Articles

AN EMPTY, PLASTIC EASTER EGG

I tell it from memory, and, thus, I may not always get it exactly as it was told to happen. I share it often at Easter. Each time I am moved. It took what others would call a mentally handicapped preteen boy to really capture what Easter is all about. Let me just go ahead and tell it as I remember: The Preteen Sunday School class teacher had thought of a great activity that would be an object lesson to go with her Easter teaching. Taking her students outside, to each she gave one of those colored, plastic Easter eggs that come apart in the middle. She instruct the children to scour the church grounds for anything that would remind them of Jesus' Resurrection and to put it in their egg. Later they would return to class to see what each had discovered. Back in class, the teacher had each come to the front of the room and open his/her egg and reveal its contents. Sue opened hers. There was a flower bud. Flowers come with the Spring and so does Easter. Bill had green grass in his egg. The grass had been dead and gray, but it had come back alive in the Spring, just like Jesus had. One after the other came. The contents and explanations were all about the same as Sue and Bill's. Then Philip's turn came. He stood in front of the class and opened his egg. Nothing. There was nothing in it. The students began to chuckle and chide. "Oh, Philip, you always get stuff wrong." Some were more cruel: "Philip, you can't ever do anything right." The teacher shushed her students and gave Philip a chance to explain. "Philip, why is your egg empty. Could you not find anything? That's ok if you couldn't." "No!" Philip spoke with a quiver close to a cry in his voice. "My egg is empty because Jesus' tomb was empty." The class became quiet. Then, someone began to clap. They all clap. Philip had captured the meaning of Easter. Sadly, just weeks later, Philip died. At his funeral at the end when viewers pass by, in line were Philip's Sunday School fellow students. Each held a brightly colored, plastic Easter egg. As each passed Philip's casket, he would place his empty egg with Philip in the casket. One day Philip's casket will be as empty as the egg, as Jesus' tomb.

WHAT ABOUT THE TREES?

When I read the Palm Sunday Story of Jesus' Triumphant Entry, I wonder if any one thinks of the trees. The environmentalists of today would not have been happy. The trees along the path down the Mount of Olives had their limbs exploited by the people looking for something to lay in the path of the donkey of the King or to wave in the air in celebration of Him. Could it be that the trees gave their limbs and fronds as an offering to that King? Could it be that God grew those trees along that path for that very purpose? Jewish worshippers recognized that worship of God was all about giving something. Every time they went to the Temple, they went with a sacrifice or offering. Even the word "offering" connotes giving something. The advent of Jesus' Triumphant Entry into Jerusalem was accented with the spontaneous rejoicing and worship of His attending followers. That worship involved giving: The villager gave up the use of his donkey that Christ might ride it. The donkey gave his back. The disciples gave of their coats to make a saddle for the Lord. The people gave of their garments: They laid them in the path of the donkey as a customary sign of obeisance and worship of a King. The crowd also gave of their time and energy. To accompany Christ to Jerusalem demanded that the people leave their trades, their work, their leisure, and make the steep climb up the east side of the Mt. Olivet. Then there was the one sacrifice that we often forget, the trees gave their limbs and branches. The people cut fronds from the neighboring trees. The trees gave this part of themselves that the Messiah might be worshipped and heralded with Hosannas. All that the people gave that day in worship could not begin to compare to what Jesus was about to give for them. He was headed to Jerusalem, to Calvary, to give His life a sacrifice for our sins. Even there it was a tree that gave its timber to be used as the instrument of Jesus' death and to be soaked by His blood in His sacrifice of Himself for our sins. Whatever we give in worship is a small token response to what Jesus has given us. What will you give in worship this Palm Sunday? Remember on that first Palm Sunday, even the trees gave of their fronds. What they gave, they could never get back. It was a sacrifice indeed. Can we not learn from the trees' example?

