Pastors' Blog

As far as I know, the Lutheran Church in town boasts the only life-size nativity display in our county. At nighttime its scattered spotlights cast a surreal glimmering over the porcelain participants in the birth of the Christ Child. And the recent snowfall with its dollops of white lumped across the scene only adds to its mystique—shepherds, magi, donkey and camel as big as life clustered about the peasant family of man, woman and Infant. "For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior which is Christ the Lord" declared the Christmas angel (Luke 2:11).

Joseph Cahill reflects: "At its profoundest, our celebration of Christmas, which continues to maintain such an inexplicable hold on our whole culture, is not 'good news' about material acquisitions (as everything from department stores to television commercials proclaims to us): it is rather, a dramatization of the simple triumphs of common humanity, in which joy at a baby's birth can overcome the most grievous official oppressions, and even the pedestrian aggravations, of ordinary life" (Desire of Everlasting Hills 100).

That's certainly one way to summarize it. But even Cahill would agree that if the Bethlehem story is reduced to "a dramatization of the simple truths of common humanity,"  who could blame us for dashing past that crude manger, oblivious to the silver miracle embedded in its straw?

Nearly twenty centuries ago came this first carol of all: "By common confession, great is the mystery of godliness:

He who was revealed in the flesh,
Was vindicated in the Spirit,
Seen by angels,
Proclaimed among the nations,
Believed on in the world,
Taken up in glory."
(1 Timothy 3:16 NASB)

Nearly fifteen centuries later Martin Luther composed a children's carol for this season:

Our little Lord, we give thee praise
That thou hast deigned to take our ways.
Born of a maid a man to be,
And all the angels sing to thee.

The eternal Father's Son he lay
Cradled in a crib of hay.
The everlasting God appears
In our frail flesh and blood and tears.

What the globe could not enwrap
Nestled lies in Mary's lap.
Just a baby, very wee,
Yet Lord of all the world is he.   

Nearly a century ago Ellen White crafted this un-carol depiction of Christmas: "The work of redemption is called a mystery, and it is indeed the mystery by which everlasting righteousness is brought to all who believe. . . . At an infinite cost, and by a process mysterious to angels as well as to men, Christ assumed humanity. Hiding His divinity, laying aside His glory, He was born a babe in Bethlehem" (7BC 915).

The mystery of incarnation, the miracle of "infleshment" summarized by Paul, celebrated by Luther, articulated by White.

For upon that mystery is balanced the only truth left to save humanity from itself. "For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life" (John 3:16).

"Just a baby, very wee, yet Lord of all the world is he."

"O come, let us adore Him."

The list of the high and mighty who have been recently named in sexual harassment charges is stunning. From politicians to entertainers to media icons—it seems America now awakens each day with some new hitherto undisclosed revelation or charge of sexual abuse or harassment. Women victims, who have long been shamed or cowed into submission and silence by powerful male perpetrators, have found new voice and courage to speak out. And men, who once lived with wanton disregard for the women they mistreated with sexual abandon, now stand before the court of public opinion, their sexual libidos in full display. Even the secular press now touts sexual accountability, justice, and morality.

However, this sudden outbreak of sexual disclosure should hardly be unexpected, given the ancient prediction: "But mark this: There will be terrible times in the last days. People will be lovers of themselves... lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God—having a form of godliness but denying its power. Have nothing to do with such people" (2 Timothy 3:1-2, 4-5 NIV). Perhaps the operative word from Scripture for today's headlines should be: "'How the mighty have fallen!'" (2 Samuel 1:27).

But what would Jesus say to the girls and the women who have been wounded and shamed by workplace or campus sexual abuse or harassment? Remember Mary (the sister of Martha and Lazarus) at the feast of Simon, the healed leper? There she was, kneeling beside Jesus, sobbing as she splashed expensive perfume over both His head and feet. Here Desire of Ages draws the veil aside with a disclosure not unlike the headlines of late. As it turns out, "Simon had led into sin the woman he now despised. [Mary] had been deeply wronged by him" (566). He (who was her uncle, no less [Daughters of God 239]) had led her into the shame of his own sexual sin.

So when Jesus responds to the hisses of disapproval for Mary's outpouring (from the nearly all-male) dinner guests around that table, He speaks cryptic but forceful words still addressed to every male abuser: "'Leave her alone'" (John 12:7).

