“They had previously seen Trophimus the Ephesian in the city with Paul and assumed that Paul had brought him into the temple area.” Acts 21:29
Let’s just be honest. We all know what assuming does, yet we still do it. And when we do, we almost always assume the worst. In our own mind, our suppositions soon becomes certain, and we usually end up stirring up trouble for somebody somewhere.
An amusing and not too damaging example—Several years ago, as I was walking midweek down the city sidewalk, a friend stopped to say how excited she was to hear me sing a solo in church the upcoming Sunday. Shocked and concerned by this surprising news, I asked her the source of such nonsense and was told that the info came from the church office. On an immediate visit to that location, I learned that a recent acquaintance had volunteered my musical services in lieu of the choir’s regular special. I quickly tracked down the culprit and discovered that her statement had been based on an assumption—“During the service last week, I heard the most beautiful voice, and when I glanced back a few pews to see who it was, I saw you, and I just knew you would be glad to sing a solo for us!” To which I replied, “I heard that beautiful voice too! And it wasn’t me; it was behind me!!” (When I finally convinced her that a large choir was the smallest group suitable for my vocal talents, she acquiesced, and all were spared!)
A serious and most painful illustration—Many years ago, while walking around the temple in Jerusalem, an angry mob seized the Apostle Paul, dragged him away, and began beating him to death. Their actions were based on an assumption. “They had previously seen Trophimus the Ephesian in the city with Paul and assumed that Paul had brought him into the temple area”(Acts 21:29). Paul had not, but when certain men stated their assumption as fact, an ensuing riot led to Paul’s eventual arrest. “The commander came up and arrested him and ordered him to be bound with chains…When Paul reached the steps, the violence of the mob was so great, he had to be carried by the soldiers. The crowd that followed kept shouting, ‘Away with him!’”(Acts 21:33-36).
Few people make the effort to make sure of the facts. Instead, they often base their actions and their attitudes on assumptions—their own or someone else’s. Take time to get the truth, and you’ll spare lots of people lots of trouble.
Don’t assume. But if you must, assume the best.
Then you’ll bray the least.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Divine Details
“Paul greeted them and reported in detail what God had done among the Gentiles.” Acts 21:19
You can be sure that the eyewitnesses of Easter never told their stories in mere summary—“Went to tomb but didn’t find corpse. Talked to angel and headed home.” Oh no. Instead we can be sure that over and over they shared the delightful event in juicy and joyful detail. The darkness of the early morning, the brightness of the waiting angels, the rolled away tombstone, the stunning announcement, the collapsed burial linen, the carefully folded head cloth, the bewilderment, the fear, the hope, the belief. Bare bones wouldn’t do when their big God had done such a big thing.
Fast forward a few decades to the Apostle Paul’s arrival in Jerusalem at the end of his third mission trip. As soon as he got there, Paul got together with the church leaders, “greeted them, and reported in detail what God had done among the Gentiles through his ministry”(Acts 21:19). A short and simple, “Good trip. God did a lot,” just wouldn’t do. As they listened with excitement, Paul told the men of two years of daily lectures at the hall of Tyrannus in Ephesus. He told them of bonfires where believers who had formerly practiced sorcery burned scrolls worth 50,000 days’ wages. He told them of a God “who did extraordinary miracles so that even handkerchiefs and aprons that had touched him were taken to the sick, and their illnesses were cured and the evil spirits left them”(Acts 19:11). He told of his all-night sermon in Troas and of Eutychus’ back to life experience after dozing off in a dangerous place. In juicy and joyful detail, Paul recounted how the death and resurrection of Jesus was changing lives around their world, and “when they heard this, they praised God”(Acts 21:20). The abridged version would have been an inadequate description, for God is in the details.
Some things are just too good—and too God—to summarize.
When you give “just the facts,” give them fully, and others will give God praise.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Empty Is Awesome
“He is not here; he has risen.” Mathew 28:6
Empty is awesome.
Maybe not so much as a balance in your bank account or as pinging from your gas gauge, but on that spring Sunday morning when Mary Magdalene and company set foot into the vacant tomb, empty was absolutely awesome. And it still is.
Empty means that we can be full—full of joy, full of hope, full of life. Empty means that we can have no fear, for our dread that death is final and that life is futile has been wondrously obliterated by the stunning triumph of the Risen Christ. Empty means that the worst of this world cannot touch the truth of God’s love, for Jesus lived a perfect life, died a painful death, paid the price of sin, and conquered the grave with a power so potent that history and the hereafter will never be the same.
