Go here and you can read Josh's article "Stripping Down" on the Metro Spirit home page. While you're there, click on "Music" and look for "Music Feature" where you'll find his articles "The Angus Beef" and "Who do Voodoo?" And while you're at it, you can look under "CD Reviews" and read "Few High Notes from Lowe."
You can contact Josh at jlruthven84@yahoo.com.
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
Progressing in a Negative Way
This is a big week, the biggest week of all, for Christians. It’s Holy Week, the time when we focus on the Passion of our Lord and hopefully make some strides in our relationship with him.
This is also a big week here in Augusta, Georgia. It’s Masters Week. The Masters Golf Tournament, which began life as the Augusta National Invitation Tournament, has been played at the Augusta National Golf Club every year since 1934 with the exception of three years during World War II. It is the only PGA event that is held at the same course every year. We have had the good fortune to attend the tournament each year since we moved to Augusta in 2003. I don’t play golf and I’m not even a big golf fan, but the Augusta National is one of the prettiest places on earth and I enjoy being there.
Each year the Fellowship of Christian Athletes hosts the Augusta Golf Breakfast at Warren Baptist Church. Debra and I attended the event this morning. The featured guest speaker was PGA Tour Player Fred Funk. In an interview format, he did a nice job of talking about his life in golf and the role of his faith in it. One of the points that came up was that this year Funk, who turned fifty in June 2006, became one of the few players to win a tournament both on the PGA Tour and on the Champions (Seniors) Tour in the same year.
As Funk was talking about the effects on his golf game of getting older, he used an interesting phrase. He said that his body was “progressing in a negative way.” I’ll be forty-nine in September, and I know what he’s talking about. As we progress in years, our bodies do have a way of experiencing some negative changes.
I couldn’t help but think about what the Apostle Paul said: “Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure…” (2 Corinthians 4:16b-17). While our bodies are progressing in a negative way as they move toward their inevitable return to dust, our spirits are progressing in a positive way as they move toward their eternal home with God. That positive progression is happening every moment of every day.
So, when we look in the mirror and see a few more wrinkles or a few more gray hairs or a few less hairs, let’s remember what is going on in our spirits. And let’s be encouraged!
This is also a big week here in Augusta, Georgia. It’s Masters Week. The Masters Golf Tournament, which began life as the Augusta National Invitation Tournament, has been played at the Augusta National Golf Club every year since 1934 with the exception of three years during World War II. It is the only PGA event that is held at the same course every year. We have had the good fortune to attend the tournament each year since we moved to Augusta in 2003. I don’t play golf and I’m not even a big golf fan, but the Augusta National is one of the prettiest places on earth and I enjoy being there.
Each year the Fellowship of Christian Athletes hosts the Augusta Golf Breakfast at Warren Baptist Church. Debra and I attended the event this morning. The featured guest speaker was PGA Tour Player Fred Funk. In an interview format, he did a nice job of talking about his life in golf and the role of his faith in it. One of the points that came up was that this year Funk, who turned fifty in June 2006, became one of the few players to win a tournament both on the PGA Tour and on the Champions (Seniors) Tour in the same year.
As Funk was talking about the effects on his golf game of getting older, he used an interesting phrase. He said that his body was “progressing in a negative way.” I’ll be forty-nine in September, and I know what he’s talking about. As we progress in years, our bodies do have a way of experiencing some negative changes.
I couldn’t help but think about what the Apostle Paul said: “Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure…” (2 Corinthians 4:16b-17). While our bodies are progressing in a negative way as they move toward their inevitable return to dust, our spirits are progressing in a positive way as they move toward their eternal home with God. That positive progression is happening every moment of every day.
So, when we look in the mirror and see a few more wrinkles or a few more gray hairs or a few less hairs, let’s remember what is going on in our spirits. And let’s be encouraged!
Monday, April 2, 2007
The Objects of Holy Week: Cloaks and Daggers
(A Palm Sunday sermon based on Luke 19:28-40)
[Note: this sermon is the first of five that I will preach and post during Holy Week. Look for one on Maundy Thursday, one on Good Friday, one on Easter Sunday, and one on the Monday after Easter.]
When we refer to something as being done in a “cloak and dagger” fashion, we mean that it is being done clandestinely or in secret. Adventures in the world of spying are sometimes called “cloak and dagger” operations, for example.
Sometimes we try to be “cloak and dagger” about our discipleship. The Bible tells us about at least one “secret disciple” of Jesus. Joseph of Arimathea, who asked Pilate for Jesus’ body, is referred to in that manner in John 19:38; we are told that he was a secret disciple because “of his fear of the Jews.” I don’t question the validity of Joseph’s discipleship and I certainly can’t judge him; I have to admire his courage in asking Pilate for the body of Jesus and burying the crucified rabbi in his tomb. Still, secret discipleship is surely not the best kind of discipleship because it does not bear public witness to Jesus in the daily life of the disciple.
