Time to Fade

It was a humid day in the Palestinian territory of the Roman occupation. The hot sand jumped into his sandals, burning the bottoms of his feet. As he neared the Jordan, his eyes swept over the mass of people. It seemed as though this was the only place in all Israel where everyone could gather, regardless of social or economic status. Business people, tax collectors, soldiers, the average Joe. . .are those Pharisees over there on the edge of the crowd? No, no I don't think so, but one has to admit, it is an impressively diverse assembly.

Above the low-toned murmuring of the crowd, a solitary voice rose, strong and gruff. Although the people continued to talk it sounded across the plain with unwavering pitch and strength.


"Bear fruits worthy of repentance and do not begin to say to yourselves, 'We have Abraham as our Father,' for I say to you that God is able to raise up children of Abraham from these stones! And even now the ax is laid to the root of the trees. Therefore every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire."
Those who were listening stepped back in an awestruck hush. This man pulled no punches. He was not only unconcerned with pleasing and pacifying people, but he seemed to almost go out of his way to shock and offend, especially the pseudo-religious crowd. Who was he, the camel skinned, bug-eating desert fox of a lunatic? The only thing he would say about his identity was some cryptic quote from the prophet Isaiah, something about a voice crying out in the wilderness. Yes, that was easy enough to see, but who was he?

By the time the man had picked his way through the crowd and to the edge of the water, there was already a line of people waiting to be baptized. He stood quietly and patiently with the rest of them. The baptist handled each person with authority and surety, knowing that his message and mission had been ordained for him by God. As he reached out to take the stranger's hand, he glanced up into his face and immediately shrunk back. Fear would be the wrong word. Wonder, perhaps. Struck dumb for a few moments, he looked innocently into the man's face, confusion mingled with hope. It seemed as though the baptist must have been having a telepathic argument for after a few moment of silence he quietly said, "No. No, I need to be baptized by you and are you coming to me? I am not even worthy to lose the straps of your sandals, let along baptize you for the remission of sins?! You - "


"John, let it be so for now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness."
With trembling hands he received this simple, strange man into the waters of the Jordan. As he came up, the baptist heaved a heavy sigh, as though relieved to be finished with this task. But no sooner had the responsibility been lifted from his shoulders than his face turned towards heaven as a sound echoed across the landscape. Some said it was thunder, but John swore it was the voice of God bellowing from the clouds, "This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased." The skies parted and something like a dove alighted on the man - the Spirit of the Living God.

Moments seemed to stand still and the scene became posed as a snapshot, as if waiting for artists of future centuries to paint it. This once roaring lion had become a gentle lamb, and the great prophet that crowds had thronged to see was now diminutive in the presence of this young Nazarene. The man turned and walked away, heading out towards the desert. When he was half-way through the crowd, words burst forth from my lips and I, I John the Baptist, cried out with all the strength in me, "Behold! The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!!!!"

There is was, my last hoo-rah. Even after I spoke I questioned what I'd just said. This man? Was this man really the long awaited Messiah? His calloused hands spoke of his position as a man who worked with his hands. His simple garments were typical of an ordinary peasant. He was not tall, or muscular, nor even particularly handsome. In short, there was nothing at all even remotely impressive about him. He was a simply man, not the warrior King we'd all been expecting.

But as I watched his lone figure fade into the distance, my mind raced back to the Messianic prophecies that spoke, not of a king who would conquer the Romans, but rather of a king who would conquer the hearts of men. He would not save us from the oppressive tyranny of Rome but from the oppressive tyranny of sin. His kingdom would not be of this world. He had come to set things right between a holy God and a rebellious people. But before he could win our hearts, he must first become like us, clothed in mortality, with all of our frailty and needs. Yes, this was He, the Messiah. He came with nothing but a thunder clap and dove to announce his arrival, but he had come.

I realized something else in that moment. My job was done. My purpose in life was completed. At the age of 30 I had accomplished my mission. The promise was about to be fulfilled and there was absolutely nothing I could do to move the process along. The Desire of Nations had come, and now, he must increase and I must decrease.

