My View From the Pew

Three Dreaded Words  “Let’s Play Risk!”

When my kids were younger, and through their teenage years, whenever I wanted to bond with them, and some of their friends, I would suggest a “friendly” game of Risk.  If you’re not familiar with Risk, here is an overview found on the game box:

You will lead your armies as they sweep across vast continents to launch daring attacks against your enemies.  But keep an eye on your flanks: your opponents are fighting to capture your troops and claim your territories.  Reinforce your armies then attack with a throw of the dice.  Capture all 42 territories—and you conquer the world!

Sounds innocent enough.  Not!  My wife, upon hearing those dreaded words, “Let’s play Risk,” would head, full speed, for the bedroom.  She knew what was coming, six to eight hours of chaos and cajoling.  She had learned from our previous “encounters” that “attack with a roll of the dice” is far too passive, way too dependent on chance.  The most important element of the game—convince your opponent (loudly if necessary!) you want to be allies, whenever it is in your interest to do so. 

“Robby, if you don’t attack me in Western Australia, I’ll leave you alone in the Middle East.”

“Look, Steve is a much greater threat to you than I am. Why I’m no threat at all.”

“If you attack Ann form Brazil, I’ll attack her from Western Europe.”

Verbally convincing your opponent that you are looking out for his or her best interest may take ten times longer than actually rolling the dice, but skip this step at your peril! 

The worst game ever was after one of our friends had just gotten married.  Steve was a great Risk player.  Well, he used to be.  During this game, however, he would do nothing that would hinder his darling little wife.  As I recall, we quit as they sat there cooing, refusing to attack each other.  Oh, brother!  (I am glad to report that they have now been married for a number of years and have fully re-embraced the “every man for himself” philosophy).

Proverbs 24:17 says, “Do not gloat when your enemy falls,” but its hard to resist that temptation when you’ve just won an exhausting eight-hour game!  But what price winning?  Sometimes we didn’t speak for days afterward.  Hey, this is a serious (oops, friendly) game.

I see a variation of Risk being played in the church whenever we “launch daring attacks against our enemies.”  Forgetting Jesus’ command to “love your enemies,” we often seek to establish domains, strongholds—places from where we can comfortably attack.  And sadly, we seldom do we do this alone.  It almost always involves others, those we can convince (loudly if necessary!) to join us whenever we attack.  But, as with Risk, we eventually find ourselves defending against yesterday’s words.  Our utterances, it seems, do come back to haunt us.  We do well to remember that, “…the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts.  Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark.”  (James 3:5).

Proverbs 26:20 gives us our answer, “Without wood a fire goes out; without gossip a quarrel dies down.  I think we do well to consider carefully if we are adding to a fire whenever we speak.  Even faint embers can come to life when fresh wood is added.  As I see it, careless and harsh words are just not worth the risk.  Risk, did somebody say Risk?  I’m in.  If we join together we can attack…

A Call to Excellence

The sermon today was excellent!  That special song just before the offering was excellent as well.  Yes, a gifted preacher and talented musicians giving their very best for God is excellent indeed.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve come to expect every service to be excellent.  I come each Sunday anticipating an excellent message and music.  But I see a danger in church becoming a “spectator sport”—at least in my view from the pew.

I wonder if the pastor, musicians and other “artists” expect excellence from me, the pew-sitter?  I certainly have my standard about what constitutes excellent preaching and music, but what is the standard for excellent listening?  Before I go running to the pastor with my suggestions for improving the preaching or the singing, perhaps I need to pause and ask myself how I’m doing. 

How can I be excellent lay person?  Seems like a fair question.  I’ve thought about it and I’ve come up with a list of things I can do, right here in the pew:

+ Before I leave home I can pray that God will help me be excellent in all I do.  I can come to church expecting not only the pastor and the musicians to be excellent, but expecting the same from myself.

+ I can arrive early and be gracious and loving to both friends and strangers alike. 

+ Before the service begins I can find my seat and quiet my heart in anticipation of God’s blessing.  I can sit close to the front so that I can hear everything and not miss anything.

