"Theological Accounting...................."

The deeper I get into Watchman Nee, the more I remember why my former decision not to pursue any further collection of his works. It had nothing to do with him failing to set a good meal in front of me; merely that, having eaten his main course, I found his theology more apt to appeal to this modern “name it and claim it” bunch. He speaks of our needing “revelation from God” before we, as believers, can begin to grasp the truth of our being, “in Christ, “dead from sin”, seeing the term “reckon” much like “faith”, a gift from on high, not something that we, ourselves, accomplish. He loses me, however, when he seemingly sees such deliverance as a permanent condition in which we walk. Ignoring his admission to the “old man” being a problem yet within us and acknowledging that our humanity is no match for the flesh, he but counts “Spiritual enlightenment” as an answer to the whole issue. My eyes have been opened, many times in my seventy years, though, and it has been my experience that “epiphanies”, in whatever form they come, are merely “educational steps forward” in which what you think you’ve learned is always subject to future re-evaluation. Truth is always much more than our personal claim of possessing it. As far as I’m concerned, a man can tell himself all he wants that a verse of Scripture pronounces him free of who and what he is in his Adamic nature; but I want more than just my own determination of where I stand in Him on a daily basis. Grace is a fountain found at the foot of the Cross, a river of living water available unto us via the Holy Ghost, an assurance we can find and know each time we choose to return to that sacred altar established within the depth of our existence. He, alone, confirms my salvation, again and again as I fall at His feet and seek rest……

"Kingdom of God........................."

”Life, too often, makes no sense, leaves us with nowhere to go, and speaks to us of our own worthlessness in the whole affair.”


Our visits to the Youth Detention Center the last two Sundays have been rewarding. Only once in ten years were we ever cancelled on arrival due to bad behavior on the inside necessitating a lock-down. On occasion, our “congregation” is a mixture wherein some, in one way or another, carry a visible negative attitude. For the last few months the female portion of those incarcerated have refused to attend. Three-fourths of these kids are always newly placed, the facility merely a holding site through which they pass for minor offences, only a handful looking at serious time, their future already determined by the courts; and therefore, with our schedule permitting just a bi-monthly opportunity to share, we must “re-introduce” ourselves with each encounter. To most of them we are but another group, another denominational dogma, and, from their perspective, perhaps no more than another Bible-thumping finger-in-their-face threatening them with hell and damnation if they don’t mend their ways. We go, then, asking Christ to go with us, knowing His presence makes the difference, believing He, alone, is the key to a “connection” wherein what we say and what we do speaks to their heart. Our individual testimonies yesterday somehow all intertwined, pointing to the words above and a resurrected Savior who makes good on that which He promises us, assurance in all that comes to us. The Spirit was in our midst throughout, faces displaying evidence that hearts were receiving the seed being sown. We finished, as always, with prayer; but, as the guards led them back to other units, the one woman with us was once again invited to join the girls for individual ministering and the rest of us received two young men who were allowed to come forward. One wanted to find forgiveness from his family; the other, a boy no more than sixteen or seventeen years old, sought hope that his infant child might likewise be able to give grace to its father for not being there.

"Repetition..............................."

Our Wednesday evening Bible study found us in the middle of Romans, Chapter Six, examining just what the apostle meant by “sin” no longer having “dominion” over us. Strange, isn’t it, how words can be linked in such a way so as to be perceived in opposite understanding by those who read them, even words within “THE” Word. It’s why I love a class wherein people can express themselves without a demand for all to agree, opinions received without rebuke, usually not adopted to any great extent, but taken in, nonetheless, for later reviewing with the Holy Ghost. Watchman Nee puts the subject of “sin” in terms of those “committed before conversion to Christ” and those that are yet “a principle working within us”; or, as I might put it, having my past washed “white as snow” in no way changed my ability to make a mess as I go. Few there are, I think, who will deny that being true. Where we differ is in our cure for the post-conversion condition. Some preach they recognize yet possessing a capacity to “miss the mark”, but counter their admission with a claim of no longer “having a desire” to do so, as if that, in itself, is enough to sanctify and set them apart from error. Others own up to their nature still being, even in Christ, Adamic in its actions, but simply profess a belief that water baptism, or membership in a church, or some other denominational tenet guarantees their salvation regardless of their lifestyle. I suspect that when the above author speaks of a man knowing peace with God, but none with himself, he overlooks these two groups and is talking to those who have not forgotten that, while the Blood may well deal with “what we have done”, it remains the Cross that “speaks to what we are”. Indeed, it is the “door within”, the veil that separates us from the holy place, and the key to our hearts being “sprinkled from a evil conscience”. The “old man” no longer rules over me only in as much as I march him on a daily basis to Golgotha and surrender him to the One who took my place……

"Responsibility.............................."

