Today, like many others judging by the insufferably long line at the post office, I sent my check to the IRS.  But then I just heard that about half of Americans do not pay any income tax.   So maybe one is more certain than the other.  Which is why I have been thinking more on the fact of death lately.  Or rather, I should say the death of death has been on my mind.

It strikes me how much of our lives are impacted, and really even shaped by pain and sickness and even death.  Two of the most vivid memories of childhood for me involve them.  There was my baby sister, about a year old, lying in a hospital crib connected to all manner of tubes.  Missing Thanksgiving.  Undergoing major abdominal surgery.  Sporting a scar along her belly that seemed half as long as she was.  Making the medical text books because of the rarity of her illness.

There was my Granddaddy, who owned a local gas station and garage.  My brother and I fighting to go to work with him to watch him work on cars.  Who taught me how to use his Gravely mover, which was a monster to this boy learning how, my Granny’s shorn geranium bed proving it.  I remember exactly where I was when they told me the ambulance took him to the hospital.  Next thing I remember is visiting the funeral home.  I will never forget the smell of the flowers from that place.

These things also impacted the earliest days of my ministry career.  Three months into my first pastorate, after church on a Sunday evening, something happened.  I wasn’t sure what, only that there was commotion in the parking lot and people saying we needed to pray.  Somehow a 12 year old young man from our church was hit by a car and was tragically killed. This was to be my first funeral service.  What do you say in a situation like this?  And how do you comfort grieving parents, who I would see in the months after the accident sitting in their car in the parking lot looking over the place where their son died?

There was Caroline’s 1st birthday party.  Before they left, my parents told me that my dad had a problem in his shoulder that doctors were worried about.  “Nothing to worry about, just wanted you to know.” A few tests later and it was cancer.  Surgery was scheduled.  We waited in the hospital to hear from the surgeon.  Bad news – it has metastasized and there is nothing that can be done.  Radiation.  Chemotherapy.  Hospice.  An early Sunday morning phone call and he was gone.

Six months later to the day, Thanksgiving Day to be exact, we find ourselves in another hospital.  It’s Denise’s dad this time.  A stroke.  He has had more than his fair share of illness in his life — kidney failure, dialysis, a transplant, and heart surgery.  But we didn’t expect this.  Not that anyone ever does.  Born on Christmas Day.  Dies on Thanksgiving.  We’ll never look at these holidays quite the same.

These are my experiences.  You have your stories as well.  Stories that have marked us, and even shaped our lives in very significant ways.  What would our lives be like if we never experienced these moments?  Some would be quick to say ‘better’.  But all would admit they would be at least ‘different’.  Which brings me to the most striking, at least for me, description of heaven.  The apostle John has seen some amazing things in this vision we call the book of Revelation.  But near the end, he sees the city of heaven arriving.  And he hears the king of heaven declaring that in those days, “There will no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away” (Revelation 21:4).  The very things that are huge in my life story now don’t matter.  They don’t register at all.  Things that were the ultimate certainties of life are now done away with.

I have heard many descriptions of heaven, and most talk about its streets of gold and many mansions.  Nice things to be sure.  But I’ve been in some amazing mansions.  And while I’ve never walked a street of gold, I have seen some opulence than comes close.  But “no more death or mourning or crying or pain” I simply have a hard time wrapping my mind around because of everything I have written already.  But because of Jesus — the one who experienced the most horrible death imaginable on my behalf — I will get to try.

1.  Cure the ‘Keys Disease‘

Or put another way, we are going to start services on time.  The plan is to have some music playing by 8:45 to set the mood/tone as you arrive.  Then we’ll start at 9 AM sharp.  Even if there are only 5 of us there.  

2.  Begin a Time of Prayer Before the Service

For anyone who would like to be a part, we will meet in my office on Sunday mornings at 8:35 to pray prior to the worship service.  Join me starting this week, January 2^nd. 

3.  Prayer Meeting Will Be Moved to the Sanctuary

Right now, we are meeting in a classroom near the office.  While I have enjoyed the intimacy of the smaller space, some have indicated it is too cozy for their taste.  So starting Wednesday, January 5^th, we will be in the sanctuary beginning at 6:30 PM.

