heart comes from many people who love other people, and don’t want them to die. So these people work all day and often all night to build a heart that will make people live longer.

The parable of the Good Samaritan arises out of a discussion between Jesus and a Pharisee. Here is a religious lawyer and he is asking a question on the nature of the law. The stage is set by Luke with these words: "Behold a lawyer stood up to put him to the test." Well, it's not the first time and probably won't be the last time that a lawyer phrased a trick question. It was the kind of question in which any kind of an answer would pose still further problems. It was a test question: "Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life." Now right away we know that this man was a Pharisee, because the Pharisees believed in eternal life and the Sadducees did not. Jesus could tell that this man was an astute student of the law so he asked him: "What is written?" In other words, use your own mind to discern the essence of the law. Jesus, like a good discussion leader, throws the question right back in his lap.

The lawyer had a good answer. He said: "You shall love the Lord your God with all of your heart and soul and mind and strength and you shall love your neighbor as yourself." This was a direct quote from Deuteronomy 6. It was part of the Shema, a confession regularly made in Jewish worship. Jesus says: "Excellent. You are correct." If he were a teacher I suppose he would have said: "You get A+." I have no complaint with this says Jesus. Do this and you shall live. You have not only penetrated to the essence of the law but you have worded it succinctly.

The question had been asked and the answer given. You would think that the man would be pleased and go home. But lawyers are never happy. A lawyer's responsibility is to define the limits of liability. "But he, desiring to justify himself, asked ‘Who is my neighbor.'" In other words, where does my responsibility stop? Who exactly am I responsible for?"

At this point, instead of further defining the question, Jesus tells a story. A way of indirect teaching.

A certain rich man was going from Jerusalem to Jericho. We can surmise that this man was probably a Jew because this was a road going right through the heart of Judea. He had probably been up to Jerusalem to worship and now he's going back to the City of Palm Trees. It was a very long serpentine road starting at Jerusalem, the highest point, 2,500 feet above sea level, and going straight down to Jericho, nearly 800 feet below Sea Level. The lowest place on the face of the earth not covered by water the deepest city in the world.

The Jericho Road was a notoriously thief-infested stretch of rocky mountain road, a long, lonely seventeen miles crowded with caves and danger. Since the road was so often traveled by religious pilgrims and businessmen and because it was so crooked, robbers frequented the road often. In fact, the route was so ripe for pillage that it had been nicknamed "The Bloody Pass". By the time you rounded a bend the bandits were there and you really had no chance to escape. I suppose if there had been newspapers it would not have been unusual to read about the latest mugging on the Jericho Road.

And so, too, the particular traveler in Jesus story fell victim. He was ambushed, robbed, beaten, stripped, and left to die in a pool of crimson red. Now, the question in the story is who is going to stop and help? Who is it that will not fall prey to the temptation to pass by on the other side?

1. The Priest Passes By
2. The Levite Passes By
3. The Samaritan Stops

Jesus often taught by telling parables. These were simple, down-to-earth stories which expressed spiritual truth. Today, on this third weekend of Advent, I want to use a favorite Christmas story as a modern parable. This is a true story, told to me some ten years ago by Dr. Edward Bauman of Washington, D.C.

About 30 years ago a boy named Tony was born into a family in a Midwestern state. He was blind at birth. He suffered from an extremely rare eye problem for which there was no known cure. When the little fellow was about seven years old, his doctor read in the New England Journal of Medicine of a new surgical procedure that showed some promise for correcting this particular problem. A young surgeon at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston had developed it. The local doctor and the surgeon began communicating. The boy's full medical record was sent. A decision was made to try surgery. Since Tony's family could not afford the expenses involved, local churches and civic clubs helped out.