Watchman Nee was born in China in 1903, was converted to Christianity at the age of eighteen, spent the last twenty years of his life in a Communist prison cell being persecuted for his faith, and authored many books wherein his theology is yet quite worthy, in my opinion, for study. A friend came to me Sunday evening at church with a question about a thought brought forth by the preacher in something he was reading. As best as this old man can recall a day later, Tony was questioning the idea, not of “flesh” being both good and bad, but of a need for us to crucify it regardless. For a few moments there, before the service started, we talked but came to no real conclusion in the matter. Last night and again this morning, then, I’ve been re-visiting the one volume I own of Nee’s writing and find myself trying to recall what it was about his words that caused me to “move on” so long ago. In a second perusal of these first few chapters, he has my mind chewing on a good meal, his reasoning that Jesus “died instead of us for our forgiveness”, but “lives instead of us for our deliverance” closely resembling my own view of the Gospel! Indeed, when he rephrases that in terms of Christ being “a substitute on the Cross who secures our forgiveness and a substitute within who secures our victory”, he has me here, a few decades down the road, wanting to shout unto him “Amen!” When he states that “the Blood deals with what we have done, whereas the Cross deals with what we are” and he separates “sin” into the two aspects of “what I have done” and “what I yet am”, speaking of how “the former touches my conscience, but the latter, my life”, he paints, for me, this walk as I have found it to be. So, while I didn’t have an answer for Tony last night, it occurs to me now that what we were a bit perplexed about could merely be a perspective wherein we fail to recognize that no matter how “saintly” we think ourselves to have become in this, in spite of whatever we accomplish in our ministry, our outreach, our interaction with others, it all still falls short of “holiness”, our vanity always in need of being nailed to the tree.

"Parsing.............................."

Watchman Nee was born in China in 1903, was converted to Christianity at the age of eighteen, spent the last twenty years of his life in a Communist prison cell being persecuted for his faith, and authored many books wherein his theology is yet quite worthy, in my opinion, for study. A friend came to me Sunday evening at church with a question about a thought brought forth by the preacher in something he was reading. As best as this old man can recall a day later, Tony was questioning the idea, not of “flesh” being both good and bad, but of a need for us to crucify it regardless. For a few moments there, before the service started, we talked but came to no real conclusion in the matter. Last night and again this morning, then, I’ve been re-visiting the one volume I own of Nee’s writing and find myself trying to recall what it was about his words that caused me to “move on” so long ago. In a second perusal of these first few chapters, he has my mind chewing on a good meal, his reasoning that Jesus “died instead of us for our forgiveness”, but “lives instead of us for our deliverance” closely resembling my own view of the Gospel! Indeed, when he rephrases that in terms of Christ being “a substitute on the Cross who secures our forgiveness and a substitute within who secures our victory”, he has me here, a few decades down the road, wanting to shout unto him “Amen!” When he states that “the Blood deals with what we have done, whereas the Cross deals with what we are” and he separates “sin” into the two aspects of “what I have done” and “what I yet am”, speaking of how “the former touches my conscience, but the latter, my life”, he paints, for me, this walk as I have found it to be. So, while I didn’t have an answer for Tony last night, it occurs to me now that what we were a bit perplexed about could merely be a perspective wherein we fail to recognize that no matter how “saintly” we think ourselves to have become in this, in spite of whatever we accomplish in our ministry, our outreach, our interaction with others, it all still falls short of “holiness”, our vanity always in need of being nailed to the tree.

"Stirred........................"