4.  Have One Activity Each Month NOT at the Church

We are going to take the first word of the Great Commission (Matthew 28:19-20) seriously – we are going to “Go!”  We got a taste of it when we wrapped gifts at K-Mart before Christmas.  Let’s break the ‘holy huddle’ of Sundays and get in the game.  We’ll be looking for ways to reach into our community with the message of Jesus.  January’s activity will be prayer walking the area.  Stay tuned for more details.

5.  Emphasize & Re-Engergize Small Group Bible Study

First, the bad news: our attendance on Sunday mornings this past year has slipped.   But there is some good news: I have seen groups meeting at other times during the week stay strong.  While corporate worship is great, there is no substitute for time spent with other believers in the Word of God.  So I want to see us offer some new and unique opportunities to do just that.  Expect short term studies, special events, and a few surprises as well.

It begins at youth camp in the summer of 2008.  The theme that year was “Kilimanjaro: The Secrets of the Kingdom.”  The Bible study that week was on the parables in Matthew 13 that discuss the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven.  All was well and good until we got to verses 45-46, which is often called the parable of the pearl of great price.  I was familiar with it, had heard it taught on.  The lesson was pretty straightforward, the discussion centering on the idea that the kingdom of heaven was like a priceless pearl that one would sell all he owned to have.  And that is when I noticed something.

As you go through the parables in the chapter, they follow a sort of formula.  Each parable begins, “The kingdom of heaven is like…”  This phrase is repeated in verses 24, 31, 33, 44, 45, and 47.  In each instance Jesus makes a comparison to something: “a man who sowed good seed”; “a mustard seed”; “yeast”; “a treasure hidden in a field”; “a merchant”; and “a net”.  That is when I noticed something not on that list – the pearl of great price.  Based on the pattern of the chapter, the kingdom of heaven was compared to a merchant looking for pearls, not the pearl itself.  I mentioned this to our group, but it didn’t gain much traction. 

I wish I could say I forgot about it, but I didn’t.  It nagged at me the rest of the week at camp.  When I got back home, I immediately pulled out a few commentaries on Matthew 13 to see what they said.  I used my Bible software to look at a few others.  I even looked up sermons on the internet on the passage.  And everywhere I looked, I came across the common interpretation that the parable tells us that the kingdom of heaven is of inestimable value, to be pursued no matter what the cost.  But it still did not satisfy me.  Because it seemed to me that there was something else there, that the kingdom was somehow more like the merchant.  But that left another question: if not the kingdom, then what does the pearl represent?  And that proved just as troubling. 

Over the next couple of years, I returned to these verses again and again.  No matter where I looked or how much I studied, I could not find someone make the point about the kingdom being like the merchant.  But in spite of all that, here is where I ended up: the kingdom is like the merchant.  And what about the pearl of great price?  That’s the church, you and me.  God saw such a priceless pearl that He was willing to sell everything He had to acquire it, namely by sending His one and only Son Jesus to die on the cross for our sins.  I may be the only one who saw it this way, but it was the only answer that seemed to fit.

I wish I could say that settled it.  But since I still had not read or heard that particular interpretation anywhere, it bothered me.  Until today.  I was listening to my favorite preacher this afternoon, Dr. Adrian Rogers.  And guess what passage he was preaching on? And guess what he said?  (And I might add, said it very well, as he usually does.)  So yes, I am feeling much better now!

By the way, here’s the link if you would like to listen to Dr. Rogers explain it far better than I can.  http://www.oneplace.com/ministries/love-worth-finding/listen/the-strange-mystery-of-the-precious-pearl-148389.html

To help me along the way, I am following a training program through the Nike+ website. It’s kind of a neat gadget that works with my ipod to keep track of how far and how fast I run. I can look at the site and see neat graphs of my runs, set goals, join challenges, and the like. And this training program gives me specific workouts based on my goal time for the race.

