Articles

“TWO GRANDPAS IN ONE PLACE”

Fortuitously, this month, my son in the military, with his family, moved back to Dayton, OH. That’s where my wife and I pastor. Although he is army, he has been posted at the Wright Patterson Airforce Base to attend the Air Force Institute of Technology for further training. We are blessed to have them back with us, Mom and Dad, and back at our church. Last night, Wednesday, after service, a group of us were standing at the front of the sanctuary chatting. That group included my son and his father-in-law and others. My son’s children came in from their kids’ classes and, seeing us, down to we were gathered. One of them, my six-year-old grandson looked up at me and then over at his other grandfather. He rolled his eyes upward, shook his head from side to side, put his hands to his cheeks, and dramatically proclaimed, “Two grandpas in one church!” I could not tell if he was wowed or whelmed. I’ll take it he was wowed. Wow! “I have two grandpas in one church. At one place. I have both of them here for me.” At first, I mused over his rhetorical almost poetic expression--one with a mathematical ratio as well (2 to 1). Then, I began to ruminate over just what it was that made “two grandpas in one place” remarkable to him. I guess I could just ask him, but, however bardic he may be, I’m not sure he could articulate what was really impressing him about his observation. Also, he might have given me a different answer than where my thoughts took me and aborted this blog. So, rather than asking him, I will venture a conjecture: Relationships. I think it was relationships that he had in mind. We two weren’t just other people to him. We were grandpas. We each were someone with whom he had a relationship. A familial relationship. A binding relationship. A dependable relationship. A secure relationship. And, I surmise his thought behind his words was, “Just think, I have two of those relationships right here in one place. How nice.” This is how church should be for everyone. When we gather, it should be both a reality and an awareness that we gather with those with whom we have close relationships. That is why from the beginning--though the Church has departed from the practice even in my lifetime--believers referred to each other as “Brother” or “Sister.” In Christ, even someone further removed than a 6thcousin was a brother. So was a stranger who knew Christ that had dropped in for a visit. There are many instances in the New Testament that reveal what close relationships those who gathered for worship had. But I thought of how Paul expressed it to converts and his flock in Philippi. He gets almost syrupy: “Therefore, my brethren dearly beloved and longed for, my joy and crown, so stand fast in the Lord, my dearly beloved.” (Php 4:1). “Brethren.” “Dearly beloved.” “Longed for.” Relationship. Church, according to the NT, is all about one anothering. Love one another. Greet one another. Pray for one another. Consider one another. Serve one another. Exhort one another. And one anothering is about relationships. Sadly, there has been an erosion of such relationships in churches everywhere. Goers have become mere mutual attendees. They are but simultaneous spectators of the same production. Cliques are bad. Clashes are bad. But capsuled self-absorbed individuals are the worst. The Church, each locally expressed body, is designed to be a unity comprised of organic relationships. Relationships deeper, closer even than the ones we have with those with whom we share DNA but not faith. Closer than the bonds of those on a sports team. Closer than drinking or fishing buddies. Closer than Facebook friends. Close. Family close. Coming to church, we ought to sigh contentedly, “All these brothers and sisters in one place!” But there are more relationships at church than just those with our fellow brothers and sisters. We gather with our heavenly Father. And our Elder-Brother and Friend, Jesus. And our confidant, comforter, and counselor, the Holy Spirit. The Blessed Trinity. The Three in One. We have a relationship with God. This is why coming to church, and gathering together, is so vital and crucial; especially so in our fractured world where even biological families are fragmented. When we are together, we ought to be saying, “All those relationships in one place. Wow!” On Sunday, when you gather, as all believers should, you ought to look up to heaven with gratitude. Roll your eyes back in wonder. Shake your head back and forth in amazement, put your hands to your face in astonishment, and, with a WOW like my grandson, exclaim, “All these relationships in one place!” Oh, by the way. I have a one-up on my grandson. He said, “Two grandpas in one place.” Now, when I come to church I can say, “Three grandchildren in one place!” --Pastor Clifford Hurst

“Do We Get The Ribbons Now?”