Tony had a favorite teddy bear which he kept with him almost all the time. This teddy bear had begun to show signs of wear. One eye was missing; one ear was chewed off; and through several holes the stuffing was oozing out. Tony's mother told him that she was going to buy him a new teddy bear to take to Boston. Tony rejected that offer in no uncertain terms. What good is a new teddy bear when you have an old, familiar, friendly one already broken in? So, the old teddy bear went to Boston and remained close to Tony through all the medical procedures leading up to surgery: the x-rays, tests, and consultations. In fact, the boy and his teddy bear were not separated until the anesthesia was applied.

Throughout this whole period the boy and the young surgeon were becoming great friends. In fact, the surgeon was almost as excited as the family about the possibilities of this surgery. Somehow there was a good chemistry of friendship and trust between physician and Tony. When the surgery was completed, Tony was heavily bandaged and had to remain quite still for a number of days. That is very hard for a 7 year old. But each day the surgeon was in an out of the room encouraging him.

Finally came the day for removing the bandages. For the first time in seven years of life, a little boy could see. Though the vision was blurred at first, it gradually clarified. For the first time Tony looked into the faces of his parents, saw a tree, and a sunset. The young surgeon was almost literally jumping up and down for joy.

Before long it was time for Tony to be discharged and to go home. The surgeon had been dreading this day because the two of them had become such good friends. On that final morning, the surgeon signed the necessary discharge papers. He gave Tony a big hug and said, "'Listen, I own stock in you. I expect to get letters from you regularly. Do you understand?"

Then Tony did something totally unexpected. He said to his surgeon friend, "I want you to have this," and handed him his teddy bear. The surgeon’s first impulse was to say, "Oh no, I can’t separate you two good friends." But something stopped him. With a flash of sensitive genius, the surgeon understood what Tony was trying to do. He wanted to give his dear surgeon-friend the most precious gift at his disposal, so full was his heart with love. The wise surgeon accepted the teddy bear with a hug and a thank-you, assuring Tony that he would take mighty good care of his friend.

For over ten years that teddy bear sat in a glass case on the tenth floor of Massachusetts General Hospital---one eye missing, one ear chewed half off, and stuffing oozing out of holes. In front of the teddy bear was the surgeon's professional name card. Just beneath his name he had written this caption: "This is the highest fee I have ever received for professional services rendered." A little boy had given the most precious item he had, out of a love-filled heart.

This is a parable of Christmas. 2000 years ago our gracious God, with a heart filled with love, looked out upon a sin-marred, tear-stained world. Had you and I been in charge we might have destroyed the whole mess and started over. But God's great heart was too full of love to allow that. So he gave us the most precious gift at his disposal; he gave himself. "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life."

Confronted by such an awesome gift, our only fitting response is to fall on our knees and to enthrone the living Christ as our personal King of kings and Lord of lords.

In the movie Good Will Hunting, Will Hunting is a genius. He knows about everything with his head, but he uses that knowledge to hide from pain in his heart. He meets a counselor (played by Robin Williams) and guards his heart from the counselor by dissecting the counselor with his knowledge and crucifying the counselor's passions for art and his bride on his own knowledge. The counselor confronts him in a garden and says this:

You've never been out of Boston. So if I asked you about art, you could give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo? - You know a lot about him . . . life's work, political aspirations, him and the Pope, sexual orientation, the whole works, right? But you couldn't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling.

"If I asked you about war, you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right? "Once more into the breach, dear friends." But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap and watched him draw his last breath, looking to you for help.

And if I asked you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet, but you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable . . . known someone who could level you with her eyes . . . feeling like God put an angel on Earth just for you, who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her and be there forever, through anything, through cancer. You wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in a hospital room for two months holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes that the term "visiting hours" didn't apply to you.

You don't know about real loss, because that only occurs when you love something more than you love yourself. I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much."

Will Hunting knew about beauty, truth, love, and life. But he was too frightened to know beauty, truth, love, and life, and living. Because he wouldn't know; he wasn't known. He was an act hiding a wounded heart.

"Behold, I never knew you," said Jesus.

Does He know you . . . or only the act?

