Control... Galatians 3

Galatians 3

It's easy to get confused these days. "Out of control" isn't what we want to be. People who drink too much are said to be "out of control." Those who worry too much become emotionally "out of control." The same goes for those who go too far with anything: prescription drugs, food, fitness, sex, work—you name it.

But wait. Does this mean we're supposed to be "in control"? Is that our goal? I know a boss (in fact I know several) who is definitely "in control." Folks who work for him either grin and bear it or jump ship as soon as another job surfaces. Some fathers are, without question, "in control." They intimidate, dominate, moderate, and manipulate.

But being "in control" doesn't necessarily mean "controlling." A healthy, happy life requires being in control of ourselves. To be punctual, we must control the use of our time. To be prepared and ready, we must be in control of our schedule. To be a good listener, our minds and tongue must be controlled. To get a project completed, our tendency to procrastinate must be under the firm control of our determination.

This means, then, that we need to be in firm control of ourselves . . . but not controlling of others. Our example? Christ, of course. He got the job done. Without wasted effort, personal panic, or extreme demands, He accomplished the objective. Right on schedule, He went to that cross. When He sighed, "It is finished," it was. Absolutely and completely.

Did most believe? Are you kidding? The vast majority back then, as now, didn't give Him the time of day. Could He have grabbed the controls and forced them to sit up and take notice? I hope to shout! Remember what He said? "Do you think that I cannot appeal to My Father, and He will at once put at My disposal more than twelve legions of angels?" (Matt. 26:53). I'd call 72,000 angels being in charge, wouldn't you? It was His own control that restrained Him from controlling others.

The Christian life boils down to a battle of the wills: Christ's vs. our own. Every day we live we must answer, "Who's in charge here?"

Recently I received a letter from a fine Christian couple, and I smiled understandingly at one line: "Although the Lord has taken good care of my wife and me for the past thirty-eight years, He has taken control of us for the past two and a half."

Tell me, how long has the Lord taken care of you? Be honest now . . . has He also taken control of you? It's easy to get confused these days. It's even easier to take control.

Don't get "out of control" because you're so determined to stay "in control."

 We need to be in firm control of ourselves without controlling others.

Profitable journey... Luke 24:27

Luke 24:27

The two disciples on the road to Emmaus had a most profitable journey. Their companion and teacher was the best of tutors; the interpreter one of a thousand, in whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. The Lord Jesus condescended to become a preacher of the gospel, and he was not ashamed to exercise his calling before an audience of two persons, neither does he now refuse to become the teacher of even one. Let us court the company of so excellent an Instructor, for till he is made unto us wisdom we shall never be wise unto salvation.

This unrivalled tutor used as his class-book the best of books. Although able to reveal fresh truth, he preferred to expound the old. He knew by his omniscience what was the most instructive way of teaching, and by turning at once to Moses and the prophets, he showed us that the surest road to wisdom is not speculation, reasoning, or reading human books, but meditation upon the Word of God. The readiest way to be spiritually rich in heavenly knowledge is to dig in this mine of diamonds, to gather pearls from this heavenly sea. When Jesus himself sought to enrich others, he wrought in the quarry of Holy Scripture.

The favoured pair were led to consider the best of subjects, for Jesus spake of Jesus, and expounded the things concerning himself. Here the diamond cut the diamond, and what could be more admirable? The Master of the House unlocked his own doors, conducted the guests to his table, and placed his own dainties upon it. He who hid the treasure in the field himself guided the searchers to it. Our Lord would naturally discourse upon the sweetest of topics, and he could find none sweeter than his own person and work: with an eye to these we should always search the Word. O for grace to study the Bible with Jesus as both our teacher and our lesson!

Hidden Hero's part 2... Philippians 2:1-2

Philippians 2:1–2

As we discussed in Part One, Martin Luther, hero of the Protestant Reformation, was a maverick, a classic shaker and mover. Alone . . . independent . . . invincible. He needed no one but God to lean on.

Or did he?

Is that true of any "hero"?

No, indeed not. Back in the shadows, hidden from public view behind the massive personality of Martin Luther, was the real hero . . . the authentic intellectual of the Reformation. Yet to this day, most Christians would be unable to state his name—let alone spell it correctly.

