Responding to last weekend’s terrorists’ attempts in London and attack in Glasgow, syndicated columnist Gwynne Dyer has suggested that the stories are getting greater play in the U.S. than in Europe. He reasons that because Europeans have been living with bombings since the world wars, they aren’t as easily panicked over the recent spate of terrorist attacks. Perhaps he’s right. Though how any society could accept “an occasional terrorist attack” as “one of the costs of doing business in the modern world” is beyond me.
Maybe what we’re witnessing is the frog in the kettle reality—the gradual ramping up of the burner, eventually boiling the hapless frog by stealth. Who can say?
Of this much I am deeply convicted. The global season of prayer that culminates today on 07-07-07 has been neither inconsequential nor unnecessary. For at what time in our collective memory have this nation and the nations of earth been more distracted and politically distraught over our inability to solve a mounting host of global dilemmas and predicaments? Terrorism, global warming, immigration, AIDS, pollution, water scarcity, petroleum depletion, abortion, the growing chasm between the have’s and the have-not’s, famine, drought, nuclear proliferation, the collapse of morals—you could probably double the list easily.
The point? “The present is a time of overwhelming interest to all living. Rulers and statesmen, men [and women] who occupy positions of trust and authority, thinking men and women of all classes, have their attention fixed upon the events taking place about us. . . . They observe the intensity that is taking possession of every earthly element, and they recognize that something great and decisive is about to take place—that the world is on the verge of a stupendous crisis” (Education 179, 180).
This isn’t rocket science. Instead, today’s blog is an earnest appeal to you to keep on praying. These past seven days have been good for my own soul, as Karen and I have reread and claimed the many Bible promises of the Holy Spirit’s outpouring. Shall we stop praying now? We must not! Can you recall a more needy hour of history we’ve lived through together? If ever the church (and the world) desperately needed the rain showers of the Holy Spirit to revive our parched souls, to refresh our brittle hopes, to reinvigorate our mission to the world, isn’t it now?
Paul didn’t quit praying. From his Roman prison he wrote to his friends in Philippi: “I thank my God upon every remembrance of you, always in every prayer of mine making request for you all with joy” (Philippians 1:3, 4, emphasis supplied). Because there are some prayers that you never stop praying. And the prayer to be filled with the Holy Spirit is just such a petition. And why not? After all, “with the reception of this gift, all other gifts would be ours” (ML 57, emphasis supplied).
So together let’s keep on keeping on with that prayer. And if you’d like to add a variation to it, would you pray it for your pastors? On July 13 we begin a city-wide evangelistic campaign in La Ceiba, Honduras. At the same time Pastor Tim begins a crusade in Mississippi. And our souls will be energized, knowing you’re claiming Ephesians 6:19, 20 on our behalf. La Ceiba, Mississippi and Michigan—three of the needy places on earth for God’s global rain. Please pray on!
If the rocks could talk, what a tale they would tell. Having just returned from four days in the Piedmont valleys of northwestern Italy with a class of architecture students here at Andrews University, I can only imagine the stories that are etched deep into the crags of the rocky sentinels that guard the seven valleys of the Waldenses. Jetlagged I woke up early our first morning beside the Pellice River and walked the valley just as the first orange rays of sunlight were illuminating the ragged snow-capped peaks ringing the green fields and forests beneath them. A thousand years earlier clusters of men, women and children—faithful to the witness of Christ and his truth—had lived in small granite walled and roofed houses, the ruins of which still dot these valleys. And into the pagan darkness of the Middle Ages those Waldensian alpine communities shined the light of unbroken truth, passed on from generation to generation. In fact it is to them we owe the preservation of Holy Scripture, taught to their children, memorized by their youth, painstakingly hand copied onto parchment by the adults and hidden away in their mountain refuges. But the crimson tragedy of Waldensian history has proved true the words of Christ: “And this is the condemnation, that light has come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil” (John 3:19). And so history painfully chronicles the horror of those brutal crusading armies, sent on their mission of extermination by the powers that dwelt in the plains of Italy. We stood atop the Castelluzzo, a towering rocky promenade over a thousand feet above the Pellice banks, where entire communities of Waldenses were hurled off that precipice. We walked the streets of the ancient La Torre village where the canons boomed at 4 a.m. on April 24, 1655, the prearranged signal to begin the massacre of its unsuspecting citizens. They still remember that extermination as “Bloody Easter.” So unspeakable was that crime against humanity that when Sir Oliver Cromwell read the eye-witness accounts of the slaughter, he declared a day of fasting and prayer across England. And yet, as Tertullian observed, “the blood of martyrs is seed.” The seed of Revelation 12’s woman. The remnant seed of the woman that the dragon will yet turn his wrath upon (v 17). But from that seed of faithful witness God will yet reap a global harvest of saved men, women and children. Having just returned from His alpine harvest fields of long ago, I recommit my life to the Christ of the Waldenses and to the truth he preserved through them. And I invite you to do the same. For if seed is what God yet needs, then let us be that seed He would plant in the valleys where we live.
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!
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.
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?