The number is 3,422. That’s how many members of the U.S. military have paid the supreme sacrifice in the war in Iraq over the last four years. But on this Memorial Day, when the nation remembers our war dead, how many of them did we know? The reality for most of us is that, in fact, we don’t know any of these 3,422 who laid down their lives for country and family. Nor do we know their 25,549 comrades who have been wounded in this war. If we have family over there, all we know is the quiet prayer that God would keep our loved one from adding to either statistic. How can you remember the war dead when you didn’t know them? Pictures help, to be sure. Photos silently moving across the screen of the evening news or lined up in a news weekly put a chiseled face to the statistics. After all, he was somebody’s boy, she was someone’s spouse. Pictures help. But we don’t remember for long, do we? Even when Newseek magazine published photocopies of some of the deceased soldiers’ last letters home, while their names and faces became more personal and the magnitude of their sacrifice dawned upon us more forcefully, we still didn’t remember for long. Do you suppose that’s God’s problem, too? That our memory of the war dead has grown distant and detached. Laid down his life, did he, in the great conflict? Having a picture would sure help. Or a photocopy of a letter home. But just a name? And so we forget. Which is why a piece of broken bread and a cup of wine were once upon a time placed in our hands. “Do this in remembrance of Me,” he commanded (I Corinthians 11:24). So that we would not forget this War’s supreme Sacrifice. And remember the name, if not the face, of the One who landed behind enemy lines and laid “down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). Calvary. And the bread and the cup. Of him who died. And rose again. Which makes that war-dead statistic of one utterly unique in time and space—this One who not only laid down his life, but took it up again, his supreme sacrifice becoming humanity’s supreme victory. “So that whosoever believes in him shall not perish, but have everlasting life.” Hope, not only for the families of the 3,422, but hope for an entire race of war casualties—which, on this Memorial Day, is surely the most memorable statistic of all!
Pastors' Blog
By Pioneer Pastors
Sure you want to become a mother? Here are some numbers you may want to crunch before you decide! Statistics released this week in the latest Newsweek magazine reveal that the first two years of a new baby’s life will cost $32,000. And if you’re wanting more than one child, you can plan on an added $24,000 for each additional child. Just for their first two years of moving into your heart and home! And what will it cost to raise that little cherub to the age of 18? Newsweek reports that over those eighteen years a middle-class family will spend an average of $190,980, not including college or lost wages from a parent who remains at home. Per child. Add the costs of college and the lost wages of that parent who stayed at home, and the estimated cost from infancy to age eighteen skyrockets to $1,589,793! Still sure you want to be a mom? Average stay-at-home mothers (what’s an average mom?) work 92 hours a week in their mothering (is anybody surprised?). If you took her “homework” and parceled it out into the various jobs/tasks that she performs each week, she should be earning (based on the median national salary for the categories of labor she provides) a whopping $138,095 a year! As Newsweek quips, “Sure, the validation is purely symbolic, but it may come as some solace at a time when stay-at-home moms are being taken to task in the new book ‘The Feminine Mistake’ for giving up the financial independence their [women’s rights] mothers fought so hard to win” (5-14-07 Newsweek). Are you a mom or a mother-wanna-be? There’s an old, dusty Book that sits on American shelves across the land this Mother’s Day. And in that Book the Author makes certain the genuine value of a godly mother is clearly portrayed. “She watches over the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: ‘Many daughters have done well, but you excel them all.’” And then the wisest man who ever lived adds this summation: “Charm is deceitful and beauty is passing, but a woman who fears the LORD, she shall be praised.” (Proverbs 31:27-30) And so to all our mothers and moms, I know I express the sentiments of a grateful nation and church when on this Mother’s Day we rise up and indeed call you “Blessed.” For you are truly the gift of God to us all.
