Your Appointment in Samarra

Ok, let me start with an apology to those of you who regularly read my blog posts.  I realize that last week’s post was about death.  Well, this week’s post is too.  If I keep this up I better change the title of my blog from Life at the Altar to Life at the Morgue.  But I determined to write these posts out of what is in my heart as I interact with Christ and the world around me.  And, if you read last week’s post, you know that these last few weeks I’ve been up to my neck in dying and death.

It came home to me yet again over the weekend when I read that Earl Weaver died.  He was 82, so I guess it was time.  He died on a baseball cruise—a pretty good way to go.  But he died.  And it struck me because Earl was one of my childhood heroes, managing my Baltimore Orioles to four pennants and one World Series championship.  He was a crusty old codger even then.  Nobody kicked dirt on umpires better than Earl Weaver.  Only two managers got ejected by umpires more than Earl Weaver, who was tossed 97 times—that’s more than half-a-season worth of games.  It’s no wonder Earl once said, “On my tombstone write, ‘The sorest loser that ever lived.’”  What a winner!  And what a character!

Earl’s death reminded me of how many of my childhood heroes are dead.  Of course, I’m 56 so there you go—it’s been long time since I was a child.  But so many of my sports and entertainment heroes are gone—John Wayne, Jim Croce, Mickey Mantle, Dean Martin, Don Meredith, and so many others—gone.  Thankfully they live in my memory and they live on CD and DVD, so it’s almost like they’re still around even though they’re not.

But Earl’s death reminded me once again of death’s reality.  Sooner or later Death is coming for us all.  Sooner or later, there will be a knock on the door and Death will be on the other side.  No matter how many locks you put on that door, no matter how hard you and your loved ones push against that door, Death will find a way in.  And if we want to learn how to really live, we need to come to grips with that.  James Jones, in his autobiographical history of World War II, wrote that the best soldiers he knew were those who assumed they were dead already.  He said they were the bravest and boldest of them all.  They were the ones who would charge the machine gun nest, the ones who would jump on a grenade to save their friends.  Some of them came back alive.  And some of them came back in a box.  But could they ever soldier!

As a follower of Jesus, I like to think I’ve made peace with my death.  I trust Him with my life and my death.  Jesus holds the keys to death and the grave.  Jesus is the resurrection and the life.  When Death comes for me, Death can take me but he can’t have me because Jesus is preparing a place for me with Him in the Father’s house.  I like to think I’m at peace with my death.   And I think that helps me to live more boldly, enjoy life more thankfully, and not be consumed with fear about the when and the what of death.  Even though I won't make it out of here alive, I hope it could be said of me post-mortem, "Boy, did he ever live!"

Have you made peace with your death?  Too many ignore death and pretend that they are going to live forever.  Someone once asked old man Groucho Marx, “Groucho, what do you hope people will be saying about you in a hundred years?”  Groucho responded, “I hope they say, ‘He sure looks good for his age.’”  Some want to pretend it will never happen to them.  But pretending won’t make it so. 

One of my all-time favorite preachers, Peter Marshall (also long since dead) tells of an old legend about a merchant in Baghdad who one day sent his servant to the market.  Before long the servant came back, ghost white and trembling all the way down to his toes.  He said to his master: "Down in the market I was jostled by a woman in the crowd, and when I turned around I saw it was Death that jostled me.  She looked at me and made a threatening gesture.  Master, please lend me your horse, for I must hurry away to avoid her.  I will ride to Samarra and hide there.  Death will not find me in Samarra."

The merchant lent him his horse and the servant galloped away at break-neck speed.  Later, the merchant went down to the market and saw Death standing in the crowd.  He went over to her and asked, "Why did you frighten my servant this morning?  Why did you make such a threatening gesture?"

"That was not a threatening gesture," said Death.  "It was a jolt of surprise.  I was astonished to see him in Baghdad, for I have an appointment with him tonight in Samarra."

That appointment’s on your calendar too.  Be ready.