Why do I say this today? Wasn’t Easter yesterday? Yes, but an empty grave on Sunday means the most on Monday. An empty grave on Sunday means that Monday has lasting meaning and definite purpose. It means that the ordinary stuff of this week matters forever. It means that meeting with clients, doing the laundry, signing a contract, and rocking the baby are crowned with the glory of a God who triumphed over death and who delights in giving life—all of our days.
An empty tomb on Sunday means that in the ups and downs and all arounds of life, our relationship with God is bound securely by a power so infinite and eternal that our missteps and mishaps can never cause us to fall from His grace. Without an empty tomb, the promise of the cross would be incomplete, and we would have no hope. Without an empty tomb, life and death would make no sense, and we would be left to fill our days with the little we could selfishly grab and hoard for these few, fleeting moments. But an empty tomb on Sunday means that eternity is changed, and every day is changed.
Praise God that Easter’s early risers didn’t find what they were looking for—but instead what they were longing for.
Empty is awesome.
Empty is awesome.
Maybe not so much as a balance in your bank account or as pinging from your gas gauge, but on that spring Sunday morning when Mary Magdalene and company set foot into the vacant tomb, empty was absolutely awesome. And it still is.
Empty means that we can be full—full of joy, full of hope, full of life. Empty means that we can have no fear, for our dread that death is final and that life is futile has been wondrously obliterated by the stunning triumph of the Risen Christ. Empty means that the worst of this world cannot touch the truth of God’s love, for Jesus lived a perfect life, died a painful death, paid the price of sin, and conquered the grave with a power so potent that history and the hereafter will never be the same.
Why do I say this today? Wasn’t Easter yesterday? Yes, but an empty grave on Sunday means the most on Monday. An empty grave on Sunday means that Monday has lasting meaning and definite purpose. It means that the ordinary stuff of this week matters forever. It means that meeting with clients, doing the laundry, signing a contract, and rocking the baby are crowned with the glory of a God who triumphed over death and who delights in giving life—all of our days.
An empty tomb on Sunday means that in the ups and downs and all arounds of life, our relationship with God is bound securely by a power so infinite and eternal that our missteps and mishaps can never cause us to fall from His grace. Without an empty tomb, the promise of the cross would be incomplete, and we would have no hope. Without an empty tomb, life and death would make no sense, and we would be left to fill our days with the little we could selfishly grab and hoard for these few, fleeting moments. But an empty tomb on Sunday means that eternity is changed, and every day is changed.
Praise God that Easter’s early risers didn’t find what they were looking for—but instead what they were longing for.
Empty is awesome.
Friday, April 6, 2012
Why Jesus Came
“For this reason I was born, and for this reason I came into the world, to testify to the truth.” John 18:37
Why did Jesus come?
Ask that question and answers abound—to live, to love, to die, to teach, to heal, to model, to remind—but the definitive reply was given by our Savior Himself as He stood before Pontius Pilate one Friday morning in the early spring. “For this reason I was born, and for this reason I came into the world, to testify to the truth”(Jn 18:37).
God appeared on earth as a man to testify to the truth—the truth of Who He is, the truth of who we are, the truth that we are rebels, the truth that He is righteous, the truth that our fall was not final because of His grace, and the truth that He would give all because of His love.
To testify to this truth took a perfect life lived according to God’s righteous Law, showing God’s absolute and shocking holiness, and making Him the only qualified candidate to be our sacrifice.
To testify to this truth took thirty-three years of connection with family, friends, foes, detractors, and disciples. It took touching the leper, walking on water, asking for a drink by a Samaritan well, crying in grief at Lazarus’ tomb. It took days of teaching, nights of praying, and the reality of betrayal and denial by the ones He held most dear.
To testify to this truth took six hours of anguish on a cross—physical pain too harsh for us to fathom and too hard for us to face. It took three hours of separation from His Father—spiritual torture we cannot comprehend, the absolute agony of His soul being ripped away from all that is God and all that is good—a hell with no hope and only horror. Never think for a moment that our sin must not be that big of a deal if Jesus could pay its price in just part of a day, for the eternal God is not bound by the limits of earthly time and the judgment Jesus faced during the darkness was your guilty forever—and mine too.
Why did Jesus come? To testify to the truth.