Don’t let them veto your future, graduates! The press has been abuzz with news over the showdown this week between the executive and legislative branches of our nation’s government. President Bush cast only the second veto of his presidency in rejecting the Iraq war funding bill passed by Congress, a bill that included a mandated troop withdrawal date, which the president opposes. Ah, the power of a veto—the power of saying No! But as the 673 of you Andrews University graduates gather for this memorable academic rite of passage, I and the rest of us here at Pioneer want you to know that we’re cheering you on with the power of a Yes! After all, it’s your graduation promise: “For all the promises of God in Christ are Yes, to the glory of God” (II Corinthians 1:20). Did you catch that? As you head out the door of this campus, God is giving you a giant YES for all the promises you’re going to need for your uncharted journey. A YES for the wisdom and the hope and courage you’ll go on seeking, a YES for the grace and the forgiveness you’ll go on needing, a YES for the new dreams and patience and faith and persistence you’ll be wanting, a YES for all the love that the most important relationships of your life will be requiring. A giant YES wrapped up in Jesus. Not only because all God’s promises are a Yes in him. But also because through your friendship with Christ, you’ll become the radical change agent our world’s been needing all along. So take plenty of pictures, hug all your professors, laugh through the memories, cling to the victories, turn in your key. And as you drive away tomorrow, would you please say a prayer for us, too. That right here at Pioneer we can be God’s giant YES to the new class of young adults who’ll be following in your footsteps in just a few weeks. It was an honor to pray for you while you were here. Honor us please with your prayers for us now that you’re leaving. And in heaven when we next meet—let our “high fives” be for the Savior whose friendship has turned our future into an eternal YES. Together. With him. Amen.
Six contestants left for America’s new idol. How’s that for a headline this week? As the Today Show on NBC ran a report of the elimination countdown to American’s new “number one” amateur performer, the screen caption throughout the report blazed, “Idol Worship.” How clever, but how true! Except for you and me, of course.
I’ve been blessed teaching nineteen young seminarian preachers this semester. One of the students, Shawn Brace, was assigned the second commandment, God’s prohibition against idol worship (see Exodus 20:4-6). He did some research on previous contestants on Fox’s American Idol telecast (which, for those who don’t know, is an old-fashioned amateur hour that’s dictated by the millions of viewer votes that are electronically cast each week, slowly eliminating the contestants). Shawn discovered that one year in the top tier of contenders, each was asked to name his personal “idol” (a hero, a role model, someone idolized). One contestant was candidly honest in his written reply: “Myself.” His number one hero . . . himself.
Surprised? Probably not. After all we live in a society bent back onto itself in self-admiration, don’t we? Driven by Madison Avenue and an entertainment and sports world where stars unabashedly self-promote, it seems only natural that we do the same, doesn’t it? Which, of course, has been the modus operandi on this planet from the beginning—look out for Numero Uno—as Adam and Eve and Cain and all our forefathers and foremothers have unsubtly taught us. It was the original sin, after all, that brought down Lucifer and his loyal rebels. Self-worship—making an idol out of “myself.”
That’s why the story of Jesus is so radical and hope-filled. Because the God of the universe become Man entered our mortal stream of existence to dramatically, humbly show us the other way. The way of the God who ever defers to others, who “made himself of no reputation and humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death” (Philippians 2:5-8). Who died to the very self that is so ragingly strong in you and me. And who now beckons us, “If you would come after Me, deny yourself, and take up your cross and follow Me” (Matthew 16:24).
The perfect invitation for the ending of this school year. Because there’s a world waiting to be conquered—not for “myself” but for our Savior. Who, of course, isn’t an idol at all, but is the greatest Hero of all. Which is how I wish that young contestant had answered, since—as it turns out—he grew up in the church I did.