About two chapters into a Kathleen Norris work entitled “A Marriage, Monks, and a Writer’s Life: Acedia & me”, I came across an admission she makes about a place in her earlier years where she was “consuming books rather than reading them”. It was intended as an illustration of just one of the areas where boredom had taken her in her existence, so much in her daily routine seemingly repetitive and without purpose. A page or so afterward, however, she points to those religious recluses within a monastery who claim that the tedium in their never-ending circular course of scheduled tasks and prayers is actually their “way to God”. I am left with an assumption that the brothers, in so defining their efforts, simply speak in terms of such being their means of “connecting with that which Christ has provided”; and, at the same time, find myself considering just how much the human thought process, the sum total of “who-we-are-on-the- inside”, regardless of how one expresses that (there being a variety of choices), plays out in our journey. Spirit? Soul? Heart? The Bible declares that, as Christians, we possess “the mind” of our Savior; and some might see that as our being no more than “like-minded”, our own resolve set to align with His as we determine it for ourselves through the Word. From my perspective, though, I find what He brings to us via the Cross is the Resurrection, the reality of the Holy Ghost, a divine identity with whom we might “go in the way”. His presence is an anchorage, indeed a connection between heaven and earth, a “navigational corrective device” to assist us in our stumble down the path. Ennui and discouragement are merely part of what comes to us when we tend to either dismiss Him altogether, or reduce Him to a set of religious rules designed to make us holy……

"Cleansing................................"

I listened to Fox News last night as Rick Santorum answered Greta Van Susteren’s questions about his religious views, she concerned not only as to how his own Catholic beliefs would be handled in the White House, but also curious as to how he would address the crude attempt at humor recently put forth by one of his supporters. The Presidential hopeful stood his ground, pointing to his record as evidence that holding office did not mean requiring all others to believe as he does; and then, while admitting to his friend’s poor choice of words, he refused to serve him up to be crucified. From my perspective, he maintained his integrity throughout the conversation, looking public opinion and the Press right in the face and speaking straight from his heart. I like him. Can he beat Obama? I don’t know; but he appears to me an honest politician. Surely that’s an oxymoron if ever there was one, our government down through the years having pretty well convinced us that holding office in D.C. equates to possessing little or no ethics. I’d sure love to be convinced otherwise, though; and, while I’ve not seen a whole lot in the last three years or so to convince me that “change” in any way meant sweeping out the corruption entrenched in our nation’s capitol, this country yet means enough to me that I dare to hope……

"H2O..............................................."

”I don’t want no wha-hoo-zits in my water; I don’t want no hee-bubba-jeebies in my well; when I get thirsty for a drink, I want water that doesn’t stink; So keep your hee-bubba-geeba-goobers out of my well!”


The last couple of days my thoughts have been occupied with what was on my heart for the men at the rescue mission, things already expressed here in one way or another. Putting words down on paper, one has time to examine what comes forth, to structure sentences so as to best transfer an understanding of what is intended to be said. Such privilege is not available to me when I find myself standing before others face to face. With the men, at least, they provide me with a stand for my notes, but sometimes I think it more of a hindrance than a help. Here, I have days, if need be, to attempt to find His flow; there, the torch is passed and, if the stream is not already there to step into, then I must walk by faith, living water not in something scribbled down to remind me of direction, but coming up out of an inner well not filled up with rocks…. It happens. Years ago, to illustrate that last scenario at Kids’ Camp, I stepped through one of my wife’s plastic laundry tubs, its bottom pre-removed to allow such intrusion. Pulling it up to my waist and then holding it there with one hand and an umbrella over my head in the other, I talked to my “congregation” about having to daily purge ourselves of much that life brings unto us; and to greater punctuate my point, I also had several people, in passing by, dump their trash into my attire. One woman changed her baby’s diaper and then, with no concern for me, dropped it in as she passed. Another nearby fell into a few drastic sneezes and, afterwards, likewise donated her contaminated tissue to the cause. The chorus above, plus two verses on the subject, became a hit for some time, one of many tunes I penned for Children’s Church. Decades down the road, I still believe it to be so. It’s just part of breathing. Even so, however, the way to the river. Speak unto the rock,” God told Moses. You don’t get there by force, but by relaxing and falling into it……

"Communion..............................."

