Pastor Hurst

THE FAITH OF THE SILENT ONE

There is a main character in the Nativity that gets less attention than the magi or the shepherds. Joseph. Probably, we never hear much about him because we never heard anything from him. I’m sure that Joseph was not mute, incapable of speech. But, in the record of Scripture, he doesn’t say anything. He’s silent. In our carols, even the “cattle are lowing” in the nativity. But, Joseph’s saying nothing. The absence of any quotes attributed to Joseph only accentuates his faith. He said nothing. He just did as instructed by God! This is a great expression of faith. Perhaps, the greatest. When it became evident that his fiancé Mary was expectant, Joseph was asked to accept the fact that she had not been unfaithful to him, that the embryo growing in her had been conceived by the Spirit of God. Joseph was instructed to proceed with marrying her. Joseph said nothing. He didn’t argue with the angel. He didn’t quiz Mary. He didn’t protest, complain or express his doubts—which he had to have had. He said nothing. He just did it. He married her. That took a lot of faith. Or, his doing so brought a lot of faith. Or both. After the magi’s visit, when warned in a dream to depart immediately for a foreign country in the opposite direction of home to protect his wife’s child from impending infanticide, again, Joseph did not argue with the angel, protest, complain, or express doubts and misgivings. He just got out of bed in the middle of the night, got his family up, packed the donkey, and, started down the road the many-days’ journey to Egypt. The holy family became settled after dwelling there three years or so. Again, in a dream an angel told him it was time to move, to get up and go all the way back home. Once again. Joseph said nothing. He just got up and did it. I am convinced that much of our struggle with faith comes from simply not doing our faith. We struggle. We question. We complain. We begrudge. We opine. We dialogue. We monologue. All to no avail. We struggle with our faith. I believe Joseph discovered the secret: When struggling with your faith, when assailed with doubts, when plagued with questions, when discouraged to believe, just do your faith. Do the will of God. Live the Word of God. The child of Joseph’s wife, when grown, codified this truth: Jesus said, “If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine ...” (Joh 7:17). The way to really “get” truth is simply to do truth. You’ll get it if you do it. It is not wrong to ask questions—even out loud. It is not wrong to discuss struggles of faith. It is not wrong to wrestle verbally while trying to reconcile realities that seemingly conflict with spiritual truths. Not at all. But, in the end, so much of the struggle with our faith comes from not doing our faith. We, who believe in salvation through faith alone, shy and shirk from any mention of “doing” (works). We aren’t saved by doing. Faith saves us. But a faith that saves is a faith that does something. It’s the doing that brings expression to faith, gives it a voice, and confirms its reality. Modern Christianity no longer brings up this matter of doing because then it must bring up the matter of obedience. But in the end, it is our obedience to truth that chases away our doubts of the truth. As the old hymn notes, “Trust and obey, for there’s no other way, to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.” Obeying doesn’t just bring happiness; it brings a settledness and certainty of faith. I’ve not been asked, but for all who may be struggling with their faith, search the Word. Yes, definitely! Talk about it. Find a trusted spiritual advisor who roots his counsel in the Word and talk it over with him. Discuss it. Debate it. But, if you really want to still your doubts and let your faith speak loudly, there’s a time to stop talking about it and to just do it. Do the Truth. Follow Joseph’s example. Just do the Word of God. Just obey. People doubt much because they do little. I have not been completely honest with you about Joseph. Scripture does record Joseph’s saying something. One thing. One word. In an indirect quote, not a direct one. The narrative notes that when Joseph named the child he named him “Jesus.” Even then, Joseph was doing what the angel had instructed. Yes, Joseph is to be commended for his faith. He just does what he’s asked. He is silent. Except when saying the name of “Jesus.” Pastor Clifford Hurst