Candle light vigils have become a way of American life, haven’t they? Columbine, Oklahoma City, September 11, and now Virginia Tech. And a grieving public that privately wonders when the insanity will ever end. Anybody know? Our politicians haven’t found the answer. Nor have our law enforcement agencies. Nor have our psychologists and school counselors. Nor have the media. Nor has the public. Nobody knows how to stop the carnage, the massacres, “the terror by night . . . the arrow that flies by day . . . the pestilence that walks in darkness . . . the destruction that lays waste at noonday” (Psalm 91:5, 6). I have an aged friend in South Africa whom I met through our global telecast. Several years ago he was watching, wrote me a letter, and thus began our long-distance friendship. He is of another faith community. But he is a man of prayer. Recently he received an impression from God that he felt compelled to share with me. He wrote in February—I received his letter this week. He is worried for the future of this nation (which may not be an uncommon response from those who watch us from afar). He offered a description of what he believes is yet to come. “I write this under great duress.” But then again, you and I don’t need a prayer warrior half a world away to be reminded that we live in a very troubled nation and world. Then shall we be afraid? It is precisely that query God addresses in Psalm 91 with these reassuring words: “You shall not be afraid . . . No evil shall befall you . . . For He shall give His angels charge over you, to keep you in all your ways.” So then, rather than fear, let us be moved and motivated by a deepening compassion for a society so often without answers, too often without hope. “Behold, I stand at the door and knock,” is the apocalyptic assurance of Christ (Revelation 3:20). In this hour when he is “even at the door,” shall we not pledge our careers, our resources, our time, our best energies to him who is the only Hope and Salvation of our civilization—and share him with our world?
What can we learn from “shock jock” Don Imus’ meltdown? In case you were fasting from the news this week (which isn’t such a bad idea, come to think of it), you know the public furor over the racially and sexually derogatory remarks that nationally syndicated radio talk show host Don Imus made about the Rutgers University NCAA women’s basketball finalists, words unworthy of repetition. Both CBS radio and MSNBC cable television dropped the Imus show for two weeks. Corporate sponsors pulled their ads and financial backing. The public backlash has been quick and strong.
And yet, truth be told, the irreverent diatribe of so public an entertainer as Imus can only be explained by the recognition that hundreds of thousands of Americans tune in each day to listen to him. The millions of dollars of corporate sponsorship poured into his program are a frank admission that the public thrives on living (at least in thought, if not in practice) on the crude edge of courtesy and decency, not to mention bigotry and hate. (I’m not thinking, of course, of you and me—but rather all those others out there.)
And what shall we and “all those others” learn from this unseemly (but no longer unusual) flap? Perhaps that it really isn’t a flap at all. Could it be that it represents the mounting evidence of our society’s drive to insular independence and isolation (the only three people I have time to care about are I, me and myself)? Could it be that Imus still gets so large a hearing because tearing down public and private figures satisfies the smallness of our own hearts to prop ourselves up on the wreckage of others? To trash a team of ten young coeds who made it to the pinnacle of their sport, just as they were savoring that accomplishment?
“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked—who can know it?” (Jeremiah 17:9) We’re all in the same boat together. It’s no wonder that even God himself at times has struggled with his own corporate sponsorship of the human race! Thank God he hasn’t pulled the plug on our self-worshiping, people-trashing ways and sent us packing. Not yet anyway. Because Mercy keeps running after us, doesn’t it?
But what do you say we let Mercy catch up with us? We can pray for Don Imus, but let us also pray for our own hearts. And lips. That the Great Commandment—to love God supremely and our neighbor impartially—will compel our thoughts, our words, our actions. After all, if nobody is our brother and sister’s keeper, than there’s nobody left to keep us either. And that would be the saddest meltdown of all.