+ If necessary, I can quickly yield my favorite spot at the end of the pew and move to the middle rather than making someone crawl over me.

+ I can listen attentively to the announcements and read along, seeking at least one thing that I can participate in or pray for.  When the announcements are done I can stop reading and quiet my heart once again and prepare for what God may want to say to me or through me.  I can finish reading the announcements when I get home.

+ When the singing starts I can meditate on the words of each song and allow the Spirit to give new meaning and significance, even to traditional hymns sung many times before.

+ When the offering is taken I can use the time to pray, for myself and others, that we may be a generous church, giving sacrificially. 

+ When the sermon begins I can give my full attention and encourage the pastor.  I can try to make continual eye contact and nod or agree out loud whenever his teaching is reaching my heart.

+ When the service is completed I can seek opportunities to encourage others and make sure no one leaves without hearing and seeing that God loves them.

+ I can take this week’s “church experience” home with me and meditate upon it.  I can ask God to use it to make me excellent at home and at work throughout the upcoming week.

My fervent hope and prayer is that we will all hear and heed God’s call to excellence.  Oh, and don’t be surprised the next time you stop me and ask how I’m doing if I reply, “Excellent, thank you!  How about you?”

 An Ambassador of Freedom

In April of 2000, I traveled to Estonia for 13 days as part of a short term missionary trip.  Whenever I mention this to people, eyebrows raise.  If seems that few people are familiar with Estonia, and even fewer it's history.  Estonia is the smallest of the Baltic States and is located just below Finland.  About 1.5 million people live in Estonia, 28 percent of which are Russians. If your atlas is more than 10 years old, you will not find Estonia, as it was, for more than 50 years, part of the Soviet Union.

Estonia was founded on February 24, 1918 when the “Salvation Committee” declared the independence of the Republic of Estonia. The driving force for independence was based on US President Woodrow Wilson's principle of self-determination.  Less than 35 years later (in 1940) the Soviet Union occupied it.  After more than 50 years of Soviet rule—on August 20, 1991, the blue-black-white Estonian national flag replaced the red flag of Soviet Estonia.

When I consider Estonia, I immediately think of the value of freedom.  It’s hard for me to imagine what it must be like to be ruled by others for over five decades.  It’s true; we don’t really appreciate a thing until we lose it.  This must be especially true with freedom.  But freedom without responsibility can be dangerous—literally.

I once heard a story about a little boy who had two pets, a hamster and a dog.  The dog was free to roam about the house and yard, but the hamster was confined to a small cage.  One day the boy decided that the hamster should enjoy the same freedom as the dog, much to the dog’s delight.  For you see, as the little boy prepared to open the door of freedom the dog was quietly hunched in a corner ready to spring.  The boy’s father, observing from a few feet away could see the high cost that would be paid by the hamster were the boy to set it free.  And so, lovingly, the father showed the boy how the hamster actually enjoyed a “safe” freedom from within the cage.

In Luke 4:18 Jesus said that “He (God) has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners…”  When people ask me what we did during this short-term mission trip to Estonia, I like to tell them we proclaimed freedom.  We did not go as ambassadors of the United States.  Rather, we went as ambassadors of Jesus Christ.  We did this because the Bible instructs that we who belong to God are “therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making His appeal through us. (2 Cor 5:20).

An ambassador is the highest-ranking diplomatic representative appointed by one country to represent it to another.  Every ambassador our country appoints represents our entire nation.  He or she defines to others who we are and what we stand for.

As ambassadors for Christ we represented Him to others.  God made His appeal through us to the Estonians in that “where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” (2 Cor 3:17)   In less than two weeks we saw 830 Estonians come to Christ!  But here’s the really exciting news, we don’t have to go to Estonia, or any other foreign country, to be His ambassador.  God wants to use each of us today to share the same message of hope and freedom we shared with Estonians, with others.  Even those far away—like our friends next door. 

