Disease and Faith

If you take a look at the timeline of blog posts as it's reported here at Preaching to the Choir, you will notice that there is nothing there for the year 2016.  That doesn't mean that I didn't write anything that whole year; it's just that I was writing for a different audience.  As I'm doing my housekeeping here and getting everything back up to date, a failure to link to Disease and Faith would be completely remiss.

Disease and Faith is autobiographical in part, relating my battles with Crohn's Disease and Parkinson's Disease.  But the point of sharing my stories there was simply to establish my credibility to speak to the trials of others, and point them away from disease and toward faith.

You can purchase the paperback version at Amazon.com and elsewhere; there is also a digital version for Kindle and the like.  Or, better yet, drop me a line and I'll send you a paperback copy for free.

The Basement Tapes: Prisoner of War

This song is both one of my greatest triumphs and one of my greatest embarrassments.  I never could have written it today; instead of commanding the devil to be bound, I am much more prone to think along with the Apostle Paul, "We do not know what we ought to pray for" (Romans 8:26b NIV).  Still, as a piece of music, it is one of my all-time favorites (from my own catalog, of course), and out of the few songs that have survived the ravages of the years, it is probably my very favorite one.

I am sorry to say that I don't remember the name of the recording engineer for this piece; he also played the guitar, which added a whole new element of depth to the music.  I worked hard on the drum machine for this one, and played the bass and the keyboards as well.  Backup singers were Ivan and Tina Wheeler, Mark and Jayme Wilson, and Christie Tompkins.  Thanks also to Dave Roff, who rescued and digitized my old cassette tape.

Listen on YouTube here: Prisoner of War, or else click on the arrow below if you don't want to leave this page.

Bends in the Road

I’d like to introduce you to some fine boys—four of them, in fact: Hananiah, Mishael, Azariah, and Daniel.  These boys were good-looking and smart, but they weren’t vain about it; they also honored and served God faithfully.  They were the golden boys, they were the Rat Pack of their time and place, with Daniel playing Sinatra, and the other three assuming their proper lesser roles.  Their potential was unlimited, their future bright.  It would be tempting to believe that these good times would never end, that if they just followed the road they were on, it would lead them to a lifetime of prosperity, honor, and respect.  It would be tempting to trust in the natural gifts the Lord had bestowed upon them, their good looks, their charm, their intelligence.

But then: a bend in the road.

It wasn't their fault, they had done nothing to deserve it, but suddenly the road they were traveling took an unexpected and unavoidable 90-degree turn to the left.  Jerusalem was besieged, overrun, and conquered by Nebuchadnezzar the king of Babylon. The boys were given over as prisoners, spoils of war, slaves to this terrible foreign king.  They would never see their beloved homeland again in their lifetime.  They were probably made eunuchs, which meant they would never have families of their own.  It would be tempting to despair, to doubt God, to doubt their position as God's chosen people.

And then: a bend in the road.

Significant Passages #1: Luke 22:31-32

Upon the startling discovery that I actually have a reader, I pledge to post a little more consistently.  You can expect posts about once a week, on Friday or Saturday.  At least that's the plan!

Here we go.

Sometimes a Bible verse or passage seems to practically leap off the page and attach itself to my brain (or my heart, maybe; I can't decide which).  In the old days, they may have said something to the effect of one's "bowels being moved with compassion," but in our times, "bowel movement" has come to mean something entirely different.  In today's culture, what used to be represented by the bowels has come to be referred to as the heart, but that's a little too weak and emotional for my meaning, whereas the brain has come to mean (in many church circles) something cold and clinical, lacking passion.  What I mean is something between the heart and the brain, taking the best parts of both and maintaining a balance that is proper and good.  At least that's what I think I mean.  All of that to say this: Sometimes a Bible verse or passage becomes important to me, in a way that nails together my theology, and—more importantly—anchors my faith more upon God and His Word.

This is such a passage. 

And the Lord said, "Simon, Simon! Indeed, Satan has asked for you, that he may sift you as wheat.  But I have prayed for you, that your faith should not fail; and when you have returned to Me, strengthen your brethren" (Luke 22:31-32 NKJV).

The setting is this: Jesus is in the upper room with His disciples, having just finished the Passover meal.  He has just instituted the Lord's Supper, which we now know as the Eucharist or Holy Communion.  Some of the disciples are now arguing over who's going to be the greatest.  Then the Lord drops this bombshell on Simon Peter: "Satan has asked for you, that he may sift you as wheat."  Then Peter says, all bluster and wind, "Lord, I am ready to go with You, both to prison and to death," to which Jesus replies His famous words, "I tell you, Peter, the rooster shall not crow this day before you will deny three times that you know Me."

There are two things I take away from this passage that are very precious to me: First of all, that Satan has to ask permission before he can do anything to one of God's chosen.  It's like the throne room scene in the book of Job all over again.  Satan can accuse, but he can't touch—not without God's permission.  There is no attack or temptation that can touch us without the direct knowledge and consent of our Father in Heaven.

Secondly, regarding what is sometimes called "the perseverance of the saints," Jesus tells Simon Peter, "I have prayed for you, that your faith should not fail; and when you have returned to Me, strengthen your brethren."  Notice that Jesus does not say "if you return to me"—He says "when you return to Me."  There isn't any "if!"  The prayer of Jesus does not return to Him unanswered.  If Jesus prays for you, you're in a good place.

Therefore He is also able to save to the uttermost those who come to God through Him, since He always lives to make intercession for them (Hebrews 7:25 NKJV).

Apparently, Jesus continues to pray for His chosen ones—He always lives to make intercession for them.  Hopefully, that number includes you and me, who have put our trust in Him, who have come to God through Him … and He is able to save us to the uttermost.

So ... What Next?

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(Prior to reading this sermon, you might want to read Ecclesiastes 2:12-23.)

On Christmas morning, my wife Susan and I had the pleasure of having our year-and-a-half-old grandson Taylor with us for breakfast and a time of opening gifts. It was great fun watching him as he opened each present, delighting in tearing the paper off the box and finding what was inside, sometimes even pausing for a fraction of a moment to inspect or play with its contents. I think his favorite gift was a box of Ritz cheese-and-crackers that his grandmother gave him. But after each package was opened, and each brief inspection completed, it was instantly on to the next box, searching for another bow to tear off, another bit of colored paper to rip away.

What's next? What's next? What's next?

We've all heard stories of children who, after they had opened all of their gifts on Christmas morning--more gifts than they could have had any right to reasonably expect, since their parents probably went into debt to provide them--sullenly sit on the floor and say with a poorly-disguised sense of disappointment, "Is that all?"

Remember that old song that Peggy Lee used to sing: "Is That All There Is?"

Is that all there is? Is that all there is?
If that's all there is, my friend, then let's keep dancing.
Let's break out the booze and have a ball,
If that's all there is.
(copyright Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller)

One of the most depressing songs ever written, both for its sense of ingratitude and its sense of hopelessness.