He was so disappointed and crestfallen when I told him that I regretted having answered him. But I had to tell the truth. We were in our church’s kids’ camp. I was down the hill on the ballfield watching the children compete in track events. The one in progress was the long jump time. When one eight-year-old’s distance was announced, he knew he had won first! His face lit up with joy. First place! Seeing me, the pastor, standing nearby, thinking I would know, he looked up at me and asked, “Do we get the ribbons now?” His smile disappeared and his face fell when I answer, “No, not now. Later. You will get your ribbon at the awards ceremony in the tabernacle up there on the hill on the last day.” I felt bad for spoiling his joy of victory. But I was immediately struck by his question and my answer. It is a disappointment to learn this hard fact: We don’t get the ribbons now. They come later. It was then that I thought of my Aunt Mil and Uncle Dale. They had had no children. I moved them from California to Ohio to care for them when they retired. My aunt passed away first. Then my uncle. It fell to me to close their estate and get rid of their things. They had no estate. Their things were pitiful. For most of their adult lives they had pastored on Native American reservations and at small churches. On the limited incomes from those, they had acquired almost nothing. After my aunt had passed, my uncle, having suffered debilitating illness had been residing in assisted living. When he died and I was clearing his room, I found nothing of intrinsic value--not really, except a tv and a silver dollar. These with some memory-laden knickknacks I laid aside. The rest of the things I donated to the facility for another indigent resident and threw the rest away. As I put some dilapidated piece of furniture into the trash bin, I felt a heavy weight of sadness laden with bitterness. I’m not sure if I said it out loud or not. But I murmured: “They spent all their life in ministry. Faithfully. And they died and have nothing to show for it. Nothing but a few worthless things that I’m throwing away.” I can’t explain the dark cloud that descended upon me. Then, I remembered the story of the poor, retiring missionary and his wife disembarking in New York City on their return from Africa. Ex-president Teddy Roosevelt was returning on the same ship from a big game hunting trip. In the Big Apple, he was greeted by a huge crowd with an exuberant welcome. No one was there to greet the missionaries. Not after all those years of faithful labor. No celebration for them. I have to butcher the story with brevity to get to the reply to the missionary’s anguishing self-pitying observation: Through the gloom of his grumbling, he heard: “But you are not home yet!” The words were not the same but that is what I had told the victorious young man, “You don’t get the ribbons now, they come later.” Here’s the point. There was no doubt that the young man had won! He had. But, despite his accomplishment, he hadn’t yet received his ribbon. He had no evidence to show he had won. He had nothing to show for what he had done. He had not been rewarded. Many, today, are right there with the young man, my aunt and uncle, and the returning missionaries. They have been faithful believers in Jesus. They have faithfully served Him and others. They have faithfully plodded through the valleys, fought the satanic enemies, and resisted the world's allurements. They have been victorious. They have done great work. They have helped others. But they have nothing to show for it. They have that same experience of disappointment experienced by the boy on the ballfield. "You don’t get the ribbons now." But make no mistake. The ribbons are coming. That young man did receive his ribbon later. He stood there proudly on stage holding it as the audience applauded. He had gotten his reward! On the last day. In the tabernacle up there on the hill. Weary worker, fighting faithful one, disillusioned minister, no, we do not receive the ribbons now. But we will. There is a reward ceremony coming. Despite an interval between the work and the winnings, the race and the recompense, the adversity withstood and the approval expressed, the good done and the garland, the cross-bearing and the crown, and the labor and the Lord saying, “Well done,” there will be a day when we “get the ribbons.” Have we received the ribbons? No. Not yet. But we will. For sure. In the ceremony in the Tabernacle. On the last day. Up on Zion’s Hill: “And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.” (Gal 6:9). --Pastor Clifford Hurst

IS THE HOLY SPIRIT A DOVE?