Sunday evening service was not so much one where God’s presence saturated the sanctuary, His Spirit so thick that one sense they are literally “in” Him rather than the other way around. Nonetheless, each segment, unlike the morning attempt at worship, seemed anointed in so far as the body of us being one from beginning to end. It was like God was there, but “above us”, “beyond” us, pulling us together in recognition of His speaking to us in what He was doing, not just what He was saying, and we needed to pay attention. Halfway through, just before the pastor preached, my oldest grandson sang for the first time before the congregation, his friend accompanying him on the ukulele, the lyrics referring to a desire to see the world through His eyes. The sermon that followed, then, was merely a word spoken from our shepherd’s heart, a two-letter exclamation out of Isaiah that translates to a command for all to “stop” and the prophetical invitation afterwards for all to “come”. Many came to the altar. In spite of so much that this old man doesn’t understand, the “building of bigger barns”, the politics behind much of what goes on, our vanity and our humanity yet very much in the mix, God continues to visit us with His mercy and His grace. His patience transcends it all. If I disagree with much: so what? The captives are being set free, the brokenhearted are being healed, and the reality of Christ discovered in my living room nearly forty years ago is at work in my daughters and their children. He is the potter; and I am content to leave it all in His hands……

"Treadwheels............................"

The Earth spins as it traverses its assigned, nearly circular course around the sun; and man arises each day going forth in much the same manner, some of us, perhaps, not so dizzy as others, but most of us, I think, not all that concerned with His hand upon the whole affair. The wonder of it all is beyond us. Our routine has us held in its grip and it’s just “life as usual”… The clerk behind the counter at McDonald’s this morning was a young teenage girl, pleasant enough, but obviously not quite yet out of bed. She was in no hurry whatsoever, her eyelids heavy and her manner letting you know that, while she appreciated the job, she was bored in fulfilling it. Her partner, working the window, was just as enthused. Serving me a senior coffee and a couple of those two-for-a-dollar hot apple pies no doubt wasn’t anything to get excited about, of course; but, then again, a smile and a bit of dialogue couldn’t hurt. It might, in fact, just be good for business… Beth slept in this morning, the sixteen degree temperature outside convincing her that leaving the present warmth afforded her beneath those blankets wasn’t really worth the effort. I chose me a seat in the rear of the sanctuary, shaking a few hands while walking over to it, but there for worship and not so much for fellowship. Looking around, though, as the song ministers up front began their attempt to bring us, as a body, into a unified spirit, I was struck by the hodge-podge of responses given to the music being brought forth. Even with the words boldly proclaimed on two larger computer screens before them, it was evident that many had other things on their mind at the moment. I do not judge. I simply find it humanity as it is. If the melody isn’t in your heart, thoughts turn elsewhere; it’s merely “church as usual”. I’ve been there too often myself. A program is but a program until He makes it an encounter……

"Dividends.........................."

With my granddaughter’s prelim to her “Panda Report” nearly finished, we went out to the church gymnasium Monday evening to watch our oldest grandson participate in the men’s basketball league. Lacking self-confidence in his younger years, he was never the star athlete; but we have since seen him overcome such feelings, indeed, it warming my heart as he scored a “career” high thus far: eight points, including a floater that dropped through the hoop in a move as good as any other accomplished on the floor. Remembering my own battle in that arena, trying to find some faith in myself when it seemed as if I who and what I was just didn’t fit into the image demanded of me by others, it is rewarding to find him the man he has become. His parents have raised him well. His convictions are strong. Whether he understands the Gospel in the depths of possessing a structured theology, I know not; but of this I am assured: he has grasped enough along the way to be grounded in his thinking, to be anchored in his connection with the resurrection, and to be secure in that promise of “Christ in me”, a well to which he can return again and again. The details will work themselves out as he goes. In a world where I see so much disrespect for authority, loss of hope, and a sense of living in chaos, that seed sown in me so long ago continues to bring forth fruit…..

"Unity......................................"