The church and this faith community stand beside all victims of unwanted sexual abuse—for there is no place in either Kingdom or church for this predatory immorality. If you are a victim of such abuse, then seize the new freedom that many victims are now sensing and speak up regarding your woundedness. Find a spiritual counselor you can trust, and share your story of pain. And if you're a student on this campus, go this website for instructions on how you may report the harassment (www.andrews.edu/life/health-safety/title-ix/universitypolicy). If you are in a workplace in this country, here is a website to assist you in reporting this illegal action to the authorities (www.aauw.org/what-we-do/legal-resources/know-your-rights-at-work/workplace-sexual-harassment).

Does Christ forgive sexual sin? Of course He does. Desire of Ages responds: "You may say, I am sinful, very sinful. You may be; but the worse you are, the more you need Jesus. He turns no weeping, contrite one away. He does not tell to any all that He might reveal, but He bids every trembling soul take courage. Freely will He pardon all who come to Him for forgiveness and restoration" (568).

But can Jesus heal the victims of sexual sin? The story of Mary offers a resounding Yes. Desire of Ages promises: "The plan of redemption has invested humanity with great possibilities, and in Mary these possibilities were to be realized. Through His grace she became a partaker of the divine nature.... The souls that turn to Him for refuge, Jesus lifts above the accusing and the strife of tongues. No man or evil angel can impeach these souls. Christ unites them to His own divine-human nature. They stand beside the great Sin Bearer, in the light proceeding from the throne of God" (ibid).

And where better to stand than beside the One who can both heal our wounds and forgive our guilt? No matter the headlines—abuser or victim—the light shining from Calvary offers hope to us all.

The unspeakable tragedy that befell the First Baptist Church in Sutherland Springs, Texas, on Sunday morning has not only broken the collective heart of church-going America. It has caused every church-going American to wonder if it could happen to us, too.

"All I heard was bullets flying everywhere," 73 year old Farida Brown testified, according to the Wall Street Journal. She and a friend, sitting on the last pew near the door, instinctively dropped to the floor when the staccato shooting began even before the black-clad gunman entered the sanctuary. "By the time Devin Patrick Kelley stopped shooting, most of the congregation would be dead or wounded. He killed 26 people and injured 20 more. Counted among the dead is the unborn child of Crystal Holcombe, who was also killed along with 7 family members, including her husband and children" (www.wsj.com/articles/a-survivors-account-from-inside-the-texas-church-as-bullets-rained-1510101060). Our hearts break.

Will this ever end, this accelerating mayhem that has become the daily fare of our world wide web news?

Over a century ago the American writer and spiritual leader Ellen White observed: "We are living in the midst of an 'epidemic of crime' at which thoughtful, God-fearing men everywhere stand aghast. The corruption that prevails is beyond the power of the human pen to describe. Every day brings fresh revelations of political strife, bribery, and fraud; every day brings its heartsickening record of violence and lawlessness, of indifference to human suffering; of brutal, fiendish destruction of human life. Every day testifies to the increase of insanity, murder, and suicide" (Testimonies to the Church 9:89).

" . . . beyond the power of the human pen to describe . . ." How tragically true.

And yet the rest of us awakened to the early morning glory of a silver midnight frost draped across our maples—miniature sparkles of ice just weighty enough to break loose leaves dying in yellows and reds, striking the ground below with tiny metallic thuds of protest. Death to be sure. But here at least even in death there still is beauty. This is not Texas.

But this is Earth. And across its pock-marked face the saga of human suffering and death spreads at rates and in degrees that startle even the most calloused observers.

Does the church, do the people and friends of God notice? If a century ago warranted a warning of inexplicable acceleration of epidemic crime and insane killing, what would that writer now say? What Jesus once said was even plainer, "'Even so, when you see these things happening, you know the kingdom of God is near'" (Luke 21:31).

How near? Near enough for the church of God to arouse from her lethargic slumber? Near enough for the young and the not-so-young of Adventism to turn aside for a day or two from the distractive noise and hypnotic clutch of our technological toys? Near enough for God's people to band together in prayer?

How about seven days of prayer, seven days and nights for opening our minds, our souls to the supreme God of the universe, the Savior of the world? Seven days and nights for praying the cry of the Damascus Road Saul to the Stranger in the blinding light, "'What am I to do, Lord?'" (Acts 22:10). (See the accompanying thematic guide for 7 Days of Prayer.)

