tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185115172024-03-07T12:49:33.784-05:00On the Shoulders of GiantsThe place for those thoughts of mine that I want to preserve for posterity.Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.comBlogger89125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18511517.post-15365584540626163082016-12-31T16:15:00.001-05:002017-03-14T22:02:19.076-04:00Putting 2016 Behind<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It’s been a trend on social media the past few months to bemoan 2016 as a terrible year that can’t end soon enough. People cite the death of beloved celebrities, economic difficulties, civil and political unrest, or the tumultuous presidential election as reasons why the year was unusually and altogether terrible. I cannot sympathize with said sentiment.<br />
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Like anybody else, I had my own share of difficulties, personal and professional in the past year, but 2016 was a remarkable year of blessing for me. Among the notable accomplishments, I saw <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Gamblers-Mission-Holcombe-Heritage-Louisville/dp/0692753001">my first book</a> published during the summer and I graduated with my Ph.D. degree in December. Those two things alone would be adequate cause for me to rejoice at a very productive and worthwhile year. There are many other things of a more personal nature that have reminded me of the Lord’s goodness and mercy, such as the strength of body and mind to endure difficulties, or holidays and birthdays celebrated with family and friends.
Over the past few years, there were times I didn’t know if I’d actually finish my dissertation. There were times when I barely even wanted to do the work. I asked God to give me both the desire and the strength to persevere, and He was blessed me accordingly. My recognition of the struggle makes the accomplishment all the more satisfying. I’m proud of the work I did and <a href="http://digital.library.sbts.edu/handle/10392/5250">the contribution to Baptist history</a> that I made.<br />
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The single thing that gives me the most joy is that acknowledging blessings redefines the presence of pain. On December 2, 2011, I lost a good friend due to tragedy. Five years later to the very day, I earned my doctoral degree, the happy culmination of seven years of struggle and frustration. The timing of the anniversary is not lost on me. God reminded me that a day need not only be defined by tragedy. If it's a day the Lord has made, then we are right to rejoice in it, in the presence of pain and in the recognition of a greater hope.<br />
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We are sinners living in a sin-stained world. Bad things happen. Our good God may bring us both calamity and consolation in his own good timing. For those redeemed sinners God loves in Christ, those elect exiles He calls His children, He works all things together for His purpose (Romans 8:28). As <a href="http://adamwinters.blogspot.com/2013/09/god-moves-in-mysterious-way.html">William Cowper wrote in 1774</a>, God moves in a mysterious way, and behind every frowning providence, there lies a hidden smile. And as Paul says in 1 Thessalonians 5:18, "Give thanks in all circumstances."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxHqyT0OMhK_Ic_FEe5al82bRHWNuuw8b16IvLWr8BPCO8E4A51AWzS1_MLiAaQntfn_6uKk28tJ5ykgcUwFCIqzgRDEtbM8OEgIZ2tiL7QDZh9uVTKGHL2UwSfzfZv6oti6PS/s1600/100_2222+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxHqyT0OMhK_Ic_FEe5al82bRHWNuuw8b16IvLWr8BPCO8E4A51AWzS1_MLiAaQntfn_6uKk28tJ5ykgcUwFCIqzgRDEtbM8OEgIZ2tiL7QDZh9uVTKGHL2UwSfzfZv6oti6PS/s400/100_2222+%25282%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a>If your 2016 wasn't so great, then feel free to mourn and lament the pain. But don't stop there. If you aren't able to rejoice in the presence of pain because of a greater hope in an eternal inheritance "incorruptible and undefiled and that faded not away" (1 Peter 1:4), then your 2017 probably won't seem much better. You can make all the New Year's resolutions you want, but true joy only comes from looking at the world and your life from the perspective of eternity.
"Consider it all joy, brethren..." (James 1:2)Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18511517.post-61058847255515507432015-04-25T11:02:00.000-04:002015-04-25T11:04:20.200-04:00Sermon & Illustration<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This past Sunday, I got my first opportunity of 2015 to preach at my Louisville home church. The requested text was 2 Timothy 2:8-13, which is one of the New Testament passages designated as a "trustworthy saying," the other three being 1 Timothy 1:15, 1 Timothy 4:8-9, and Titus 3:4-8. The message can be streamed or downloaded at the church's website:<br />"<a href="http://www.auburndalebaptist.com/sermon/when-the-blesses-assurance-is-your-only-assurance/">When the Blessed Assurance is Your Only Assurance</a>" (April 19, 2015)<br />
http://www.auburndalebaptist.com/sermon/when-the-blesses-assurance-is-your-only-assurance/ <br />
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I hold to the full inerrancy of biblical inspiration, so I believe that the totality of the Scriptural canon is equally inspired by God and profitable for doctrine, reproof, correction, and instruction in all godliness. That said, when the inspired apostle Paul writes to Timothy and explicitly calls attention to a particular idea as a "trustworthy saying," we ought to take special note. Paul identifies passages like these as something that we should strive to internalize into our hearts so that we can recall it with speed and ease when we need those words the most. These type of promises are the ones that we ought to turn to when we are struggling with the trials and tribulations of life. That's one of the themes I focused upon during my sermon.<br />
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Reflecting upon this text during my preparation led me to consider the parallels in this "trustworthy saying" and the Christian hymns we so often sing in worship. My favorite hymns are those that convey edifying biblical truth in a manner that is especially memorable enough to stir the affections of the heart. Most of the classic hymns feature a common refrain (often the chorus) that unifies thematically the unique lyrics of each verse. The individual hymn verses--though diverse in their wording and emphases--aid the singer's understanding of the unifying "big idea" theme by teaching development of the main idea and even providing an example of application across various circumstances. Even when I forgot some of the words to a particular verse (as I am prone to do), I know the chorus by heart well enough to look away from my hymnal's text.<br />
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I think Paul is doing a similar thing in his instruction to Timothy in this passage. By the time Paul wrote the letter, he had experienced perhaps the most traumatic experience of his entire ministry. Unjustly imprisoned, he stood alone at his legal defense, isolated from the love and support of his former partners in ministry. So as Paul passes on wise counsel to young Timothy, he sums up the heart of his message in these poetic, hymn-like words:<br />
<b>For if we have died with Him, we will also live with Him.</b><br />
<b>If we endure, we will also reign with Him.</b><br />
<b>If we deny Him, He will also deny us.</b><br />
<b>If we are faithless, He remains faithful...</b><br />
<b>For He cannot deny Himself.</b><br />
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Each of these verses carries a distinct emphasis, but the unifying chorus is that trusting in the promises of God through Christ is what gives us assurance and motivation for our endurance of the difficulties of life. This is a truth Paul never forgot; even in his darkest times, he learned to cherish it all the more dearly. I trust the same became true of Timothy. I pray that the same might be said of me and you.<br />
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I've been blessed with opportunities to deliver many sermons over the
past two years, but this is the first time I've had anybody translate my
delivery into the artistic medium. So far as I can remember, the little dots at the bottom of the picture are an accurate representation of the folks who sat in the first few pews for the service. It was also a Lord's Supper Sunday night, so the bread and juice are on the table at the foot of the pulpit.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuKhqq8omrVq_KKNUL59q4d4ZdOJOajjLt_Z8alVg3nDpKs1u_qaQVo41DC6lhWZUR6UmUEhLv4Y6m4wQJiXrrWVxLnGs4eDWyT-1NK0xNi1l0CN-9-gPCNneRNgz2owsBF8BI/s1600/Draven-20150419sermonAuburndale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuKhqq8omrVq_KKNUL59q4d4ZdOJOajjLt_Z8alVg3nDpKs1u_qaQVo41DC6lhWZUR6UmUEhLv4Y6m4wQJiXrrWVxLnGs4eDWyT-1NK0xNi1l0CN-9-gPCNneRNgz2owsBF8BI/s1600/Draven-20150419sermonAuburndale.jpg" height="320" width="217" /></a></div>
Artistic Credit to Draven Cheatam<br />
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"I have stored up your word in my heart, that I may not sin against you." Psalm 119:11Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18511517.post-29902044130205656712013-12-02T21:27:00.000-05:002013-12-03T13:22:02.715-05:00Humility<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This Thanksgiving weekend, I took a brief little road trip with Grandaddy, Mom, Dad, and my sister to Erin, TN. This was the second Thanksgiving without my Granny (mom's side) and it's been over five without my Grandmother (Dad's side). We explored some sites of historical significance to our family. Pictured here is the cabin where my great-great grandmother (Grandaddy's granny) once lived:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLB-HxIuUUk6R-K0eJ4ZQ21aAHZcCrMBjumigIRXmX3JQXgEMIwdUt9YxlDC-41eRnbPOOEUvWjEcIZ82yl64_u9cdH7hkrv6GmHkmFWtPTLyXbtqBb2XKyLoHeF2lV1pfiq0I/s1600/1465118_600759686646766_1321793527_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLB-HxIuUUk6R-K0eJ4ZQ21aAHZcCrMBjumigIRXmX3JQXgEMIwdUt9YxlDC-41eRnbPOOEUvWjEcIZ82yl64_u9cdH7hkrv6GmHkmFWtPTLyXbtqBb2XKyLoHeF2lV1pfiq0I/s1600/1465118_600759686646766_1321793527_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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It's even more rustic on the inside than this picture might suggest. It's got about three rooms and the stable in the rear. Less than a mile up the hill from the cabin is the old family cemetery which contains about five graves, one of them being a twelve-year-old boy who died in the 1950s and the other holding the body of my great-great-great grandmother who was born in the 1830s, lived through the Civil War, and died in the 1890s.<br />
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I've never had any interest in family genealogy; my brain has a hard time visualizing relatives who I never had the pleasure of knowing in life. It is very hard for me to imagine my grandparents being young and having grandparents of their own. But, where I am, they once were. It's strange to take a few minutes and walk the same places where they used to walk years ago. I can't imagine living in a three room cabin that, in spite of its rickety appearance, has apparently withstood over a century of wear by the natural world.<br />
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Seeing places like this remind me of how my family was able to make due with so little for so many years. People like my grandaddy were born into humble circumstances, grew up in tiny towns working humble jobs, and then got drafted into the armed services during World War II which took them to some of the most exotic places on earth before they even turned twenty-one. When their service was over, they returned home to places like Erin and picked up with real-life. Much of my family moved to Detroit to get work in the auto industry, build families, and then retired back to their Tennessee hometowns to live out their golden years.<br />
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I can't imagine what it must have been like to grow up in rural Tennessee during the 1800s or the early 1900s, but my family did it for generations. They didn't have a lot of possessions, but they did have each other and faith in God, and that was enough. Children died young and those who survived had to grow up fast. When you have childhood so brief, I guess it only makes sense that it's important to hold onto those memories and pass them onto future generations. Soaking in such sights, I'm humbled to the point that I never have any words of insight to add. But it certainly makes me thankful for all that I have in life and all that has come before me to make me into the person I am today.<br />
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<br />Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18511517.post-15927604806444918362013-11-05T22:35:00.002-05:002013-12-03T12:45:03.078-05:00All that's Fit for GodI've been giving some extended thought to the lyrics of Joseph Hart's 1759 hymn "Come ye, Sinners, Poor and Needy." What an honest picture it paints of both man's utter unworthiness before God and upon God's amazing grace toward unworthy sinners. Plus, it's just super catchy to boot.<br />
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Sinners like me are "poor and needy," "weak and wounded," "sick and sore," "weary and heavy laden," and "lost and ruined by the Fall." But Jesus, our sinless savior, is "ready to save us, full of pity, love, and power."<br />
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Even if a sinner knows he needs to repent, in his pride he will find ways to justify continuing in unworthiness and delay repentance. Hence, the sick man will tell convince himself that he should "tarry till he's better" so that he might fancy himself as more presentable to a holy God. That's the path to damnation, of course, as one who attempts to tarry till he's better "will never come at all." When God is offering mercy and forgiveness in Christ, He doesn't require the sinner in need of salvation attempt to clean himself up first. Rather, "<b>the only fitness He requires is that we feel our need of Him</b>."<br />
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Of course, I've read Dietrich Bonhoeffer's <i>The Cost of Discipleship</i> (honestly, it's one of my favorite books), and anybody who knows true Christianity knows that he was right to say that "<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/300616-costly-grace-is-the-gospel-which-must-be-sought-again" target="_blank">grace is costly</a>." But that fact shouldn't make us hesitate to affirm Jesus' promise in Matthew 11:28-30:<br />
"Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.<br />
Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.<br />
For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."<br />