The Pastor in the Valley of the Shadow

You know the line from Psalm 23: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death ….”  I’ve been spending a lot of time in that valley these last few weeks.  Lots of death, lots of funerals, lots of grief—I just finished my third funeral in a week’s span last Friday.  And there were several more in November and December.  The Grim Reaper is doing a brisk business in my little world.  And I feel like the little boy in the film The Sixth Sense who says, “I see dead people.”  I do.  I see a lot of them.  I spend a lot of time in the valley of the shadow of death.

It takes a toll.  I’ve been pastor at my current post for going on eighteen years.  I don’t just bury parishioners; I bury friends; some are like family even.  I enter the anguish of families and even bring a little of my own.  And it wears on a person after a while.  The grief adds up over time, yet I seldom give myself freedom to embrace it—in part because there’s a grieving family to care for, a funeral to prepare, Sunday’s sermon to crank out, a visit to make, a gripe to listen to, a counseling session to hold, the next death to attend to and the next funeral to prepare for.  Sometimes that stuff is waiting for me when I get back from the cemetery.  And it never ends.  The deaths of my own parents were swept up in that same cycle.  I confided in a retired minister some months ago, “I live with this nagging fear that someday all the grief I’ve pressed down across the years is going to rise up and crush me when I least expect it.”  I’ve wondered why it hasn’t done so yet.

Based on a study I did of a David text in 2 Samuel where he eulogized Saul and Jonathan when he got word of their death, I discovered that maybe I have been processing my grief all along through the writing of eulogies for the people I bury.  It gives me time to reflect on the deceased’s life, to celebrate that life, to offer thanks for that life, and to grieve the loss of that life from our everyday presence.  This helps, I think.

And something better help because we pastors spend a lot of time in the valley of the shadow of death.  The good news is, however, that we are not in that valley alone.  Remember what David said about that valley?  “I will fear no evil, for you are with me—your rod and your staff: they comfort me.”  We pastors are in good company in the valley of the shadow.  Jesus, our Good Shepherd, is there.  Yes, that’s Him—the one with the nail scars in His hands.  Jesus has walked this valley of the shadow of death for himself.  This isn’t new or strange terrain to Him.  He knows the way through.  He knows how to get us to the other side.  His very presence with us in that valley reminds us when we need it most that death doesn’t get the last word and grief doesn’t get the last word; Jesus gets the last word—and that word is life.

No wonder Paul could write with such confidence: “Death is swallowed up in victory.  O grave, where is your sting?  O death, where is your victory?  Thanks be to God who gives us the victory through Jesus Christ our Lord.”  

Doing 2013 with God

If you’re like me, you received a handful of those Christmas letters.  You know, the kind that tell a family’s 2012 life story—who got married, who’s been sick, where they traveled, who changed jobs, what great things the kids accomplished.  You know what I’m talking about.  We’ve sent that kind of thing a few times ourselves over the years.  Once, I put in my letter a bunch of bogus stuff about my son being in jail and my daughter running away—just to see if people actually read those things.  Only two people responded.  I think that’s the last one I ever sent.

Anyway, this week my family received a Christmas letter from the Baker family.  Larry Baker is one of my mentors, a man who has helped provide me with opportunities, a man from whom I have learned much.  In fact, our son Nathan is named for him.  Larry has doen a lot of writing through the years, and along with the Christmas letter, he sent a new year’s reflection he wrote for the occasion.  He concluded that reflection with words that struck me as powerful and encouraging in the early days of a brand new year.  They came in the form of a stanza from a poem.  Let me set the scene.

World War II officially began in September of 1939.  England, of course, was drawn into the conflict immediately and in 1940 would take an incredible pounding from the German Luftwaffe.  In his broadcast to the nation on Christmas, 1939, King George IV quoted Minnie Louise Haskin’s poem.  It’s a great poem for a new year as we launch out into an unknown future.

I said to the man who stood at the gate of the new year,

“Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”

And he replied, “Go out into the darkness and put your hand into   

     the hand of God.

That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way!”

All I can say to that is, “Amen.”

