The Hound of Heaven

About 130 years ago Francis Thompson wrote a poem called The Hound of Heaven. Using the hound as a metaphor for God, Thompson writes of God’s loving, yet relentless pursuit of the soul on the run from Him. Some of the language is awkward for modern ears, but it is a powerful poem. Google it some time. Now, let me tell you why this poem came to mind for me.

I was checking my email in between worship services on Sunday when I opened one that just about had me jumping out of my chair with joy. Danny did it. He made a public profession of faith in Jesus Christ in front of a Methodist church in Texas. No doubt stuff like that happens every Sunday somewhere, but this is a really big deal. Let me explain.

About four or five years ago a local high school physics teacher named Deborah started visiting our church. She had been out of the church and away from the faith for a very long time. She is married to the Danny I mentioned above, and they have two boys, Thomas and Matthew. Deborah brought her two sons with her; Danny didn’t come and wasn’t interested.

In visiting with Deborah, I learned something of her story. She was raised in the church. Early in her life she made a decision to follow Jesus and be a Christian. But as she grew up into college and adulthood, she grew farther and farther away from her faith. How far? Far enough to consider herself an atheist—and that’s about as far as one can go. She’d been schooled in the classical sciences and in physics. She couldn’t find a place for God in all of that. And that was okay with her husband Danny because he considered himself an atheist too. So they were doing just fine, working at their jobs, raising their two boys.

And that’s when it happened. It happened in a barber shop. It happened with the simple question of a child. Deborah had taken the boys to get a haircut. The oldest boy, Thomas, about six or so at the time, saw a picture of Jesus in the barbershop. It was the face of Jesus, crown of thorns pressed on His head, blood streaking down His cheek. Since Thomas had never heard of Jesus, he asked his mom a simple question: “Who is that man and why is he bleeding?” I think for Deborah those words felt more like a scalpel than a question because the Holy Spirit used those words to open Deborah’s heart to truth she’d known since childhood and had spent years denying.

Ah, the power of the right question at the right time! The Lord kept pressing that question to Deborah well after they’d left the barbershop. It disturbed her … and rightly so. And underneath that question were affirmations the Lord also continued to press upon Deborah: “I love you. Jesus died for you and rose from the dead. Your sins are forgiven in Jesus’ name. Come home, Deborah. Follow me.” The Hound of heaven had tracked down His girl and gently shepherded her back into the fold.

Deborah decided her boys were going to know who that man was and why He was bleeding. She and the boys plugged into the church. Deborah began to grow in her faith by leaps and bounds. She shared her testimony during a musical presentation and many were touched. She spoke freely of her faith to students at school. She did her best to help some who, like her, were skeptics, doubters, at the edge of atheism. And in the church, she worked with children. She got involved in missions. She taught a thing or two. She didn’t put a toe in to see how the water was; she dove right into the deep end. As a pastor, I found myself thinking, “Oh, for a tribe of Deborahs, and this church could turn the world upside down!” She became a franchise player in the church. And her boys were so very much at home among us too.

But her husband Danny wasn’t. He is a good man and was kind to give Deborah freedom to do her thing, but he made no bones about the fact that it was not his thing. And Deborah didn’t press him. She prayed for him. She lived a changed and changing life in front of him. She suggested a book or two if he wanted to know more. And Deborah’s friends in the church joined her in her prayers. Danny wasn’t a stranger to the church. He came once in a while when Deborah or the boys were doing something special. And he even got on one of our softball teams. But that was as far as he was willing to go. What he didn’t know, however, was that the Hound of heaven was hot on his trail. I said about Danny what I’ve said about others in a similar boat, “God is going to get him; Danny just doesn’t know it yet.”

We hoped to see that happen right here in Hot Springs. But it didn’t. Family considerations led them to move to Texas. Not long after the move, I got an email from Deborah with this news: “Danny has decided he’s no longer an atheist. He’s now an agnostic.” In other words, Danny was open to the fact that there might be a God but he wasn’t making any commitments. Progress! The Hound of heaven was now nipping at his heels. And then a few months ago, I got another email: “Danny asked Christ into his life today.” Deborah gave praise and the Hound howled and the angels danced and heaven threw a party and those of us who know Danny kicked up our heels in praise and joy too.