"Below middle size, diffident, hesitating, of frail body . . ." describes one of Philip Melanchthon's biographers. With a "stammering tongue, he carried one shoulder higher than the other."

Not enough public relations "uumph" to make a single head turn, yet it was he who exerted the most powerful influence over Luther when the spokesman carried the torch and shook it in the face of the Church.

It was he who pioneered the first Protestant edition of systematic theology. He was the genius of the educational systems of Europe . . . indeed, "the father of modern scholarship." In his generation, his knowledge of the New Testament Greek was unsurpassed by any scholar in all of Europe. How greatly Luther needed such a friend! Martin consulted Philip on difficult passages of Scripture so often, Luther's translation was really a combined effort rather than a solitary achievement.

Luther had warmth, vigor, and explosive strength; Melanchthon, however, had clarity of thought, discretion, and mildness. Luther energized his quiet friend; Melanchthon tempered his. The stump-moving, thorn-pulling Luther realized the treasure he had in his brilliant compatriot. "Master Philip," he wrote, "comes along gently and softly, sowing and watering with joy, according to the gifts which God has abundantly bestowed upon him."

What a one-two punch! It took Luther to commend the Reformation to the common people. But by his gracious moderation, his quiet love of order, his profound and indisputable scholarship, Melanchthon won for it the support of the learned.

When Luther died, it was Melanchthon, of course, who pronounced the oration over his tomb. A few short years later, the scholar's body was lowered into the same grave alongside the more famous hero of the Reformation. Appropriately, they now rest side by side in the Old Castle Church at Wittenberg. Death, not life, the equalizer.

Are you the bigger-than-life "hero" . . . the public figure folks want to see and meet and quote? If so, are you big enough to acknowledge the wind beneath your wings? Perhaps you are more like Melanchthon—in the shadows, faithfully and humbly at work, making someone else successful, providing better fuel for an ever greater fire. Be encouraged! It's for you that songs like this are written:

WIND BENEATH MY WINGS

It must have been cold there in my shadow,

To never have the sunlight on your face.

You've been content to see me shine.

You always walked a step behind.

I was the one with all the glory

While you were the one with all strain.

Only a face without a name.

I never once heard you complain.

Did you ever know that you're my hero?

And everything I'd like to be?

I can fly higher than an eagle,

But you are the wind beneath my wings.

—Larry Henley and Jeff Silbar

Up-front heroes are often seen as being larger than life. Overstated. That's unfortunate. Hidden heroes are often seen as being smaller than life. Underrated. That's most unfortunate.

Hidden Hero's... Mark 10:35-45

Mark 10:35–45

Up-front heroes are often seen as being larger than life. Overstated. That's unfortunate.

Because they are public figures, folks think of them as broad-shouldered giants who can leap tall buildings in a single bound. They are thought of as superpeople possessing endless strength, limitless vision, relentless determination, effortless skills, and matchless charisma. Their courage is legendary. Their words drip with eloquence. Their endorsements carry weight. Their presence, well, it's like a touch o' magic. It's an exaggeration, you understand, but . . .

So it goes with certain callings . . . strong-voiced, often multitalented leaders, whose names become quotable points of reference. Their opinions and their decisions stand out, almost as if they possess an inside track to pristine truth. Agree with it or not, we still need some who can take the lead and set the pace. Big shoes must be filled.

And that is certainly the way it was with Martin Luther.

You and I cannot think of the Reformation without mentioning that name. What Henry Ford was to the auto industry, what Ben Franklin was to electricity, what George Halas was to professional football, what Albert Einstein was to nuclear physics, Martin Luther was to the Protestant Reformation. What a man. What a model! What a maverick! The classic shaker and mover.

I am born to fight against innumerable monsters and devils. I must remove stumps and stones, cut away thistles and thorns, and clear the wild forest.

Vintage Luther. Prophetlike hero talk. With sweeping statements to match his gestures, the mighty monk of Wittenberg set fire to slumbering saints all across Germany as he vigorously fanned the flame, shouting, "Heresy . . . heresy!" While prelates frowned and popes condemned, the hero kept them buzzing and forever off balance. Brushfires from his abusive language, his private debates and public disputes resulted finally in Luther's excommunication. But his exit was like his entrance, alone . . . independent . . . invincible. He needed no one but God to lean on.