Millions of bees mysteriously dead! Something off the front page of the National Enquirer? Hardly. It’s a developing news story that spans the nation. One Pennsylvania beekeeper lost 40 million bees this winter. Fruit and vegetable growers from California (which produces 80% of the world’s almond supply) to Pennsylvania (which grows the fourth largest apple harvest in the nation) are extremely worried, because the survival of their blossoming crops depends on the pollinating of honeybees. No pollen transfer, no fruit—it’s that simple. What’s killing entire hives of bees across America? Scientists aren’t sure. Researchers at Penn State are hypothesizing potential microbes, checking for new pathogens, wondering about potent insecticides—while other scientists have discovered the very tiny varrora mite lodged to the bodies of dead bees and wonder if it is the culprit. One thing’s for certain—more than $15 billion of U.S. crops pollinated by honeybees is now at stake! “Mysterious death that threatens an entire species”—that was the headline eons ago that plunged the Kingdom of Heaven into unprecedented crisis. The human creation had joined the cosmic rebellion against the Throne. Now both human and non-human creatures were being swept away by death at a rate of 100%. There seemed no reversal for this endemic plague. Until two thousand years ago on a Good Friday mountaintop, where the God of the universe submitted himself to the diabolical fury of his archenemy. Bearing the infectious and mortal disease of this fallen creation in his own body and heart, the second Person of Heaven’s Triune God succumbed in six hours to the crushing death of sin. And it appeared that the mystery disease and its dark perpetrator had conquered this creation permanently. Until that black Sunday morning three days later. An explosion of light. The roar of a subterranean quake. And the clarion voice of a young being that towered beside that stone rolled away, as he shouted into the damp shadow of that hillside sepulcher: “Son of God, come forth—Thy Father calls Thee.” More lightning. Thunder. And quaking. And striding from the bowels of that earth comes the risen Christ who over the shattered tomb cries out, “I am the resurrection and the life.” A billion angels bow to welcome back their conquering King! And two thousand years later we, too, gather to worship Him. Not only today in celebration of His resurrection. But on those “other days” of utter heartache and bitter tears when we gather to worship Him in this sacred place, as we bid farewell to yet another loved one death has claimed for itself. It is on those days of numbing grief that our spirits crave even more keenly the shattering promise of His empty tomb: “Because I live, you shall live also” (John 14:19). And so may the voice of the risen Christ that we hear this day remain deep within us until that Day, when the mystery of death will be no more, and the blossoms of Paradise will flower forever.
This past week Elizabeth Edwards and Tony Snow have put cancer into the headline consciousness of America. The wife of presidential candidate, John Edwards, and the president’s chief Whitehouse spokesman, in separate dramatic announcements of recurring cancer, bravely exposed their private battles for health and life to the public. And as a consequence they both have raised the level of our national conversation regarding this shared and dreaded enemy. Talking heads on television and medical experts alike have weighed in on the conversation, assuring the rest of us that diagnoses such as these are no longer the irrevocable death sentence we once feared. At the same time, medical authorities seized the moment to remind the public of the vital necessity of physical examinations and screening, awareness of personal health warning signs, along with careful attention to moderating the excesses of the American lifestyle. And through it all, there has been the appropriate call to prayer for these two well known political figures and their families. Within our own community of faith cancer is no stranger either. And because of that reality, it is well for us on occasion to brood over the meaning of so mortal an enemy. Naturally, cancer is neither a scourge from God nor an instrument of divine judgment. It is, as the apostle once ruminated, the consequence of “the creation subjected to futility” (Romans 8:20). And while some cancers have been linked to the western lifestyle, the fact remains that even the most health-conscious of individuals can contract the disease. For we live in a creation suffering under the scourge of sin. Which is why Paul was quick to humanize the suffering of nature itself with the words, “For we know that the whole creation groans and labors with birth pangs together until now,” until that day creation itself will be “delivered from the bondage of corruption” (vv 22, 21). Could it be that our very bodies themselves, from the minutest corpuscle to the largest of our organs, “groan” with the pangs of living out their days in this fallen system? For is not cancer the “futility” of a creation system gone awry in unchecked invading growth? What hope is there for those who suffer, for all of us who live out our days on this fallen planet? “Even we ourselves groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for the adoption, the redemption of our body. . . . But if we hope for what we do not see [and we have yet to see this mortal foe eradicated from the human experience], we eagerly wait for it with perseverance” (vv 23, 25). Perseverance. And prayer. Because persevering in battling this mortal enemy of health with all our God-given powers is the right human response. And so is prayer—the crying out and groaning pangs of a heart and soul desperate for divine intervention. Persevering prayer. Because even nature’s “inevitable” course can be turned. Which is why for Elizabeth and Tony and all we know who suffer cancer’s battle our intercedings are made potent through Calvary’s power. After all, did not our Lord bear all our “sicknesses” (Isaiah 53:4 margin) to the cross? And is it not true that “by his wounds we are healed” (Isaiah 53:5)? Then with persevering prayer let us press on together. And may it truly be “together.” For when one member of the body suffers, we all suffer. . . and shall continue to suffer until He comes, and Christ shall forever restore our creation to its primeval ideal once again. Amen.