Some of us sometimes try to keep our discipleship secret because we are afraid, too. We are afraid of what people will think. We think that they will think that we are strange or different—which is of course the truth if we are really living out our faith. Some of us may try to “hide our light under a bushel” because we really don’t want to have to deal with the very real demands of being a real disciple. Such hesitation may be a more troublesome motivation than fear.
At first glance, such efforts to hide devotion to Christ do not appear to be going on in the events of Palm Sunday about which we read in today’s text. The disciples of Jesus paraded him into Jerusalem. Some of them threw their cloaks over the back of the donkey before he mounted it. Many others spread their cloaks on the road in front of him as he approached the city. These were very public displays of devotion and adulation. Moreover, the multitude of the disciples shouted out words of welcome to Jesus, blessing him and declaring him king.
Nevertheless, I fear that when the disciples picked their cloaks up off the road and put them back on, they were harboring daggers under them. That’s not to say that they did not mean what they were doing when they spread their cloaks or that they did not mean what they were saying when they proclaimed Jesus king. It is to say, though, that they were lacking in the same ways that many of us are lacking—in understanding and in resolve. And their and our lack of understanding and resolve are daggers that strike at the heart of our Christian witness.
Under their cloaks the disciples hid daggers of misunderstanding. They did not understand who Jesus really was; they did not understand what he had come to be and to do. When they proclaimed him king, they likely had in their mind a different kind of king than Jesus came to be. They expected a king who would rule over a political kingdom; Jesus came to rule over a spiritual kingdom. They expected a king who would establish an earthly kingdom; Jesus came to establish a kingdom that, while it would have extraordinary influence in this world, would have its foundations and its fulfillment in another world. They expected a king who would gain authority by the exercise of power; Jesus would gain authority by living a servant life that would lead to a sacrificial death. Luke makes it clear that when Jesus spoke to his disciples about his coming death, they just didn’t get it (9:44-45; 18:31-35). Under their cloaks the disciples hid daggers of misunderstanding.
Really, though, their misunderstanding is to some degree understandable. After all, they had little evidence in their Scriptures to lead them to anticipate a crucified Messiah. The Suffering Servant passages of Isaiah pointed in that direction but frankly were much clearer in retrospect than in prospect. Also, the disciples were, like all people, blessed and cursed by their tradition; theirs taught them to expect a militarily powerful Messiah who would take Israel to a place of prominence in the world, not a Messiah hanging dead on a cross.
Our daggers of misunderstanding are much more difficult to comprehend and even to tolerate. If we have trusted our lives to Jesus and if we have committed our lives to following him, then it should be our aim to be true to him as he really is, not as we want him to be. We should know better than we sometimes show. Why? Because we have the New Testament, which is authoritative to us, and the New Testament consistently tells us that Jesus was a servant Messiah who willingly gave his life up as a sacrifice for our sins. He gave up his heavenly prerogatives to walk among us and to die as one of us for all of us. But is that how we think about Jesus? We may say that we do but do our lives reflect such thinking?
Remember, now, that how we think about Jesus shows in how we live because we disciples are to be modeling our lives after his. Do we have the mind of Christ? Do we show love even to our enemies? Do we forgive? Do we serve others with no thought of payback or reward? Do we focus on giving rather than taking?
We throw down our cloaks when we acknowledge Jesus as King. When we put them back on, are we concealing daggers of misunderstanding?
Under their cloaks the disciples also hid daggers of flagging resolve. On Palm Sunday, when spirits and expectations were high, they were singing the praises of Jesus. They were shouting and laughing and rejoicing. All was going well and they had reached the great city of Jerusalem for the great feast of Passover. They were committed disciples of the great rabbi Jesus. But where would they be four days hence when Jesus was arrested? Where would they be when he was being flogged and insulted? Where would they be five days hence when he was hanging on the cross? Where would they be six days hence while his body was lying in the tomb? They would be scattered, frightened, and hidden. When the going got tough, their resolve got going. The disciples celebrated who Jesus was by laying their cloaks in front of him as he rode triumphantly into Jerusalem, but when they put their cloaks back on, they hid daggers of flagging resolve.
Their resolve would return, though, after they encountered the resurrected Lord. Let me remind you that the resurrected Lord who restored their resolve is the only Lord that we know. We know him in the power of his resurrection or we know him not at all. The resurrected Lord who caused his disciples to go out and to risk their lives to proclaim him to the world is the same Lord whom we know in our lives today. Should not our desire and commitment to follow Jesus remain at a high level, given that we know all the time what the disciples knew only after the resurrection? They fled not only because they feared for their own lives but because all of their hopes were crushed. When their hopes were corrected and then resurrected along with Jesus, their resolve not only returned but multiplied.