And just when I start to think I am doing ok, making progress to my time goals, along comes an incident to keep me humble. Like the time I went into a local drug store to pick up a few things. Living in a small town, you get to know the people who work in the places you frequent. So as I was talking with the cashier, she mentioned she saw me out this week. More specifically, she said she saw me out “walking” one morning. I am admittedly no speed demon. When I say I run, I realize I am using the term loosely. But I think I at least look like I am doing more than walking. So I assuaged my ego by telling myself she must have seen me during my “I’m over half way done so I am going to catch my breath and take a couple of minutes to walk” break.

Then there was yesterday morning. I had run south along the bike path for a couple of miles and was taking my aforementioned walk break. I had turned around and started running again when a car stops in the bike path a few hundred yards ahead. Someone gets out and starts walking toward me who I think I might recognize. When I get close enough, I realize it is someone from church. I take off my headphones to say good morning and am greeted by concern. “I saw you walking so I turned around to check on you. Are you ok? Do you need a ride home?”

I guess I have brought this one on myself. My main response when people say they see me out running is, ‘Sorry you had to see that.’ Apparently it is not a pretty sight! But in spite of it all, I’ll be back out there tomorrow. You might not see me as much, because I think I’ll stay on the back roads for a while. But I’ll stick to the program. After all, it’s only 3 months to race day!

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Update: This was originally posted about a year ago, so the Miami race was in January 2010.   I finished, but was not too happy with my time of 2:43:52.  But I will be trying again next year and hope to do better.  In the meantime, you can still see me out ‘walking’ 4 or 5 days a week

The Nantahala is mostly made up of class II rapids, making it rather tame by rafting standards. So tame in fact that you can rent a raft and head down the river with no guide. But only after they try to scare you with the video that tells you how you can die doing it! After the video, our family boarded the bus and headed up river to begin our adventure, just like before. Only this was the first trip that we had a raft to ourselves and I was to sit in the back and act as guide. Like I said, this time things were different.

So we’re in the raft and pushing off into the current. The river begins almost immediately with the second hardest rapid on the river, Patton’s Run. The instructions from the video are to stay right and avoid the rock on the left, aptly named “Jaws” for its tendency to gobble up rafts and spit the riders out. Mind you we have been in the raft all of 30 seconds when we hit this rapid. And while I have rafted 6-8 times, I do it at best only once a year and never from the rear with the responsibility to steer the raft. Plus the raft is lopsided with 2 on one side and 1 on the other. And the 2 paddlers are stronger than the 1 and are pushing the raft right toward that evil rock. In trying to get us going the proper direction, I overcompensate. So now the raft has spun so that we going backwards. At which point I hear clearly shouted above the rushing water, “We’re all going to die!!!!!” (Any guesses where that came from?)

Not to give away the ending, but we did not die. In fact, no one even fell out of the raft. And all in all it proved to be quite a good day. Because now this wasn’t just a rafting trip, it was a teachable moment. We learned that when things didn’t exactly go as planned — let’s just say that wasn’t the only rapid we went through backwards — panic didn’t help. That everybody felt more secure when Dad confidently gave directions. But mostly that the only way to get down the river was to work together and trust each other.

And that’s what we did. For the next hour and a half, we learned how to keep the raft pointed down the river. How to spot the rocks that would hang up the raft. How to enter a rapid and hit a wave to get the kids up front a face full of ice cold water. (Ok, I figured out that last one myself and did it as often as I could!) How to keep from being pushed too close to the trees overhanging the river. How to laugh and have fun as we paddled.

All was going well until the the last rapid, Nantahala Falls. It is the fastest and toughest rapid on the river as you drop over about a 5 to 6 foot ledge. We pulled off the river and walked to ‘scout’ the rapid at the overlook. We watched a few boats go over just fine. Then we watched a full raft come flying down the river, get turned sideways, and turn over dumping everyone in the river. All that anxiety from Patton’s Run was back. Can we keep the raft straight? Can we avoid that big rock and take the right line through the falls? What happens if we get dumped? Should we even try this?