Why am I thinking of and blogging about the Holy Spirit as a dove for this Sunday? Because today the children’s camp that our church has operated over the last 37 years begins. We call it Camp Dove. Also, the icon we use in the branding of our Pentecostal church is a dove. What’s all this about a dove? Ask anyone with even a rudimentary exposure to Christianity about the baptism of Jesus in Jordan and immediately there will come to his mind a picture of Jesus standing in the river, water running from Him and a dove either about to land or, having already landed, perched on His shoulder. A white feathered dove. After all, this is what all four Gospel writers described. Jesus in Jordan with the Holy Spirit embodied in a dove upon Him. Or do they? The art of the Church has led many to believe they did. The iconic renditions of Jesus’ baptism appear in every denomination (or nearly so), with Jesus freshly baptized and a literal dove resting on His shoulder. Something not considered is this: John the Baptist, the closest to Christ in Jordan, testified clearly that once the Holy Spirit had descended on Jesus like a dove, that the Spirit “remained” on Jesus. If the Holy Spirit descended as a literal dove, then, not only at His baptism but throughout His ministry, the dove remained on Jesus. Jesus walked around with a dove on His shoulder. Or head. Please forgive me if this sounds sacrilegious, but are we to believe Jesus walked the roads with his disciples, entered the temple, or preached in the synagogues with a dove perched on His shoulder like Long John Silver had a parrot? And, another thing, personally, I’ve always had a bit of difficulty thinking of the Holy Spirit embodied as an extremely close cousin to a pigeon, distinguishable only by being a bit smaller. Symbols are good—and that is what the dove in our branding is. But when they become icons, they can lead at the least to bad theology and at worst to idolatry, iconolatry. Yet, the Gospel records of Jesus’ baptism have inextricably linked the Holy Spirit with the dove. However, a re-examination of those accounts, I believe, reveals that they never say the Holy Spirit is a dove. Of course, not. Nor, even that the Holy Spirit appeared in the small shape of a dove. No. The emphasis is upon His descent, not his shape. All four Gospel writers concur. * The Holy Spirit DESCENDED LIKE a dove. Before I unpack some of the significance of that, let me make a special note: The Holy Spirit’s coming upon Jesus was a sign for John the Baptist. How would John know who the Messiah was when he saw him? ** The One who sent John instructed him “...upon whom thou shall see the Holy Spirit descending and remaining on him,” that will be the Messiah. Note, God did not tell John “...upon whom you see a DOVE descend, but upon whom you see the SPIRIT descend. Later, John testified that he did see the Spirit descend upon Jesus—like a dove. By implication of the text, only Jesus and John saw the Spirit descend. Thus, not only may the people not have seen the Spirit descend, they for sure saw no dove. The emphasis isn’t on the “what” the Holy Spirit descended as, but the “how” He descended, "came down." John, Jesus, their followers, and any who might have heard them tell this were Jews. They understood what was going on intuitively from their being so well-versed in Scripture. This language of descent like a dove immediately called to mind the beginning of their Torah--and the beginning of all things. “… And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.” (Gen 1:2). “Moved.” The Spirit brooded above the dark chaos like a dove hovers and broods over her eggs. She does so in the expectation that the eggs will hatch and life will come forth. The Spirit’s moving precipitates the work of God. And that work is to give life. During Creation, when the Spirit finished hovering like a dove, the darkness was gone and life filled this planet. And a clump of clay called man began to live. Whatever the certain import of the Holy Spirit’s coming upon Jesus for equipping and empowering Him for his ministry might be, the Holy Spirit descended upon Christ to bring forth the work of God, and that work would dispel darkness and bring life. I have left too little space for application, but let me focus on just one: Note that the Holy Spirit descended like a dove on CHRIST. 1) The Holy Spirit COMES upon Christ. 2) As John testified, the Holy Spirit POINTS to Christ. 3) And, also, as John said, the Holy Spirit REMAINED upon Christ. If we desire the Holy Spirit’s descent in our lives and worship, we must realize He comes only upon Christ in our lives. In our thoughts. In our worship. He also comes upon our pointing to Christ. pointing to Christ in our worship, evangelism, preaching, and living. And He will remain upon the Christ in our lives and living, the Christ in whom we are "hid." Abide in Christ and the Holy Spirit will abide upon you. The Dove will abide with you as He did with Christ. Fittingly, one year at our Camp Dove, just as we were about to begin the opening service, as I was walking to the tabernacle, I watched a white dove come out of nowhere and fly over it. Not for a moment did I think it was the Holy Spirit. But I did think, “Just like that dove flew over the tabernacle, the Holy Spirit can descend upon the gathered crowd of children and those of all ages tonight. His presence can be felt. His power can be evident. His work can be done. I entered the tabernacle praying, “Holy Spirit descend upon us like a dove.” Descend like a dove upon Christ—the Christ within us and in Whom we are. --Pastor Clifford Hurst * It is Luke’s account, I believe, that gives rise to the icon of the dove or Jesus’ shoulder. He adds a description to the Spirit’s descent like a dove. “Bodily shape.” People have taken that to mean something like in a dove’s body or a body like a dove. However, the descent of the Spirit was in the “bodily shape.” A body isn’t just used in reference to biological corporeality. “Body” was used to describe something that was distinctly different than what is around it. A body of water. There is water all through the air. But when water is collected together in a way it can be seen, we call it a body of water. The Holy Spirit is omnipresent. Everywhere. But He was manifest that day, in a manner within parameters that He was distinctly and empirically seen. Thus, “bodily shape.” To say, then that the Spirit descended “in a bodily shape like a dove” is to say He came empirically, experientially, and existentially, upon Jesus, He can also come upon a people. A people can know when the Spirit is present, hovering, descending. Such a coming is real. It is life-changing. **Well, just as the Holy Spirit had let the embryo John in his mother’s womb know when he was in the presence of the Messiah in His mother’s womb, God had told John that he would know the adult Messiah when he saw the Holy Spirit descended upon Him.