If your kids see you putting other things ahead of God, they will become discouraged and disillusioned, like a young Jewish boy who once lived in Germany.

His father was a successful merchant, and the family practiced their Jewish faith. But then they moved to another German city, and the boy's father announced that they would no longer attend synagogue. They were going to join the Lutheran church.

The boy was very surprised and asked his father why the family was joining the Lutheran church. His father's answer was something like, "For business reasons. There are so many Lutherans in this town that I can make good business contacts at the Lutheran church. It will be good for business."

That boy, who had a deep interest in religion, became so disillusioned with his father that something died within him. He said to himself, 'My father has no real convictions." The incident helped to turn him against religion with a vengeance.

That young boy later moved to England and began to write. His name was Karl Marx. As the father of communism he wrote the "Communist Manifesto," in which he called religion "the opiate of the masses."

I wonder if world history would have been different had Karl Marx's father heeded the admonition of the great "Shema" of Israel:

"Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God is one LORD: and you shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might."

Your kids know whether you love God with all your heart. What they want to see is parents with such love and reverence for God that they bring Him into every area of their lives and put him first in everything. Kids want to see whether their parents love God enough to obey him.

"What, positively, is the will of God? The demand for love. "You shall love your neighbor as yourself!" as the second greatest commandment belongs together with the first: "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength" (Mk. 12:28-34) There is no obedience to God which does not have to prove itself in the concrete situation of meeting one's neighbor, as in Luke (10:29-37), probably unhistorical but with the right of correct understanding of the subject matter, makes clear by combining the illustrative narrative of the Good Samaritan with Jesus' discussion of the greatest commandment. The demand for love surpasses every legal demand; it knows no boundary of limit; it holds even in regard to one's enemy (Mt. 5:43-48).

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 1636, amid the darkness of the Thirty Years' War, a German pastor, Martin Rinkart, is said to have buried five thousand of his parishioners in one year, an average of fifteen a day. His parish was ravaged by war, death, and economic disaster. In the heart of that darkness, with the cries of fear outside his window, he sat down and wrote this table grace for his children:

'Now thank we all our God
With heart and hands and voices;
Who wondrous things had done,
In whom His world rejoices.
Who, from our mother's arms,
Hath led us on our way
With countless gifts of love
And still is ours today.'"

Here was a man who knew thanksgiving comes from the love of God, not from outward circumstances.

It's very human to begin looking for something and then forget what you're looking for. Tennessee Williams tells a story of someone who forgot. It's the story of Jacob Brodzky, a shy Russian Jew whose father owned a bookstore. The older Brodzky wanted his son to go to college. The boy, on the other hand, desired nothing but to marry Lila, his childhood sweetheart a French girl as effusive, vital, and ambitious as he was contemplative and retiring. A couple of months after young Brodzky went to college, his father fell ill and died. The son returned home, buried his father, and married his love. Then the couple moved into the apartment above the bookstore, and Brodzky took over its management. The life of books fit him perfectly, but it cramped her. She wanted more adventure and she found it, she thought, when she met an agent who praised her beautiful singing voice and enticed her to tour Europe with a vaudeville company. Brodzky was devastated. At their parting, he reached into his pocket and handed her the key to the front door of the bookstore.

"You had better keep this," he told her, "because you will want it someday. Your love is not so much less than mine that you can get away from it. You will come back sometime, and I will be waiting."

She kissed him and left. To escape the pain he felt, Brodzky withdrew deep into his bookstore and took to reading as someone else might have taken to drink. He spoke little, did little, and could most times be found at the large desk near the rear of the shop, immersed in his books while he waited for his love to return.

Nearly 15 years after they parted, at Christmastime, she did return. But when Brodzky rose from the reading desk that had been his place of escape for all that time, he did not take the love of his life for more than an ordinary customer. "Do you want a book?" he asked. That he didn't recognize her startled her. But she gained possession of herself and replied, "I want a book, but I've forgotten the name of it."