COMMUNION: NOT A GAME OF TELEPHONE

Our monthly communion is one thing I miss most about COVID-era worship. Jesus stressed upon His initiating the ordinance--“This do in remembrance of Me.” Communion is about memory. This week I learned something about memory I never knew. It explained so much. Recent research on memory has turned knowledge about our head on its head. Here’s how we’ve formerly thought of memory. Say, I had a remarkable experience at age five--I got the bike with a banana seat I wanted for Christmas. That pleasant experience that day left an indelible memory in my mind. So, when at age six I remember that experience, my mind goes back to that memory stored in my mind at age five, takes it off the storage shelf, looks it over, and puts it back. Same when I remember that Christmas at five when I am sixteen, thirty-six, or sixty. When I remember getting that bike, my mind takes out the memory made on that day at five and gives it another look over. It appears what I just described is not true. When I remember a memory, I don’t remember the original memory of an experience; I only remember the memory I last had of the memory of the experience. Or, the memory of the memory of the memory. Say I remembered the bike I received for Christmas at five when I was six. The next time I remember that Christmas is at ten. At ten, I don’t remember the original memory I made at five, but I remember the memory I had at six of the memory I made at five. So, if I had a memory of being gifted the bike when five at ages six, eight, ten, sixteen, twenty-eight, thirty-five, and fifty, I’ve had a memory at fifty of the memory at thirty-five of the memory at twenty-eight of the memory at sixteen of the memory at ten of the memory at eight of the memory at six of the original memory at five. The memory at fifty was the sixth rendition of the original memory made of the experience. This is much like the old game of telephone. In a circle of many participants, the first whispers a tidbit in the ear of the person next to him who relays it to the next, and so forth until the last person just before the originator speaks it out loud. If you’ve ever played this game, you know the amazement of the comparison between the original statement and its latest repeated version. The same thing happens when we over the years mentally relay our original experience from one memory to the next to next. Not capable of going back to the original memory each time, we have played telephone with our memory. For you woodworkers, this is like cutting multiple pieces that are to be identical. You cut the first from the pattern. But then you use the first piece as a pattern for the second, and the second for a pattern for the third, etc. Big mistake. What do you discover, then, when you compare the tenth piece cut with the original template? Come to think of it, I’m not sure if it was Christmas or my birthday—they’re only days apart--when I got the bike. I can’t even be sure it came with the banana seat, or if we switched out the original seat later. This explains a lot. With the passing of our parents this summer, my siblings and I have spent a lot of time with memories of our childhood—especially, as we sort through things at the old homeplace. We discover that our memories of the same event can differ widely in occasion, date, participants, causes, outcome, etc. Truth is, none of our minds is going back to the original memory we formed. Each of our three original memories could have been identical, but when we each, had a memory of the memory of the memory, etc., our individual recall of an event evolved to become very different. Similarly, I have often noticed how school classmates that continued to live in the area of my hometown have far more memories of school days and more reliable and accurate ones than I do, having moved away soon after graduating high school. I attribute this to the fact that they encounter things in the hometown that more frequently jogs their memory. It doesn’t actually jog their original memory. It jogs their minds to think of their last memory of a memory of an experience. Their memories of the memory are closer together and more frequent. Going back to the game of telephone, imagine keeping the circle the same size, but removing every other person, or leaving only every third person. Now play the game with each whispering to the next using the same volume he would have if a person were still seated at his elbow and not two seats away. When the relay has completed the circuit, the outcome will be even further from the original. What does all of this have to do with communion? Jesus knew we would forget His passion and all it entailed. So, He gave us communion. When we sincerely by faith partake of communion, we are not remembering the last communion during which we remembered the communion before that one, and so on, back to His Passion. When we partake of communion, we are remembering the original experience. Each communion is only one step away from the Passion. Each communion is only one increment away from Jesus. Communion is not a game of telephone. Communion just a step away from the Original. And that’s why I miss it.