WHY DID PAUL CROSS THE SEA?

Sitting on the deck watching the waves and wake created by our ship’s plying through the water, looking out beyond to an expanse of sea in every direction, I thought of the Apostle Paul. Two years ago, our church family at Union Pentecostal Church in celebration of our thirty years as pastors had gifted us with a trip for us and our children and their spouses. We nine were finally on a Mediterranean cruise courtesy of their largess. Although our route was confined to the western Mediterranean Paul traveled only in route to his fatal trial in Rome, I thought of his other missionary journeys that had him crisscrossing the eastern part of the same sea. I mused on his shipwrecks. His almost drowning. I am certain the Apostle was not transported on a huge, comfortable vessel, gliding over the surface, barely rocked by waves as we were. Those small sailing vessels were dangerous and susceptible to the slightest wave, wind, and weather. Corks in a tempest. My thoughts about Apostle Paul coalesced into one: Why would he do it? Why would he hazard his life like he did in sailing the Mediterranean? Days without seeing land? Why jeopardize everything on trips he did not have to make? He sure didn’t do it for wealth of fame. Why did he? Why did Paul cross the Sea? Why? The apparent answer is “to preach the Gospel, that’s why?” Yes, but we can’t leave it there. Why preach the Gospel? What is so important about the Gospel that one would put himself in such danger, discomfort, and possible destruction? “Well, because the Gospel is just that. It is good news! Paul had good news to share.” Yes, but why is it good news? That’s when the answer hit me: Why did Paul hazard his life in crossing the Mediterranean? Because without Christ people go to hell. To say that sounds so foreign and arcane to most today—"Without Christ people go to hell.” But no other answer makes sense. People beyond the sea were lost without the knowledge of Jesus Christ. And without the knowledge of Jesus Christ, they were eternally damned to eternal destruction. If there is no hell, why bother people in different lands, with different cultures, with different religions? Just leave them be--as the “woke” of today would urge. For sure, don’t risk life and limb to preach another, non-indigenous religion to them, one they really don’t need. They will be fine. And, suppose there is a hell. No big deal. ”All roads lead to Rome.” There are many ways to avoid hell and go to heaven. If Christ is not the only way to escape hell and any other way will do, again, why jeopardize one’s very life simply to announce that there is yet one more way among many to avoid going there? And something else: If the Gospel is only what some today say it is—a means of reaching one’s full potential, a way of acquiring self-esteem, a way of having all of one’s dreams come true, a way to wealth and health, is that really something for which to imperil one’s own life? Does it make sense to lose your life now to help some foreigner live his best life now? Your worst for his best? No! If Paul were only a life coach or a motivational speaker, his methods and speeches, however helpful, would not be something for which to hazard his life. Paul risked his life traversing the Mediterranean Sea because people without Christ go to hell. He cared. He knew that the Gospel had the power to save them, to change their lives, and to give them eternal life. He knew that Gospel was, not just the way to heaven, but the way to escape hell. That’s why Paul crossed the Sea.* He hazarded his life because of hell. ---Pastor Clifford Hurst *”Knowing therefore the terror of the Lord, we persuade men; ….” (2Co 5:11)