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For as costly as following Jesus can be, being in God's grace through Jesus is nevertheless an easy yoke and a light burden. God requires nothing of sinners coming to Jesus except for them to recognize their helplessness and total need for a Savior. Our salvation cost God much, but the cost required of us to follow Him is ultimately a joyous privilege once the Holy Spirit has worked a miracle of regeneration in our hearts.<br />
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The amazing truth of God's willingness to save us in spite of our sin motivated my preparation of two recent sermons which I delivered this past October at my home church. The sermons formed a two-part mini-series, with the first installment establishing the problem of "self-ruined men" and the follow-up drawing attention to God's grace in saving the self-ruined man.<br />
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<a href="http://www.auburndalebaptist.com/sermon/the-self-ruined-man/" target="_blank">"The Self-Ruined Man"</a> sermon grew out of one of my children's Sunday School lessons on Proverbs 20. I saw enough connections between verses 18-21 to warrant presenting them as a unit about an ungrateful and impatient son who ultimately brings ruin upon his family's legacy and upon the people under his stewardship. It's a sad story that doesn't have a happy ending.<br />
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<a href="http://www.auburndalebaptist.com/sermon/the-prodigals-father-redeemer-of-the-self-ruined-man/" target="_blank">"The Prodigal's Father: Redeemer of the Self-Ruined Man"</a>, on the other hand, speaks hope to the self-ruined man, not because he can hope to pull himself out of the ruin he's made for himself, but because his heavenly Father stands ready to redeem Him. I preach from the famous "prodigal son" passage of Luke 15, but for this sermon I chose to focus upon the Prodigal Father's grace rather than retreading the prodigal son's failures.<br />
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So there it is in a nutshell--ruined sinners we are all, with a holy Heavenly Father who nevertheless stands ready to redeem us on account of the work of a perfect sinless Savior in our Lord Jesus Christ. Don't bother to try and clean yourself off before going to God in repentance; just arise and go to Jesus. The only fitness God requires is that you know your need of Him.Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18511517.post-62833795824470280232013-09-22T07:23:00.002-04:002013-12-03T12:45:13.640-05:00God Moves in a Mysterious WayWilliam Cowper, while apparently suffering under severe bouts of depression and doubt, famously composed the hymn "<a href="http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/g/m/gmovesmw.htm" target="_blank">God Moves in a Mysterious Way</a>" in 1774. Upon realizing that God had preserved his life in spite of his own sinful attempts to ruin himself, he was inspired to pen the following verses:<br />
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I do not appreciate the providence of God while I'm undergoing the hard times, but I've learned that I need to be willing to trust in God's will even when it seems impossible that the Lord will be true to his promise to work all things together for good for those who are called according to His purpose, as Romans 8:28 proclaims. I've experienced a week of challenges big and small, personal and professional, and while I've seen some bonds of friendships grow tighter, others have been broken. How all these trials and tribulations of life work together for good is a matter of God's wisdom, which we shortsighted men rarely ever recognize in the moment. Nevertheless, God has taught me that I need to keep on trusting in his wisdom and goodness. Regardless of whether my problems are big or small--deeply personal or simply petty--God's providence will ultimately be proven both good and wise, regardless of whether or not I can appreciate it immediately.<br />
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Behind a (seemingly) frowning providence, God hides a smiling face. One day, I hope I'll be smiling too--and be grateful to God for lessons learned through that magnificent but mysterious plan of His which has a place in it for people as lowly and flawed as myself.<br />
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Amen. <br />
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P.S. <br />
And because so many of my recent posts seem to be so depressing, I'll reference another (slightly more humorous) song--the quintessential sad soliloquy from <i>Ernest Goes to Camp</i>:<br />
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Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18511517.post-46222442446824882132013-08-04T22:01:00.000-04:002013-08-18T22:37:19.739-04:00. . . the More Things Stay the Same<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've spent my last weekend in my campus dorm room, the place where I've lived for the last 8 years. I'll only be moving about a mile away, but sorting through old materials, throwing junk away, and packing up the stuff worth keeping sure brings back old memories. I came to Louisville way back on August 5, 2005, when my parents and I moved all my stuff into my Fuller Hall apartment. Not knowing the layouts of the building, I think we took the most inconvenient path possible, walking long distances and going up various flights of stairs. And we suffered the first night in the summer heat without an air conditioner or electric fan in the room. But as miserable experience as that was, the worst part was being left all alone when they departed back to Tennessee. It would be a few more days until my roommate joined me, and my other friends in town weren't able to fellowship with me for a couple of days. For the first time in my life, I was lonely. But I was also excited.<br />
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(<a href="http://slimer2erasmus.livejournal.com/428.html" target="_blank">I even blogged about it.</a>)<br />
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So much time has passed since August 5, 2005. Going through all my stuff brought back so many memories of the things I've done, the people I've met, and the events I'd almost forgotten. I've lived by myself for nearly five years, but I no longer feel alone. And I'm still excited.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5YuW5ivN2NcZ6rJEBmAAxJvf-JWUcoQOQ2mjCYajV7__vLa3_FtkIwgk4xiW2lQ0RL3yglzjBGQxrsYY6phBe4cefAragEZcrfBukPSZs0m24qybRx3xWcVRgDBdPBSK-S3yU/s1600/100_0966.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5YuW5ivN2NcZ6rJEBmAAxJvf-JWUcoQOQ2mjCYajV7__vLa3_FtkIwgk4xiW2lQ0RL3yglzjBGQxrsYY6phBe4cefAragEZcrfBukPSZs0m24qybRx3xWcVRgDBdPBSK-S3yU/s1600/100_0966.JPG" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Reformation Day" 2006</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I've been blessed with friends, many of whom are no longer with me physically, but always present in my thinking. As sappy as that probably sounds, it's true. When I get an opportunity to fellow with friends old and new, I savor it and remember it.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_t7SOhgxAbcGoYAZDfF56QeNUETOtOfi8cmKSWuZMQz8t3CWrobIzuN5gY-LA5ql8TuKssD4YhMg39GB_WMuc6rOVyciTTjJ3hvhMvb4mumpa8QCwkmsetjoZdrSU3o9_Px7-/s1600/4478_1148221191413_1404078040_382952_448650_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_t7SOhgxAbcGoYAZDfF56QeNUETOtOfi8cmKSWuZMQz8t3CWrobIzuN5gY-LA5ql8TuKssD4YhMg39GB_WMuc6rOVyciTTjJ3hvhMvb4mumpa8QCwkmsetjoZdrSU3o9_Px7-/s1600/4478_1148221191413_1404078040_382952_448650_n.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old Friends, One Last Photo, 2009</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
I've been blessed with years of education and work experience. Long ago, I got the degree for which I came to town, and now I'm still working on that last one. The fact that I've not yet completed that second degree is somewhat of an irritation for me, but I nevertheless feel like I'm still at the right place in life, working hard now to prepare myself for what I want to do in the future. Back in 2005, I came to Louisville hoping that God could make me into a preacher rather than merely a good student. And I think He has.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkX-yH2C7aFNOM-8kV4viEsAPfoHEXUw0Rb7NEzedF2yvof2vhDl9TyIRju6GlLn_joAkm1n3zVlLEVH6nax8hLSlfeChpq5F4jfOLqIC7QpKE0NQPsR9iasm6jsY9xZwahVgX/s1600/jryanwest-AndrewFuller-A3WCYkcCMAAvd1c.jpg+large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkX-yH2C7aFNOM-8kV4viEsAPfoHEXUw0Rb7NEzedF2yvof2vhDl9TyIRju6GlLn_joAkm1n3zVlLEVH6nax8hLSlfeChpq5F4jfOLqIC7QpKE0NQPsR9iasm6jsY9xZwahVgX/s1600/jryanwest-AndrewFuller-A3WCYkcCMAAvd1c.jpg+large.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2012</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3h_lrdfU_sCmHmGI7ikkAWI_PPkXHFMsI-l38qUKMsHlOagbuB0GNtG_JnWqRV28WUmPOswlxf8nVjzfeClZxJiPXOtvVhHy-CR-QwOUpQmmOF0NMGSxO2_TQgQYERb1C10LD/s1600/Library-1102636_10153121806470492_1536343471_oCROP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3h_lrdfU_sCmHmGI7ikkAWI_PPkXHFMsI-l38qUKMsHlOagbuB0GNtG_JnWqRV28WUmPOswlxf8nVjzfeClZxJiPXOtvVhHy-CR-QwOUpQmmOF0NMGSxO2_TQgQYERb1C10LD/s320/Library-1102636_10153121806470492_1536343471_oCROP.jpg" height="114" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2013</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Although I'm not ordained and have never served on staff at a church in a regular ministerial capacity, I believe myself to be a preacher currently working as a steward of other important assignments. In 2005, I felt lost in sermon preparation and especially behind a pulpit. It's been a long time since I've felt that way. To be clear, I do not consider myself a great orator or even a great biblical scholar. However, there is no situation in which I feel more alive than when I am standing before a congregation of God's people (or even some curious visitors) expounding the weight of the Scriptural text. In my estimation, God has already given me what I came for, and for that I have to thank the Lord for the people He has put (and kept) in my life over the past 8 years. But even though I've got what I came for, I now known that I've yet to reach the ultimate goal.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglmeHjr_SCH4p67qZjPLJNPPHbVn2v_yDQkH-uXfPJOBIPHaus-UW_4PiK_YXjBEcW0R32KvYVMXFXn4EmdTiiEHr18rIj8F781jaKNcS9E98FK-2hD-bz8Lu9HN8xhqzWimcn/s1600/100_1412.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglmeHjr_SCH4p67qZjPLJNPPHbVn2v_yDQkH-uXfPJOBIPHaus-UW_4PiK_YXjBEcW0R32KvYVMXFXn4EmdTiiEHr18rIj8F781jaKNcS9E98FK-2hD-bz8Lu9HN8xhqzWimcn/s1600/100_1412.JPG" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Autumn at Fuller Hall, 2012</td></tr>
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</div>
<br />
<br />
I hope I can become a better preacher in the years to come. And I know the key to doing so is how well I'll be able to integrate my understanding of Scripture with my love for the people whom God puts in my life. In Philippians 3:10, Paul wrote of his own goal in life, namely "to know Christ and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings." As I myself press on towards my own resurrection from among the dead, I pray that I'll continue to understand the power of Christ in me and those I love. Like Paul, I've not yet reached the goal or fully matured in that most important regard.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgdXgyXd1LxymqcKO2egD_zLlNLaesFqsHhyhnACOCuoAt6SnBRvMuTXeI_VJrABMNkMXC4KoF0_8jZbhdULNmJu7jAht8A37iixcVPu_Bo9I6uy3Jr-uYAi2UrpX6vFL16gIE/s1600/100_1571.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgdXgyXd1LxymqcKO2egD_zLlNLaesFqsHhyhnACOCuoAt6SnBRvMuTXeI_VJrABMNkMXC4KoF0_8jZbhdULNmJu7jAht8A37iixcVPu_Bo9I6uy3Jr-uYAi2UrpX6vFL16gIE/s1600/100_1571.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winter at Fuller Hall, 2013</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
And so it's time for me to press on toward the goal that is never fully reached in this present life. I'm better for my 8 years in Fuller Hall 229, but I look forward to what God has in my future. I'm excited.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKyl5gNDhbsXHR6R5jk0b6WCVJj8kG2w8pBS-wPXUTdrp9LQt6tEWpjX7BahsQP0r2w54nD9IEnDajsxV-g0vNOyftYPWyC5SyK4WZZRz7z3uj0faDA89C9eaDLdKrHK3Y2i8l/s1600/100_1304.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKyl5gNDhbsXHR6R5jk0b6WCVJj8kG2w8pBS-wPXUTdrp9LQt6tEWpjX7BahsQP0r2w54nD9IEnDajsxV-g0vNOyftYPWyC5SyK4WZZRz7z3uj0faDA89C9eaDLdKrHK3Y2i8l/s1600/100_1304.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset over Louisville viewed from Fuller Hall.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18511517.post-58139005414296796262013-06-19T16:10:00.001-04:002013-12-03T12:43:44.599-05:00That Superman Movie...Let me start off by saying that I liked <i>Man of Steel</i>. The film boasted stunning visuals, strong casting, and some very bold twists on the familiar Superman mythology. But although I found the movie enjoyable, I didn't love it, and I was really hoping that the movie would have evoked such affection in me in spite of my skepticism going in. We diehard DC fans have had to watch all the Marvel-philes bask in the glory of their cinematic success for over a decade, so we really want the few Batman and Superman movies we get to be something special. I think I appreciate Superman more than most people, and I'll admit that I have my own conceptions of what he should be (without dropping spoilers, I think his portrayal in this movie at times contradicted my beliefs about how Superman <i>should</i> act). But my qualms about <i>Man of Steel</i> aren't so much about any drastic changes they introduced to the Superman mythology so much as they are about the cinematic structure of the film. Basically, the film didn't quite realize the fullness of its potential. Unlike Jor-El, who hoped that his only son might dream to be more than what society intended, <i>Man of Steel</i> seems a slave to the conventions of contemporary "epic" action movies.<br />
<br />
There's a number of really nice little scenes in the film, especially the flashbacks to young Clark Kent's coming-of-age moments in Smallville. My favorite is when he is upset that the world seems "too big" (since the poor kid can literally see and hear everything around him), and his mother instructs him to focus on specifics and thus "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KVu3gS7iJu4#t=00m15s" target="_blank">make it small</a>." There's such great wisdom and power in that line, and I wish Zack Snyder and crew had heeded their own advice through the last half of the movie.<br />
<br />