Why I Didn’t Become a Movie Critic

Some years ago I thought seriously about becoming a movie critic.  Since I enjoy writing and I love a good movie, it seemed like the perfect vocation.  What did Ebert and Roeper have that I didn’t?  Between them they had four thumbs, but they were only using two.  Heck, I could do this two-thumbs thing all by myself! 

Then my son and daughter-in-law took a college “film appreciation” class.  Soon they were bringing videos to our house and asking if we could watch them together.  I thought this was great, especially when they would bring an old Bogart film created decades before they were born.  Wow, what an exciting time!

But how fleeting was the excitement…  “Watch how the lighting in this scene is all wrong.  Too much shadow.”  “Did you hear that actor miss his line? (Here, I’ll replay it)”  “The film editor should have cut twenty minutes out of this film.”

“Hey!  Can’t you guys just enjoy the movie?  Do we really need all the criticism?”  (Clearly they didn’t know that “Casablanca” was like my all time favorite movie—even with its obvious flaws)!  That’s when I decided I wouldn’t be a movie critic after all.  I enjoyed movies too much.

I don’t know if you noticed, but last week our pastor quoted the wrong verse and the music leader pointed to the wrong number in the hymnal.  Both in the same service!  Can you imagine?  Why don’t they turn the lights up and the heat down?  Who is responsible for vacuuming this place?  Where’s the regular drummer?  Oh, don’t tell me he’s sick again.  Who laid out this bulletin?  It’s so confusing and hard to read.  Man, who chooses these fonts anyway? 

Church critics, it seems to me, have the same effect on worship that my college-educated amateur movie critics have on my rented videos.  They take the enjoyment out of it and miss the point all together.  In their effort to “improve” things they actually become detractors—taking away from the very thing they sought to enjoy.  Criticism does that.

To be honest, I can live without the video rentals, but I must worship.  I need to step out of my busy week and sit at the feet of Jesus for an hour or two every week.  I need to hear God’s voice and I need to declare His worthiness.  I need the imperfect musicians to touch my soul and help me to make a “joyful noise” worthy of my Lord’s hearing, and I need my pastor to reveal God’s word to my mind and heart as he has been uniquely equipped to do, by God Himself.

I’ve come to see that when I criticize God’s people I’m really criticizing God.  I’m telling God that I can hear and see better than He can. 

So, I’ve decided to stop being a “church critic.”  I now give every service where Christ is preached and worshipped two thumbs up.  I’ll have to forgive a few human imperfections, but I can do that with God’s grace.  After all, which of my imperfections has He not forgiven?

Well, I’m headed to the video store.  They just got in a copy of “Gone With the Wind.”  Wow, what an epic!  I do wish they had made the film a little shorter.  Oh, and that hat that Clark Gable wears puts a shadow on his face.  Didn’t the director catch that?  I think I would have used…

Name it and Claim it!

An interesting phenomenon exists in our culture, one that has permeated the church.  I call it “name it and claim it.”  That’s not a new phrase to those in evangelical circles.  In fact, I’m guessing the title itself has elicited reactions from some. 

Four hundred years ago Shakespeare asked, "What's in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet."  Oh yeah, easy for him to say, he obviously wasn’t a rose connoisseur.  Did you know that at one recent rose festival there were over 352 different varieties of roses?  Climbers, Old Garden Roses, Hybrid Teas, Floribundas, Grandifloras, Landscape Roses, and over 60 varieties of David Austin's English Roses. Guess we know what David Austin does with his free time!

Names, it seems, are important, they help us to keep things straight.  I especially enjoy one-name names.  You know, like Madonna, Tiger or Cher.  Names not only identify individuals; they also identify groups of individuals.  For example, most people know that every baby born between 1946 and 1964 belongs to the “Baby Boomers.”

Not to be outdone, we have the “Generation-X’ers,” (or “Baby Busters”); those born between 1969 and 1979, and the “Generation-Y’ers” born between 1979 and 1994, which are, interestingly, the kids of the Baby Boomers. Too bad for those of you who were born between 1965 and 1968, you don’t get a group name!