And it took His very life to tell us.
“Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift!” 2 Corinthians 9:15
Why did Jesus come?
Ask that question and answers abound—to live, to love, to die, to teach, to heal, to model, to remind—but the definitive reply was given by our Savior Himself as He stood before Pontius Pilate one Friday morning in the early spring. “For this reason I was born, and for this reason I came into the world, to testify to the truth”(Jn 18:37).
God appeared on earth as a man to testify to the truth—the truth of Who He is, the truth of who we are, the truth that we are rebels, the truth that He is righteous, the truth that our fall was not final because of His grace, and the truth that He would give all because of His love.
To testify to this truth took a perfect life lived according to God’s righteous Law, showing God’s absolute and shocking holiness, and making Him the only qualified candidate to be our sacrifice.
To testify to this truth took thirty-three years of connection with family, friends, foes, detractors, and disciples. It took touching the leper, walking on water, asking for a drink by a Samaritan well, crying in grief at Lazarus’ tomb. It took days of teaching, nights of praying, and the reality of betrayal and denial by the ones He held most dear.
To testify to this truth took six hours of anguish on a cross—physical pain too harsh for us to fathom and too hard for us to face. It took three hours of separation from His Father—spiritual torture we cannot comprehend, the absolute agony of His soul being ripped away from all that is God and all that is good—a hell with no hope and only horror. Never think for a moment that our sin must not be that big of a deal if Jesus could pay its price in just part of a day, for the eternal God is not bound by the limits of earthly time and the judgment Jesus faced during the darkness was your guilty forever—and mine too.
Why did Jesus come? To testify to the truth.
And it took His very life to tell us.
“Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift!” 2 Corinthians 9:15
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Between Sundays
One Sunday Jesus was met with applause as He came into Jerusalem. On the next, He was met with amazement after He came out of the tomb. But what did He do in between?
On Monday through Wednesday, Jesus taught in the temple. He talked on the Mount of Olives. He answered questions meant to trap Him—“Is it right to pay taxes to Caesar or not?” He answered questions meant to test Him—“What is the greatest commandment?” He spoke parables. He spoke plainly. He watched the wealthy throw large amounts into the offering plate; He saw a poor widow drop in two small coins and noted that her meager gift was worth the most. He dined with friends, He discussed the last days, and He reminded His disciples that He was coming back.
He slammed pride and arrogance, and scathingly indicted those who follow rules to make themselves look good. He told us that loving God with all we are is what He really wants, and He followed up the first command with the second—to love others like we love ourselves.
He was busy. He was bold. He wasn’t discouraged by those against Him. He was encouraging to those for Him. He was passionate and personal. And He did it all on purpose. So should we.
Worshipping on the weekend is great, but what we do the other days shows Jesus most. Live well between Sundays.
On Monday through Wednesday, Jesus taught in the temple. He talked on the Mount of Olives. He answered questions meant to trap Him—“Is it right to pay taxes to Caesar or not?” He answered questions meant to test Him—“What is the greatest commandment?” He spoke parables. He spoke plainly. He watched the wealthy throw large amounts into the offering plate; He saw a poor widow drop in two small coins and noted that her meager gift was worth the most. He dined with friends, He discussed the last days, and He reminded His disciples that He was coming back.
He slammed pride and arrogance, and scathingly indicted those who follow rules to make themselves look good. He told us that loving God with all we are is what He really wants, and He followed up the first command with the second—to love others like we love ourselves.
He was busy. He was bold. He wasn’t discouraged by those against Him. He was encouraging to those for Him. He was passionate and personal. And He did it all on purpose. So should we.
Worshipping on the weekend is great, but what we do the other days shows Jesus most. Live well between Sundays.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Out Loud
“If they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.” Luke 19:40
It began with the applause and parade of Palm Sunday as Jesus entered Jerusalem on a donkey. Though He had often admonished those He healed to keep quiet about who He was, this time Jesus allowed the crowd to cheer. They shouted the phrase of a familiar psalm and echoed the angel’s song from His birth. “Hosanna to the Son of David!” “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” “Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!”
Their praise moved past mere talk. “Many people spread their cloaks on the road, while others spread branches they had cut in the fields”(Mk 11:8). Cloaks were important possessions in those days, providing comfort and security, and yet gladly, willingly, and without reservation, the people shed them and spread them—not wanting even the feet of the colt carrying the King to touch the common dirt.