I PREACHED IT WRONG: GOD ISN’T LIKE A FATHER

It is youth camp season. Almost forty years ago, the week of July fourth, I was preaching a youth camp in an open-aired tabernacle. In the hot, muggy, bug-ladened atmosphere surrounded by the darkening night, I was pleading with wayward young people using the story of the Prodigal Son. I described the promiscuous son’s having come to his senses as he slept with the pigs. And then his returning home. I emphasized his arrival: “The father did not wait until his son knocked on the door. He saw him coming and ran to meet him. The father did not halt his approach at his son’s distinct swine smell. Nor did he hesitate at the sight of his filthy robe and body. No! The father took his son in a welcoming bear-hug embrace. At his son’s protestations that he was unworthy to be a son or treated as a son, as he begged to be allowed to be just one of his servants, the father declared, ‘No, you are my son! Come into the house. You are more than welcome. And to show it, I’m going to throw a party to celebrate your homecoming’.” “Servants, bring a robe and ring. (and, hopefully, ‘Fill, the bath with water and get several bars of soap.’).” At that point, I entered my message’s plea for those away from Christ. I was appealing to them to come to the altar and surrender their lives to Christ. I declared, “God is like a father. God is like this father. If you come to Him, He will meet you with open arms. He will hug you with those arms. He will take you into His house.” As young people began to flood the altar, I noticed one young lady with her face contorted in misery and defiance. Sitting arms crossed. Distressed but obdurate. Refusing to come with the others to the altar. I watched as some sister went to talk with her and invited her to come to pray. She refused with a vehement verbal barrage and animated gestures. Of course, way up at the pulpit, I had no idea what she was saying. Afterward, what this teenage girl had said in her refusal to respond was relayed to me: It went something like this: “I ran away from home with my boyfriend. I did bad things. I realized what a mess I’d made of my life. Just yesterday, I returned home and asked my dad if I could come back. He yelled at me and told me what a bad person and daughter I was. What a mess of things I had made. What a horrible sin I had committed. Then, he pointed to the door and told me to leave and never come back. He screamed, ‘Get out.’” She then retorted, “That preacher said that God is like a father.” She vexingly and bitterly exclaimed, “If God is like my father, I want nothing to do with Him. I won’t go pray. He would be just like my father anyway. He would not take me back.” Deep in the night last night (Friday), with no waking remembrance of this for years, it hit me. I was wrong in what I preached. I had misspoken when I applied the story of the prodigal son. When I said, “God is like a father. It may be semantics, but what I said is all wrong. God isn’t like a father. There are some bad fathers. God is not like some fathers. Not like many fathers. Not at all. This girl’s father was a pastor. But God isn’t like that father.” Make no mistake. There are some good fathers. Some really good ones. I had one such father. But it isn’t that God is like them. The truth is God is not like a father, but a good father is like God. When the prodigal sons’ father met, embraced, and welcomed his stinking wayward son home, that father was being like God. The heavenly Father. The Ultimate Father. God was not like that father. That father was like God. Oh, to be a father like God. --Pastor Clifford Hurst