Sure Shot

I want to do the right thing

          I want to be the sure shot

                   I want have my mind straight

                              I want to have my point got

                                         I want to be a good man

                                                   I want to have my act down

                                                                I want to be the future

                                                                              And I want to be right now

Sometimes I feel like I could change the world, but I don't know where to start. I dig and come up                                                   empty, collecting an empty heart

                                                                             I want to see a life change

                                                                 I want to see a new man

                                                      I want to fight the good fight

                                                I want to take right stand

                                    I want to be like Jesus

                        I want to pour my heart out

            I want to pick my cross up

I want to hear the mob shout

I'm wide awake and thinking about the cross, the Trinity apart. I dig and come up empty, collecting                                            an empty heart

I want to do the right thing

             I want be the sure shot

                          I want to have my mind straight

                                         I want to have my point got

                                                             I want to be like Jesus

                                                                             I want to pour my heart out

                                                                                            I want to pick my cross up

                                                                                                           I want to hear the mob shout

Sometimes I feel like I could change the world, but I don't know where to start I dig and come up empty. . . I'm wide awake and thinking about the cross, the Trinity apart. I dig and come up empty, collecting a sacred heart.

-lyrics by O.C.Supertones

Divine Interruptions

           Isn't it interesting how often the silliest and most petty things can annoy us, and yet they can be the most wonderful gifts from God. It isn't often the big challenges that beat me up; those are obvious. I'm ready for those fights. They are so in your face, they can't be ignored or overlooked. Sometimes the enemy masquarades as an angel of light; other times he's full on red jump suit, pitchfork and long pointy tale. But it's the smaller, less obvious, more insidious things that are likely to trip me up. Yet, when I put my annoyance aside, I often find that God has something else in mind and maybe, just maybe, it's better than my own desires.

           OK, so I feel ridiculous even saying what it was that bothered me on Friday (so I won't), but on our way back from the islands, something happened that annoyed me. I ended up having to sit in part of the boat that I didn't want to be in because I alway get sick when I'm sitting there. Whereas I usually don't mind getting wet, it aggravated me that day. And there was no escaping the constant spray of water that kept jumping in from the side of the boat. The lake was pretty rough that day, so I felt even more sick in that section than I usually do. The water was getting on my nerves. I prayed silently, God, what is the point of this? I could have sworn I heard Him say, Because I'm here and I want to talk to you.

There in the boat, in the sick section, Jesus was waiting to talk to me. Not rebuke me, or chide me or say anything radical. . .He just wanted to hang out with me. I felt like the disciples when they realized that the God who made the lake and the storm that they were stuck in, was the same guy that was sleeping in their boat. The God who create Lake Victoria, the waves that were throwing us around, the body and equilibrium that was making me sick in reponse to the motion of the our vessel, was sitting beside me wanting to just chat. And we did. He stills my heart and I am able to pour it out to Him, the things that burden me, lift me, confuse me or make sense to me. But that's not even the best part. The boat ride from Zinga back to church is almost 2 hours, so there is plenty of time. And when the Lord stills my heart, it allows me to hear Him speak too. Sometimes He answers my questions, sometimes He shares His heart with me, sometimes He asks me the deep, probing questions that I fear to answer but in the safety of the moment and the solitude of the conversation, I am able to face the fears that no one else knows about and bring them to Jesus who alone is able to dissolve them in light of His all sufficient power. The boat rides from the islands truly have become the most spiritually engaging and best times of fellowship I have with the Lord.

          And to think, I was annoyed because of an off seating arrangement! Maybe next tie that happens, I will recognize it as a divine interruption and like Paul did, when the Lord refused to let him go to Asia and Bithynia, conclude that the Lord has called me elsewhere. And it isn't always some radical call, some crazy mission or some tremendous battle to fight; it often just a call to be quiet and spend some time with Him. That's the only place we learn to recognize the radical call, the crazy mission and get the strength to fight the battles. How cool is our God?

And behold,, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore into the mountains and broke the rocks into pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquakee, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice. So it was, when Elijah hear it, that he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood in the entrance of the cave.


1 Kings 19:11-13

Lonely Communion

"I communed with my heart, saying, Look, I have attained greatness, and have gained more wisdom than all who were before me in Jerusalem. My heart has understood great wisdom and knowledge."

Ecclesiastes 1:16
What a sad set of words, "I communed with my heart. . ." That which brought such communion into being, the great knowledge that Solomon had attained, may have been very impressive indeed, but to commune with one's self. . . is there a more lonely existence?

Speaking from a point of experience, I would have to say that the human will is quite capable of deceiving itself into a state of contentment and self-satisfaction; the novelty of being a megalomaniac can last for a long time. For me, however, it eventually ended. There came a time when the fabrication of self-importance was turned to shreds and the illusion of self-significance lost its luster. I was forced to face reality, and reality was that the only person impressed with my accomplishments was myself, and even that was a facade.

I think that this is true of anyone who heaps up for themselves knowledge and experience. Some of the greatest minds down through centuries may have attained greatness and information but they failed to comprehend the answer to the greater questions of life: who am I, how did I get here, why am I here and what is the purpose of life?