The disciples’ resolve disappeared in the face of imminent danger. What causes our resolve to fade or disappear? In our culture it is surely not the threat of persecution. I’m afraid it’s something far worse. It’s complacency. It’s carelessness. It’s inattentiveness. It’s indifference. And it’s truly incredible. It’s incredible because of the great gulf that often exists between what we profess with our mouths and what we live with our lives. We say Jesus is King and Lord. We say that we serve a risen Savior. But how are those realities really impacting our lives? Does our resolve to follow him and to serve him stay at a high level? Or do our cloaks of commitment shelter a dagger of flagging resolve?
On Palm Sunday we join with disciples around the world in proclaiming that Jesus Christ is King. But he was a humble King. He was a compassionate King. He was a forgiving King. Five days from now we will recall that he was a crucified King. As we remember his life and death, we do well to examine our lives. How well do they reflect our following of such a Messiah? Do we have the mind of Christ? Do we exhibit the love of Christ? When someone hurts us, how do we respond—do we hold a grudge or do we forgive? When someone is hurting, how do we respond—by talking about him or by trying to help him? When someone is struggling, how do we respond—by turning away from them or by turning toward them?
As we pick up our cloaks and put them back on today, let’s be sure that we are not concealing daggers of misunderstanding and flagging resolve. They really do hurt our witness to our Lord and Savior.
[Note: this sermon is the first of five that I will preach and post during Holy Week. Look for one on Maundy Thursday, one on Good Friday, one on Easter Sunday, and one on the Monday after Easter.]
When we refer to something as being done in a “cloak and dagger” fashion, we mean that it is being done clandestinely or in secret. Adventures in the world of spying are sometimes called “cloak and dagger” operations, for example.
Sometimes we try to be “cloak and dagger” about our discipleship. The Bible tells us about at least one “secret disciple” of Jesus. Joseph of Arimathea, who asked Pilate for Jesus’ body, is referred to in that manner in John 19:38; we are told that he was a secret disciple because “of his fear of the Jews.” I don’t question the validity of Joseph’s discipleship and I certainly can’t judge him; I have to admire his courage in asking Pilate for the body of Jesus and burying the crucified rabbi in his tomb. Still, secret discipleship is surely not the best kind of discipleship because it does not bear public witness to Jesus in the daily life of the disciple.
Some of us sometimes try to keep our discipleship secret because we are afraid, too. We are afraid of what people will think. We think that they will think that we are strange or different—which is of course the truth if we are really living out our faith. Some of us may try to “hide our light under a bushel” because we really don’t want to have to deal with the very real demands of being a real disciple. Such hesitation may be a more troublesome motivation than fear.
At first glance, such efforts to hide devotion to Christ do not appear to be going on in the events of Palm Sunday about which we read in today’s text. The disciples of Jesus paraded him into Jerusalem. Some of them threw their cloaks over the back of the donkey before he mounted it. Many others spread their cloaks on the road in front of him as he approached the city. These were very public displays of devotion and adulation. Moreover, the multitude of the disciples shouted out words of welcome to Jesus, blessing him and declaring him king.
Nevertheless, I fear that when the disciples picked their cloaks up off the road and put them back on, they were harboring daggers under them. That’s not to say that they did not mean what they were doing when they spread their cloaks or that they did not mean what they were saying when they proclaimed Jesus king. It is to say, though, that they were lacking in the same ways that many of us are lacking—in understanding and in resolve. And their and our lack of understanding and resolve are daggers that strike at the heart of our Christian witness.
Under their cloaks the disciples hid daggers of misunderstanding. They did not understand who Jesus really was; they did not understand what he had come to be and to do. When they proclaimed him king, they likely had in their mind a different kind of king than Jesus came to be. They expected a king who would rule over a political kingdom; Jesus came to rule over a spiritual kingdom. They expected a king who would establish an earthly kingdom; Jesus came to establish a kingdom that, while it would have extraordinary influence in this world, would have its foundations and its fulfillment in another world. They expected a king who would gain authority by the exercise of power; Jesus would gain authority by living a servant life that would lead to a sacrificial death. Luke makes it clear that when Jesus spoke to his disciples about his coming death, they just didn’t get it (9:44-45; 18:31-35). Under their cloaks the disciples hid daggers of misunderstanding.
Really, though, their misunderstanding is to some degree understandable. After all, they had little evidence in their Scriptures to lead them to anticipate a crucified Messiah. The Suffering Servant passages of Isaiah pointed in that direction but frankly were much clearer in retrospect than in prospect. Also, the disciples were, like all people, blessed and cursed by their tradition; theirs taught them to expect a militarily powerful Messiah who would take Israel to a place of prominence in the world, not a Messiah hanging dead on a cross.