Simple Counsel for a New Year

As we close one year and prepare to begin a new one, I’m thinking about time.  Some anonymous wag reflected on life and time:

Life is tough.  It takes up a lot of your time, all your weekends, and what do you get at the end of it?  I think that life is all backward.  You should die first and get it out of the way.  Then you live twenty years in an old-age home.  You get kicked out when you’re too young.  You get a gold watch, you go to work.  You work forty years until you’re young enough to enjoy your retirement.  You go to college; you party until you’re ready for high school; you go to grade school; you become a little kid; you play.  You have no responsibilities.  You become a little baby; you go back into the womb; you spend your last nine months floating; and you finish up as a gleam in somebody’s eye.

Of course, things don’t work that way, do they?  Life moves forward, not backward.  And instead of finishing as a gleam in somebody’s eye, some finish burdened down with baggage from years misspent, relationships un-reconciled, and opportunities un-seized.  Many people finish life with a lot of what-ifs and if-onlys and a bucketful of regrets.  But this need not be.

God is into fresh starts and new beginnings.  You can’t change the past, but you can make a better future.  You can draw nearer to God through personal spiritual disciplines and involvement in the life of His church.  As far as it depends on you, you can live in peace with others, dropping old grudges and treating others with kindness and understanding.  You can commit to seize the God-offered opportunities that come your way in 2013.  You can set some goals that will get you where you want to go.  God gives us January for such things as this.

What helps me as the years transition are these three truths: God can redeem my past; God is with me in the present; and God holds the future—my future—in His good hands.

As Carl Bard once said, “Although no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.”  That “anyone” means you.

Yikes! December 21, 2012, Is Almost Here

So, what if the Mayans are right?  What if December 21—that’s Friday, you know—is doomsday, the last day for planet earth?  Are you ready?

Well, relax.  There’s a good deal of disagreement about whether the Mayans predicted the end of the world or just a new cycle for the world.  The Mayans believed history was cyclical, not linear.  Cyclical history doesn’t lend itself to definite endings but to new beginnings.  And even if the Mayans have predicted a definite end to the world on Friday, fear not.  The Mayans won’t be any more correct on their guess than have the hundreds of others across the centuries who have named this date or that date as the end of the world as we know it.  How many misled Christians have prognosticated the second coming of Jesus on a particular date, only to be proven wrong every time?  I suspect more than we can count.

The Scripture says in more than one place that no one knows the date of the end except God.  Period.  Not a prophet.  Not preacher.  Not a Mayan.  Not even the smartest man or woman in the world.  Only God.  And I can’t imagine that God would ever honor anyone’s prediction by drawing things to close on that date.  Such a person would be insufferable in eternity: “It was me!  I’m the one!  I got it right!  I got it right!”  Please.

But just because we don’t know an exact date doesn’t mean we can’t live in light of that day in this day.  According to Stephen Covey, one of the seven habits of highly effective people is to “begin with the end in mind.”  That’s a good idea for Christ-followers too.  Live today in the light the last day.  Do you remember how you felt when you put off studying for that test or preparing that paper until the last minute?  It’s called “cramming.”  You didn’t feel so confident about outcomes, did you?  Well, if you want to feel confident about being prepared for the last day, live this day in light of that last day.  Prepare now.

If the end is this week, are you prepared?  National Geographic recently did a national survey about doomsday scenarios.  Among the results, 62% believed we’re likely to experience a “major disaster” in the next twenty years, and 85% admit that they are not ready for it should it come.  An even more interesting question asked respondents what they would do the night before they thought the world would end.  Here are the three highest answers: 27% would resolve a family feud; 24% would have sex; and 20% would stock up on resources (although I imagine the shelves might be empty if they wait till the night before the end to do their shopping).

What would you do if the end was this Friday?  Could I encourage you to live every day as if the end was the next day: live in peace with God today; work for harmony in your relationships today; share the love of Christ with people today; spend time with God today; do your best on the job today; enjoy life today; glorify God today.  Every one of those things is a good thing.  Why wait till the very end to put such things into practice?  Live this day in light of the last day.  Don’t try to cram it all in at the end.  Who needs the angst?