Then she told him a story of childhood sweethearts. A story of a newly married couple who lived in an apartment above a bookstore. A story of a young, ambitious wife who left to seek a career, who enjoyed great success but could never relinquish the key her husband gave her when they parted. She told him the story she thought would bring him to himself. But his face showed no recognition. Gradually she realized that he had lost touch with his heart's desire, that he no longer knew the purpose of his waiting and grieving, that now all he remembered was the waiting and grieving itself. "You remember it; you must remember it the story of Lila and Jacob?"

After a long, bewildered pause, he said, "There is something familiar about the story, I think I have read it somewhere. It comes to me that it is something by Tolstoy." Dropping the key, she fled the shop. And Brodzky returned to his desk, to his reading, unaware that the love he waited for had come and gone.

This Tennessee Williams's 1931 story "Something by Tolstoy" reminds me how easy it is to miss love when it comes. Either something so distracts us or we have so completely lost who we are and what we care about that we cannot recognize our heart's desire.

A man and a woman who had been corresponding solely by mail fell in love with one another. They agreed to meet at the airport. Since they had never seen each other, they devised a plan that would help them recognize each other. She was to wear a green scarf and a green hat and have a green carnation pinned to her coat.

When the man got off his plane, he immediately began looking for her. Suddenly he saw a woman with a green scarf, green hat, and green carnation. His heart fell. She was one of the most homely women he had ever seen in his life. He was tempted to get back on the plane without approaching her. Nevertheless, he walked over to the woman, smiled, and introduced himself.

Immediately the woman said, "What is this all about, anyway? I don't know who you are. That woman over there gave me five dollars to wear these things." When the man looked over at the woman mentioned, he realized that she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. The man approached the woman, who later explained, "All my life men have wanted to be with me, to be my friend, because of my beauty. They consider me beautiful. I want someone to love me, not just for my outward appearances, but for what I am inside.

Rufus Jones lost a son of eleven years who was all the world to him. He wrote many years later about the experience, concluding with this luminous parable of how his own heart was opened to God's love:

"When my sorrow was at its most acute I was walking along a great city highway, when suddenly I saw a little child come out of a great gate, which swung to and fastened behind her. She wanted to go to her home behind the gate, but it would not open. She pounded in vain with her little fist. She rattled the gate. The she wailed as though her heart would break. The cry brought the mother. She caught the child in her arms and kissed away the tears. 'Didn't you know I would come? It's all right now.' All of a sudden I saw with my spirit that there was love behind my shut gate."

If you suffer with God you will find love behind your shut gate, a love that can lead you through the gate to be at home with all the children of God.

Archbishop William Temple once noted that spiritually minded people differ from materially minded people not in that they think about different things but in that they think about the same things differently.

Now that’s a profound observation.  I wonder how many persons these days are even thinking in those terms.  All of us should be.

The human being is spiritual.  The philosopher was right.  There is a God-shaped void within us all.  But it’s not just a question about God.  How do we love?  What gives us meaning?  What sort of experience provides joy?  To what do we open our eyes widely and exclaim, “Ah-ha!”?  These are spiritual questions.  To be spiritually minded rather than materially minded is to think about things in the light of a year rather than an hour, to test value, to seek to fill that God-shaped void within us in a way that won’t allow you to wake up tomorrow empty again.

A cynical young medical student confronted a pastor: "I have dissected the human body," he announced, "and I found no soul."

The pastor said, "That's interesting. When you dissected the brain did you find a thought? When you dissected the eye did you find vision? When you dissected the heart did you find love?"

The student answered thoughtfully, "No, I did not."

The pastor said gently, "Of course you believe in the existence of thoughts, of vision, and of love. The human soul is the totality of man's existence in relationship with God. Just because you cannot locate it on a medical chart does not mean that it does not exist."  Most people accept such reasoning. We believe with our heads, but that is not the kind of belief that faith in Christ is about. "Even the demons believe," say the scriptures, "and tremble."