Our daggers of misunderstanding are much more difficult to comprehend and even to tolerate. If we have trusted our lives to Jesus and if we have committed our lives to following him, then it should be our aim to be true to him as he really is, not as we want him to be. We should know better than we sometimes show. Why? Because we have the New Testament, which is authoritative to us, and the New Testament consistently tells us that Jesus was a servant Messiah who willingly gave his life up as a sacrifice for our sins. He gave up his heavenly prerogatives to walk among us and to die as one of us for all of us. But is that how we think about Jesus? We may say that we do but do our lives reflect such thinking?
Remember, now, that how we think about Jesus shows in how we live because we disciples are to be modeling our lives after his. Do we have the mind of Christ? Do we show love even to our enemies? Do we forgive? Do we serve others with no thought of payback or reward? Do we focus on giving rather than taking?
We throw down our cloaks when we acknowledge Jesus as King. When we put them back on, are we concealing daggers of misunderstanding?
Under their cloaks the disciples also hid daggers of flagging resolve. On Palm Sunday, when spirits and expectations were high, they were singing the praises of Jesus. They were shouting and laughing and rejoicing. All was going well and they had reached the great city of Jerusalem for the great feast of Passover. They were committed disciples of the great rabbi Jesus. But where would they be four days hence when Jesus was arrested? Where would they be when he was being flogged and insulted? Where would they be five days hence when he was hanging on the cross? Where would they be six days hence while his body was lying in the tomb? They would be scattered, frightened, and hidden. When the going got tough, their resolve got going. The disciples celebrated who Jesus was by laying their cloaks in front of him as he rode triumphantly into Jerusalem, but when they put their cloaks back on, they hid daggers of flagging resolve.
Their resolve would return, though, after they encountered the resurrected Lord. Let me remind you that the resurrected Lord who restored their resolve is the only Lord that we know. We know him in the power of his resurrection or we know him not at all. The resurrected Lord who caused his disciples to go out and to risk their lives to proclaim him to the world is the same Lord whom we know in our lives today. Should not our desire and commitment to follow Jesus remain at a high level, given that we know all the time what the disciples knew only after the resurrection? They fled not only because they feared for their own lives but because all of their hopes were crushed. When their hopes were corrected and then resurrected along with Jesus, their resolve not only returned but multiplied.
The disciples’ resolve disappeared in the face of imminent danger. What causes our resolve to fade or disappear? In our culture it is surely not the threat of persecution. I’m afraid it’s something far worse. It’s complacency. It’s carelessness. It’s inattentiveness. It’s indifference. And it’s truly incredible. It’s incredible because of the great gulf that often exists between what we profess with our mouths and what we live with our lives. We say Jesus is King and Lord. We say that we serve a risen Savior. But how are those realities really impacting our lives? Does our resolve to follow him and to serve him stay at a high level? Or do our cloaks of commitment shelter a dagger of flagging resolve?
On Palm Sunday we join with disciples around the world in proclaiming that Jesus Christ is King. But he was a humble King. He was a compassionate King. He was a forgiving King. Five days from now we will recall that he was a crucified King. As we remember his life and death, we do well to examine our lives. How well do they reflect our following of such a Messiah? Do we have the mind of Christ? Do we exhibit the love of Christ? When someone hurts us, how do we respond—do we hold a grudge or do we forgive? When someone is hurting, how do we respond—by talking about him or by trying to help him? When someone is struggling, how do we respond—by turning away from them or by turning toward them?
As we pick up our cloaks and put them back on today, let’s be sure that we are not concealing daggers of misunderstanding and flagging resolve. They really do hurt our witness to our Lord and Savior.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
April Fools for Christ
(Sabbath Blog #11)
Today is April 1st and thus April Fool’s Day. The extensive research I did on the subject (five minutes looking at a web site or two) revealed that the origins of the day are uncertain. The roots of the day probably lie in various pagan observances that were marked by such jocularities as dressing in costumes and playing pranks. While some efforts have been made in the past to Christianize the day, there’s really no connection. And I’m not advocating for one.
Still, maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a day when we remind ourselves that Almighty God did some mighty foolish things in carrying out his plan of salvation. They were foolish, that is, as the world reckons foolishness. He chose to have his Son come to earth to live as one of us. He had his Son leave his unrestricted existence to take on the limitations of human life. He had him leave his heavenly home where he was adored by angels to come to earth where he would be despised and rejected by people. He had him live a life in which he showed compassion and love and acceptance to the worst outcasts of the society in which he lived. The Father chose to have his Son give his life as a ransom for undeserving and largely ungrateful humanity. He chose the Cross as the way for his Son.
So maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a day to commemorate the foolish things that God did in Jesus to bring about his plan of salvation. Wait, we do have such a day and it’s coming later this week. It’s called Good Friday.
Also, maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a day when we remind ourselves that we are called to be fools for Christ. I’m frankly not too sure that very many of us really live in the foolish ways that our Lord calls us to live.