It is the story that C.S. Lewis tells in his allegorical novel portraying his own conversion, The Pilgrim's Regress. Unlike in John Bunyan's epic tale of the Christian life, the pathway for Lewis was not one of going forward but rather one going backwards. As with many intellectuals, he accumulated all of the experience and knowledge that the world told him should have, but eventually the road ended, the destination was reached but the search remained unresolved. Only when he began let go, give up and put down all of the things that had blinded him and hindered him could he see the obvious truth that had been in front of his face the whole time: Jesus.

As with everything else in this world, apart from Jesus, it is meaningless. God gave us creative and curious minds with which He intended us to explore and discover. By exploration and discovery, we find Him and the way by which fellowship with Him is possible. But when wisdom becomes an end unto itself, we are left to commune with nothing except our own heart. I can only speak for myself but I am not that impressive. After a while, I get stale and boring. And trust me, communing with my heart (yours too) will inevitably lead to destruction.

"The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked; who can know it?" Jeremiah 17:9


"Most men will proclaim each his own goodness, but who can find a faithful man?. . . Who can say, I have made my heart clean, I am pure from sin."

Proverbs 20:6,9
So the question becomes for me, can I, as a believer, put any weight in the accumulation of knowledge and intellectual superiority? Truly, there is a great need for Biblically literate Christians, who can defend the faith against the wisdom of a Godless world. But if knowledge is both the means and the end, I find myself in fellowship with my own evil heart. I know that God, through the power of the Holy Spirit, is constantly working and shaping me into the person He wants me to be. It is the great process of sanctification. But it is just that, a process. My spirit (soul) is redeemed once for all, but my mind and my heart (emotions and will) must be renewed and cleansed daily, most times more. That can only happen when I am in continual fellowship and under constant subjection to the will of God. As soon as I begin to commune with my own heart, I begin to flirt with trouble.


"These things indeed have an appearance of wisdom in self-imposed religion, false humility, and neglect of the body, but are of no value against the indulgence of the flesh. If then you were raised with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ is, sitting at the right hand of God. Set your mind on things above, not on things on the earth. For you died, and your life is hidden together with Christ in God." Colossians 2:23 - 3:3

As Rivers Run

As rivers run into the sea

So God's love pours inside of me

With all the flow and energy and power it imparts

The rivers empty out themselves to the seas own empty heart

Though smashed against the jagged rock

And thrown against the shore

It does what it must to reach the one

In desperate need of more

A beaten, bruised and bloodied Son

Delivered up to die

Pressed between two boards of wood

Nailed and lifted high

To hang between two wretched thieves

And bear the ridicule

Of His killers, brethren, own creation

Made to be a fool

Regardless of the splintered wood

Or jeering of the crowd

His blood, His love has been poured out

On humble hearts who've bowed

Who made all things and is all things

Emptied Himself to be

The fullness of salvation

For as dry and barren me

Now exalted in the heavens

Where He rules with all command

He still pours out living water

On the broken, thirsty land

Being Flexible is Fun!!!

There are some moments that are just ridiculously priceless. We never would have thought them up or tried to fabricate them but they turn out to be one of the best experiences. That was last week at school. Grant, Addy, Tim and I were suppose to serve lunch. No big deal; we've helped with it before. How hard can it be to serve it ourselves. Well, it turns out that when both doors are locked and all the school staff are in a meeting, it's pretty difficult. Not really sure of what to do, we stood around somewhat awkwardly for a while until one of us, it was either Tim or myself, started dancing. Within seconds, we had a huge circle of kids, just shimmying this way and then changing directions. Somewhere in the midst of the revolution of our giant circle, someone would lose the grip of another's hand and the whole thing would be thrown off course, which is, of course, hilarious. It looked like an African square dance gone wrong. . .or a Jewish hoe-down that wasn't quite kosher. But it was so much fun. To see the look of ectasy on the kids faces as they whirled around in circles with the 4 crazy mzungus made my heart leap. For so many children here, their childhood is cut short, or squeezed in. Childhood is so precious. In America, where we have the ability to protect their childhood we force them to grow up so quickly. Where their innocence can be kept, we strip it away. Jesus said to let the little children come unto Him and do not forbid them, for of such is the kingdom of heaven. Never look down on a child. They are precious in the sight of God. I guess I should be really thankful that Christ said that unless one becomes like a child they will never enter the kingdom of God. I felt like a little kid that day; but you know what? That's alright. It felt good. It's like I've been saying all along, it's no virtue to be so self-conscious that you can't laugh at yourself. I laughed at myself that day, and I laugh at the memory. Who knows, maybe it'll be one of the memories the kids remember and laugh at too.