Faith in Christ is more than mere intellectual assent. It is believing with the heart, with the will, with adoration, and action.

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.

On the first day of ninth-grade health class, one blackboard was covered with the names and locations of the major bones and muscles of the human body. The diagram stayed on the board throughout the term, although the teacher never referred to it. The day of the final exam, students came to class to find the board wiped clean. The sole test question was: "Name and locate every major bone and muscle in the human body."

The class protested in unison: "We never studied that!"

"That's no excuse," said the teacher. "The information was there for months."

After the students struggled with the test for a while, he collected the papers and tore them up. "Always remember," he told us, "that education is more than just learning what you are told."

A teacher gave her class of second graders a lesson on the magnet and what it does. The next day in a written test, she included this question: "My full name has six letters. The first one is M. I pick up things. What am I?" When the test papers were turned in, the teacher was astonished to find that almost 50 percent of the students answered the question with the word Mother.

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.

It may come as a surprise to Christian listeners, who are used to thinking of Pharisees as hypocrites and enemies of Jesus, that in this passage it is Pharisees who warn Jesus to flee from Galilee because Herod wants to kill him. Not all Pharisees were hostile to Jesus. While Jesus and the Pharisees did not see things eye to eye, we find in Luke and Acts that Pharisees are often in the company of Jesus and not always antagonistic. Jesus is often invited to the home of a Pharisee for dinner (Luke 7:36, 11:37; 14:1). In Acts 5:33-39, when the Jewish Sanhedrin wanted to kill the apostles, a well-known Pharisee, Gamaliel, counsels them to be careful how they treat these men. If the undertaking of the apostles is of human origin, Gamaliel says, it will fail; "but if it is of God, you will not be able to overthrow them in that case you may even be found fighting against God!" Some Pharisees had even become Christians (Acts 15:5). And of course we know that Paul himself was a Pharisee. In fact, in his defense before the Sanhedrin he uses the present tense and says, "I am a Pharisee" (Acts 23:6).

It is generally thought that their name came from Zadok, who was the high priest under David, or possibly a later Zadok. The group by this name first appeared in the 2nd century BC and disappeared in the 1st century AD after the destruction of the temple in 70. There would be no need for temple priests if there were no temple.

According to Josephus as reported by the Harper's Dictionary of the Bible, "the Sadducees are said to reject the immortality of the soul, to attribute all human activity to free will and none to fate (or providence), and to reject other traditions, especially those of the Pharisees."

The article goes on to state:

The Sadducees were influential with only a few wealthy families and not with the people, who followed the Pharisees' interpretation of the law.... [they] were boorish in their social interactions,... they encouraged conflict with rather than respect for their teachers, were more stern than the Pharisees in recommending punishments for crimes, and ... aroused Herod's suspicions because they supported the Hasmoneans against him. From this data many commentators have surmised that the Sadducees were mostly priests and wealthy, powerful community leaders who sat in the Sanhedrin, were greatly hellenized (i.e., influenced by Greek culture), and cultivated good relationships with the Romans. [p. 891]

Marilyn vos Savant, the brilliant woman who reportedly has the highest I.Q. ever recorded, writes a syndicated column in which she answers tricky questions from people who want the benefit of her intelligence. Someone wrote to ask what she thought is the most powerful idea. Marilyn vos Savant replied that "truth" was the most powerful idea she knew of, because it is not affected by how we relate to it. Whether or not we know it, or whether or not we agree with it, doesn't matter, because truth is still true.

Ms. vos Savant is right on target. Truth is powerful. You and I believe that truth is from God.

What is the Good News of the Gospel anyway? I believe it can be summed up in three verses: "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth" (Genesis 1:1); "God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son that whosoever believeth in him should not perish but have everlasting life" (John 3:16), and "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind; and, Love your neighbor as yourself" (Luke 10:27).