So this version of “name it and claim it” is based entirely on what year you were born (as if you had anything to do with that).  I notice that those who identify with others based primarily on age tend to fight for their ideals and point out differences with those belonging to a different age group; “Our music rocks—yours plays in elevators!”  “Our clothes are cool—yours went out with Herman’s Hermits.”  “We eat pizza for breakfast—you read the Wheaties’ box to see how many calories in a bowl.”

The church version tends to focus on other differences; “Our version of the Bible is the only “inspired” translation.”  “We sing only hymns in our service.”  “Dude, if there ain’t a guitar and drums, like we can’t get close to Jesus.” 

Identifying with groups is not new to the church.  The apostle Paul scolded first-century Christians for quarreling about what group they belonged to: “One of you says, “I follow Paul”; another, “I follow Apollos”; another; “I follow Cephas”; still another, “I follow Christ.”  He then asks, “Is Christ divided?”

When the church contends with itself by dividing into groups (translate “clicks”), it soon finds itself divided, and “if a house is divided against itself, that house cannot stand.”  It breaks my heart to see church factions.  More importantly, it hurts the cause of Christ.

For my part, I welcome those who worship differently than I do—especially those who are younger (translate “under 50”).  I feed off their energy and enthusiasm.  I probably shouldn’t admit it, but I even like the younger set’s loose-fitting fashions.  Now don’t get me wrong, there will NEVER be anything as cool as my plaid bell-bottoms and tie-dyed shirt.  …well, maybe David Austin’s roses.

Get a Life!

I’ll admit it; I really, really enjoy my big screen TV.  Sometimes at night I like to turn off all the lights in the room, crank up the surround sound system, sit back and totally “experience” a good movie.  It’s perfect when I can feel the walls vibrate and see, albeit dimly, my wife’s cute little figurines teetering on the edge of the shelves, hanging on for their dear little lives.

To be honest, sometimes one movie just isn’t enough.  There are times when I curl up with the remote and “measure the sofa” as my wife likes to say, (usually while she is placing her precious little ceramic boys and girls back in the middle of the shelf, free from danger).  In this semi-vegetated state I am absolutely oblivious to the world around me.

One day not long ago, during one of these marathon couch potato sessions, I heard a little voice saying, “Get a Life!”  Odd, the voice sounded remarkably similar to my wife’s.

Yes, I have admit that lying there, eyes half-closed, dressed in broken potato chips, remote dangling from a hand drooped over the sofa’s edge, doesn’t seem like much of a life.  And so as I lay there, it occurred to me that I really needed to get that life NOW!

I’ve been a Christian for two decades.  How wonderful was that day when I surrendered my life to Jesus Christ and found unconditional love complete with a pardon for all my sins.  Life became wonderful, joyful, filled with meaning and purpose.

During those infant Christian days I shared my joy with everyone, friends, family, co-workers, the clerk at the store, the teller at the bank.  While most of them weren’t interested, some were.  And those were the ones I lived for, the ones that kept me asking the question, “If you were to die tonight, do you know where you would spend eternity?”  I managed to work this question into conversation after conversation.  Sometimes it was natural, more often it was awkward, even clumsy, but I didn’t care.  We’re talking about people’s souls.  I wanted everyone to know the joy of being reconciled with God.  I didn’t want anyone I knew, even casually, to be separated from God for eternity.

Over time, I found that I asked the question less often, and then not at all.  I allowed the ones that weren’t interested to affect my zeal.  I became far more concerned about what men thought of me than what they thought of God.  Joe won’t like me if I press him, and Bill, I don’t think he cares about spiritual things.

And now I realize that the voice I heard was reminding me of my lost passion for those who don’t know the Savior.  Apart from Christ there is no life.  I hold the secret to eternal life and I’ve been keeping it to myself for way too long. 

So today, by God’s grace, I am going to get a life.  Maybe Bill, or maybe Joe.  Hey, I just remembered that new clerk at the store who smiled at me yesterday.  I’ll bet the postman might listen.  Oh, and what about …