Sunday, in passing, did nothing to relieve my thoughts in so far as where I found them after leaving the movie theater on Saturday. In truth, morning service came and went, my personal participation in it limited to one song whose lyrics took me into a worship that stayed with me through the serving of Communion afterwards. From there, though, the offering recital wherein the congregation expresses, en masse, their belief in a number of ways that God is will reward them for their tithes left me not too tuned into the pastor’s sermon; and when he, near the end, announced he would be once again preaching that evening on his vision for the church, a decision was reached concerning my attendance at that one. My mind does not condemn. It just does not entertain any desire to share the complete package being brought forth from the pulpit concerning the course before us. As noted here frequently: “people are people; and I are one”. It happens; and it doesn’t mean I have to go to war. We are back here because of my daughters; and there is no denying that the Holy Ghost often meets us here in a great way. That, however, to the best of my understanding in as much as the past four decades have taught it to me, doesn’t eradicate humanity as it is after the anointing settles and we all once again Know Him from “this side of the veil”. Judgment will one day come to us all and what will count is not who was right, who was wrong, but my relationship with Him, my obedience to His “tug on the anchor-line”. The sanctuary, after all, doesn’t demand we agree in all things, only in our acceptance of that latter in our life……

"Understanding..........................."

”But if we walk in the light, as He is in the light, we have fellowship one with another, and the blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from all sin”….1st John 1:7

Beth and I went to the cinema yesterday afternoon, long overdue for such a date and mutually enticed by the television clips of “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close”. It turned out to be one of those long movies, having you enjoying the story but, after awhile, wondering where they are going with the plot. Centered around the tragedy of 9/11, its tale more concerned itself with how the loss of his father played out in the life of a young boy diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome. Working with Elementary Special-Ed children, the whole scenario spoke to me; but what hit me even more was the idea of each of us being linked by our humanity. Different though our stories may be, yet within us runs a ribbon that connects us if we can but manage to look past the other fellow’s individuality and embrace that lost soul wandering with us through this mystery called life. When will we learn that the sin is not so much in who and what we are, as in our rejection of that One who created us, that One who is able to heal us from the inside out? I look each day at family, friends, people who step into my existence if only momentarily, the guy pumping gas, the woman at the mall, the men at the mission, the kids at the detention center – what is it that really separates us all other than our opinions, our fears, our unwillingness to look in the mirror and see ourselves through His eyes? For four decades, the verse above spoke to me in terms of my somehow walking in perfection, or at least in as much as it is possible for me to see things as He sees them. Could it be, though, that what John actually means is that, in simply holding to His hand as we stumble down the path, giving grace even as we receive grace, the walls between us are torn down through that which He extends to us all?......

"Temporary Osmosis.........................."

”The point is that God’s dwelling in man is paradoxical. It encompasses already and not yet: this mystery already dwells within us while, at the same time, it is always yet to come. Hope and faith are the forces that defend the freedom and openness of our souls for this mystery of God.”… Tomas Halik

It surprised me to hear a Catholic so speak of “Christ in me”, but certainly not the first time that someone with a different theological perspective has stunned me in expressing views similar to my own. There is always, of course, the chance of my misreading the author’s words, getting a mental translation that was not intended. Admittedly, he often baffles me elsewhere in his book, portions where he shows me his own humanity, his own “guilt” in the matter he discusses above. Do not we all stand so judged in that court on high, though, other than our continued surrender to that which was purchased for us through the Cross, our willingness to allow the Potter to shape us as we go? “No one can claim to possess the entire truth,” Mr. Halik states; and then adds, “but that does not deprive me of the right and duty to stand by the conclusions I have reached.” To which I say “Amen!”, but would further note: “Woe to that man, nonetheless, who is so set in concrete he cannot be moved by the Holy Ghost.”…. Last night my wife and I were enjoying a recording of this past Sunday’s evening service, the one in which three of our older grandsons became deeply immersed in God’s presence, each of them connecting with the Spirit’s flow during worship, their individual inner wells springing up to make them one in Him. Beth had not been there to witness the event. She watched, both as a grandmother and a “raised-in-old-time-holiness-believer”. This old man, however, beyond discovering just how much the bald spot on the crown of my head had become, took in “the whole picture” and remarked to her how most people, without experiencing the bond we, as a congregation, knew at the time, would think us all crazy, religious fanatics who simply “overdose” on shared emotional phenomena. She replied that she didn’t care what others believed. Within my own heart, however, while I would not demand everyone’s experience of an encounter with Him to mirror my own, while I realize that no one’s “brush” with Him, in whatever form, is any less a matter than another’s, yet there is a compassion within me that all might know Him for an on-going tangible reality in their life, not just a religious doctrine held in their head; and surely that is a journey we all must each take for ourselves.....