You and I may believe this thing and that about Scripture and about life in general, but these three statements are incontrovertible! They are true.

They don't need to be defended; they only need to be lived. There are people in our society who spend too much of their energy and time defending God as if God needed it.

Note: Marilyn vos Savant still has the recorded highest IQ according to Guinness because they have since retired the category

The wilderness is silence and quiet.  It is the elimination of the sounds of television, the radio, the stereo, the iPod, the cell phone. It is the elimination of the voices of mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, friends. It is the elimination of the racing tape of your own mind that absorbs your thoughts. The wilderness is quiet. It is utter stillness. It is being alone with God. It is for a moment, for a minute, for a month, being still - absolutely still - …and listening.  God speaks in the wilderness of silence.  The city is so noisy; so busy; so crowded. The wilderness is silence and God speaks to us through the silence.

In the wilderness, you actually hear the voice of God speaking, "Be washed. Be cleansed of the pollution of resentment, anger, fear, and vengeance. Be washed of whatever is hurting your life and the lives of those around you." Hear the voice that says, "Your sins are forgiven; go and sin no more." Hear the voice that says, "Love one another as I have loved you." Hear the voice that says, "You shall love the Lord your God with all that is in you, all your heart, all your mind, all your soul and all your strength…and love your neighbor as you love yourself."

Be quiet. Be still. In the wilderness, you finally can see the stars and hear the sounds of the wind that are blocked out by the cacophonous noise of the city. In the quietness of the wilderness. Be still and you will hear the voice of God.

When Jewish psychiatrist Victor Frankl was arrested by the Nazis in World War II, he was stripped of everything property, family, possessions. He had spent years researching and writing a book on the importance of finding meaning in life concepts that later would be known as logotherapy. When he arrived in Auschwitz, the infamous death camp, even his manuscript, which he had hidden in the lining of his coat, was taken away.

"I had to undergo and overcome the loss of my spiritual child," Frankl wrote. "Now it seemed as if nothing and no one would survive me; neither a physical nor a spiritual child of my own! I found myself confronted with the question of whether under such circumstances my life was ultimately void of any meaning."

He was still wrestling with that question a few days later when the Nazis forced the prisoners to give up their clothes.

"I had to surrender my clothes and in turn inherited the worn-out rags of an inmate who had been sent to the gas chamber," said Frankl. "Instead of the many pages of my manuscript, I found in the pocket of the newly acquired coat a single page torn out of a Hebrew prayer book, which contained the main Jewish prayer, Shema Yisrael (Hear, O Israel! The Lord our God is one God. And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might.)

"How should I have interpreted such a 'coincidence' other than as a challenge to live my thoughts instead of merely putting them on paper?"

Later, as Frankl reflected on his ordeal, he wrote in his book Man's search for Meaning, "There is nothing in the world that would so effectively help one to survive even the worst conditions, as the knowledge that there is a meaning in one's life . . .'He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how.'"

A few years ago, a radio station ran a contest. Disc jockeys invited their listeners to tune in their clock radios. "Just for fun," they said, "when you wake up to the sound of FM-106, call and tell us the first words you spoke when you rolled out of bed. If you're the third caller, you'll win $106."

It didn't take long for the contest to grow in enthusiasm. The first morning, a buoyant disc jockey said, "Caller number three, what did you say when you rolled out of bed this morning?" A groggy voice said, "Do I smell coffee burning?" Another day, a sleepy clerical worker said, "Oh no, I'm late for work." Somebody else said her first words were, "Honey, did I put out the dog last night?" A muffled curse was immediately heard in the background, and then a man was heard to say, "No, you didn't." It was a funny contest and drew a considerable audience.

One morning, however, the third caller said something unusual. The station phone rang. "Good morning, this is FM-106. You're on the air. What did you say when you rolled out of bed this morning?"

A voice with a Bronx accent replied, "You want to know my first words in the morning?"