Here is what Paul said as he reflected on what it meant for him and his companions to live as “fools for the sake of Christ”: “To the present hour we are hungry and thirsty, we are poorly clothed and beaten and homeless, and we grow weary from the work of our own hands. When reviled, we bless; when persecuted, we endure; when slandered, we speak kindly. We have become like the rubbish of the world, the dregs of all things, to this very day” (1 Corinthians 4:11-13 NRSV).
It is God’s “foolish” way for his followers that we live lives that don’t characteristically lead to comfort, to prestige, and even to success as the world reckons success. Our lives are to be so counter-cultural, so opposite from the ways of the world, that we are looked upon with suspicion and even with contempt by those whose lives are ruled by another ruler. In such living lies our witness, because in such living lies the kind of weakness in which God’s strength is made obvious. Obviously, though, we need to be reminded.
So maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a day on which we can be reminded of our call to be fools for Christ. Wait, we do have such a day. It’s coming this week and every week. It comes any time that we have the opportunity to experience the risen Christ in our lives, to read the Bible that teaches us of his way, to be inspired by people who have lived and who are living the Jesus kind of life, and to let God’s grace and our faith truly take hold so that we show his love in those powerfully foolish ways.
It’s the day called Every Day.
Today is April 1st and thus April Fool’s Day. The extensive research I did on the subject (five minutes looking at a web site or two) revealed that the origins of the day are uncertain. The roots of the day probably lie in various pagan observances that were marked by such jocularities as dressing in costumes and playing pranks. While some efforts have been made in the past to Christianize the day, there’s really no connection. And I’m not advocating for one.
Still, maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a day when we remind ourselves that Almighty God did some mighty foolish things in carrying out his plan of salvation. They were foolish, that is, as the world reckons foolishness. He chose to have his Son come to earth to live as one of us. He had his Son leave his unrestricted existence to take on the limitations of human life. He had him leave his heavenly home where he was adored by angels to come to earth where he would be despised and rejected by people. He had him live a life in which he showed compassion and love and acceptance to the worst outcasts of the society in which he lived. The Father chose to have his Son give his life as a ransom for undeserving and largely ungrateful humanity. He chose the Cross as the way for his Son.
So maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a day to commemorate the foolish things that God did in Jesus to bring about his plan of salvation. Wait, we do have such a day and it’s coming later this week. It’s called Good Friday.
Also, maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a day when we remind ourselves that we are called to be fools for Christ. I’m frankly not too sure that very many of us really live in the foolish ways that our Lord calls us to live.
Here is what Paul said as he reflected on what it meant for him and his companions to live as “fools for the sake of Christ”: “To the present hour we are hungry and thirsty, we are poorly clothed and beaten and homeless, and we grow weary from the work of our own hands. When reviled, we bless; when persecuted, we endure; when slandered, we speak kindly. We have become like the rubbish of the world, the dregs of all things, to this very day” (1 Corinthians 4:11-13 NRSV).
It is God’s “foolish” way for his followers that we live lives that don’t characteristically lead to comfort, to prestige, and even to success as the world reckons success. Our lives are to be so counter-cultural, so opposite from the ways of the world, that we are looked upon with suspicion and even with contempt by those whose lives are ruled by another ruler. In such living lies our witness, because in such living lies the kind of weakness in which God’s strength is made obvious. Obviously, though, we need to be reminded.
So maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a day on which we can be reminded of our call to be fools for Christ. Wait, we do have such a day. It’s coming this week and every week. It comes any time that we have the opportunity to experience the risen Christ in our lives, to read the Bible that teaches us of his way, to be inspired by people who have lived and who are living the Jesus kind of life, and to let God’s grace and our faith truly take hold so that we show his love in those powerfully foolish ways.
It’s the day called Every Day.
Friday, March 30, 2007
It Was Twenty Years Ago Today
Debra was pregnant with our second child when we moved from Louisville, Kentucky, where I had been attending seminary, to Adel, Georgia, where I was to serve as pastor of the First Baptist Church. That was in late September of 1986. We moved into the church’s parsonage at 300 Bear Creek Road. I remember one of the ladies of the church saying that it would be good to have little feet running around the pastor’s home again; it had been awhile since that was the case.
Sometime after Christmas we got busy turning the front corner bedroom into a nursery. Because of the baby’s prenatal positioning, the ultrasounds were never able to detect its gender; therefore, we painted the nursery yellow. Dr. Woodward ordered several ultrasounds because the birth was going to be by C-section and he wanted to pinpoint the due date as closely as possible. It turned out to be April Fool’s Day. We scheduled the delivery for Monday, March 30, 2007.