I’m proud to say that we did. Yes, I was nervous. I think we all were. But yes, it was a blast! We pushed back into the river. Took the bend on the inside just like we needed to. Slid by that large rock, catching the wave off its side to slingshot us forward. Hit the Falls dead center, boat straight, riding the water at its crest over the 2 ledges. Beached our raft and went to look at the picture that proved we did it.

Who knew that a fun day on the river could prove such a learning experience. Now let’s hope we remember and practice those lessons on dry land.

Last Sunday I preached for the first time with the new one. And I was proud to. After all, its leather cover still shone, all my name was beautifully engraved, and the edges were still gilded in silver. So I entered the pulpit, put out my notes and began. I opened my Bible to the passage,  laid it on the pulpit and moved away (apparently I wander back and forth when I speak). And when I came back to read the text, the Bible was closed. Which would have been fine had I used the handy ribbon marker to hold my place. But I didn’t. So I had to fumble through it to find what I wanted. And then I read it. And laid it down once again. And it closed again. And I didn’t mark my place again. So I found it again and carefully put it down to see if it would close. Which it tried to do. But I caught it. And decided to turn it face down to hold the page. But as I wandered off, I felt bad about doing that to a new Bible. Instead I picked it up and carried it around the rest of the morning. But NOT with the cover folded back like I did with the old one that caused the crease.

I learned something else using the new one for the first time: they moved things around in it. Now before anyone gets the wrong idea, let me explain. All 66 books are there, with all their chapters and verses in the right order. It’s just that I am very visual, especially as it relates to my memory. I had used the same Bible for more than 10 years; and I knew, for instance, that Psalm 23 was on the left page, about 1/2 way down the right-hand column. That John 14 is on the right page, left-hand column almost to the bottom. That Revelation 21 is also on the right page, left-hand column just a little higher than John 14 starts. Needless to say, they didn’t exactly get printed in the same places. Which makes it a little disorienting for me to use it. What’s a preacher to do?!?

After thinking for a while of just using the old one (and also hoping my kids wouldn’t notice or be offended), I changed my mind. I think I’ll just take the plunge and use the new one. After all, it’s really like getting to know an old friend. And I think that in a few years I’ll pull out the old one and lay them side by side. Who knows what stories the creases and tatters on the new one might tell.

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Please Note: I originally wrote this after Father’s Day 2009.  And for the record, no, I did not wait 14 months until last Sunday to preach from my new Bible.   Although, to be honest, it did take quite a while for me to “retire” the old one.

 What do you focus on when you read/hear/quote that verse? I imagine many of us camp out on the word boldly. And with good reason. To be able to approach God in prayer is one of the greatest privileges we have as Christians. We can come with confidence that He hears us. We can know with confidence that He answers.

Or maybe the word that catches us is grace. It is a throne of grace, not of law. Of grace, not of judgement. Of grace, not of wrath. Stuck in our sin, we are under the law, subject to judgement, objects of wrath. But because of what Jesus has done on the cross, we can receive what we do not deserve – God’s grace.

A few nights ago at our Wednesday prayer meeting, another word jumped out at me. And until this week, I had glossed right it. And it may be the one word that holds the key to all the others. Throne. It is a throne we approach boldly. It is a throne of grace.

We aren’t much for thrones. That’s how the whole American experiment got started, by throwing off the power of a throne. A rebellious streak runs through just about everyone of us – it’s really only a matter of degree.

But here’s the kicker: if it’s not a throne, why would I want to come at all, much less boldly? It doesn’t make sense to come boldly to a friend’s living room; I was invited. Or to come with confidence to a doctor’s office; I have to foot the bill. Boldly only means something if I am coming to a place I should approach with caution. A place like a throne.

And if it’s not a throne, what value is there in the grace? Grace that doesn’t come from a throne is sympathy at best, pity at worst. And that doesn’t make much difference. Now give someone a presidential pardon and that changes everything. Because there is some authority to back it up. Even if that authority is only of one of the countries on one of the planets in one of the solar systems in one of the galaxies of the universe. So we can multiply that authority times eternity to begin to get an idea of the kind of power that flows from the throne of the universe.

Now we’re onto something!