The bubbly DJ said, "Yes, sir! Tell us what you said."

The Bronx voice responded, "Shema, Israel ... Hear O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one. And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might." There was a moment of embarrassed silence. Then the radio announcer said, "Sorry, wrong number," and cut to a commercial.

Try to remember. What did you say when you rolled out of bed today? Chances are, those words set the tone for the rest of the day. For the pious Jew the first words of each morning are always the same, and they were the words spoken that morning on FM-106. They were first spoken by Moses, who said, "Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart. Teach them to your children and talk about them when you lie down and when you rise" (Deuteronomy 6:6-7).

In the children's classic, THE PHANTOM TOLLBOOTH, Milo, Tock and Humbug are traveling to the Lands Beyond. They are greeted by the twelve-faced Dodecahedron who is a specialist in problems.

"I'm not very good at problems," admits Milo.

"What a shame," sighs the Dodecahedron. "They're so very useful. Why, did you know that if a beaver two feet long with a tail a foot and a half long can build a dam twelve feet high and six feet wide in two days? All you would need to build Boulder Dam is a beaver sixty-eight feet long with a fifty-one foot tail."

"Where would you find a beaver that big?" grumbled Humbug.

"I'm sure I don't know," he replied, "but if you did you'd certainly know what to do with him." 

"That's absurd," objected Milo.

"That may be true," he acknowledged, "but it's completely accurate, and as long as the answer is right, who cares if the question is wrong? If you want sense you'll have to make it yourself." 

The Sadducees' question was that kind of question. It was a test. It was a trap. Jesus, though, saw this as an opportunity to set the record straight. In heaven, he explained, there is no need for marriage, "because they are like angels and are children of God."

The Pharisees and other leaders closely watched Jesus but they could not see his meaning. They could not see the issues as Jesus saw them, so they set themselves against him rather than making an alliance with him. They were so hung up on rules, laws and ceremonies, that they missed the heart of faith: God's forgiving love that frees one to live as son or daughter of God.

It's similar to the musical genius of Johann Sebastian Bach. We know him to be among the musical masters of all time. But it was not so for his contemporaries. The parishioners at St. Thomas Church often complained about the strange and innovative music that Bach wrote for the choir and organ each Sunday. They didn't know what a gifted musician was in their midst. After his death, the music of Bach was seldom performed until Felix Mendelssohn began a revival of appreciation that has lasted into our own time. So the people of Bach's time watched him, but they didn't see him. They did not hear him.

I would insist that we have a good understanding of Jesus and what he was about but I don't think we have great insight. Christians today must be careful in their confidence. We can know that we are saved but we never know if our behavior is completely acceptable. We watch Jesus, but we do not see him. We are acquainted with him, but his rich meaning is not yet fully part of our lives. Occasionally we confess this when we sing in worship:

Open my eyes, that I may see
Glimpses of truth thou hast for me;
Place in my hands the wonderful key
That shall unclasp and set me free.

Our prayer ought to be: Watch and pray that we might see.

During World War II, Hitler commanded all religious groups to unite so that he could control them. Among the Brethren assemblies, half complied and half refused. Those who went along with the order had a much easier time. Those who did not, faced harsh persecution. In almost every family of those who resisted, someone died in a concentration camp. When the war was over, feelings of bitterness ran deep between the groups and there was much tension. Finally they decided that the situation had to be healed. Leaders from each group met at a quiet retreat. For several days, each person spent time in prayer, examining his own heart in the light of Christ's commands. Then they came together.

Francis Schaeffer, who told of the incident, asked a friend who was there, "What did you do then?" "We were just one," he replied. As they confessed their hostility and bitterness to God and yielded to His control, the Holy Spirit created a spirit of unity among them. Love filled their hearts and dissolved their hatred.

When love prevails among believers, especially in times of strong disagreement, it presents to the world an indisputable mark of a true follower of Jesus Christ.