My Aunt Dot Abbott came down from Barnesville to stay with us while Debra would be in the hospital; we wanted someone there who could keep Joshua, who had just turned three, in his routine. We had a youth event that was led by a group of students from Mercer University at the church that weekend. Debra attended every event. On Sunday afternoon I drove her to the South Georgia Medical Center in Valdosta; this was in a primitive time when insurance companies would pay for the expectant mother to spend the night before the birth in the hospital. I was to be back at the hospital at 6:00 a.m. on Monday; I must have awakened a dozen times that night because of my fear that I would sleep through the alarm. I made it on time.
When our son had been born in Louisville, Debra was taken into the delivery room and the incision was made for the C-section before a nurse came to get me. I thought it would be like that in Valdosta. I was wrong. The nurse did come to get me, but as I approached Debra, Dr. Woodward said, “OK, let’s get started,” and he had a scalpel in his hand. I stared lovingly into my wife’s face.
The baby was delivered feet first and bottom side up. They had a little difficulty getting the baby’s head, which was the last part of its body to emerge, out. I got a little concerned. So I was very happy and relieved when success was achieved and the baby was handed to Dr. Anderson, our pediatrician, who was there for the delivery. Debra said, “What is it?” and I replied, “I don’t know.” Once I saw it had a head I wasn’t interested in any other anatomical features. The nurse said, “It’s a girl.” I’m sure Debra heard, but I repeated it nonetheless: “It’s a girl.”
She was and is beautiful. We named her Sara Katherine, after her grandmothers.
Later I visited her in the nursery. She was crying. I picked her up and repeated her name over and over: “Sara, Sara, Sara.” She stopped crying and looked at me with that look that daughters give daddies, the one that warms and breaks our hearts for as long as we live.
I needed to celebrate, so I went to Lucy Ho’s Chinese restaurant for lunch.
And that’s how the Princess of our lives, Sara Katherine Ruffin, came into this world, twenty years ago today.
Sometime after Christmas we got busy turning the front corner bedroom into a nursery. Because of the baby’s prenatal positioning, the ultrasounds were never able to detect its gender; therefore, we painted the nursery yellow. Dr. Woodward ordered several ultrasounds because the birth was going to be by C-section and he wanted to pinpoint the due date as closely as possible. It turned out to be April Fool’s Day. We scheduled the delivery for Monday, March 30, 2007.
My Aunt Dot Abbott came down from Barnesville to stay with us while Debra would be in the hospital; we wanted someone there who could keep Joshua, who had just turned three, in his routine. We had a youth event that was led by a group of students from Mercer University at the church that weekend. Debra attended every event. On Sunday afternoon I drove her to the South Georgia Medical Center in Valdosta; this was in a primitive time when insurance companies would pay for the expectant mother to spend the night before the birth in the hospital. I was to be back at the hospital at 6:00 a.m. on Monday; I must have awakened a dozen times that night because of my fear that I would sleep through the alarm. I made it on time.
When our son had been born in Louisville, Debra was taken into the delivery room and the incision was made for the C-section before a nurse came to get me. I thought it would be like that in Valdosta. I was wrong. The nurse did come to get me, but as I approached Debra, Dr. Woodward said, “OK, let’s get started,” and he had a scalpel in his hand. I stared lovingly into my wife’s face.
The baby was delivered feet first and bottom side up. They had a little difficulty getting the baby’s head, which was the last part of its body to emerge, out. I got a little concerned. So I was very happy and relieved when success was achieved and the baby was handed to Dr. Anderson, our pediatrician, who was there for the delivery. Debra said, “What is it?” and I replied, “I don’t know.” Once I saw it had a head I wasn’t interested in any other anatomical features. The nurse said, “It’s a girl.” I’m sure Debra heard, but I repeated it nonetheless: “It’s a girl.”
She was and is beautiful. We named her Sara Katherine, after her grandmothers.
Later I visited her in the nursery. She was crying. I picked her up and repeated her name over and over: “Sara, Sara, Sara.” She stopped crying and looked at me with that look that daughters give daddies, the one that warms and breaks our hearts for as long as we live.
I needed to celebrate, so I went to Lucy Ho’s Chinese restaurant for lunch.
And that’s how the Princess of our lives, Sara Katherine Ruffin, came into this world, twenty years ago today.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Living the Forgiven Life: Celebrate the Renewal
(A Lenten devotion based on Ezekiel 37:1-14; Romans 8:6-11; John 11:1-45)
We have been thinking during Lent about what it means to live the forgiven life. The question has been this: how should we live our lives in light of the fact that we have experienced the saving grace of God that he has made available to us in his Son Jesus Christ? After all, if we have entered into a personal relationship with God, if he is present in our lives, if we have been forgiven by him, then things should be different than they would otherwise be, shouldn’t they? Along the way we have said that as forgiven people we should tell the truth about our great sin and about God’s greater grace, that we should trust in the Lord, that we should engage in the struggle of life because in it we become sure of the love of God, and that we should embrace the transformation that has occurred in us by making the intentional commitment to live as disciples of Christ. Here on this last Thursday before Holy Week I want to put before you another vital way that we live the forgiven life: we celebrate the renewal that God has brought about in our lives and that he will bring about in our lives.