A Lilac Lined Lane

This past Friday evening I was driving along a clear, rushing river in a narrow valley between sharply rising Appalachian foothills. Even though it had just stopped raining and dark clouds were still lowering, I was struck with the Spring beauty all around me. As the bright evening sun suddenly broke through the clouds, I was struck particularly with the beauty of the lilacs that bordered the road for miles. The sunlight made their pinkish-purple blooms literally glow as they were accented by the white-flowered trees just above and around them. It was as if my mind took a snapshot. My mind photo froze the sight in my memory-a country highway and a parallel sparkling stream, stretching to a vanishing point on the distant horizon, both lined on the two sides by the lilacs. It will be a sight branded on my mind for my lifetime. But, that sight reminded me of heaven. And he shewed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb. In the midst of the street of it, and on either side of the river, was there the tree of life, which bare twelve manner of fruits, and yielded her fruit every month: and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations (Rev 22:1-2). Though there is some debate of the proximity of the tree(s) of life, the river, and the street-does the river flow down the middle of the street or does the tree grow there and the river goes down the middle of the street?-the lilac-lined lane I was on made me think of this description of heaven. On the country road I was traversed, the lilacs played out and the road ended at a freeway at the end of the valley. Follow heaven's tree lined street and its parallel river upstream, and it will end at the throne of God. If earth's springtime lilac-lined lane was so beautiful, how beautiful must heaven's eternal tree of life lane be?

THERE IS A PLACE

If you take time to put Scripture into your heart and mind, you never know when it is going to surface suddenly . I was driving round and round, floor after floor, of the hospital parking garage looking for a parking space. Several times, diligently scanning the backs of diagonally parked cars, I was sure from a distance that I had discovered a parking space. When I got there, I was disappointed. The space wasn't empty at all. It was occupied by a compact car. The protruding rear ends of two larger vehicles in bordering spaces hid the back of the compact making the space appear empty. If you drive, you have experienced that disappointment of thinking you had found the parking place you were seeking only to discover it was already taken. The driver than responds with a frustrated, "I just can’t find a place to park." As this happened to me this week, one of those Scriptures suddenly surfaced above my mundane reeling of thoughts. It was a verse that records the words of God to Moses. "There is a place by Me," God declared to Moses (Exodus 33:21). That place was a cleft in the rock where God would place Moses, cover him with His hand, and as He passed by, remove His hand long enough that Moses might seeing the disappearing glory of His presence. Sometimes we need a parking place. We have an appointment, a purchase need, etc. Sometimes we are almost desperate for a place. It is disappointingly frustrating not to find one. Often spiritually we begin to feel our need of a place. We long for a place where we experience God's presence, have our faith renewed, are recalibrated, renewed, and restored. We long for a place where we meet God afresh. We need not be despaired. If we would listen, we would hear, "There is a place by Me."

AFTER Revival

When my wife walked by dusting, she did not know that her comment would make this article for today. We were discussing our gratefulness over how well how many had gotten into revival and had prayed, worshipped, rejoiced. That is a thrill to the heart of a pastor-seeing people respond to the move of the Spirit and receive what they so desperately need. People moved out of their comfort zone, beyond their usual. That is what revivals are all about. Her comment, following her statement of how folks were getting in was something like, "We'll see. What matters is after revival." She isn't a cynical person. She was just stating the obvious. Truly what matters isn't the cathartic, emotional moment at the altar in and of itself. What matters is the lasting effect of such a moment. In a word what does it take for what God has done in people's lives to last beyond the revival services? Faithfulness. Emotions are fickled things. They come and go. But being faithful will keep a person in the place that when the next wave rolls in he will be there to experience it. Faithfulness preserves in the practice of life that thing God has done in the heart. Faithfulness; faithfulness to personal devotion; faithfulness to convictions and commitments made; faithfulness to ministries; faithfulness to church services. Faithfulness. Revivals are not to be momentary spiritual high points from which folks settle back down to their previous niche once the meetings are over. Revivals are footholds the faithful can use to move upward, onward, forward. Then again, what my wife meant was after the revival services. There is no need that the revival itself end. Faithfulness would insure that as well.