The unbelieving detractors didn’t think Jesus deserved the acclaim and wanted Him to hush His disciples and silence the crowd, but this divine moment would not be missed. “If they keep quiet, the stones will cry out,” Jesus replied, and so the exultant procession moved toward town.
Holy Week has arrived. If ever there was a time for followers of Christ to find their voices, such would be now. Some might want us to be silent, but open your mouth and offer your praise. We should shout with passion the words of an 80’s praise song (even if its poor grammar makes us cringe.) “Ain’t no rock gonna cry in my place! As long as I’m alive, I’ll glorify His holy name!”
Be gentle. Be kind. Be loving.
But don’t be quiet.
It began with the applause and parade of Palm Sunday as Jesus entered Jerusalem on a donkey. Though He had often admonished those He healed to keep quiet about who He was, this time Jesus allowed the crowd to cheer. They shouted the phrase of a familiar psalm and echoed the angel’s song from His birth. “Hosanna to the Son of David!” “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” “Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!”
Their praise moved past mere talk. “Many people spread their cloaks on the road, while others spread branches they had cut in the fields”(Mk 11:8). Cloaks were important possessions in those days, providing comfort and security, and yet gladly, willingly, and without reservation, the people shed them and spread them—not wanting even the feet of the colt carrying the King to touch the common dirt.
The unbelieving detractors didn’t think Jesus deserved the acclaim and wanted Him to hush His disciples and silence the crowd, but this divine moment would not be missed. “If they keep quiet, the stones will cry out,” Jesus replied, and so the exultant procession moved toward town.
Holy Week has arrived. If ever there was a time for followers of Christ to find their voices, such would be now. Some might want us to be silent, but open your mouth and offer your praise. We should shout with passion the words of an 80’s praise song (even if its poor grammar makes us cringe.) “Ain’t no rock gonna cry in my place! As long as I’m alive, I’ll glorify His holy name!”
Be gentle. Be kind. Be loving.
But don’t be quiet.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Philip's Greatest Prize
“Philip had four unmarried daughters who prophesied.” Acts 21:9
Philip might not have been in the spotlight, but neither had he been in the shadows. Years before, when the Spirit’s fire had first fallen on the church at Jerusalem, Philip was in the middle of the divine blaze. Though not one of the twelve apostles, he was chosen to be one of seven deacons—men “full of the Spirit and wisdom”(Acts 6:4) who would care for the needs of the ever-increasing congregation. But Philip’s ministry went way beyond looking out for widows. He began to teach and preach, and after Stephen’s martyrdom, “went to Samaria and proclaimed Christ there”(Acts 8:5). Miraculous signs and wonders flowed through his words and from his touch. “With shrieks, evil spirits came out of many, and many paralytics and cripples were healed”(Acts 8:7), and people were astonished at what they saw.
In the midst of the Samaritan revival, the Lord sent Philip down the desert road to meet a government official searching for God, and as soon as the man was baptized, the Spirit suddenly took Philip away. “He appeared at Azotus and traveled about, preaching the gospel in all the towns until he reached Caesarea”(Acts 8:40), and then for thirteen chapters we hear no more about Philip until Paul is making his way to Jerusalem at the end of his third missionary journey, and we find him spending the night “at the house of Philip the evangelist, one of the Seven”(Acts 8). What had Philip been doing in the intervening years? Obviously still sharing Christ, for he was referred to as “the evangelist,” but the next verse gives us a more complete picture. “Philip had four unmarried daughters who prophesied”(Acts 21:9). Philip had been busy raising Godly girls.
Maybe it’s because I have three daughters of my own, maybe it’s because I’ve often been guilty of focusing on others before my own family, maybe it’s because I spend part of each week with teenage girls seeking their place and their purpose, but most likely all these reasons cause this verse to grab my heart and not let go. Girls—and boys—need God. And they need parents who seek, sacrifice, and ensure that they get Him. If you’ve been given the gift of kids, you’ve been given the great responsibility to pour the truth of Jesus Christ into their lives by every possible means—and that mostly means that moms and dads must love Him in real life in their own lives. Your family should be your priority over your employment, your entertainment, and even your ministry at church. The spiritual growth of your children should be a bigger focus than their academic development, their athletic involvement, and their social interactions. Our great commission from Jesus is to make disciples—to nurture, encourage, and develop followers of Christ, and obedience to this command begins at home.