The basic affirmation of the Christian faith is that Jesus Christ was the Messiah who died on the cross for our sins and who rose from the dead on the third day. Easter, which is now only ten days away, is our primary celebration of that event, but we really celebrate it every Sunday when we gather on the Lord’s Day, the day of his resurrection, to worship him. Resurrection faith means that we trust that we will share in the benefits of his resurrection by experiencing our own resurrection one day. We live our lives in light of that resurrection, always being drawn toward it and always being empowered by it.
Another aspect of resurrection faith is that we experience a renewal of our lives right here and right now. As Paul put it,
But you are not in the flesh; you are in the Spirit, since the Spirit of God dwells in you….(I)f Christ is in you, though the body is dead because of sin, the Spirit is life because of righteousness. If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also through his Spirit that dwells in you. (Romans 8:9a, 10-11)
If you belong to Christ the Spirit of God through whom Jesus was raised from the dead dwells in you and brings new life to you right here and right now. Now there is cause for celebration!
And renewal is what we need. Sometimes we need community renewal. Such was the case with the people whom the prophet Ezekiel addressed in the sixth century BCE. Many of the people of Judah had been carried into exile to Babylon by the forces of Nebuchadnezzar in the three deportations of 597, 587, and 582. Jerusalem had been destroyed and the people had been ripped away from their homeland and from all the institutions that gave their lives meaning. It was in that context that Ezekiel had his vision of the Valley of Dry Bones. In the vision Ezekiel was transported to a valley that was full of bodies that were completely and seemingly irrevocably dead. They were “very dry” (37:2). Into that seemingly hopeless situation broke the Word of God; Ezekiel was told to preach to those dry bones. When Ezekiel preached to those bones they came together and then the sinews and flesh and skin came on them. Then when Ezekiel did some more preaching the breath of God came into them and “they lived, and stood on their feet, a vast multitude” (v. 10).
This passage is about the resurrection and renewal of a community of faith. Israel had been killed for all intents and purposes; they had been cut off from everything that mattered to them. But God intervened. God acted through his Word and through his Spirit to bring life where there was none and to bring meaning where it had been lost. God was going to open their graves and send them back to their promised land. What would be the result when he did that? God said, “You shall know that I am the LORD” and he said, “Then you shall know that I, the LORD, have spoken and will act” (v. 14). God would bring the renewal to the life of the community that it needed. We can celebrate the renewals, the great infusions of life and purpose and meaning, that we have known as a church in the past. We know what God has done. We celebrate what God has done.
Sometimes we need individual renewal. Lazarus is our brother here. Lazarus got sick and died. Death is the final threat and the great enemy from a purely human point of view. We Christians celebrate the truth that in the resurrection of Christ death has been defeated. Let’s make it particular: I celebrate the fact that my death has been defeated and I need fear it no more. But you know, we die all kinds of little deaths all along the way as we live. We experience all kinds of things that threaten to take so much of the meaning from our lives that it can feel like we’re dying. It can happen when someone we love is sick. It can happen when someone we love dies. It can happen when we are sick. It can happen when a job is lost. It can happen when we have serious family problems. It can happen when we experience emotional or mental struggles. It can happen when we lose focus and purpose in our lives. It can happen when someone we trusted lets us down.
If Jesus can bring Lazarus back from the dead and if Christ is raised from the dead and if Christ will cause us to be resurrected, then how much more can we hear the words of Jesus in our lives when we feel like we are dying: “Come forth!”; “Be unbound, and be turned loose!”? Such renewal doesn’t mean that all our problems will go away. Lazarus still had to live in this world. As we think about living resurrected and renewed lives I think that we need to think in terms not of rising above our lives but rather of rising within our lives. But what a blessing such living is!
We need to remember that only God can give us the renewal that is worth celebrating. We celebrate the new life that we have only because we have it in Christ. And while there are things we do to participate in what God wants to do in our church and in our individual lives, we dare not forget that what really matters can only happen through the power of God’s grace, God’s love, God’s Word, and God’s Spirit. So let us celebrate what God has done. But let us also celebrate what God is going to do!
We have been thinking during Lent about what it means to live the forgiven life. The question has been this: how should we live our lives in light of the fact that we have experienced the saving grace of God that he has made available to us in his Son Jesus Christ? After all, if we have entered into a personal relationship with God, if he is present in our lives, if we have been forgiven by him, then things should be different than they would otherwise be, shouldn’t they? Along the way we have said that as forgiven people we should tell the truth about our great sin and about God’s greater grace, that we should trust in the Lord, that we should engage in the struggle of life because in it we become sure of the love of God, and that we should embrace the transformation that has occurred in us by making the intentional commitment to live as disciples of Christ. Here on this last Thursday before Holy Week I want to put before you another vital way that we live the forgiven life: we celebrate the renewal that God has brought about in our lives and that he will bring about in our lives.