Or did he?

We'll discover the surprising answer to that question in Part Two.

Tension part 2... Romans 5:3-5

Romans 5:3–5

In the northeastern United States, codfish are not only delectable, they are a big commercial business. There's a market for eastern cod all over, especially in sections farthest removed from the northeast coastline. But the public demand posed a problem to the shippers. At first they froze the cod, then shipped them elsewhere, but the freeze took away much of the flavor. So they experimented with shipping them alive, in tanks of seawater, but that proved even worse. Not only was it more expensive, the cod still lost its flavor, and in addition, became soft and mushy. The texture was seriously affected.

Finally, some creative soul solved the problem in a most innovative manner. The codfish were placed in the tank of water along with their natural enemy—the catfish. From the time the cod left the East Coast until it arrived in its westernmost destination, those ornery catfish chased the cod all over the tank! And you guessed it, when the cod arrived at the market, they were as fresh as when they were first caught. There was no loss of flavor nor was the texture affected. If anything, it was better than before.

A couple of questions seem worth asking. First, can you name some catfish swimming in your tank? Maybe you live with one of them. Or it's somebody at work whose irritating presence drives you to your knees several times a week. Every church has a few catfish as well! They're there to keep all the cod from getting soft, mushy, and tasteless. Second, have you given thanks for them lately? Yesterday, we talked about God's mission being to shape you into the image of His Son (Romans 8:29). Just think, it's that tension in the tank that helps "the image" emerge. With the right attitude, we can learn how to keep from resenting them as intruders as the chase continues.

To do so we'll need to put an end to pity parties and whine clubs and gripe gatherings in the tank. When we do, it is nothing short of remarkable how closely the chase begins to resemble "the race" mentioned in Hebrews 12 . . . but whoever heard of Hebrews 12 since Hebrews 11 is so much more popular? It's one of those passages I told you I feel sorry for, one that is overshadowed by its neighbor.

If you haven't heard of it, it's you I feel sorry for.

Tension... Part 1... Romans 8:28-30

Romans 8:28–30

Ever felt sorry for certain Scriptures? I sure have. I'm talking about passages like John 3:17, Hebrews 4:13, 1 John 1:10, and Philippians 4:14. Great verses, all . . . yet the popularity of their next-door neighbors has resulted in their being virtually ignored.

Everybody who spends even a little while in the Family can quote Proverbs 3:5–6, but unfortunately, an equally significant verse 7 goes begging. And take Galatians 2:20. It is so powerful, so magnificent, it's often viewed as the final climactic verse of the chapter, yet it's actually the next-to-last verse. But who in the world knows Galatians 2:21 by heart? The twenty-third Psalm is the most famous of all in the ancient hymnal, but it's sandwiched between two other psalms that, when studied, yield fruit that is succulent to the soul and actually far more vital, theologically, than the popular and picturesque "shepherd psalm."

Perhaps the most obvious case in point is found in one of the greatest chapters Paul ever penned, Romans 8. From our mother's knee we have been nourished by the twenty-eighth verse. It brings comfort when our world crushes in. It softens the blows of calamity. It calms us when panic would otherwise steal our peace. It reassures us when wrong temporarily triumphs . . . when the fever doesn't break . . . when the brook dries up . . . when death strikes. I hardly need to write it out.

And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.

Great words! But left alone, they're incomplete. Anyone who has taken the time to look discovers that this verse starts a chain reaction that doesn't end before the magnificent statement found in the final two verses of Romans 8, which assure us of our inseparable love-relationship with the living God.

Woven into the fabric of this elegant garment of truth is an often-forgotten, easily overlooked thread that adds richness and color. Because it lacks the eloquence of verse 28, because it doesn't roll off the tongue quite as easily, it tends to get lost amidst other more obvious and more attractive phrases. I'm referring to the verse that follows verse 28, the one that explains why "all things work together for good to those who love God." Why?

For those whom He foreknew, He also predestined to become conformed to the image of His Son, so that He would be the firstborn among many brethren.