The basis for this tremendous annual burst of gift buying and parties and near hysteria is a quiet event that Christians believe actually happened a long time ago. You can say that in all societies there has always been a midwinter festival and that many of the trappings of our Christmas are almost violently pagan. But you come back to the central fact of the day and quietness of Christmas morning—the birth of God on earth.

It leaves you only three ways of accepting Christmas. One is cynically, as a time to make money or endorse the making of it. One is graciously, the appropriate attitude for non-Christians, who wish their fellow citizens all the joys to which their beliefs entitle them. And the third, of course, is reverently. If this is the anniversary of the appearance of the Lord of the universe in the form of a helpless babe, it is a very important day. It's a startling idea, of course. My guess is that the whole story that a virgin was selected by God to bear His Son as a way of showing His love and concern for man is not an idea that has been popular with theologians.

It's a somewhat illogical idea, and theologians like logic almost as much as they like God. It's so revolutionary a thought that it probably could only come from a God that is beyond logic, and beyond theology. It has a magnificent appeal. Almost nobody has seen God, and almost nobody has any real idea of what He is like. And the truth is that among men the idea of seeing God suddenly and standing in a very bright light is not necessarily a completely comforting and appealing idea. But everyone has seen babies, and most people like them. If God wanted to be loved as well as feared he moved correctly here. If He wanted to know His people as well as rule them, He moved correctly here, for a baby growing up learns all about people. If God wanted to be intimately a part of man, He moved correctly, for the experiences of birth and familyhood are our most intimate and precious experiences.

So it comes beyond logic. It is either all falsehood or it is the truest thing in the world. It's the story of the great innocence of God the baby—God in the form of man—and has such a dramatic shock toward the heart that if it is not true, for Christians, nothing is true.

Let us begin by abruptly relating three contemporary examples:

1. In late March of 1981, a mother drove her son John to an airport in Denver, put him out, and told him not to come home again. He didn’t. A few days after being dropped off at the airport, John Hinckley shot and wounded President Ronald Reagan, presidential press secretary James Brady, Secret Service agent Timothy McCarthy, and D.C. police officer Thomas Delahanty. A grim reminder that we inhabit a violent society.

2. Israel, the same family of earth from which emerged Jesus of Nazareth 2,000 years ago, today is the largest supplier of weapons to at least three countries in Central America. We live in a world of contradictions.

3. A recent ad in the New York Times invited persons to purchase a high-rise on Manhattan’s swank east side, and drive away in a free 1983 Rolls-Royce Silver Spirit. Apartments range from $583,000 to $1.2 million, but the automobile is free. Meanwhile, unemployment cripples thousands of our fellow citizens, and people stand in line to receive surplus cheese. Our society extends from the irresponsibly affluent to the painfully poor.

Change the examples above, but retain the italicized phrases, and see how similar our world is to that of Paul’s. The gospel was on trial then; it is on trial today. Has there been a time when it has not been on trial?

Both the Gospel and Paul were on trial in Jerusalem. But then again, as we have seen in Paul’s letters, the apostle had actually been on trial in Macedonia, Thessalonica, Beroea, Athens, Corinth, and Ephesus. Oh, he was not dragged into court in those places, but he was on trial all right. And now he had come to Jerusalem, bearing an offering collected from the Gentile churches. He had been warned not to enter the city (21:10-14), but he still came. Soon, he stood before Ananias, the Sadducees, and Pharisees ... on trial again. Whether intentional or incidental, Paul managed to accomplish a ruse which worked to his advantage. He reminded the assembly that he was a Pharisee and that he had been brought before them with respect to the resurrection. The Sadducees did not believe in a resurrection, angels, or spirits; the Pharisees did. Shortly, they were so busy arguing among themselves that they forgot the real issue and Paul was dismissed.

Can you think of instances where Christians have been so busily engaged with arguing among ourselves that we have forgotten the real issue or reason for our existence?