The basic affirmation of the Christian faith is that Jesus Christ was the Messiah who died on the cross for our sins and who rose from the dead on the third day. Easter, which is now only ten days away, is our primary celebration of that event, but we really celebrate it every Sunday when we gather on the Lord’s Day, the day of his resurrection, to worship him. Resurrection faith means that we trust that we will share in the benefits of his resurrection by experiencing our own resurrection one day. We live our lives in light of that resurrection, always being drawn toward it and always being empowered by it.
Another aspect of resurrection faith is that we experience a renewal of our lives right here and right now. As Paul put it,
But you are not in the flesh; you are in the Spirit, since the Spirit of God dwells in you….(I)f Christ is in you, though the body is dead because of sin, the Spirit is life because of righteousness. If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also through his Spirit that dwells in you. (Romans 8:9a, 10-11)
If you belong to Christ the Spirit of God through whom Jesus was raised from the dead dwells in you and brings new life to you right here and right now. Now there is cause for celebration!
And renewal is what we need. Sometimes we need community renewal. Such was the case with the people whom the prophet Ezekiel addressed in the sixth century BCE. Many of the people of Judah had been carried into exile to Babylon by the forces of Nebuchadnezzar in the three deportations of 597, 587, and 582. Jerusalem had been destroyed and the people had been ripped away from their homeland and from all the institutions that gave their lives meaning. It was in that context that Ezekiel had his vision of the Valley of Dry Bones. In the vision Ezekiel was transported to a valley that was full of bodies that were completely and seemingly irrevocably dead. They were “very dry” (37:2). Into that seemingly hopeless situation broke the Word of God; Ezekiel was told to preach to those dry bones. When Ezekiel preached to those bones they came together and then the sinews and flesh and skin came on them. Then when Ezekiel did some more preaching the breath of God came into them and “they lived, and stood on their feet, a vast multitude” (v. 10).
This passage is about the resurrection and renewal of a community of faith. Israel had been killed for all intents and purposes; they had been cut off from everything that mattered to them. But God intervened. God acted through his Word and through his Spirit to bring life where there was none and to bring meaning where it had been lost. God was going to open their graves and send them back to their promised land. What would be the result when he did that? God said, “You shall know that I am the LORD” and he said, “Then you shall know that I, the LORD, have spoken and will act” (v. 14). God would bring the renewal to the life of the community that it needed. We can celebrate the renewals, the great infusions of life and purpose and meaning, that we have known as a church in the past. We know what God has done. We celebrate what God has done.
Sometimes we need individual renewal. Lazarus is our brother here. Lazarus got sick and died. Death is the final threat and the great enemy from a purely human point of view. We Christians celebrate the truth that in the resurrection of Christ death has been defeated. Let’s make it particular: I celebrate the fact that my death has been defeated and I need fear it no more. But you know, we die all kinds of little deaths all along the way as we live. We experience all kinds of things that threaten to take so much of the meaning from our lives that it can feel like we’re dying. It can happen when someone we love is sick. It can happen when someone we love dies. It can happen when we are sick. It can happen when a job is lost. It can happen when we have serious family problems. It can happen when we experience emotional or mental struggles. It can happen when we lose focus and purpose in our lives. It can happen when someone we trusted lets us down.
If Jesus can bring Lazarus back from the dead and if Christ is raised from the dead and if Christ will cause us to be resurrected, then how much more can we hear the words of Jesus in our lives when we feel like we are dying: “Come forth!”; “Be unbound, and be turned loose!”? Such renewal doesn’t mean that all our problems will go away. Lazarus still had to live in this world. As we think about living resurrected and renewed lives I think that we need to think in terms not of rising above our lives but rather of rising within our lives. But what a blessing such living is!
We need to remember that only God can give us the renewal that is worth celebrating. We celebrate the new life that we have only because we have it in Christ. And while there are things we do to participate in what God wants to do in our church and in our individual lives, we dare not forget that what really matters can only happen through the power of God’s grace, God’s love, God’s Word, and God’s Spirit. So let us celebrate what God has done. But let us also celebrate what God is going to do!
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Josh Ruffin Writes About Josh Kelley...and a Pond
Josh Ruffin has two articles in this week's print edition of Metro Spirit; you can also read them online. Go to www.metrospirit.com. His article "On Bowen Pond" is on the home page. Click on "Music" and look under "Music Features" for "Working Songsmith," Josh's interview with Josh Kelley.
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