THE Christmas Light

My wife and I have been commenting and chuckling about it every time we go past. They have to be in a competition. Two blocks away, to exit our plat on a corner we must pass, there are two houses adjacent to each other but on perpendicular, intersecting streets. Each time we pass them, we note that there are more Christmas yard ornaments on display. One yard will have an increase of another ornament or decoration one day, and the neighboring house will the next. Day after day. The assortment is growing and filling their lawns. One will add a snowman, and the neighbor will add a Santa. One yard newly sports a sleigh, and the other will display a nativity. Day after day. More and more ornaments. (I believe a popular author once wrote of such a saga of Christmas-light competition between neighbors.) We only notice the competing growth at night. We notice at night because each displayed ornament comes with lights. That’s the whole thing about Christmas yard ornaments—their lights. When we think of Christmas decorations—inside or out—we think of lights. In fact, when we think of Christmas, we think of lights. Going and see the Christmas lights was a big thing when we were children. This memory surfaces each year. We lived less than a block from Main St.—in those days in its prime--and always noticed when, some days before Thanksgiving, city workers at each intersection of Main were stretching Christmas decorations across Main St. from traffic light pole to traffic light pole. We’d start getting excited. Soon we would get to see the Christmas lights. In our household, anything Christmas was anathema before Thanksgiving. But, Thanksgiving evening, we would load the Christmas music albums in the stereo, listen to Christmas music until dark, and soon after pile into the family car to drive up Main and see the lights. Big deal that was. Later, in the Christmas season would “go see the Christmas lights.” This time we didn’t head for Main St. but for the parts of town where “rich folks lived” and the “fancy houses” were. In parts of town like where we lived, folks didn’t seem to have the extra funds for any type of significant view-worthy Christmas light displays on house and lawn. So, off we would go to see rich folk’s Christmas lights. Whether intentional or not, I think it is fitting that Christmas decorations are thought of as “Christmas lights.” It seems almost universally true. I noted this year as I plugged in our Christmas decorations into smart plugs which can be controlled via Wi-Fi, internet, and voice, that as I chose an icon for the plugs, the one provided was a string of Christmas lights. That string of lights was emblematic for all electrical Christmas decorations one might plugin. Yes, Christmas is all about lights. Literally. Christmas is the celebration of the Savior’s entrance into our world. Our world was dark. Pitch black, dark. Jesus came as light. As the prophet put it, “the people that sat in darkness saw great light.” Jesus is the original Christmas light. Not a decoration. Not a symbol. Not an analogy. The real deal. The real light. Shining into darkness more oppressive than earth’s night. And that’s the thing about Christmas lights. They’re really only seen at night. As mentioned above, my wife and I only notice our competing neighbors’ growth of decorations at night. That’s also why I set a schedule on my smart plugs for our Christmas lights to come on at night and go off at day. Lights are made for the dark. Jesus was “made” for our dark. He became human to become the darkness-piercing Light. In the words of John when Christ came, “the light shined in darkness.” This is not true just about the universal, wholesale darkness of conglomerate humanity. This is true individually. Once a lady of our community called me when I was in my study at church. She was so depressed and distressed that the phone seemed to become heavier and heavier as she poured out her despair. I could feel the darkness that was on her side of the line. At some point, I said, “Listen, let’s pray right now.” I fell to my knees at my chair and began praying as she wept, trying to pray with me. At some point, I found myself repeating over and over, “Jesus, let Your light shine into her darkness.” Over and over. I don’t know how long we prayed, but all of a sudden she began to shout, “It’s gone. It’s gone. The “darkness” is gone.” The Light shines in darkness and the darkness cannot stop it, repel it, prevent it. No darkness has ever overpowered even the smallest light and, for sure, not the Light of the World. I don’t know who will win our neighborhood light competition. But I do know who has won over all darkness. What a Light He is! The Ultimate Christmas Light. Between The Light and darkness, it's no competition at all.

Oatmeal and Un-thankfulness:

Originally, I wrote this for Thanksgiving 2016. As I read over it, it seemed to fit our 2020 times even more closely: Blame my wife for this one--she had oatmeal for breakfast. I saw a study once that concluded people who ate oatmeal for breakfast developed cancer at a far greater rate than those who never ate oatmeal. Wait, before you trash the Quaker, oatmeal doesn’t cause cancer. The explanatory missing fact is that most people who eat oatmeal for breakfast are elderly folk who for other reasons develop cancer at a greater rate (not that my wife is elderly.). This illustrates that some things are correlative and not causal. There is no connection between cancer and oatmeal; it doesn’t cause cancer (causal). It is just that the demographic group that most frequently gets cancer also happens to eat a lot of oatmeal (correlative). In Romans 1, when Paul describes reprobate humanity that had once known God but had become worshippers of creation, idolaters, homosexuals, adulterers, thieves, murderers, etc., he prefaces what they had become with this: “when they knew God, they glorified him not as God, neither were thankful;” I had always taken “neither were thankful” as correlative (a descriptive trait of a reprobate) instead of causal (a contributive factor in his becoming a reprobate). Now, I’m not so sure. Can it be that being unthankful actually causes one to become sinful, evil, dark, and even perverted? Think about it: If people were truly thankful, would there be sin in our world? If Eve had been thankful that God had given her a garden full of trees including the Tree of Life from which to eat, would she had ever eaten of the forbidden tree? If David had been thankful for all the family, fortune, and fame God had given him, would he have ever committed adultery with Bathsheba and murdered her husband? If Judas had been thankful Jesus had chosen him as one of the Twelve, would he have ever betrayed Him? If Demas had been thankful he had heard the Gospel, would he have ever forsaken it for love of this present evil world? If the violent protesters in the inner cities were thankful for the service of policemen who protect them day and night, there would be no burning, looting, and killing cops. If the students were thankful for the republic in which they live, there would be no complaining, crying, and maligning the very system that allows them to protest. If society were thankful for the gift of life, there would be no advocating for abortion. If the leftists were thankful for the founding fathers and their giving us the best government and most blessed nation ever in history, there would be no complaining, revising, and trying to destroy the fabric of America. If the media were thankful for the freedom of the press, there would be no using it to distort, lie, malign, and promote misconceptions of reality. If believers were thankful for the freedom to worship, there would be no missing services, half-hearted worship, lack of joyful praise. If believers were thankful that Jesus had included them in the church, there would be no complaining about the church. If believers were thankful for having heard the truth, there would be no abandoning what they had been taught for the deceptive philosophies of the world. If believers were thankful Jesus had died to set them free, there would be no worldliness, love of carnal pleasures. If men were thankful for their wives, there would be no looking at pornography, adultery, or wife-abuse. If wives were thankful for their husbands, there would be no haranguing their husbands. If children were thankful for their parents, there would be no disobedience or disrespect. If parents were thankful for their children, there would be no abuse or neglect. If I am thankful Jesus gave His life for me, there will be no complaining of how hard it is to serve Him. If I am thankful God specially created me and has a plan for my life, there will be no living only for myself and letting Satan have his way with me. I am certain there will be no evil, sin or darkness in heaven. I am also certain that there will not be one unthankful person in all of heaven. You can say the connection is correlative. I say it just might be causal.