The last half of the movie is certainly a visual sight to behold, leaving no doubt that the special effects crew squeezed every penny out of their reported $225 million budget. Super-powered entities punch each other around, stuff blows up, buildings get knocked down, and alien death machines try to turn the planet into the equivalent of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CyhExJwsNaA" target="_blank">Gravity Man's stage</a> from <i>Mega Man 5</i>. I love all that stuff as much as the next guy, but this movie's biggest problem is that for all the destruction that takes place in the name of "Action!," little of it really has any emotional resonance.<br />
<br />
Snyder's <i>Man of Steel</i> takes place on an ambitious scale; there's epic battles that take place in the glistening skyline of Metropolis, a little farm in Kansas, the frigid wasteland of the Arctic, and a galaxy far, far away. But for what feels like an hour, all the locales kind of blend into one another as Superman's various super-battles seem to take place simultaneously. At one point, I was confused on where exactly Superman was supposed to be while all the action was going on someplace else. He was off risking his life trying to destroy some death machine in a remote spot over the Indian Ocean while a building almost fell on some key staff members of the Daily Planet. But suddenly, he was conveniently back in Metropolis in time to catch Lois Lane who just so happened to be falling out of an airplane. (A blatant <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kGx94VPb8V8" target="_blank">Mighty Mouse homage</a> probably wouldn't have been out of place there.)<br />
<br />
The plot featured some fantastic moral dilemmas for Superman such as whether he ought to secure the survival of his Kryptonian race or else doom his blood brethren to extinction because such a fate might be in the best interests of the the Earthlings who raised him. That's some pathos almost worthy of Shakespeare! Regrettably, all the emotional weight of that decision was thrown by the wayside in the name of packing the movie with seemingly endless fight scenes and "disaster porn" (that was accomplished comic scribe <a href="http://thrillbent.com/blog/man-of-steel-since-you-asked/" target="_blank">Mark Waid's term</a>). We never really had time to worry about how Superman would solve his no-win situation; there was always another building toppling over to distract us from feeling any anxiety.<br />
<br />
This movie had some clever ideas on how to do Superman "different but good" in the year 2013. However, I can't help but think that Snyder may have decided to quit work early on this flick and just entrusted the CGI wizards to finish out the 2.5 hour run-time with oodles of action that doesn't necessarily have any point to it. That mentality has become the industry standard for most big-budget action movies over the past decade or so, and that's too bad since Superman deserves better. Christopher Reeve and Richard Donner famously made us believe that a man can fly way back in 1978, while Snyder and crew apparently wanted to convince us that a flying man can single-handedly fight off an alien invasion and <a href="http://www.ign.com/articles/2013/06/18/what-would-man-of-steels-destruction-cost?abthid=51bfb0011e8afa846500002e" target="_blank">devastate</a> a major American city in the process. Truth be told, Joss Whedon and those plucky Avengers did a much <a href="http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/avengers-damage-manhattan-would-cost-160-billion-322486" target="_blank">better job</a> at damage control and collateral damage than Superman (and given all their wisecrackin' antics, they probably had more fun doing it too). And despite all the flurries of furious fisticuffs exchanged between Superman and Zod, sometimes it seemed the characters (and, by extension, we the audience) forgot why exactly they hate each other so much.<br />
<br />
Back when Nicholas Meyer directed <i>The Wrath of Khan</i> in 1982, he had to make do with a reduced budget and a general populace that doubted whether the Star Trek franchise had any long-term viability. Meyer's strategy was to make the most of subtlety so that the audience's focus was always fixated on the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cs47VFH3TY4#t=01m20s" target="_blank">personal conflict</a> between Khan and Captain Kirk. Though the two spacemen never physically confronted each other during the course of the film, even the mundane scenes in that movie resonate on an emotional level. Because Meyer was of the opinion that the best acting usually takes place in confined, small spaces, most of that film's "Action!" took place within a small room, and entire sets were reused with simple cosmetic changes. The end result is that nothing distracts you from being aware of how much the protagonist and antagonist hate each. That's the cinematic application of Ma Kent's advice to take the great big world and "make it small."<br />
<br />
<i>Man of Steel</i> is an exciting film to sit through once, but I don't really have any compelling reason to sit through it again. It's a movie that hits you in the face with everything on the first ride, and I didn't sense enough subtlety to warrant giving it a closer inspection. Even though this movie wasn't the film I hoped it would be, I hope it continues succeeding in the box office in order to lay a sustainable foundation for sequels and the off-chance of a good Justice League movie. Lukewarm "critical" reviews notwithstanding, most people I know who have seen the movie say they like it. To borrow an expression from Nolan's <i>The Dark Knight</i> (and I'll defend <b>that</b> movie as high cinema no matter what anybody says): <i>Man of Steel</i> may not be the movie long-time DC fans like me <i>deserve</i>, but it might just be the one we <i>need</i> right now.Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18511517.post-54152359507516843832013-05-25T11:27:00.002-04:002013-05-25T15:41:36.402-04:00Inappropriate Bible Passages?<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]">I actually thought about titling this post "The Book of Job: What is is Good For?"<br /><br /> I've been away from the internet most of the week, but one of the big stories of the week has been the terrible death & destruction caused by the recent tornadoes in Moore, Oklahoma. By what I've read, seven Elementary School children were numbered among the cumulative death toll of twenty-four. When I hear news like that, I rarely feel that I have anything appropriate to say to the situation, especially when I'm hundreds of miles away and can't do anything direct and immediate to aid the people suffering. And this is one of those times.</span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]"><br /></span></span></span>
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]">Other Christian folks have tried to process their grief and offer their sympathy to the people of Moore, OK with some public statements on their social media accounts. One such response was a tweet posted by John Piper, the recently retired long-time pastor of Bethlehem Baptist Church in Minnesota. His original two tweets (posted on the day of the storms) were simply quotation from Job 1:19-20, and it elicited quite a bit of internet backlash:</span></span></span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Your sons and daughters were eating and a great wind struck the house, and it fell upon them, and they are dead. Then Job arose and tore his robe and shaved his head and fell on the ground and worshiped. (Job 1:19-20)</blockquote>
<br />
<br />
He later deleted both tweets and offered some clarifying remarks on his intentions behind the quotes from Job:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
The reason I pulled my tweets from Job is that it became clear that what I feel as comfort was not affecting others the same. When tragedy strikes my life, I find it stabilizing and hope-giving to
see the stories of the sheer factuality of other’s losses, especially
when they endured them the way Job did. Job really grieved. He really
agonized. He collapsed to the ground. He wept. He shaved his head. This
was, in my mind, a pattern of what must surely happen in Oklahoma. I
thought it would help. But when I saw how so many were not experiencing
it that way, I took them down.<br />
<a href="http://www.desiringgod.org/blog/posts/those-deleted-tweets">http://www.desiringgod.org/blog/posts/those-deleted-tweets</a></blockquote>
<br />
Even though I already stated that I'm the person who tries to keep quiet in the immediate wake of tragedies that don't affect me directly, if I were pressed to quote a Bible verse to sum up my feelings on a tornado's wake, I probably wouldn't go immediately to Job 1:19-20. There are a number of Scripture passages that I tend to focus on when adversity comes to my life and the people I care about, but those two verses in Job just aren't among them. For John Piper, however, those verses might mean almost everything for persevering through tribulation.<br />
<br id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[1]" />
By my count, I own about ten of John Piper's books, and I read large portions of just about all of them to edify my soul and challenge my thinking. One of those books is <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Misery-Job-Mercy-God/dp/1581344554"><i>The Misery of Job and the Mercy of God</i></a>, which I think was given to me as a gift by my old friend Ian Miller. Piper dedicated that book "to those who suffer loss and pain along the path that leads to life" (page 7), and the book's thesis is that the 42 chapters of Job testify that "God governs all things for his good purposes" (page 8). I really appreciate the fact that Piper doesn't try to explain away the weight of Job 42:11, where the inspired biblical author attributes the ultimate cause of all Job's afflictions to the sovereign decision of God himself. Piper embraces the truth that God's sovereignty can be both painful and sweet throughout the course of life. <br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><br id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[2]" /><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[3]">I believe that John
Piper lives in the book of Job more than most of us do; I know he certainly lives there more than I do. I think he
sees the mercy and love of God clearly in afflictions that might come
upon him. When Piper was diagnosed with cancer a few years back, <a href="http://www.desiringgod.org/resource-library/books/dont-waste-your-cancer">he held firm</a> to the spiritual realities that he recognizes in the book of Job.</span></span></span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[3]">In the wake of this week's tornadoes, Piper tried to apply the same comfort that he derives from Job
to the Oklahoma victims and their families. Most of us, however, probably have a harder time
finding immediate comfort in the verses he decided to quote on his
Twitter. And I think he probably made a mistake in assuming how the
words might be received by most people.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[3]">As much as I respect John Piper, I certainly don't agree with him on everything, and on <a href="http://www.desiringgod.org/blog/posts/the-tornado-the-lutherans-and-homosexuality">some past occasions</a>, he has given the appearance of attributing specific human sinfulness as the cause for </span>why God might send tornadoes upon people. I wish he wouldn't entertain such speculations, especially not in such a public forum. But even if he might sometimes fall into the error to which </span></span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0">the friends of Job eventually succumbed, Piper's interpretation of the events shouldn't be compared to other irresponsible and egregious uses of Scripture as seen by folks like Fred Phelps and the Westboro Baptist Church. Those are <i>very</i> different men with <i>very</i> different agendas.<br id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[4]" /><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[6]"><br />When I was a freshman college student at Union University trying to make sense of the 9-11 terror attacks, Dr. Paul Jackson, my Intro. to Bible Studies professor, encouraged us not to try and attribute such atrocity to any particular sin of our nation, as other public Christian figures had done. Rather, Dr. J. drew our attention to </span></span></span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[54].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297263}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span id=".reactRoot[54].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297263}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[54].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297263}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]">Jesus' words in Luke 13:1-5 where he rebuked those who assumed they knew the specific reasons why God would bring calamity upon people (and then called upon all to repent). All these years later, and I've never forgotten that advice. Rarely do we have all the answers for what God brings upon us and rarely do we say the right things at just the right time to the right people (or at least I don't).</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][4][1]{comment654787550152_1297385}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[6]">In conclusion, I don't begrudge John Piper or anyone else for turning to the harder passages in Job for spiritual comfort in the midst of suffering. But I think the subsequent controversy over his tweets is probably a good lesson for all of us who hope to comfort others. The Bible passages that have taught us the most wisdom for enduring suffering may not always be so apparent to other folks who might be dealing with the raw pain of present loss and affliction. We should carefully and humbly consider the wisdom of how people might interpret intent whenever we resolve to try and speak to the pain of others. I think John Piper made a mistake in this instance, and it's a mistake that I have also made many times in the past. Sometimes the best thing we can do is simply assure people we are praying for them and offer to help in any way that we can.<br /><br />Also, I really hate the culture that Twitter creates, but that's a whole 'nother subject.</span></span></span>Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18511517.post-32914362130169738322013-04-14T08:08:00.002-04:002013-12-03T12:45:50.719-05:00A Year with Easter on my MindAnyone who has read any of my blog posts from last year can probably discern that 2012 was a hard and emotionally tring year for me. Throughout most of my struggles and sorrows of that year, however, the one particular passage of Scripture sustained me more than any other was Psalm 22. Before 2012, my mind rarely associated that psalm with Easter, but now it's become one of the most important points of reference for when I think about the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.<br />
<br />