A CELEBRATION THAT LASTS MORE THAN A MONTH

Our nation is in the midst of a celebration. The celebration of the Acronym-that-Appropriates-more-and-more-of-the-Alphabet. I write cryptically not to be ambiguous but to preclude possible censoring and censuring. After all NT Christians called Rome “Babylon.” I will just call this Acronym-that-Appropriates-more-and-more-of-the-Alphabet Month. June has been designated as the month for this celebration of the Acronym-that-Appropriates-more-and-more-of-the-Alphabet Being treated like any other citizen is not the goal. Tolerance is not the goal. Nor, is the promotion of a lifestyle, though it’s that too. Forcing and foisting society to embrace deviant behavior, as motivating and prevalent as that desired end is, is not the goal. Celebration is. When used for official or sanctioned calendar events, to celebrate is to observe a holiday or take part in a festival. But, as observed in this month’s festive events, like parades, for instance, it is evident that the Acronym-that-Appropriates-more-and-more-of-the-Alphabet takes “celebrate” in the literal sense of exalting, glorifying, lauding, and praise. They are celebrating. They are reveling and rejoicing. They are proud. Some of the most rabid cheerleaders in the celebration are scripture-mutilating, scripture-jettisoning liberal Christian leaders who, ostensibly under the guise of love, give speeches and preside over meetings that celebrate what God’s Word clearly notes as evil. Evil, not because it gets under God’s skin. And, not even just because it defies God’s laws. But evil because it destroys people, marriages, families, societies—just about everything. These are those who the proverb writer described as those “Who rejoice to do evil, and delight in the frowardness of the wicked;” (Pro. 2:14). Rejoice. Celebrate. In celebrating evil, they celebrated the very thing destroying them along with everything good, wholesome, and healthful. Among other self-destroying behavior, they are celebrating the irreparable mutilation of children. They will not concede nor see it, but their celebrating what they celebrate is like cancer patients lauding and celebrating cancer. Or snake-bit victims, venom. Or those who’ve lost a loved one to recreational drugs celebrating drugs. It is not enough for these to celebrate evil. Their rejoicing over such evil comes with decrying, demeaning, disparaging, and detesting all that is pure, righteous, and holy. Those who love the Truth, follow the Word, and trust God’s design and decrees, cannot, should not, must not, and will not join that celebration. But we have plenty to celebrate. To rejoice over. A personal, holy, mercy-showing Creator. A loving, caring, Savior. Unchanging, unerring, absolute Truth. Meaning. Purpose. Eternal life. Light in the Darkness. Hope. Healing. Help. Though there is no designated month on the calendar to celebrate these, we can do so today. And in heaven the celebration of these things lasts more than a month. It lasts for an eternity. --Pastor Clifford Hurst

THE BARKING OF THE DOGS OR THE SINGING OF THE BIRDS?

It was exceedingly annoying as it always is. The incessant barking of dogs. I was on the phone with a friend whose job entails knocking on doors in search of residents. He had just knocked on a door and immediately there was this discordant cacophony of dogs’ barking. It was brutal to the ears even heard over the phone. Then in the hiatus of waiting for his return to our conversation, I noticed something. Despite the barking, and more clearly in the brief respites between barks, I heard a chorus of birds singing on the bright spring day. Not on my end. On his. I heard the mellifluously melodious singing of birds eight hundred miles away. It cheered me long distance. I commented to my friend about it. “Listen to those birds. They are singing so happily. It’s so uplifting.” He responded, “What birds? I don’t hear any birds. You mean where you are at?” “No!” I answered. I’m talking about the ones where you are.” He paused for a moment before responding, “Oh, now I hear them. I didn’t hear them before. All I could hear was those barking dogs.” The dogs were still barking. I attempted to wax philosophical. “You didn’t hear the birds?” I asked incredulously with a twinge of condemnation directed at him. “Yet, I did eight hundred miles away. The problem is,” I pontificated, “You were so focused on the barking of the dogs you didn’t hear the singing of the birds.” As I smugly awaited his impressed response to my clever retort, I was suddenly hit by conviction from the boomerang of my own invented aphorism. That little quiet inside voice that can be as annoying as a dog’s barking inquired, “Don’t you do that yourself. All the time? Always through life? Don’t you constantly listen to the barking dogs instead of the singing birds?” Conviction causes misery and misery loves company, so let me ask you. Do you hear the barking of the dogs or the singing of the birds? Such is life. Dogs are barking. Birds are singing. Usually, we focus on the barking. Oh, there’s so much of that. Grating growling, bothersome barking, and yucky yipping. All the time. News. Gossip. Whining. Protesting. Carping. Complaining. Verbalize vitriol. All the time. Everywhere. In all kinds of situations. Barking. Barking. Barking. But there’s not just barking. There is also the soft breeze stirring leaves. A babbling brook. A church bell. A baby’s coo. Music inspired by the Holy Spirit. The Good News of the Word. A congregation worshiping. The encouragement of friends. The affirmation of loved ones. The birds are singing. There’s singing. Singing. Singing. Both the barking of the dogs and the singing of the birds are sounding around us constantly. In the end, we choose which we will focus on, which we will hear. I think I will listen more to the birds’ singing. After all, even the squawking of a starling sounds better than the nerve-yanking yapping of a chihuahua. (No offense to chihuahua lovers.) Did you hear that? What? You tell me. Was it barking dogs or singing birds? --Pastor Clifford Hurst