It is no random coincidence that this verse just happened to be in the passage from Acts for today. For the past few days I have been pondering whether to accept or decline a position of service which would be exciting, fulfilling, and is quite suited to my gifts and talents—but not to my schedule, not if I am to keep my commitment to be home and to be here for my girls for the next few years as they grow and go through the middle school and high school. The position is a great opportunity to serve others, to expand contacts, to travel several states and meet new people, but the three sweet, sleepy faces around the breakfast table need me more. There are no books I could write, no conferences I could lead, and no board meetings I could attend that are more important and more effective right now than the noisy swim meets, the quiet tennis matches, the endless lunchboxes, the messy counters, the math homework, and the prayers for history tests that make up my days, and so I will say no.
“Philip had four unmarried daughters who prophesied”(Acts 21:9). Let this verse be an encouragement and a reminder of what really matters and why He matters. We can give our children everything, but unless we give them a rich knowledge of God, they will be very poor.
Don’t let life schedule you. You schedule life, and be busy raising Godly kids.
Philip might not have been in the spotlight, but neither had he been in the shadows. Years before, when the Spirit’s fire had first fallen on the church at Jerusalem, Philip was in the middle of the divine blaze. Though not one of the twelve apostles, he was chosen to be one of seven deacons—men “full of the Spirit and wisdom”(Acts 6:4) who would care for the needs of the ever-increasing congregation. But Philip’s ministry went way beyond looking out for widows. He began to teach and preach, and after Stephen’s martyrdom, “went to Samaria and proclaimed Christ there”(Acts 8:5). Miraculous signs and wonders flowed through his words and from his touch. “With shrieks, evil spirits came out of many, and many paralytics and cripples were healed”(Acts 8:7), and people were astonished at what they saw.
In the midst of the Samaritan revival, the Lord sent Philip down the desert road to meet a government official searching for God, and as soon as the man was baptized, the Spirit suddenly took Philip away. “He appeared at Azotus and traveled about, preaching the gospel in all the towns until he reached Caesarea”(Acts 8:40), and then for thirteen chapters we hear no more about Philip until Paul is making his way to Jerusalem at the end of his third missionary journey, and we find him spending the night “at the house of Philip the evangelist, one of the Seven”(Acts 8). What had Philip been doing in the intervening years? Obviously still sharing Christ, for he was referred to as “the evangelist,” but the next verse gives us a more complete picture. “Philip had four unmarried daughters who prophesied”(Acts 21:9). Philip had been busy raising Godly girls.
Maybe it’s because I have three daughters of my own, maybe it’s because I’ve often been guilty of focusing on others before my own family, maybe it’s because I spend part of each week with teenage girls seeking their place and their purpose, but most likely all these reasons cause this verse to grab my heart and not let go. Girls—and boys—need God. And they need parents who seek, sacrifice, and ensure that they get Him. If you’ve been given the gift of kids, you’ve been given the great responsibility to pour the truth of Jesus Christ into their lives by every possible means—and that mostly means that moms and dads must love Him in real life in their own lives. Your family should be your priority over your employment, your entertainment, and even your ministry at church. The spiritual growth of your children should be a bigger focus than their academic development, their athletic involvement, and their social interactions. Our great commission from Jesus is to make disciples—to nurture, encourage, and develop followers of Christ, and obedience to this command begins at home.
It is no random coincidence that this verse just happened to be in the passage from Acts for today. For the past few days I have been pondering whether to accept or decline a position of service which would be exciting, fulfilling, and is quite suited to my gifts and talents—but not to my schedule, not if I am to keep my commitment to be home and to be here for my girls for the next few years as they grow and go through the middle school and high school. The position is a great opportunity to serve others, to expand contacts, to travel several states and meet new people, but the three sweet, sleepy faces around the breakfast table need me more. There are no books I could write, no conferences I could lead, and no board meetings I could attend that are more important and more effective right now than the noisy swim meets, the quiet tennis matches, the endless lunchboxes, the messy counters, the math homework, and the prayers for history tests that make up my days, and so I will say no.
“Philip had four unmarried daughters who prophesied”(Acts 21:9). Let this verse be an encouragement and a reminder of what really matters and why He matters. We can give our children everything, but unless we give them a rich knowledge of God, they will be very poor.
Don’t let life schedule you. You schedule life, and be busy raising Godly kids.
You only have a few years to get the job done.
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