I suppose I have to credit my newfound appreciation for Psalm 22 to a brief comment made by Russell D. Moore on his <a href="http://www.russellmoore.com/2011/08/19/man-in-black-and-hurt-by-johnny-cash/">Cross & the Jukebox session on Johnny Cash</a>. Moore referenced the importance of Jesus' quotation of Psalm 22:1 ("my God, my God, why have you forsaken me?") as some of his final words upon the Cross (and somehow Moore tied the whole thing together beautifully with Johnny Cash's own life story). As terrible a picture of suffering as Psalm 22 paints in its first twenty verses, it nevertheless concludes with an abundance of praises toward God for His goodness and salvation. And the pivotal point of the psalm occurs at verse 21, where the psalmist confesses to God that "You have heard me!" (the Hebrew word is often translated as "rescue" but "heard" is the literal sense). The same concept is again present in verse 24: "He has <i>listened </i>to his cry for help." David, whose name is attached to this psalm, trusted in God to deliver him out of his afflictions, as did many generations of the people of Israel. But when Jesus on the Cross identified himself with Psalm 22, He didn't have only verse 1 in mind but verse 21 as well. Jesus knew that His Father had heard his cries and that, even though God's presence appeared to be far away at the time, the Father would not ultimately abandon His Son to death and decay. And in the great resurrection event of that first Easter Sunday, God the Father proved that He had heard the cries of God the Son and had answered the Holy One with decisive vindication.<br />
<br />
Over the past year, I have realized that the only reason why any of us are able to praise God in spite of whatever tough times we might be going through is because Jesus Christ has identified Himself with us in our sin and suffering. God the Father gave our Lord the victory that is now reserved for those of us who trust in Christ alone for salvation. God the Father was pleased to accept righteous suffering of Christ as an all-sufficient substitute for sinners like me. And in the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, those who have trusted in Christ have assurance that God will raise them up from the depths of suffering and the grave (in the words of 1 Corinthians 15:20-21).<br />
<br />
On April 11 of last year (three days after Easter Sunday of 2012), I led a Wednesday night Bible study on Psalm 22 with two of our church ladies both in their eighties. I got pressed for time and only made it through half of the chapter. A few months later, I got a another opportunity to lead a Wednesday night study, and I again repeated the lesson and made it through the entire psalm. I don't know how much of a lasting impression it left on the folks at the study, but it the psalm sure did leave a great impact on me. I began to yearn for the opportunity to transition my study notes into a more proper sermon outline, and when my Granny's health began to fail again during late Spring I began to consider the idea of using Psalm 22 as the biblical anchor for her funeral sermon which my family requested I deliver upon her eventual passing. Ultimately, the personal burden proved to be too weighty for me to find a way to do full justice to Psalm 22, so I instead choose Hebrews 4:14-16 (Christ being our high priest who is able to sympathize fully with our human weaknesses) to be the biblical centrifuge of my Granny's eulogy.<br />
<br />
This year, my home church back in Camden invited me to deliver the sermons for their Easter services. I only had about a week's time of preparation, but I realized I\it was the perfect opportunity to prepare that much desired sermon on Psalm 22. I didn't make any personal reference to my Granny's suffering in my actual sermon but that reality has always been on my mind. Throughout Jesus' earthly ministry, He showed compassion to sinful and suffering people bringing them temporary healing. But in Jesus' sacrificial death on the Cross, He identified himself absolutely with the very worst of the human condition. All the terrible pain that my Granny suffered prior to her death last year was nailed to that Cross alongside Jesus. I don't know what sort of tribulation might await me in my future, but
all that stuff unknown to me at this time was also nailed to that Cross
alongside Jesus. The consequences of sin will ultimately drag all flesh
into the grave, but praise God that in the resurrection of Jesus Christ
on that first Easter Sunday, we have blessed assurance that God has
heard us, and He has promised to raise us again.<br />
<br />
Even though 2012 held a lot of tough times for my family, it's good to know that even when God's presence seems far away and the troubles of the present seem very near, God has promised that He has not hidden His face from his people. He has proved his faithfulness to us in the cross and the empty tomb. And that's why I've had Easter on my mind all year long.<br />
<br />
I haven't figured out the proper way to stream audio via Blogspot interface, but my Easter 2013 sermon can be downloaded here if anyone is interested:<br />
<a href="https://www.dropbox.com/s/6a2l198dafyx0nm/Psalm%2022-%20Camden%20Easter%203-31-13.mp3">"The Cross, the God-Forsaken, and the Empty Tomb" Psalm 22</a>Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18511517.post-8591141708058043482013-03-16T19:01:00.004-04:002013-12-03T12:47:38.942-05:00Teaching Kids about Hating Sin (aka, Lessons from a Ten-Year-Old's Testimony)I've been teaching children's Sunday School at my church for nearly seven years, and that responsibility carries its own unique joys and frustrations. I've been privileged to serve with four different co-teachers throughout
process who helped to compensate for my own shortcomings. I consider myself blessed to have had an opportunity to influence these kids with the Gospel message for so long, but there are many times when I question my own effectiveness in trying to help these children understand the gravity of what it means to be a sinner in need of salvation in Christ <br />
<br />
Almost all of my regular attenders have the remarkable benefit of loving parents who are strong Christian leaders and ensure that the whole family is at the congregational gatherings every week, yet not all of these children have experienced God's saving grace and committed their lives to Christ's service. Therein lies my greatest challenge as a teacher; how can I plant some spiritual seeds in the hearts and mind of these precious but naive little sinners that God might one day grow into genuine faith? It's not like God needs my participation in His plans, of course, but I do believe that there's a divine purpose for which I've been given the privilege of teaching these kids for a season of their lives.<br />
<br />
One theme that I routinely emphasize to the children is that they need to recognize the fact that they are all sinners who are personally guilty of breaking God's commands. So I'll often ask each child about their own personal acts of disobedience to parents or sins of that nature. That's when things usually get interesting. Lying, theft (from siblings), anger (again, usually directed towards their siblings) or hiding the truth tend to be the most frequent confessions I hear. The kids can easily recognize the fact that they are sinners and even agree that they deserve punishment when they are caught in their offenses. But very few of the kids ever seem to be visibly upset and sorrowful about their sins and offenses, and that's been one of the causes of my frustration over the years. I'm not content with the kids merely recognizing that they are sinners; I want them to <b>hate</b> their sin and <b>run</b> to Christ for rescue. I can't make that change happen, but I hope that I can at least communicate the importance of that message.<br />
<br />
There's a lot of spiritual advantages to being a child, as Jesus taught us in Matthew 18:3. Their minds are usually more adept at having faith and in believing in miracles compared to most adults. And most children haven't had as much time or opportunity to commit grievous sins that can harden the heart against God. But there are probably spiritual disadvantages to being a child too. I think the inherent naivety of children can make it difficult for them to truly hate their sin for its own sake. They might hate the punishment that befalls them because of their sin when their parents discipline them, but that's not the same as hating sin. In order for them to truly understand their need for Christ as Savior, they need to understand <b>how <i>bad</i></b> sin is... even the relatively "small" sins that they've committed in their short lives. And it's at this point that I yield the stage to a remarkable testimony composed by a little girl.<br />
<br />
Nearly a year ago, one of the ten-year old girls in my class came to Christ and was baptized. With the help of her parents, she composed a written account of her testimony and the event that finally made her come to hate her sin and put her trust in Christ. In my opinion, it's one of the best Christian testimonies I've ever read because it displays that rare recognition of how terrible sin is and why we should despise its existence in our hearts. And the story all started because she was thirsty and decided to lay claim to the last Gatorade before her brother could get to it.<br />
<br />
In her own words: <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
One day me and my brother had our practices, and there was one Gatorade left. I wanted it so I took the Gatorade and started to write my name and draw pictures on it so that I could have it and so no one else could take it. After I stuck it in the fridge God showed me my heart and showed me that what I did was wrong and that I was being selfish for wanting and taking the Gatorade. So then I took a note and I wrote, "I'm sorry for taking the Gatorade I feel so selfish just taking the Gatorade please forgive me." And after I gave my brother the note and the Gatorade I felt like I loved God more than I ever have and I wanted to learn more about god and his word. </blockquote>
<br />
Nearly a year later, I still read those words with amazement. That ten-year-old girl didn't commit any great moral offense, and I doubt she even would have been punished by mom & dad for taking possession of that drink. But she realized that the key issue was her own heart, which was selfish and didn't trust God. And that's the realization that spurred her spiritual transformation. After a talk with her mom, she was advised to admit she was a sinner and to trust in Jesus alone for salvation. And then she wrote:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Then I realized that Jesus changed my heart. When I felt my heart change my dad and I read some scripture. One of them was Ezekiel 36:26: "I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh." When I read this scripture I knew this is what I wanted God to do for me, and he did.</blockquote>
<br />
I have read many adult testimonies of how God changed hearts and rescued very sinful people out of some very terrible lifestyles, but I can't think of many that impart the same insight into human nature as this little girl's story does. If we could all hate the small sins we commit against God and our Neighbor as much as she hated what she thought about doing with that Gatorade bottle, then maybe we could all start recognizing how awesome a work of grace that God does in our hearts when we come to Christ.Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18511517.post-48829459885663825392013-02-10T14:46:00.002-05:002013-12-03T12:48:07.324-05:00When Comforting Others Seems Impossible<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort,who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort
those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we
ourselves are comforted by God.</blockquote>
Paul's opening statement in the Second Epistle to the Corinthians has long struck me as one of the most profound and humbling truths in all of Scripture. In <a href="http://www.esvbible.org/2+Corinthians+1.3-11/">2 Cor. 1:3-11</a>, Paul explains that the suffering and affliction that he and Timothy had experienced while in Asia occurred for the purpose of teaching them how to better comfort other believers who go through similar afflictions. God not only subjected Paul and Timothy to affliction, but He comforted them even more abundantly because of their experience. The benefit of being brought through affliction to share in the spiritual comfort that comes through Christ is that the Christian is able to better empathize and serve his fellow Christians who are in the midst of their own suffering. <br />
<br />
That's a marvelous portion of Scripture, because it teaches the Christian to view their suffering not as a simple question of <b>"why does God allow this bad thing to happen <i>to me</i>?"</b> but a question of <b>"how does God want <i>me</i> to use my suffering to comfort <i>others</i> who might be going through something similar?"</b> That's quite a revelation; it turns our focus away from ourselves and encourages us to start thinking about others.<br />
<br />
On the other hand, the 2 Corinthians text does at least suggest that if God has not chosen to subject us to a particular form of suffering, then we may not be as qualified to comfort others as we might like to be. Therefore, the experience of affliction becomes a prerequisite for us to learn how to better comfort others with the comfort that Christ first shows to us when we are in the position of the afflicted one.<br />
<br />
That's a hard truth that frustrates me.<br />
<br />
I don't have the personal experience to empathize fully with a widow who lost her husband young. Neither can I fully identify with parents who have had to bury their own children, sometimes before those kids have even been born. And thankfully, I don't yet know the pain of losing a parent. But I have friends who live with all these burdens.<br />
<br />
Another example has weighed heavily on my heart in recent days. This past week marked an important anniversary for people associated with Union University. Tuesday February 5 was the five-year anniversary of the tornado that destroyed most of the old student dormitories but did not take the lives of any people on campus. I graduated in 2005, which means I was already long gone when the storm came, but I had many dear friends who were still there when it happened. I still remembered how terrified I was that night in my Louisville dorm seeing the reports of the devastation on the news and trying to decide if it was wise to try and call my friends in Jackson, TN to see if they were alright.<br />
<br />
After all was accounted for, all of my friends were safe, but they were forever changed after that night. They had experienced something terrible, a sensation of terror that I cannot even imagine. I have marveled at the Union story for all five of these years. There is even a strange sense within me that actually wishes I could have been there on campus that night so that I could have suffered in solidarity with my friends and know the depths of what they had to endure. I wish I could have been there to help them in 2008, but I wasn't. And I wish I could be better qualified to know how to best comfort them even to this day. But that's impossible. I wasn't there, and I can't understand the affliction (and the comfort) that those students and staff came to understand all too well.<br />