Surely our God is earnest enough, creative enough, personal enough to answer the sincere petition, "What do You want me to do?" If it is racial reconciliation He calls us to pursue, surely He will show us how . . . right here . . . won’t He? If it is missionary zeal He hopes we will embrace, surely He will grant such fervor to our honest petitions, won't He? If it is His overcoming power He urges us to seek, surely He will grant to us the very victory power we long for, will He not?

Then let us ask in this time of diminishing time. Let us ask and receive, seek and find, knock and it will be opened to us—as Jesus urged us: ". . . how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who [Greek: daily/continually] ask Him!" (Luke 11:13). Because if the Holy Spirit is "the greatest of all gifts," then isn’t this the most urgent of all times to be daily seeking His fresh baptism of love and power and witness? 

It’s amazing how much one can learn of Martin Luther’s state of mind—simply because of the prodigious output from his prolific pen, because in every sense of the word his writings went "viral." Johannes Gutenberg’s invention of movable type and the printing press (seventy years before Luther) forever changed the human playing field. "In terms of its cultural impact the printing press was the most significant innovation in world history before the internet" (Derek Wilson Luther: Out of the Storm p. 41). Could it be Someone set the Reformer up for mass communication success years before he was born? "By 1500 every major town and city in Europe had at least one print works and there were already in existence more books than the world had ever seen—some thirty thousand titles, running to over six million copies." Thus it was possible for "'a little mouse like Wittenberg to roar like a lion across the length and breadth of Europe’" (ibid.).

So it isn’t hard to gauge Luther’s state of mind—but what about his state of health? Reading multiple biographies this summer I was stunned to learn how sick Luther was much of the time. Timothy Lull and Derek Nelson detail a painful life of ill health plaguing Martin throughout his adulthood. "He suffered for many years from tinnitus (ringing in the ears) and frequently had dizzy spells and fainting. Once he fainted in a pulpit and fell from it" (Resilient Reformer: The Life and Thought of Martin Luther p. 323). But there was more to come. Luther also suffered from: uremia (a kind of kidney failure), gout (painful joints caused by uremic acid build-up), and kidney stones. Given he lived at the end of the Dark Ages, we shouldn’t be surprised to learn Luther "praised his medicines coming from the Dreckapotheke (excrement pharmacy), including slurries of swine feces for reducing blood flow and horse dung for better breathing. Perhaps not surprisingly they seem not to have helped much" (p. 324). Surprise!

In 1537 Luther’s health tanked even further from a large kidney stone and its attendant bleeding. When he couldn’t urinate, the court’s physician prescribed massive amounts of water. And when this obviously only made matters worse, the doctor tried a mixture of garlic and raw manure. "In excruciating pain, Luther expected—and hoped for—death. Finally relief struck . . . [when] the sharp jostling of his carriage broke the [kidney] stone loose. Over a gallon of urine poured forth uncontrolled. Shocked by his survival, he exclaimed that night, 'Luther lives!’" (ibid.). Surprise!

But the more he aged the more afflicted Martin’s body. "His physical and emotional pain in these last years was so intense he frequently prayed that he be allowed to die" (p. 345). Now added to his list of ailments came a perforated eardrum (which festered with pus for weeks causing an acute inner-ear infection), severe diarrhea and vomiting, an abscess on his throat, his right eye going blind from a cataract, dysentery, rheumatism, and "crippling angina pectoris [chest pain due to coronary disease] episodically from 1540 until his death [1546] " (ibid.).

And yet in the midst of such painful suffering, Luther’s prodigious output of pastoral and theological writings poured forth unabated, as did his unrelenting challenge to Rome and his opponents, all the while shepherding his parish flock (now numbered by the thousands across Germany and even Europe). But therein lies the mystery of suffering, does it not? Do our lives produce fruit "in spite of" our personal suffering, or do they bear fruit "because of" that suffering? Sit down sometime and read 2 Corinthians 11:16-12:10. Brood over this lengthy list of personal trials and intense suffering the apostle Paul cheerfully (seemingly) endured in his peripatetic ministry for Christ. Like Luther he too pleaded to be released from the clutches of suffering. And to him (as no doubt to Luther) came the response of Christ, "My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Corinthians 12:9).

Paul, Luther, you and I—would that we all might exclaim with the apostle—"Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong" (2 Corinthians 12:9-10).

Soli Deo gloria. That He alone might be glorified.