Mercy and, well, ahem, Toilet Tissue

The advent of a precipitous spike in COVID cases and the consequent new barrage of orders and directives in our state this week resulted in our once again being greeted with the disturbing sight of empty shelves in the store—the shelves where the toilet paper should be. I do not want to offend sensitivities by using such an analogy. The item is so mundane its moniker seems too crude to use in parallel with a spiritual truth, but there really isn’t a more sophisticated, polished synonym, well, perhaps, toilet tissue. Tissue sounds a bit more refined than “paper.” But, I digress. In danger of further insulting your genteelness, I must note that the aforementioned is a daily needed essential. That we deem it so is evident by the run on it in times of crises. Like mercy. One of the most beloved portions of Scriptures that gives us so much encouragement is this one: “It is of the LORD'S mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness.” (Lam 3:22-23). How often have we taken heart by proclaiming, “His mercies are new every morning”? Perhaps, it is just me, but in the past, I visualized this passage like this: The storehouse of heaven’s shelves are completely replete with God’s mercy. During each day I required mercy for my sins, difficulties, weaknesses, dilemmas, crises, etc. As I ask, God takes the needed mercy off the shelf and gives it to me. Sometimes, I don’t even have to ask Him. He sees my need for mercy, and He takes it from the shelf and sends it my way. Because of my constant drawing on His mercy throughout the day and His constant sending it to me, by day’s end, I imagine, I have depleted the shelves of it--at least the shelf designated and dedicated to the mercies allotted to me. But, thank God, while I sleep, God or his angels restock the shelves with mercy. By the time I awake the next day, the shelves are again abounding with mercies for the day to come. Like this: Imagine one evening during this COVID crisis, you grabbed the last package of toilet tissue off the shelves of, say, Kroger’s. It won’t be near enough for you and your family in the days to come. As you turn from the empty shelves, you wonder what you will do. Later, at home, you pray for a new shipment to come in during the night. It does! While you sleep, the employees restocked the shelves. The next day, going back to Kroger’s, you exhale with relief at seeing the shelves again loaded with toilet tissue. This was my concept of God’s mercies being new every morning though it was always nebulous in thought and I never articulated it. Yet, thinking of toilet tissue during the COVID crises, it occurred to me this was NOT how it was with the mercies of God. However often in a day that we require and received God’s mercies, even if it amounts to truckloads of them, we do not tax, diminish, or deplete the mercies of God in the least. He still has just as much at the end of our day as He did at the beginning. His mercies are eternal. His mercies are inexhaustible. His mercy is always greater than my need. Today. Every day. Then, how are they new every morning? I think the answer is in ”morning.” What happens in the morning? The sun comes up, and we call it a new day. The sun was not depleted the day before and then recreated for the next. The sun in the morning greets us when and where and how it did the previous day. Thus, it’s a new day. God’s mercies are new every morning, not because more of them were generated and produced during the night. God’s mercies are new because they greet us the sun at the start of a new day. A new day brings new need for mercies because a new day brings new dilemmas, new foibles, new faults, and even new sins. Every morning, there is mercy yet again for that day’s developing necessities of it. The same ole sun displays a brand new sunrise. In a sunrise, the orb may manifest itself in a more spectacular fashion on a particular day. We marvel, “What a beautiful sunrise today.” Yet, there was nothing different about the sun. The reason the sunrise appeared more spectacular was due to something different about that day’s atmospheric conditions. The unique brilliance of a day’s sunrise could even be contributed to a coming storm. Sometimes because of the conditions of our day, God’s mercy can seem particularly more marvelous. His mercy was always so, but there was something we encountered, dealt with, struggled with, that made His mercy seem more particularly remarkable on that day. The sun’s shining throughout the day does not diminish its radiance nor heat in the least. Not at all. It will have the same brilliance and heat tomorrow. His mercy received throughout one day does not diminish it for the next. His mercies are new every morning. Tomorrow’s new day with new problems. But, rest, assured, there will be mercy available. Hearing the news of a possible shutdown, people make a run on toilet paper. There are times we need to make a run on mercy. All of us at once, sensing our need, rush to God crying out for mercy. Even that moment of mass demand never depletes God’s abundance in the least. It diminishes it not even imperceptibly. I cannot promise you that tomorrow the shelves will have been restocked with toilet tissue. But, tomorrow there will yet be mercy. The same mercy, yet so refreshingly new.