<br />
I am humbled by the reality that I am unable to comfort my friends with the comfort that can only come from the people who were there and lived that night. I experienced my fair share of storm warnings while at Union between 2001-2005, but I never lived through anything even comparable to "The Tornado." And because of what I've seen at Union, I've since tried hard to prepare myself for a worst-case scenario whenever I endure storm warnings in Louisville. None of this, however, makes me qualified to compare my experiences with my friends who saw the sights and sounds of February 5th. I haven't warranted that sense of solidarity. And so I'm frustrated, because I know I am helpless to do what I want to do. In a very real sense, I am incapable of bringing comfort to others.<br />
<br />
But where our own strength might fail, the wisdom and mercy of God abounds all the more abundantly. Thank God that there are other people who lived through that experience who cared for and continue to care for my friends. Thank the Lord for the church families of all those folks who served the needs of their own. Praise be to God that in the Body of Christ, there will always be someone who has undergone suffering so that they might be made more adept to bring comfort to others.<br />
<br />
In my helplessness to comfort my friends as I would like, I can only
offer my prayers to the
Father of mercies and God of all comfort (to borrow the words of the 2
Corinthians passage once more). And though I might lack the requisite understanding that comes through personal experience, I can pray the words of Philippians 4:7 that God might comfort my friends with <span class="text Phil-4-7" id="en-ESV-29433">"the peace of God, <i>which surpasses all understanding</i>." </span>Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18511517.post-84137724344750114822013-02-03T14:26:00.001-05:002013-12-03T12:47:06.647-05:00Grieve the MomentI've spend a good deal of time on the internet over the past few years, and I've noticed a number of trends about how people use their social media accounts.<br />
<br />
One thing I've learned is that whenever something tragic happens on a visible and public scale, people will inevitable try to immediately change the tone of the conversation away from a consideration of the present tragedy into a comment about some other issue that is morally significant to their interests. It's not a matter of "if" someone will act in such a manner, it's only a matter of "when."<br />
<br />
I observed this phenomenon after the Newtown, Connecticut school massacre. Obviously, gun control laws were and still are the popular subject of discussion, but I noticed another trend among many would-be paragons that bothered me. There were a few folks who expressed some sentiment along the following lines "The murder of 26 children and school officials at Newtown was terrible but our country has legally aborted over 50 million babies since 1973!" Granted, that's a true statistic, but why does one think it's wise to frame the discussion in that light? And as atrocious as abortion is, the argument against its legalization is not advanced by diminishing the severity of a mass-scale elementary school shooting.<br />
<br />
I don't fully understand why people feel justified in doing this kind of "morality juke." But I suspect the best explanation might be that the tragedy of the moment doesn't quite connect with their emotions at a truly personal level. Although nearly two dozen children died (who most of the nation knew not by memory but only by their names and faces), some people immediately wanted to get angry about something else. Such comments do nothing to console the pain of the grieving families of the slain. If it were my children, parents, or siblings who were the victims, then I am certain that my soul wouldn't care about being burdened by an additional moral outrage.<br />
<br />
As a point of illustration, I recall this same tendency in comments that were made in the context of local news reports about the car accident that claimed the life of my friend Stacy Ellison.<br />
<br />
On the news broadcast that aired on television that night, the news reporter narrated the events of the crash and then abruptly changed the subject. She warned that more automobile fatalities might be in store for Louisville drivers as wintry weather conditions descended upon the city. Then, as a clip of my friend's crumpled Ford Taurus was displayed on the screen, she issued a morbid warning about the dangers of distracted driving. I don't know if either Stacy or the truck driver who crossed lanes and collided with him were driving distracted at the time (though based on what I've read, the other driver simply had a medical attack and lost control in an instant), but that question certainly didn't matter to me. I know for certain that wintry weather conditions weren't a factor, but the nightly news nevertheless felt the need to create a narrative where it didn't need to exist. If I were to ever have the opportunity to have a face-to-face conversation with that reporter, I would feel compelled to ask her why she felt the need to dismiss the immediate tragedy like she did. <br />
<br />
But I suppose I already know what the answer might be. The fact is that while a fatal automobile accident in a Metro area is both public and newsworthy, it simply doesn't have much emotional power unless one actually knew the victims involved. It was only newsworthy as a local story, not as a national tragedy. And the only people who really had to suffer were the victims and the people who knew them and their families. Those who weren't personally affected by the event could simply divert their minds to other concerns and move on with their life routines.<br />
<br />
My hope is we will cease our habits of dismissing the impact of immediate tragedies in order to draw attention to other subjects, however important they might be. Let us do more to follow the example of Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar, who grieved with their suffering friend for seven days and seven nights without even daring to offer a word, as Scripture recounts in Job 2:11-13. And let us avoid the imitation of their eventual attempts to shift the narrative from one of grief into irate moral diatribe. Though there is much evil and suffering in the world that might pain us and remain ever with us, we are often best served to focus on the present crisis of a fresh wound... and grieve in the moment.Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18511517.post-66871508470756673042013-01-19T22:01:00.001-05:002013-02-20T22:35:04.974-05:00Memorable Moments<span class="userContent">I haven't have many deep or particularly organized thoughts lately, but I have had a lot of serendipitous moments of epiphany that had the effect of brightening my day in a special way. So I figured I'd compile them for future reference.</span><b><span class="userContent"> </span></b><br />
<br />
<u><b><span class="userContent">Thanks a Lot for Caring!</span></b></u><br />
<span class="userContent">A couple of Mondays ago, the checkout girl at Big Lots asked me
(totally out of the blue) "you look so sad, what happened today?" It
was awkward, but the more I thought about it, I realized that we could use more people
like that in the world.<br /> <br /> And then I felt totally sheepish in
admitting that I was just trying to figure out whether or not I'd be
able to make it home in time for the Notre Dame-Alabama BCS National Championship Game. She seemed a bit
disappointed after that.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="userContent"><span id=".reactRoot[75].[1][2][1]{comment564549418048_672604}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][1]"></span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[75].[1][2][1]{comment564549418048_672604}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[75].[1][2][1]{comment564549418048_672604}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[75].[1][2][1]{comment564549418048_672604}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]">Though
what I didn't tell her was that I kinda had to go to the bathroom at
the time. That might have been a factor in my somewhat subdued facial
expression while waiting in line.</span></span></span> </span><br />
<b><br /></b>
<u><b>Pay It Forward</b></u><br />
I saw this a certain offer going around on some of my friends' Facebook accounts, and it seemed intriguing. I generally avoid any type of copy-paste style postings because the internet is just full of spam and crazy stuff, but this one was a little different. This gist of the message was that the<span class="userContent"> first five people to comment on the particular
status would receive from the original poster something homemade (not sure if I'll limit myself to that rule or not) as a gift at any random point during the year. But the twist is that each of those five people must return the favor by posting the message on
their Facebook pages and make the same offer to five people. <br /><br />It's a cool idea, because it makes yourself available to serve some folks in a special way that maybe you wouldn't necessarily think about. I've got close to 700 Facebook "friends" so any five of them could have had the opportunity to take advantage of it. Some of the folks who took advantage of my offer are folks with whom I haven't had much contact in the last few years. It should be a fun and challenging project to try and figure out what might be a cool gift to send them.</span><br />
<span class="userContent"><br /></span>
<span class="userContent">The whole thing reminds me of that movie Pay It Forward where the middle-school kid aspires to change the world by doing good for random people he meets and them making them promise to pass along the favor. It's a pretty cool concept, but of course the poor kid dies at the end trying to break up a school yard fight. That seemed like a cheap ploy by the movie-people to me. Oh well, I guess the ghost of Haley Joel Osment's character lives on in spirit...</span><br />
<br />
<u><b>Granny Always Said I was "Makin' a Preacher"</b></u><br />
About a month ago, I agreed to teach the adult Sunday School class for one Sunday in January, which ended up being tomorrow's date, January 20. A little while later, I volunteered to preach a Sunday night sermon on the same day. Last week, my pastor asked me if I could substitute for him on the Wednesday night Bible studies for three consecutive weeks, starting with this past Wednesday. So, yeah, it's been a bit of of a busy week trying to get everything organized. There would have been a time when I probably would have considered this to be too much commitment and I might have turned some of it down for fear of having my focus divided and not being able to do as good a job as I might like.<br />
<br />
But sometime after I began the PhD program at the seminary, I've started to think of myself as a preacher, even if I am still of a work-in-progress and still "in the waiting," so to speak. Getting opportunities to preach and teach doesn't so much intimidate me as it does excite me (though I still agonize over the preparation and lead-up process). When I'm up there speaking about the Word, I feel truly alive. To the best of my knowledge, that sense of exhilaration doesn't stem from any kind of vanity or self-serving pride, but from a confidence that it's just where I'm supposed to be.<br />
<br />
That doesn't mean I'm ready to start putting out my resumes for salaried church positions. I haven't done that because I'm content to work the job I have so long as I'm still in school, and I don't want to tie up my weekends in case I need to make some quick trips back to Tennessee to visit family. That day is coming, but I'm not there yet.Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18511517.post-6732734510399967282012-12-02T21:31:00.002-05:002013-12-03T12:47:15.746-05:00I'm Thankful for This Year... of SufferingI
am thankful for being able to know suffering this year on an unprecedented scale from what I had known previously.<br />
<br />
I know that sounds bizarre, and I don't want to give the
impression that I enjoy suffering in any sense. I <b>hate</b> death. I despise everything about it, everything it has done to people I love, and what it will eventually do to me one day. I
hate the fact that we live in a fallen world where suffering and death
are inevitable. Whether it comes suddenly (like the loss of my church friends) or slowly (in the case of my Granny), death is a terrible, terrible thing. It really is "the last enemy" as Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 15:26.<br />
<br />
But suffering can also be instructive and purposeful in a Christian's spiritual maturity.<br />
<br />
This morning, my pastor Brian Croft commemorated the anniversary of our friends' passing with a <a href="http://www.auburndalebaptist.com/sermon/why-do-christians-suffer/">sermon from 2 Corinthians 1:1-11</a>, where Paul
famously proclaimed that God "comforts us in all our affliction so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort that we ourselves are comforted by God" (verse 4). I seem to remember trying to do a
Greek exegetical paper on that text, but most of those projects left me
less sure of the text's meaning than I was before I even started the
study (that's probably one of the reasons why I decided not to push my luck with biblical language studies in the post-graduate level).<br />
<br />
Exegetical nuances aside, I think the meaning of this text is more easily accessible for Christian believers who have endured great suffering and loss but have consequently been strengthened in their faith because of that suffering. They have been able to recognize Christ as truly sufficient for their weaknesses. Those who have suffered greatly and lost much should be more willing and able to comfort other brothers and sisters who are going through their own struggles.<br />
<br />
Truth be told, I've lived a very comfortable life. I'm still living a very comfortable life. Growing up, I didn't experience much loss. Those losses have certainly started piling up in the last five years, however; such is the nature of life. When you don't known the pain of loss, it's hard to really understand what most of the Bible is talking about. So, instead of focusing your exegetical energies on comforting people with the Word of God, you can tend to distract yourself with discussions and debates over subjects that (while important) don't really capture the thrust of what the Biblical authors (and the Holy Spirit) were most interested in communicating to God's people. I could indulge that point further, but now is not the time.<br />
<br />