The next step was church—getting connected to the body of Christ where they live. Jesus didn’t call us to a solitary life but to a life of community. And that email came yesterday! Deborah and Danny joined a local Methodist church in their town. Danny had spent some time in the Methodist church when he was growing up, and it felt right to him to reconnect. Here’s the way Deborah put it: “The preacher invited us to the Celebration service at 8:30am instead of the main service. We went and it was amazing! It's just like worshipping at a Baptist church with a few of the Methodist rituals …. Danny loves it and so do I. After going there for almost 2 months, I told Danny I was joining and he said he'd join to with me! It was everything I could do not to cry as we were walking down that aisle holding hands with the two boys beside us!” Hallelujah! Praise the Lord from whom all blessings flow! Praise the Hound of heaven for loving us, for pursuing us, for finding a way to get our attention, for saving our souls, and for getting us all the way home.

Deborah and Danny still have a lot of growing to do. As Deborah said, “I think Danny is going through the same thing I did where sometimes I have the faith of a thousand people and then other times I wonder if I even believe.” That’s okay. Once He chases them down, the Hound of heaven doesn’t abandon His children. He stands guard over their souls through every valley and mountaintop and plateau that they face. When the Hound finds you, He keeps you. Danny and Deborah are not the first of Jesus’ followers to have seasons of doubt now and then. They are going to be just fine.

In writing of that Hound, Francis Thompson put it this way:

I fled Him down the nights and down the days

I fled Him down the arches of the years

I fled Him down the labyrinthine ways of my own mind,

And in the midst of tears

I hid from him, and under running laughter.

Deborah and Danny fled. Danny and Deborah hid. But the Hound of heaven found a way to get their attention. He pursued them and found them and saved them and will watch over them forever. And one of the interesting things about this story is that the first time they heard the Hound’s voice it didn’t sound like the howling of a dog; it sounded like the voice of a child: “Who is that man and why is He bleeding?”

Score One More for Life

I first met Larry (not his real name) a few years ago. He had to be in the hospital for something or other. His mother, who is a part of our church family, asked me to go see him. So I went. And I left the hospital that day shaking my head and wondering why I bothered. Larry wasn’t exactly rude, but he certainly had no interest in visiting with the preacher from his mother’s church. And that was my last contact with Larry until this past month.

His mother called again. Larry was in the hospital again. This time it could be something very serious. Would you come see him? I got there on the heels of Brent, our Children’s Minister. He told me that Larry was not very open or welcoming to him. “Big surprise,” I thought to myself. And when I got there he wasn’t open with me either—though he did let me pray for him. That came at the insistence of a hospital transportation worker who was rolling him down to the second floor for some kind of test. It was a bit awkward, but he allowed the prayer. I think he did that more for his mother than for himself. So we prayed.

Turned out his mother was right. Tests revealed something very serious indeed. More tests were ordered. Surgery followed. The C-word was the problem. It was aggressive and relentless. It started taking up residence in various places in his body and throwing its ugly weight around. Doctors did their best. They even tried a second surgery. But it became like plugging a dike—patch one hole and two others spring a leak. It was a losing battle.

But a funny thing happened in this slow and painful journey toward death. Jesus started throwing His weight around too. As Larry became more and more aware of where all this was heading, he got to wondering about where he was heading when cancer finally had its way with him. A closed heart started to open and you could hear the creak of its rusty hinges all the way to Alaska. Suddenly, Larry had to know more about God, about death, about eternity. He asked his mother. She called Brent. Brent went to the hospital, introduced Larry to Jesus, and Larry was very glad to meet Him. Right there in that hospital bed, Larry repented of his sins and invited Jesus to be His Savior and Lord. A heart of stone became a heart of flesh. A heart dead in its trespasses and sins came to life. And Jesus smiled and mama cried and angels danced and heaven threw a party for Larry.

I saw his mother on Saturday. “Do you think Larry would like to be baptized?” I asked. “We can do it right there in the hospital.” She smiled and said, “I’ll ask him.” She called this morning with news: “Larry has been moved to hospice, and yes, he would like to be baptized.” We Baptists are pretty much sticklers for immersion, you know—that’s what the word means, that’s the way they did it in the New Testament—sticklers, I tell you. But when immersion is not a possibility we can go with the flow.