A BASKET TO PUT ALL YOUR EGGS IN

Do kids grow up learning clichéd axioms anymore? I miss hearing some I grew up with. We picked them up from our parents and elders. We didn’t understand their etymology; yet, when our seniors spouted them, they sounded like sage dispensers of great modicums of wisdom. The witty truisms seemed to us like easily gripped handles to tote around perspicuous truth. We felt smart when we later repeated them to our schoolyard friends. I’m talking about aphorisms like “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.” Or, “You’re going to cut off your nose despite your face.” Sometimes they came as observations in question form; for example, of the barking dog chasing a car down the road it was remarked, “What’s he going to do when he catches it?” But it is the “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket” that I keep coming back to when reflecting on many’s expressed dispirited dejection following this past election. I suppose the thought of that proverb has been around as long as agrarians have been keeping chickens and gathering their eggs and taking them to market. But it was popularized in Don Quixote back in 1615. Not putting all one’s eggs in one basket captured the reality that it is unwise to risk all of one’s capital on one venture. If that venture fails, one has lost his all. I do not fault, lecture, or sententiously berate anyone. However, it seems to me, that so many are so keenly disappointed, discombobulated, discouraged, by the outcome of this month’s presidential election because they were so invested in it; they had put so much stock into it. Understandable. Doing so is even commendable. So much was at stake. But I am not talking about the investment of resources, time, emotional energy, interest, etc. I’m talking about the investment of hope. Too many put all their hope into the Nov. 03 basket. I’m not encouraging you or anyone to resolve not ever again to get your hopes up, get excited about, get involved in, anything ever again because you are sure to be disappointed, chagrined. Truth is, anything, anyone, any cause, that we put our hope in has, will, or has the potential of failing and disappointing us. Except One. Christ. Hope placed in Him will never be disappointed. He will not fail. He will fulfill. He will vindicate. Although this truth has been inculcated in me in my walk with God through the experiences of life, it was driven home poignantly this past July as my dad was transitioning from this life to the next. Because of COVID restrictions at the soldiers home where he was a resident, during his passing we were only allowed to be with him twice a day for an hour each time in the isolation of the facility’s chapel. Being in the chapel was fine. It gave us privacy. Its ambiance for that moment seemed more fitting than a hospital room’s. The last time we were with Dad, just before our last prayer with him, we sang one last song. Our younger son led us singing, “All My Hope Is In Jesus.” That’s the way to depart from this life. That’s the way to live this life. That’s the way to face eternity. That’s the way to face today. All one’s hope in Jesus. This is the one great exception to the axiom above. Faith in Jesus is one basket into which you would be well advised to put all your hope. No disappointment in doing so. Not now. Not ever. Before Don Quixote there was the wise man who said, “Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.” (Pro 3:5-6). Addendum: Oh, I just remembered another inherited axiom. My maternal grandmother used to say, “You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.” I will resist refuting that aphorism too by saying, God can! He can take the messed up life and make it a new creation.