It's important that so many of Paul's letters begin and end with comforting words to the Christian churches. These churches, regardless of their relative virtues and vices, were living in tough times. Paul himself had seen suffering beyond what even most of them had experienced. But even Paul knew that his own tribulations couldn't compare to the greatest sacrifice which our Lord Jesus Christ made for us in his Passion week. Now <i>that</i> was the definition of a terrible seven days. Our Savior suffered and died for us, and by His resurrection He secured our eternal reward. That reward doesn't mean that we've been given a free pass in this life to avoid pain and live a perfectly comfortable life. Quite the contrary, in fact. Our suffering will come, whether by external forces bearing down upon us in hostility or through the natural course of life in a fallen world.<br />
<br />
But we've got a promise that we serve a God who is also our Great High Priest. He symphathizes with us completely in our infirmities and was tempted in every way, yet He was without sin (Hebrews 4:14). Because of His suffering, we can approach the throne of God with confidence that He will bestow us grace to endure our own suffering and use our experiences to comfort others in their suffering.<br />
<br />
Therefore, I'm thankful for this year in which God has taught me suffering, even if my experience is still meager compared to what most people in life deal with on a daily basis. And I ought to be about the business of bringing comfort and grace to others, because I'm sure I'll be on the receiving end again in the future.Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18511517.post-81136479138145045542012-12-02T14:30:00.003-05:002013-12-03T12:46:26.971-05:00I'm Thankful for This Year, Part II<br />
I am thankful for friends and family and for the time I've been able to spend building relationships with them over the past year. When I learned of the death of the Boyetts, the first thing I thought about was how terrible it would be to suddenly lose my parents. When I learned of the death of Stacy, the first thing I thought about was how terrible it would be to lose any of my dearest friends I have made throughout life.<br />
<br />
After my friend Adam Embry called to inform me of Stacy's death, I jumped in my truck and personally went to deliver the news to my dear friends, the Gould family. After I returned home, I attempted to call up a number of old friends whom I hadn't spoken to in a long time. As best as I could manage, I tried to tell my friends how much I deeply appreciated each one of
them being a part of my life. And I've been able to use this last year to
take some opportunities in trying to make the most of those existing friendships
and to work hard so that those bonds don't disappear due to neglect on
my part. I haven't been able to invest as much time as I'd like, and most of the time my contact with long-distance friends has to be limited to email, phone calls, or social messaging technologies.<br />
<br />
Stacy's sudden death became a source of some guilt for me because for as much time as I spent with the Ellison family, I couldn't recall many instances where I had verbalized my appreciation of their friendship. It's a cliche, but "sometimes the important things go unsaid." For whatever reason, being fully honest about my feelings has been an emotionally difficult thing for me to do. It's not so much that I'm hung up on some misplaced notion of masculinity, but it just doesn't feel like a very natural thing to my own personality. Most of us don't live our lives constantly and repeatedly gushing about how much we appreciate our most beloved family and friends, but we shouldn't neglect that sort of thing altogether either. When God takes folks away from us without warning, we'll regret the fact that we never took the opportunity to let those people know exactly what we thought about them.<br />
<br />
I suppose that without that terrible week last year, it would have taken me longer to realize all that. So I'm thankful that out of those tragedies came something good for me on a personal level. <br />
<br />
One more post to come in this series later tonight.Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18511517.post-70585249524940652342012-12-02T01:27:00.000-05:002013-12-03T12:46:35.019-05:00I'm Thankful for This YearNovember is the month in which we are most cognizant of our need to be thankful. This week marked the one-year anniversary of a series of tragic deaths experienced by my Louisville church family, as I have written about repeatedly over the past few months. A year ago Wednesday I was helping decorate the church sanctuary for Christmas when we heard news that Jackson and Barbara Boyett died in a car crash in Texas, a year ago Friday I was in my room surfing the net after work when I was informed that Stacy Ellison died, and a year ago this coming Tuesday I had just gotten back from Stacy's funeral when I got the call that Lester Jones (a dear old man who served our church for decades) finally passed away after years of declining health. That was a terrible seven days. When grieving and suffering loss of friends and family, it can be difficult to convince oneself that thankfulness is an appropriate and realistic response. Nevertheless, I am thankful to God for many things that have come about in my own life over the course of the past year.<br />
<br />
First of all, I am thankful for employment that has allowed me to strengthen my financial situation but also permits me the freedom to make short trips back home to see my family. Last December, the seminary's archives department had a job opening and my co-workers recommended I apply for the full-time, salaried position. I was reluctant to do so for a number of reasons, but I eventually decided to apply, interview, and finally accept the job offer effective January 9, 2012. It's been a great experience, even if it has contributed to delays in progress of my dissertation due to time commitments. However, the job has also taught me a great deal regarding archival and library skills that have proven valuable in my study efficiency, so it all probably evens out. <br />
<br />
My biggest concern with taking a full-time job was that the responsibility would allow me less time to go back to Tennessee and spend time with family, especially my Granny, who had been bed-ridden for about 2 years and needed constant care. I wanted to be available in case I was ever called upon to attend to my grandparents on a more frequent basis. Granny died in late July, but I was able to spend a few more important days with her before that happened, and I got the week off from work to attend and preach her funeral. <br />
<br />
I don't know if I'll stay in library-related employment long-term, as I do have other vocational aspirations, but I certainly am thankful that I am working the job that I have right now.<br />
<br />
<br />
More to come on this theme later today...Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18511517.post-86351799017962564602012-11-08T00:02:00.000-05:002013-12-03T12:46:49.409-05:00The Most Important Votes I Cast This Week"This is the most important election of our lifetime."<br />
<br />
I can't even remember how many times I've heard that phrase since 2004. I've voted in every presidential election for which I've been eligible because I believe it is both my right and my duty as a citizen. To be perfectly honest, however, I have discovered that voting for a major political party candidate is emotionally comparable to picking a team for which to root in a sports game. I don't want to belittle the importance of political issues by comparing them to something so trivial as athletic competition, but my emotions are about the same either way. If my "team" wins the contest, I'll feel happy for a few moments before reality sets in and reminds me that very little lasting good will come out of said "victory." Maybe I'm more glad to see "the other" lose than I am to see "my team" win, if for no other reason than that I don't have to watch other people gloat who don't see things the same way that I see them. And if "the other" wins, I'll be disappointed and imagine the day when the scales might tip the other way. Maybe I'll be optimistic about "next year" or maybe I'll realize that there is no guarantee that "my team" will even come close to winning a future contest. When I wake up in the morning, I'll go about my real-life business much the same way that I always have. "The sun rises and the sun sets, and hurries back to where it rises," to borrow a phrase from Ecclesiastes.<br />
<br />
But on Wednesday night, in the basement of a little Baptist church in Louisville, Kentucky, I believe I cast four "votes" that have far greater consequences than a four-year cycle. I joined my Baptist brothers and sisters (with whom I covenanted together nearly eight years ago) in adding three new members to our fellowship and removing one long-time brother through church discipline. By the grace of God, adding new members to the fellowship is a frequent experience at our church, and it's always a joyous occasion to see what plans God has in store for the newly added brethren. On the other hand, the disciplinary process is (thankfully) a relatively rare phenomenon, but one that is always painful.<br />
<br />
In Matthew 16:19, Jesus promised to give the keys of the kingdom of heaven to His church. There's been a plethora of diverse opinions as to just what our Lord meant when He said, "whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven." I don't claim to know all the details of the text's meaning, but I think everybody should agree that it at least affirms that the earthly deeds of the church have eternal consequences. I believe these eternal consequences are on the line whenever a congregation convenes a business meeting in which they will decide who to admit into the fellowship and who to exclude from the fellowship.<br />
<br />
If memory serves, I've had to cast four votes of discipline during my church-going life, and it's been a gut-wrenching feeling in every instance. When I cast that vote to place my old friend under the discipline of the church, I did so with the sorrowful conviction that my friend no longer valued Christ as the Savior and Lord of his life. I fear that all his joyful service over the past seven years was but a well-meaning deception... one that he himself may not even have been fully aware. His sins against his family and his Lord were evident to all, and though my friend acknowledges his fault, he remains unrepentant. In 1 Corinthians 5, Paul described the act of church discipline as the final, desperate act by which a church might see their sin-bound brothers brought to true repentance and reconciliation. When the assembly of the church votes to discipline, it amounts to no less than a "deliverance to Satan" so that the man's eternal soul might ultimately be saved at the Lord's appointed time. God is sovereign, but God uses His church as the appointed means by which people can prepare themselves for the inevitable Day of Judgement when only One vote matters. In my experience, the disciplined brothers and sisters who respond in repentance are the exceptions to the norm. In spite of that, we still ought to have hope that God will work mightily to recover the His lost sheep.<br />
<br />
For me, political elections have been reduced to futile, half-hearted attempts to restrain sin and human depravity through legal tour de force. I'm not ashamed to admit that fact, but I don't take pleasure in being a "single issue" voter who knows that even the best-case outcome is unlikely to change laws... let alone change hearts and minds. It's like rooting for your favorite sports team of aging, overpaid players to make that one last run at the big trophy. Even if they do manage to capture the championship, the odds suggest that they will lose the crown the next time around.<br />
<br />
But when I take my responsibilities as a church member seriously, I have hope for more than simply restraining sin through Law. I can believe that the Holy Spirit of God is working in and through the people of Christ to do a work of Grace. When Grace changes hearts and minds, lasting life-change necessarily follows.<br />
<br />
The most important "vote" of our lifetime wasn't in 2004, 2008, or 2012, and it won't be in 2016 either. The more important votes are the ones we cast when we covenant together to prepare people for the Kingdom that is coming. And that's a Hope that can truly sustain me.Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18511517.post-88692875435710097902012-11-01T21:48:00.002-04:002013-12-03T12:50:51.914-05:00This Is (or is it Was?) Halloween!I had a really fun month of October! Seeing as how most of my recent posts have tended to be serious and melancholy, I thought it might be fun just to do a little "how I spent my free time" update. October is pretty awesome because it is the quintessential "Autumn" month, starting out with colorful, falling leaves and ending with the great celebration of candy, costumes, and creative spookiness that is Halloween!<br />
<br />
The real highlight was a couple of weekends ago when I got an opportunity to travel back down to Tennessee and preach a sermon at the church my Grandaddy has attended for the past thirty years. The church has been without a pastor for a few weeks, so I tried to provide them with an encouraging yet challenging message from Paul's parting words in 1 Thessalonians 5:12-28. Although I don't think I did justice to the full passage (I put the focus on verses 12-18... especially verse 18), I do hope that I was faithful to God and edifying to the congregation in the things that I did say about what the text demands of us.<br />
<br />
I also got to spend that weekend with a dear friend who I hadn't seen for over four years. My sister came home from college too, which made the days extra awesome. We planned on watching <i>The Nightmare Before Christmas</i> (DVD borrowed from my good buddy Derek), but we simply waited too late and didn't have the energy to finish it. We did, however, have time to watch the Buffy the Vampire Slayer "musical episode" (speaking as a new initiate to the franchise, it was alright but it needed more vampire slaying, IMO) and the <i>Monsters vs. Aliens: Mutant Pumpkins from Outer Space</i> TV special. Ah... good stuff.<br />
<br />