Justice, My Wife, and the Gospel

As a precursor to this Tuesday’s announcement about his presidential run for 2024, President Biden signed and announced an executive order mandating that all federal agencies prioritize ENVIRONMENTAL JUSTICE. When I heard “Environment Justice,” I thought of the Gospel. And my wife. See, truth is, when a modifier is added to justice, then justice is no longer justice. A modifier can make all the difference. It changes everything. For example, if I say, “wife,” that produces one perception. If I say, “my wife,” that’s another. But, if I say, “my FAVORITE wife,” that draws a drastically different picture. It’s not the possessive modifier, “my,” that makes the altering difference. Nor if I added a descriptive modifier, “beloved.” It’s when I add a modifier that distinguishes, “favorite.” If she is my “favorite” wife, there are others. Back to justice. Justice, overly simplified, is what is right, impartial, and fair. But add a qualifying modifier--Social Justice. Racial Justice. Economic Justice. Environmental Justice--and the modifier takes away what justice is. How so? Because to fulfill the qualifier in the vein it is meant results in favoring one group, philosophy, system, culture, etc., above another. The very opposite of what the modifier’s proponents ostensively profess is their intent and goal. The modifier tilts “justice,” rightness, impartiality, and fairness, in the direction of one and away from the other. The moment it tilts, justice has ceased to be justice. Justice is justice. It needs no qualifier. And the qualifier, once added, changes it. Destroys it. Makes it something else. So with the Gospel. Simply stated, the Gospel, the Good News, is that salvation is by grace alone, through faith alone in the finished work of Christ alone. Now let’s add modifiers. Social Gospel. Liberation Gospel. Progressive Gospel. Universalism Gospel. Prosperity Gospel. Holiness Gospel. The moment the modifier is added to Gospel, the resulting Gospel has become something else. It is not the Gospel of the New Testament. It is not the Gospel of Jesus. Nor Paul. And since it’s not, it can’t save or give eternal life or true hope and peace. Justice with any such modifier is not Justice. The Gospel with any such modifier is not the Gospel. And if my wife is “my favorite wife,” I have or have had more than one. I haven’t. I don’t. I have but one wife. And there is but one Gospel that saves. The Gospel. Minus all qualifiers and modifiers, --Pastor Clifford Hurst

PERFECT!!!