Put simply, we are God's personal project. He is committed to the task of working in us, developing us, rearranging, firming up, and deepening us so that the character traits of His Son—called here "the image"—begin to take shape. The emerging of the Son's image in us is of primary importance to the Father. In fact, it is impossible to thwart His commitment to the project. His work goes on even though we scream and squirm, doubt and debate, run and shun. There's no denying it, the tools He uses hurt, but it all "works together for good." It takes tension to develop the right texture. Without it, forget it. I've got a "fishy" story that'll explain what I mean. I'll tell you about it in Part Two.

 The emerging of the Son's image in us is of primary importance to the Father.

Sorrow & Hope...1 John 3:1-5

1 John 3:1–5

If tears were indelible ink instead of clear fluid, all of us would be stained for life. The heartbreaking circumstances, the painful encounters with calamities, the brutal verbal blows we receive from the surgeon or an angry mate, the sudden loss of someone we simply adored, riding out the consequences of a stupid decision—ah! Such is the groan and grind of life.

At the time of this writing, there are families less than one hour away from me with no homes to return to tonight. A freakish landslide swept them away like a sand castle at high tide. Not a fire. Not an earthquake. Not even a warning tremor. Just an unheard-of sudden slippage of soil and fifteen million dollars of damage . . . and unerasable memories. I dare you to ponder their plight for two minutes without being ripped apart inside.

A letter arrived today from Portland. Nicely typed. Carefully worded. But behind the print, bone-deep grief:

My life has been turned upside down in the last two years and God has not left me much time to catch my breath! My husband was killed in a military plane crash in Greenland a year ago, and I have two young sons, 7 and 9, who are my responsibility alone now.

My phone rang in the middle of the night a few weeks ago. With a quivering voice the young man who chose not to identify himself began:

I have a gun. It is loaded. I plan to use it on myself tonight. Somebody told me you could help me. I don't see any reason to keep on living and failing. Tell me why I shouldn't kill myself. [He began to sob.] Talk to me, fast . . .

Dear old Joseph Parker, a fervid pulpit orator and fine pastor and author for several decades, said it well three years before he died:

There's a broken heart in every pew. Preach to the sorrowing and you will never lack for a congregation.

Percy Bysshe Shelley was right. He personified Sorrow as a mother "with her family of Sighs." And so she is. Stooped and weary of the monotony, yet ever bearing more children only to sigh and cry and die.

Without God—end of message. Finis. Termination of misery. Curtains. It is here humanism puts its final period. It is here philosophy takes its last bow. The only encore to death, to borrow from Robert Ingersoll's words of horror, is:

"the echo of a wailing cry."

But that need not be the end. Life, with all its pressures and inequities, tears and tragedies, can be lived on a level above its miseries. If it could not, Christianity has little to offer. Jesus is reduced to nothing more than an apologetic beggar at the back door with His hat in His hands and a hard-luck story you can take or leave.

No—don't you believe it! It is upon the platform of pressure that our Lord does His best work . . . those times when tragedy joins hands with calamity . . . when Satan and a host of demons prompt us to doubt God's goodness and deny His justice. At such times Christ unsheathes His sword of truth, silencing the doubts and offering grace to accept, hope to continue.

Hear Him well:

For whatever is born of God overcomes the world; and this is the victory that has overcome the world—our faith. (1 John 5:4)

Not a reluctant hunch. Not some fairy-tale dream . . . but an accomplished fact as solid as granite and twice as sure—overcoming victory claimed by faith!

Is it for everyone? No. The majority? No. Read it again. It's only for those who are "born of God" . . . only God's born-ones are the overcomers.

Does it mean, then, that we won't have sorrow? No. It means we'll be able to overcome it . . . live in His victory in spite of it. How? By faith, just as He promised. By staking my hope on the absolute assurance that He is aware of my situation. He is in charge of it . . . and He will give all the grace I need to sail through it, rough seas and all, one stormy day at a time.

Sorrow and her grim family of sighs may drop by for a visit, but they won't stay long when they realize faith got there first . . . and doesn't plan to leave.

 Life, with its tears and tragedies, can be lived on a level above its miseries.