I had never seen <i>The Invisible Man</i> (1933) film, so I was glad to pick up that particular volume of Universal's <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Invisible-Man-Collection-Returns-Revenge/dp/B0002NRRRO/ref=sr_1_1?s=movies-tv&ie=UTF8&qid=1351820706&sr=1-1&keywords=invisible+man">Monsters Legacy Collection</a> once I got back to Louisville for a good price. I've been collecting those classic monster collections over the last couple of years, and I really like them because they include the whole series of films that Universal made related to the featured monster with some very well-done bonus content. But regarding <i>The Invisible Man</i>, I was REALLY impressed with the cinematography and pacing of the film. The visual effects are ingenious and very impressive to watch even today. I didn't even know that Claude Rains (probably best known as Louie from <i>Casablanca</i>) had played the part of the title character, but given the fact that the viewer never even sees his face until the last few seconds of the movie, he did a fantastic job with is role. I think there are some important moral and theological ramifications raised by the movie's themes, but I'll save that for a future reflection. And because the Legacy Collections have an impressive list of extras, I've still got four more sequels to enjoy later, the first of which stars Vincent Price taking up the mantle left behind by Rains.<br />
<br />
I didn't have any intentions of making a Halloween costume this year (I mean, I am 29-years-old for goodness sake), but my friend Joseph and I had a serendipitous moment of inspiration after watching Monday Night Football. He said I ought to dress up as "the ghost <i>from</i> Charlie Brown" but I misheard him as saying "the ghost <u><b>of</b></u> Charlie Brown." The wheels got turning in our brains, and after a midnight run to Wal-Mart we had most of the materials we needed to make the crazy idea into reality.<br />
<br />
Here is the concept art: <br />
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And here's what we ended up with:<br />
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<br />
I think the levitating Snoopy ghost on a leash is was really made the ensemble complete. <br />
<br />
And, no, we didn't go around hitting up houses for candy, in case you were wondering! Joseph & Emily's sons Austin and David did all the Trick-or-Treating as a Ninja Turtle and a knight, respectively. However, Joseph and I did provide some extra style for the neighborhood with our ghostly get-ups.<br />
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Earlier in the month, I decorated my room with some vintage Ninja Turtles decorations I found at a local thrift store for a mere $3:<br />
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<br />
This Pirate Splinter next to the "rusty" Mouser is my favorite of the whole bunch!<br />
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<br />
Halloween is an awesome holiday when it's celebrated right!<br />
<br />
There were a number of other great memories I have of October '12 (like getting recruited to be a judge in a bake-off and getting to talk to Dr. David Dockery at the Louisville Union University Alumni reunion), but this post has gone on long enough. Now it's November's time (too bad all the stores just want to get Christmas season started ASAP) and the good news is that <i>Wreck-It-Ralph</i> is hitting theaters this weekend!<br />
<br />
And I still need to get around to watching <i>The Nightmare Before Christmas</i> before I have to get that DVD back to Derek. Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18511517.post-44321091864063875992012-09-17T07:18:00.003-04:002013-12-03T12:48:31.850-05:00The Promise I Made as a BoyI got to head down to Tennessee this weekend to celebrate my Grandaddy's ninetieth birthday (he actually turns 90 on Wednesday, but we celebrated early). I've written before about my relationship with him and how much I really want to spend as much time as I can with him from now on out. Needless to say, it was pretty great getting to celebrate his very long life with him again... even if it was a little bittersweet due to the loss of my Granny in late July.<br />
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After we celebrated Grandaddy's party at McEwen's "Stagecoach" restaurant we drove up the road to Erin, TN where we visited my (great) Uncle Howard Patterson in the nursing home to celebrate his ninetieth birthday as well. Uncle Howard is my Granny's brother, and he has always been my favorite uncle because he's long had such a gigantic personality. He has always been so loud and unpredictable in his remarks, surprisingly funny, but always kind and charming. He killed hogs and raised beagles. I think he's the quintessential small-town Tennessean. In recent years, however, he's had more than his fair-share of health difficulties. He has long since lost the ability to care for himself and is now confined to a wheelchair. He has very few memories left, and cannot recall names and faces of close friends and family that he's known for decades. Fortunately, however, God has still left him with his loud, unpredictable, joyful, cut-up personality. As my dad likes to say, "He doesn't have his memory, but he's still Uncle Howard."<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Uncle Howard, aka "Water Dog"</td></tr>
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It was nice to be able to get the (aging) family together to celebrate with cake and presents with him. But I must confess that simply being in that nursing home both saddened me and scared me. All through the hallways and the bingo hall, elderly and disabled folks rolled around in their motorized wheelchairs. A sweet but bewildered older woman rolled up to our party area and wanted to know if her glasses had arrived yet. The bathrooms could only be entered with a very precise key code. No
one could enter or exit the building unless the attendant first unlocked the door. The whole time we were there, a haunting rendition of Sonny and Cher's "I Got You Babe" looped endlessly on the single stanza: "I got you to hold my hand, I got you to understand" out of one of the rooms; I couldn't help but recognize the cruel and eery irony in that.<br />
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I have respect for anyone who chooses to work and serve in a nursing home for the love of the people. And I know that Uncle Howard is often visited by family, but I wondered just how many of those other folks had family or friends to come see them often... if at all. <br />
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Years ago, when I was very young and probably still in middle school, Mom made me promise that if something tragic every happened to her and Dad, that I would do everything I could to make sure that Granny and Grandaddy never ended up in a nursing home. It was a terrifying notion for a kid as young as myself to even fathom. But this weekend, I understood why my Mom was so insistent that I make her that promise. I've always felt that somehow my grandparents were uniquely <i>my responsibility</i> to protect and care for. Even when I went off to college and seminary, I returned home during the summers and spent most of my time over at their house, mostly relaxing and goofing off, but also being ready to do whatever they asked of me. They raised me almost as much as my parents did, and spending time with them in their last years was the very least that I could do. <br />
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In the end, Mom was the one who really made the sacrifice to care for Granny in her last days. Throughout all the months that Granny resided in hospitals, rehab centers, and hospices, I don't think Mom ever went home to sleep in her own bed except for very rare occasions. Granny ultimately died in her own home, not fully conscious of the fact that she was surrounded by family, but she nonetheless died quietly and (so I am told) with a smile on her face. <br />
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Even though God didn't call me to make that particular sacrifice, I still feel responsible for Grandaddy. He was the first one I visited when I drove in from Louisville. I had planned to eat with him, and then head back home to Camden. But Grandaddy said he'd rather me stay with him instead. I had no regrets honoring that request. It was my birthday present to him; one that I'll try to repackage as much as I possibly can.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLqhRcAQ50ujJex_lrAFv5wsAAmvgTAfMdaQ3QCjPR2aqWzBl-9KuKveAtr8Q7WnvCuOEGCrVDIFkWGg2dODHapyNISD_xiT_e-u75dBYSObU4wPQuLdw4n1MtSeW5RsBy2jXD/s320/183286_558065556758_1082586677_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">May 2005</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">May 2012</td></tr>
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Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18511517.post-30116354671027230942012-09-11T22:36:00.001-04:002013-12-03T12:49:14.286-05:00Expecting God to Do Something GreatThis past Sunday marked the 9th anniversary of my pastor Brian Croft at Auburndale Baptist Church. During last Wednesday night's business meeting, he shared a couple of simple reflections that he had learned during his time as pastor. He recently <a href="http://practicalshepherding.com/2012/09/10/what-are-some-reflections-on-my-9-years-as-senior-pastor-of-auburndale-baptist-church/">posted them on his blog</a>.<br />
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Both points he noted are good and very emotional subjects for folks like me who have known Brian over the years, but his second point resonated deeply with me: "The Way God's Blessing Often Flows Out of Sorrow." In every church, there will be painful losses. Whenever members leave a church, there ought to be sadness to see them go, even when it is for good reasons like job or ministry opportunities. Some losses come about through controversy as members either leave the church in bitterness or receive the stern hand of church discipline. Many of these losses, however, will come through the death of members... and some of them tragically so.<br />
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In all my years at Auburndale Baptist Church, I never knew such sadness as the stretch of days between November 30 and December 2 of 2011. Our church lost three people dear to us in two unrelated automobile accidents hundreds of miles away. In both instances, a vehicle from the opposite lane lost control and made a head-on collision with the specific vehicle containing the people precious to us. After the first crash, I tried to rationalize it as a simple, occasional tragedy. But after the second crash, the one which killed my dear friend, I could not accept the fact that it was a simple coincidence. I felt as if I and my brothers and sisters and Auburndale had suffered a cruel blow ordained by God himself. As I have confessed in a previous post, I had to deal with a little bit of my own anger toward God for not only allowing such tragedies to happen, but for seemingly being the <i>direct cause</i> of them. I am thankful, however, that the grace of God in Christ proved sufficient for me and brought my heart to dependence upon him rather than resentment.<br />
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But I couldn't shake the feeling that God must have a great purpose in order to ordain such a terrible sequence of events. The first thing I did after hearing of the loss of my friend was to take the time to call up various people throughout my life who have made a great impact on me (and who continue to be important to me) and simply let them know that I appreciate and care for them.<br />
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I have seen the seeds of long-term transformation in my own life since the events of last December. I try not to ever take the important people in my life for granted or assume that they'll always be around for me. When people I care about get sick or go through hard times, I do what I can to lift them up and encourage them in the Gospel. Life is way too short as it is, and it can change from routine to tragedy in an instant. I do not know what God specifically has in mind for my life, but I hope that I am able to honor the friendship I had with Stacy Ellison by working harder to strengthen the existing and future relationships in my own life. And I hope God, in his kind and wise providence, will put the people in my life that I'll need to be more effective for Him and appreciate His goodness even more.<br />
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Therefore, in light of all losses that have occurred in my life since last December, I'm encouraged rather than discouraged. I'm expecting God to do some great things. And I hope I'll get to see them.Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18511517.post-55305319156941499862012-09-03T22:14:00.003-04:002013-12-03T12:48:46.933-05:00Late in the Game, but Still Making Memories"Cherish every moment with the important people in your life as if it might be the last one, but go ahead and make future plans with them anyway." -[Something I thought up a few years ago]<br />
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This weekend I drove down to Tennessee to drive my soon-to-be ninety-year-old Grandaddy around Camden's 15th annual "30 Mile Yard Sale." It's been an annual tradition for our family to set up sales in the garage while I take Grandaddy around town looking for dirt-cheap deals on rusty metal (among other things). He uses a cane for precaution and for when his legs get tired, but he can get along fine without it.<br />
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This year, I was fully conscious of the fact that I probably won't get very many opportunities to continue this tradition in the future. Grandaddy has had Parkinson's Disease for nearly a decade, but he still possesses enough strength to maintain a fairly normal life and is still able to do many of the same routine things he has done throughout his life. The last two years, however, have taken its emotional toil on him on account of my Granny's long sickness and eventual death late in July. Grandaddy lives alone in heartbreak, but he hasn't given up because he still treasures the time he gets to spend with the rest of our family.<br />
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My mother is the only child of Granny and Grandaddy's sixty-five-year marriage, and my sister and I are their only grandchildren. Needless to say, they pretty much tried to spoil us at every opportunity (not so much in the early years, but considerably more-so since I went off to college in 2001). I cherish every opportunity I have to make a few more memories with Grandaddy for as long as the Lord gives him health and life.<br />
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I told him at Granny's funeral that I want him to live as long as possible. I suppose that was a somewhat selfish request on my part, but I just can't imagine life without a grandparent, and he's my last one left. Even though he gets around well, I tried to stay close to him at the yard sales, because I was so worried he might trip on a tree root or slip in some loose dirt. He almost tripped trying to go underneath a scaffold to avoid some rain, but he caught himself (the old man still probably thinks he's only 75 at times). Nothing makes me feel old like watching out for the folks who raised me as if they themselves were large children.<br />