Ever wonder where Iceland got its name? Having just returned from this small volcanic crag amidst the wind-swept north Atlantic (just south of the Artic Circle), I don’t wonder any more! But did you know that this proud nation of glaciers, hot springs, geysers (a word we’ve borrowed from Icelandic), and active volcanoes is the world’s most literate population, with the world’s longest life expectancy and highest standard of living? And so you won’t be surprised that they are also the most “wired” (technologically savvy) nation on earth, as well. But their achievements have come at history’s high price. Literature (not archaeology) suggests that Irish monks were the first to settle the island in the eighth and ninth centuries, quickly followed by Norse sailors from Norway. A colony eventually dug its roots into that rocky outcropping that became a base for Viking settlements, including Eric the Red (who discovered Greenland) and his son Leif Eriksson (the first European to reach North America). The Althing, the world’s oldest existing national assembly or parliament, was formed in Iceland in 930 A.D. But colonizing foreign powers from Norway to England to marauding pirates to Denmark subsequently made Iceland’s history one of struggling difficulty. In fact it wasn’t until 1944 that Iceland’s ties to the Danish crown were finally broken, and its proud people achieved their national independence. The Lutheran Church is the official state church of Iceland, with 82.1% of the population (from the most recent census) indicating membership in that National Church of Iceland. The Icelandic reality, however, reflects western Europe’s postmodern secular culture with little interest in organized religion. And so this last weekend, after taking out a full-page ad in the Reykjavik newspaper, the Adventists of Iceland (around 500) rented a hotel conference room with the goal this time of reaching out to the churched public. And there I preached four lectures for both church and public. But the challenge remains for our western culture—how shall we engage the minds and hearts of our societies with the everlasting gospel? (Which, by the way, was the theme of an evangelism council for pastors across Europe that Russell Burrill and I lectured at this past Monday and Tuesday there on Iceland.) Today we celebrate Calvary’s promise of symbolically transforming earth’s “iceland” into heaven’s “greenland” one day, when "the kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ, and he will reign for ever and ever" (Revelation 11:15). And though that promise is yet future, its reality is truly present in the presence of Christ at His Table this morning. So may every heart take possession today of that freedom our Lord’s triumphant death has secured for all!
Wonder why the global markets have been gyrating lately? The answer really isn’t that complicated at all. It has to do with public and investor confidence. When traders are feeling secure and confident about the economic and/or political future of their nation or other influential nations, they invest their clients’ capital in the markets. But when investors become worried or uncertain over developing trends (economic or political or sometimes even ecological), rather than purchasing shares in national or multinational corporations they instead sell off their clients’ stocks. And massive sell-offs fuel plunging stock markets, as we’ve witnessed in the global marketplace (from Shanghai to Wall Street) over the last two weeks. And while economic theory is certainly more complicated than my simple rehearsal here, the fact remains that human confidence is the powerful variable that fluctuates our global markets. Which begs the question: What is it that fuels your confidence and mine? What are our securities based upon? Let’s be honest. There are times—many for me—when the pit of our stomachs feels like the freefall of a roller coaster ride—just as scary as a stock market plunge! When there seems to be nothing to grab on to, when everything around you has gone over the edge with you. What then? A friend gave me Derek Kidner’s inspiring two-volume commentary on the Psalms. And as I’ve been reading a psalm each morning, Kidner’s comments have helped me realize how incessant is the psalmist’s (usually David’s) cry for security, and how frequently he confesses that he has found but one saving confidence, one trustworthy security: “[God] only is my rock and my salvation; He is my defense; I shall not be greatly moved” (Psalm 62:2). And that from a man whose life story invented the word “roller coaster,” high and heady with his triumphs and plummeted by his defeats, a life the rest of us can find a modicum of comfort in today. Which is why David’s confession of confidence in God alone segues into his passionate appeal to us: “Trust in Him at all times, you people; pour out your heart before Him; God is a refuge for us” (v 8). Even when all we can pour out is, “God, I choose to trust You—have mercy on me”—over and over again. But as David’s gyrating life still testifies, He will (have mercy on us), even as we do (choose to trust him). And remember, when that inevitable edge does come, over which we must plunge, the good news remains, “ . . . underneath are the everlasting arms.”
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