So Brent and I went to see Larry today. He is under contact isolation, so we put on our yellow gowns and little blue latex gloves. Larry couldn’t open his eyes, but he could hear us and respond with groans. I shared a Scripture or two, Larry groaned his agreement. Then I asked him, “Larry, do you believe Jesus died for your sins and rose from the dead according to the Scriptures?” Groan. “Then I baptize you, my brother, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, amen.” And as I applied water to his forehead by making the image of a cross, I declared, “Buried with Christ in baptism; raised to walk in a new life.” He groaned again—this time a groan of release and surrender and peace. Then Brent prayed and mama cried and dad stood by quietly taking it all in.

Before we left the room, I took another look at Larry. And that’s when I was struck by an image I’ll not soon forget. The sun was coming in the window at just the right angle to reveal the glistening of the baptism waters on his forehead. I’ve seen the sun piercing through the stained-glass in Nortre Dame Cathedral in Paris. I’ve seen the sun sparkling on a metal cross erected high in the Andes above the little village of Chavin, Peru. Both breathtaking in their own way. But I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything more profound and beautiful than those baptism waters glistening on the head of one who has been snatched from death to life eternal.

Take that, cancer! Take that, death! Take that, devil! Jesus has saved yet another from your clutches. Score one more for life.

Christmas, Jesus, and GPS

For the Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost

(Luke 19:10).

I read it last Christmas in our local paper: an Associated Press article by Eric Gorski entitled “GPS keeps track on Baby Jesus.” It seems that in December 2007, Baby Jesus disappeared from a nativity scene on the lawn of the Wellington, Florida, community center. But local police didn’t have to follow a star to find him. A GPS device was mounted inside the life-size ceramic figurine, and that GPS led deputies to a nearby apartment where the figure was found face down in the carpet. And 18-year-old woman was arrested in the theft.

Maybe you’re like me and didn’t realize how often people pilfer Jesus from home or city nativity displays. It’s a regular crime wave every December. And when Jesus gets kidnapped, where do you even begin to look. Well, GPS has apparently solved that problem, and it certainly discourages would-be criminals or mischief-makers from their dirty deed. A thief may be able to hide a stolen Jesus-figure from our eyes, but he can’t hide him from the GPS eye in the sky.

This got me thinking about how we often make Christmas about looking for Jesus—“Wise men still seek Him,” and all that. While there’s certainly some truth to this, while it is important to seek Jesus in this holy season, Christmas is really more about Jesus seeking us. Take taxman Zacchaeus, for example. “Yes, please!” the citizens of Jericho would say. Zacchaeus and those who worked for him abused these people through the tax system. And this abuse had made Zacchaeus a rich man. No wonder he was perhaps Jericho’s most despised citizen. Yet this same Zacchaeus sort of got grace in his face when Jesus came looking for him. Jesus found him in Jericho. Jesus invited himself over for lunch at Zacchaeus’ home. And before they had finished their chocolate mousse that old tax-collecting cheat had a change of heart and a change of life. And this was no conversion in a some quiet corner so he could take it back if he changed his mind. No, this was public. Zacchaeus announced to Jesus and everyone else at the table, “As of today, I’m a changed man. I’m going to become a giver instead of a taker. I’m going to give half of everything I have to the poor, and if I’ve cheated anyone, I’ll give him four times what I took.”

Jesus was thrilled. “Today salvation has come to this house,” Jesus said, “for the Son of Man (that’s Jesus) came to seek and to save what was lost.” Jesus loved Zacchaeus; Jesus found Zacchaeus; Jesus saved Zacchaeus. And He didn’t even need GPS to do it.

Maybe this Christmas Jesus is seeking you. Maybe that’s why you “happened” upon this blog. Just know that Jesus can find you wherever you are. And He doesn't need a GPS either. He can find you because He is God. He knows who you are and where you are and what’s what with your life. He is relentlessly pursuing you for your good and for your salvation because He loves you like no one else has loved you or can love you. And the best thing you can do in response is surrender to His grace, be found, be saved, be changed. Trust me: that’s one Christmas gift you won’t ever want to return.