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After I graduated from college, I was frustrated that so much of my life routine still felt the same as it always did. I wanted to move on with life. But now life seems to be changing awfully fast. I'm watching my elder relatives grow old, suffer, and die. I've experienced the loss of some great friends, and a few more friends have had some close calls. But I won't lose heart either. I serve a God who isn't surprised by anything, and I worship a Savior who has identified himself with the most pitiful point of the human condition. I don't fear the sorrowful days that surely await me in the future, but I just don't want them to happen anytime soon. If there is one thing I've learned about relationships in recent years, it's that you really have to make the most of the time God has given you with the people you love the most.Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18511517.post-21609161958547150872011-12-14T09:59:00.003-05:002013-12-03T12:49:29.310-05:00Teaching Kids about Death and ResurrectionI posted previously about my first reactions to the recent death of my friend, Stacy Ellison. This is the follow-up story about how I went to church the Sunday immediately following his passing.<br />
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Despite my grief over the loss of my friend, I had to prepare a Sunday School lesson for three kids, ranging in age from 10 to 12 years of age. I chose the text of John 11:1-44, the famous passage where Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead. That text is an easy choice, since it so clearly gives Christians comfort with the hope of being raised from the dead ourselves. I was also hoping that these tragic events might make the threat of death a present reality to these precious (and mostly unconverted) little children with so much living yet to do (God willing). I prayed that if any good might come from these sudden deaths, it would be that it might awake unconverted souls to their need for salvation in Jesus.<br />
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For the sake of my emotions, I decided not to mention Stacy or his family directly during the course of the lesson. After reading through the biblical text with the kids, I proposed a three point summation of the passage:<br />
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1. Lazarus was a friend of Jesus.<br />
2. Lazarus died.<br />
3. Jesus resurrected him from the dead to live again.<br />
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I tried to make the kids aware of two facts. First, that the second point ("this man died") is a fate that awaits all of us assuming that Jesus doesn't come back first. And secondly, that the third point ("Jesus resurrected him") is dependent upon the validity of the first point ("He was a friend of Jesus"). My goal was to communicate to these children that if they want to have a hope in life beyond death, then they must be a friend of Jesus, which I chose to define as "Trusting in Jesus alone for salvation."<br />
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It's a message I had presented to these kids many times over the past five years, but that Sunday I emphasized it with greater passion than ever before. On account of the death of my relatively young friend of 37-years-old, I was conscious that none of us has any guarantee on how long we will have to live before that dreaded day of earthly death falls upon us.<br />
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In my previous post, I stated that the nature of Stacy's kind of "accident" unnerved me. Just two days earlier, a Texas pastor and his wife (Jackson and Barbara Boyett) who had been friends of our church also lost their lives in a head-on collision in which an oncoming vehicle slid into their lane. At the time, I tried to justify their deaths with arguments like, "I sure do know how dangerous those country highways can be. When cars reach high speeds and drivers get lulled into distraction, bad things tend to happen." And then I heard about Stacy's crash. Apparently it wasn't the result of cars traveling at high speeds and apparently it wasn't the result of a distracted driver. From what I've read, a the driver of a pickup truck moving across a busy metro bridge in a 35 MPH zone suffered a seizure, pushed down hard on his gas pedal, and slid across into an oncoming Ford Taurus, which my friend was driving. There's just no logical explanation for why Stacy was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It just seems like it was destined to happen. I don't know if there is any significance as to why these dear folks died the same way in such a short amount of time, but it felt like cruel irony. I felt like God was just trying to get my attention by saying "When it's your day to die, there is no avoiding it or explaining it away."<br />
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As I read through John 11, I was struck by the emotional rebuke that Martha appears to give to Jesus in verse 21. She said, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." It's a subtle rebuke, but it's absolutely true. Jesus knew of Lazarus's ailments yet intentionally delayed a visit for two days promising that "it is for God's glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified by it" (verse 4). The human side of me wants to know what Jesus was doing that would have been so important. What human friend would sit around while his friend lay dying? What human father would intentionally delay going to help his suffering son? If only for an instant, Martha appeared to be angry at Jesus. Given the perplexing nature of the recent deaths of people connected with my church in Louisville, it was an anger with which I could sympathize... if only for a moment.<br />
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Yet, though Martha's faith may have been weakened with the death of her brother, it was still strong enough to confess that "I know even now that whatever you [Jesus] ask of God, God will give you." This was not a "health and wealth" mantra, but an expression in her confidence in the unbreakable union of Jesus and God the Father. Even though we may not always like how God's providential will unfolds in life, we have to trust that God works through all things for the glory of Christ and "for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose" (Romans 8:28). It was an immediate rebuke to my own disappointment with God's providence over the past week.<br />
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Getting the focus back on the Sunday School lesson, I simply exhorted those precious little children to ensure their eternal destiny by putting their complete trust in Jesus to save them from their sins. In order to be raised from the dead, they needed to become friends of Jesus. As I thought of the grace Jesus had shown to Stacy, I thought also of the grace Jesus has shown to me in forgiving my sins and giving me a new heart. It was at this point that the emotions I had suppressed all weekend finally got the best of me. I had to hand over the remainder of the lesson to Matt Miller, my co-teacher, because I could only weep like small child who had just stubbed his toe on a door. Matt challenged the kids again not to delay matters of eternal salvation.<br />
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I genuinely hope and pray that the sudden deaths of the Boyetts and Stacy Ellison might give the rest of us cause to think more seriously about the salvation of ourselves and others. Ultimately, the most important question we have to answer is whether or not we're a true friend of Jesus Christ.Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18511517.post-66431882378692659482011-12-09T00:01:00.002-05:002013-12-03T12:49:38.941-05:00What I Did When I Learned My Friend DiedToday marks the one week anniversary of the tragic, all-too-soon death of one of my good friends of the past seven years. Stacy Ellison died at the age of 37 after injuries sustained in a car crash on the Louisville Second Street Bridge. Stacy leaves behind his wife, Kim, who he loved and cherished, his little girl, Ali, and his infant son, Titus. He also leaves behind so many friends and family members who loved him dearly.<br />
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The Ellison family showed me great love, care, and joy during my time in Louisville. When an ice storm knocked out power across most of the city a few years ago, they housed me and my then-roommate for nearly half a week. I considered Stacy and Kim to be like my really cool, slightly more mature cousins. Stacy was my buddy; we watched NASCAR together, played in the same fantasy football league, and we once played a little Microsoft Kinnect (the last time I was over at his house). Stacy was a good Christian man, a deacon in our church, a faithful husband and father, and, of course, he was <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">my</span> friend.<br />
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A little over a month ago, he made me laugh so hard when he pretended to use his son as a Yoda puppet. I got so excited I had to leave the church fellowship hall because I was distracting the kids from their lesson. That was <span style="font-weight: bold;">classic</span> Stacy Ellison.<br />
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The details of his death have been a source of grief, mostly because it doesn't appear that there is anything he could have done to avoid it. Stacy was driving north from Louisville into Indiana in a Ford Taurus on a beautiful, somewhat comfortable December afternoon. A Silverado truck was coming south in the opposite lane. Because of extensive maintenance projects on the bridge, the speed limit was posted at around 30 mph. An eyewitness who was following the truck claims he was following the speed limit and the truck seemed to be doing about the same speed. Suddenly, everything went crazy...<br />
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The truck began to swerve out of control, accelerated wildly, hopped the dividing curb, and careened into the lane of oncoming traffic. Stacy's Taurus was the lone car that happened to be in the<b> wrong place </b>at the <b>wrong time</b>. The vehicles collided head-on. The two passengers in the truck were badly hurt, but Stacy suffered unsustainable injuries and died within the next hour. Medical examiners believe the driver of the truck suffered from a "medical emergency" that caused him to lose control of his vehicle. The witness said the driver appeared to be suffering from a seizure that likely resulted in his foot smashing down onto the gas pedal, causing the terrible chain of events that claimed the life of my friend.<br />
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When I heard about Stacy's death after a call from another dear friend, I felt like <span style="font-weight: bold;">I </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">should do something</span> to make the situation better... but that was just desperate longing to try and regain a sense of control in my life. After an hour of scrambling across the internet and across town to inform some friends of the terrible news I had learned, I returned to my apartment, unaware of what to do next.<br />
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It is my personal belief that Stacy and Kim knew how much I valued their friendship, yet I cannot recall any occasion when I bothered to verbalize that sentiment. It's the kind of thing I sometimes have trouble saying with a straight-face, maybe because of how overly-sentimental it sounds or perhaps because I don't want to find myself tearing-up unexpectedly. But one thing that left a pit in my soul was the fact that people I care about could go to their grave (and to meet God) never knowing the depth of appreciation that I had for them.<br />
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That night, I did the only thing I could do. I called up numerous people (some family, some friends) who have been important in my life over the past few years. I didn't call everybody who I probably should have called, and sometimes I only got their voicemail services, but I did manage to tell the people who answered the phone three simple words, <b>"I appreciate you.</b>" I tried to express the nature of that appreciation, but I'm sure my attempts to do so only scratched the surface.<br />
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I am so thankful for the people that God has placed in my life, at different times and in different places, that have made my life better for knowing them. Often, we don't have as much time together as we expect, but that doesn't make the time spent together any less sweet. One thing I learned after the death of my friend, Stacy, is that I have to value the important people in mind. Hopefully, I can let them know how much I truly appreciate them.Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18511517.post-84242590511248203462011-02-05T22:19:00.005-05:002014-03-26T12:06:26.485-04:00My Recent PostsIt's been about a year since I've posted here, but I have written a few things on the internet!<br />
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<a href="http://standingonshoulders.wordpress.com/2011/01/19/why-i-would-not-have-supported-martin-luther-king-back-in-the-day/">"Why I Would Not have Supported Martin Luther King Back in the Day"</a> (It's not as controversial as the title sounds)<br />
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<a href="https://standingonshoulders.wordpress.com/2011/02/07/christ-the-lion-who-keeps-getting-bigger/">"Christ, the Lion Who Keeps Getting Bigger"</a> (I waited 2 years to post this after writing it...hmm, not sure if it was worth it, but it's an emotional subject for me).<br />
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<a href="http://8bitglory.wordpress.com/2010/08/20/how-i-mutated-from-boy-to-man/">How 8-bit Ninja Turtles helped make me a better person.</a><br />
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Three posts in a year? Man, the internet sure is dead these days...Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18511517.post-61730534642657819962010-02-08T22:29:00.004-05:002010-02-26T21:52:24.064-05:00I Went Searching for Chuck Norris...<a href="http://lmgtfy.com/?q=find+Chuck+Norris&l=1">Here is what happened.</a><br /><br />Google must not have been "feeling lucky"...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8hH_gLP5QWKESt2MI2MQCvG71-PaFjqKNaC-q9-9GSvydNmu5h8f0vpjOl0BPlKlCd35ZQjJrKwVJtvjOS8mtTRxJIYA2d51uOF2tO1NTjHM6KMX8ksFLiIi_HIKuS2GdmItd/s1600-h/findchucknorris.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8hH_gLP5QWKESt2MI2MQCvG71-PaFjqKNaC-q9-9GSvydNmu5h8f0vpjOl0BPlKlCd35ZQjJrKwVJtvjOS8mtTRxJIYA2d51uOF2tO1NTjHM6KMX8ksFLiIi_HIKuS2GdmItd/s320/findchucknorris.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436080902384604194" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Special thanks: Adam EmbryAdamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12151986979908159019noreply@blogger.com3