Not just “Perfect.” But, “Perfect!!!”--perfect with three !’s because it is always said with verbal exclamation points of feigned optimism, enthusiasm, excitement, or joy--none of which, we will find, are usually meant. Perfect!!! is everywhere. I can’t be the only one that’s noticed. You have too? Perfect!!! A trip last week out of state only underlined that what I’ve been noticing is ubiquitous. Everywhere and in a plethora of circumstances folks are responding with “Perfect!!!” In their interactions waitresses and patrons both say, “Perfect!!!”. So do flight attendants and passengers, “Perfect!!!”. As do patients and doctors, “Perfect!!!”. And friend to friend, “Perfect!!!”. Why do they say Perfect!!!? And, how can so many things be perfect!!!? It stretches incredulity to believe that we live in such a perfect world of perfect people doing perfect things that everything is discovered and declared “Perfect!!!” Ever the skeptic--this I may get imperfectly--I really think Perfect!!! is a ploy! I’ll give a few examples of what I mean, and, if you would, let me know if I am on to something. You’d do that? Perfect!!! “Perfect!!!” is a replacement for “Thank you,” without saying, “Thank you.” It’s used this way, although not always when you don’t have much cause to be thankful. Or you don’t especially feel thankful. Or, you just want to say, “Thank you” in a way that will end the conversation (another use of Perfect!!!). Example: Someone is portending to have done you a great favor. He is going on and on about how and why. You don’t really see it. You just want the monologue to stop. So, you say, “Perfect!!!” That makes him feel self-satisfied and stuns him to cease. Perfect!!! “Perfect!!!” is a way of making folks not feel bad or embarrassed when you are really not pleased with what they have done when they think they have really done something for you. Example: Your young children fix you breakfast. The outcome is less than desirable, the kitchen is a mess, and a few dishes are broken in the process. “Mom, we fixed you breakfast,” they announce proudly. Not to hurt them—and you can’t honestly say, “It looks great,” or even “Thank you,”--you say, “Perfect!!!” You have spared their feelings without revealing your own. Perfect!!! “Perfect!!!” is a way of feigning interest, enthusiasm, and joy--when you feel none of those things--to spare the other’s feelings. Example: You come home from work and your wife says, “We need to go shopping tonight.” You say, “Perfect!!!” If you say it emphatically enough, you can keep the sarcasm and disappointment hidden. She’s never the wiser. Perfect!!! “Perfect!!!” is a way of ending a monologue or undesired conversation. Example: When one is elucidating endlessly to convince you about how wonderfully he has done something or said something, if you say, “Perfect!!!” What else can he say? He has already convinced you. End of conversation. “Perfect!!!” “Perfect!!!” is a way of hiding your disappointment, frustration, and uncharitable emotions. You have sat in the restaurant booth for thirty minutes after you’ve ordered waiting for your steak. The waitress drops by and announces, in a way to feign her concern and accentuate her effort on your behalf, “I just went back to the kitchen to check on your food. They told me it would be ready in just a moment.” She finishes with a disarming smile. You say, “Perfect!!!” You want to say, “About time. I’ve waited thirty minutes.!” But she beams at your “Perfect!!!”. “Perfect!!!” “Perfect!!!” deflects from having to judge or be judged. We live in a society that does not want not be judged. Ironically, the worse judgment that one can receive is to be accused of judging. One may think something is subpar, lacking, etc., but if he says, “Perfect!!!.” he cannot be said to be judging by pointing out that something is wrong. He cannot be judged for judging. Someone announces she is going to go party and get soused. Another says, “Perfect!!!” He has not judged and, thus, cannot be judged. He has avoided sharing how He really feels. “Perfect!!!” I know I must have missed some other usages of “Perfect!!!” But, you say, “You need to stop. You’ve given enough. This has gone on long enough.” Oh, okay. Perfect!!! But, before I do, a concession, an analogy, and a spiritual truth. Concession: If any have found yourself punctuating your conversations with “Perfect,” I am not accusing you of consciously doing so as described above. If one of those illustrations describes how you use Perfect!!!, I am sure, it is unintentional. “Perfect!!!” is just one of those trendy expressions that are infectious. Most do not calculatingly adopt them. They catch them like the cold virus. And start sneezing them. Analogy: Perfectly good words are often prostituted and ruined by trendy, mundane, superfluous, imperfect usage. Remember, “Awesome!!!”? Awesome!!! was used so frequently for any and everything that Awesome!!! is no longer, well, awesome. It lost its awesomeness. “Perfect!!!” used imperfectly will lose its perfectness. Please don’t say it--“Perfect!!!” Spiritual truth: This blog actually came to me after reading from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount when He enjoined us to “be perfect even as your Father in heaven is perfect.” Wow! As perfect as God. How? This begs for exposition but maybe two quick conclusions would suffice. First, of all, that is just Jesus’ point. We CAN’T be perfect like the Father is perfect. Not on our own. Not by our efforts however strenuous they may be. Impossible. Yet, we are required to be perfect. That’s where the Good News comes in. That kind of perfection only comes through Christ. Our belief in Him. Our acceptance of Him through our repentance. And our letting Him live in and through us. And that can happen to any of us! “Perfect!!!” Really, “Perfect!!!” Second, we think of perfectness as exactness and flawlessness. The “perfect” that God is (and He is those things too) and the “perfect” we are to be, literally, at its root means “complete.” Only through Christ can we complete. Whole. We are complete in Christ, through Christ, by Christ. To that, I can only say Perfect!!! Really, “Perfect!!!” --Pastor Clifford Hurst