I heard about a devoted follower of Jesus who was tending his garden one day when a friend asked him what he’d do if this was his last day on earth.  “Well,” he said, “the first thing I’d do is finish my gardening.”  There’s a man who’s prepared, a man who lives each day in light of the last day.  I want to be that man.  Do you?

_________

By the way, NASA has even weighed in on this craziness.  You can find a story about that here:

http://science.time.com/2012/12/12/nasa-versus-the-mayan-madness/?xid=newsletter-weekly

The Dark Side of Christmas

Is there anyone who hasn't heard of the events last Friday in Newtown, Connecticut?  And many have taken opportunity to put their two cents into the conversation.  It's no surprise that many immediately jumped on the political bandwagon to make points about gun control, school security, God in schools, etc.  I understand how this event can spawn such discussion.  But for now, we need to just shut up and mourn.  We can hash out these other issues soon enough.

As I was reflecting on this event—and especially with it happening here at Christmastime and all—I couldn't help but remember Herod's slaughter of Bethlehem's toddlers a year or two after Jesus' birth.  I posted on that story back in December of 2009.  While the post doesn't specifically address the Connecticut issue, it does offer some insight into where God is in all of that.

My lack of computer skills means that I don't know how to just copy and paste that blog into this spot, but I do know how to paste and link.  If you're interested in reading that post, drag the cursor over the link below, copy it, and then paste it into the address line.

http://johnmccallum.blogspot.com/2009/12/dark-side-of-christmas.html

In Case You Missed It

I don’t know how I missed such an important occasion.  You may have missed it too.  Text-messaging is 20 years old.  According to an Eric Limer report in gizmodo.com, on December 3rd 1992, a 22-year-old Canadian test engineer sat down and typed out a very simple message, "Merry Christmas." It flew over the Vodafone network to the phone of one Richard Jarvis, and since then, we just haven't been able to stop texting.

Texting is all the deal these days.  In fact, numerous people send more text messages than actually make phone calls.  I discovered a few years ago that if I called one of my kids, I’d usually have to leave a voice mail.  If I texted them, they texted me right back.  It’s a big deal all right, but it didn’t start that way.  In the very beginning, texts were just a way to send network notifications, namely to let you know you had a voice-mail.  In 1993, Nokia introduced GSM handsets capable of person-to-person texting.  Even then, it still didn’t take off.  In 1995, people were only sending an average of 4 text messages a month.

But what a difference a few years make.  In 2010, the world sent over 6.1 trillion messages, or roughly 193,000 per second. And that's just good old-fashioned SMS, not the dozens upon dozens of services it's inspired.  Texting has even spawned its own vocabulary: lol, bff, tnx, and though there are a jillion more, a dinosaur like me is pretty clueless as to any ones but these.  I suspect it’s not far from accurate to state that texting is right near the top of the way people communicate with one another anymore.

It’s ironic that that texting’s birthday comes in the same month that we celebrate the birth of Jesus.  God had been sending the world His messages through prophets and through those who wrote down the words and ideas God had inspired in their hearts.  But on that day in Bethlehem, God sent His Son.  God came in person.  No text.  No prophet announcement.  No voice out of a cloud.  God sent His Son—"born of a woman, born under the law to redeem those that are under the law that we might receive the full rights of sons" (Gal. 4:4).  Could a message be any more intimate or personal or powerful?  In effect, God was saying, “I’m not sending you a word or a prophet or a text; I’m coming down myself.”  Isaiah said it would happen and Matthew confirmed it: “The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel—which means ‘God with us.’”

So Happy Birthday, Texting, and Happy Birthday, Jesus.  Texting has changed a lot of things in its 20 years.  But it has a long way to go to catch up to the kind of changes Jesus has made in millions of lives, in numerous cultures, and in history itself.  If you missed texting’s birthday, no big deal.  But please, please, please, don’t miss Jesus’ birthday.  That is a big deal. Christmas got the ball rolling toward the cross and the resurrection and the securing of the life that is really life for all who believe.

You know, I'm so grateful I think I’ll send a text message to God: Tku 4 sending ur son.  Hppy bday, JC :)