The process has begun. For some the idea has been brewing for weeks – maybe months. For others, the idea is nothing more than a last second impulse. At the stroke of midnight on December 31st, a new year begins, and this is the year when that stubborn 30 pounds will be lost, or chaotic finances will brought to order, or that Bible will be read cover to cover. There exists a wide variety of these types of commitments, and we call them “New Year’s Resolutions”. Though often well-intentioned and much needed, many, if not most New Year’s Resolutions fail.
These resolutions are not fulfilled for a variety of reasons, and one of them is that a calendar year is too long a period of time for many people to remain committed and focused. The reality is that most of us need a much shorter time period on which we focus, and that time period is called “now”. Whether we accomplish anything in the New Year, in the next month, day, or hour is determined by the choices we make now, in this moment. For the person whose resolution is to lose 30 pounds in 2011, his success of failure will be dependent on the choices he makes, moment by moment when presented with options to eat one thing as opposed to another. This is true of life in general. The outcome of our lives is very much dependent on the choices we make in the moment.
The counsel of God’s word addresses the matter of choices:
We are to choose serve the Lord, not the world. (Josh 24:15)
We are to choose the instruction, wisdom, and knowledge of God over silver or gold (Prov 8:10-11, Prov 16:6)
We are to reject the wrong and choose the right. (Isa 7:15).
It’s sad to say, but we live in a culture in which choosing to serve God, or choosing to live according to His instruction, wisdom, and knowledge, or choosing what is right (according to His instruction, wisdom, and knowledge) is viewed as peculiar. Even worse, some would label it hateful, intolerant, and narrow-minded. Nonetheless, I know that if the next choice I make “in the moment” is based on the wisdom of God, a desire to serve Him, and a commitment to what is right in His eyes, it will be a good choice. If the next choice is also good, and the next, and the next, at the end of the day, week, month, year, or lifetime, I will have accomplished much – perhaps not in the eyes of the culture, but in the only place it really matters – in the eyes of God.
In the gospel of John, we find these words:
You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit-- fruit that will last.
This verse reminds me that when God chose me, he also appointed me. This means that he established a purpose for me, and that he ordained me to go and bear fruit that will last. I know that this cannot happen unless I make good choices “in the moment”. This is true for you and all believers as well.
My prayer for you and me is that we will, in the next new moment, make choices that are pleasing to God, bearing fruit that will last. May it be so…
In Christ –
John
Soli Deo Gloria
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Thursday, December 16, 2010
THE PATCH and CHRISTMAS
The house was a wood frame, two-story structure in need of repair. It sat on a road of dirt and gravel, and was part of a two or three block area in the South Hills of Pittsburgh known as “The Patch”. All of the houses on our street in The Patch were similar in construction and condition, and this is where I, along with my father, mother, “Busha” (Polish for “grandmother”), older brother, and sister, spent the first five years of my life.
The Patch was an old and decaying “Company Town.” A company town is a town in which much or all real estate, buildings (both residential and commercial), small businesses such as grocery stores and other necessities of life within its borders were owned by a single company. The Patch was once owned by a coal mining company.1 In some areas of the country, up to 80% of coal miners lived in company towns – in Pennsylvania, about 50% lived in these towns constructed and controlled by the companies they worked for.
Like many company towns in the United States, The Patch had reverted to private ownership once most of the coal had been extracted from the mines, and by 1950 (the year of my birth), the area had become a “less than ideal” place to live.
Many of my memories of life in The Patch are actually “borrowed memories” – the recollections of my siblings shared with me over the years. Even though I was very young, some of the memories are my own. I remember that it was very dirty, we had a chicken coop in our back yard, and there seemed to be a lot of dogs wandering around. I have a very vivid memory of two brothers who lived in The Patch who were the neighborhood bullies. I can’t recall their names, but they would mysteriously appear “out of nowhere” when my older brother and I would use the alley that ran behind our home. For those of you who have seen the movie “A Christmas Story” (Ralphie and the Red Rider BB gun), these guys were like the bullies in that movie – only bigger.
Our father was a very hard working man. He worked the night shift at what was then Duquesne Brewery, and he usually had at least one other part-time job. Thanks to his efforts, he rescued us from The Patch in 1955 when we moved into a new three bedroom ranch home. Although the new house was located just a couple of miles away, it seemed like a different world – a cleaner, brighter, safer world. I have no way of knowing how life would have turned out had we remained in The Patch, but I do know that in retrospect, I am very thankful for what our father did for us.
As much as I appreciate what my earthly father did for our family, I realize that his sacrifice pales in comparison to what my Heavenly Father has done for me. He has rescued me from “The Patch of Spiritual Darkness” and brought me into the kingdom of the Son he loves. (Col. 1:13) He has prepared for me a room in the Father’s house (John 14:2), and He did this through Emmanuel – “God with us.” This is what we are to be remembering during this holiday that the world calls “Christmas” – the arrival of God himself, in the form of a human being, in the body of a child.
Occasionally I need to remind myself that Christ was not born so that we would have a reason to establish a holiday. He was born as the fulfillment of God’s divine plan to redeem sinful man. He was born for me – to pay the penalty for my sin – to rescue me from my Patch of Spiritual Darkness.
My earthly father died at age 40 – long before I came to appreciate his sacrifice for my mother, my siblings, and for me. In light of the perspective I now have about what he did for my family through his hard work and effort; I imagine that a celebration of his birthday would be a bit different than the traditional. I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be about the gifts and the decorations. It would be a day to celebrate and honor his arrival into this world – the day his sacrifice began.
In Christ –
John
Soli Deo Gloria
1The South Hills area of Pittsburgh has been extensively mined.
The Patch was an old and decaying “Company Town.” A company town is a town in which much or all real estate, buildings (both residential and commercial), small businesses such as grocery stores and other necessities of life within its borders were owned by a single company. The Patch was once owned by a coal mining company.1 In some areas of the country, up to 80% of coal miners lived in company towns – in Pennsylvania, about 50% lived in these towns constructed and controlled by the companies they worked for.
Like many company towns in the United States, The Patch had reverted to private ownership once most of the coal had been extracted from the mines, and by 1950 (the year of my birth), the area had become a “less than ideal” place to live.
Many of my memories of life in The Patch are actually “borrowed memories” – the recollections of my siblings shared with me over the years. Even though I was very young, some of the memories are my own. I remember that it was very dirty, we had a chicken coop in our back yard, and there seemed to be a lot of dogs wandering around. I have a very vivid memory of two brothers who lived in The Patch who were the neighborhood bullies. I can’t recall their names, but they would mysteriously appear “out of nowhere” when my older brother and I would use the alley that ran behind our home. For those of you who have seen the movie “A Christmas Story” (Ralphie and the Red Rider BB gun), these guys were like the bullies in that movie – only bigger.
Our father was a very hard working man. He worked the night shift at what was then Duquesne Brewery, and he usually had at least one other part-time job. Thanks to his efforts, he rescued us from The Patch in 1955 when we moved into a new three bedroom ranch home. Although the new house was located just a couple of miles away, it seemed like a different world – a cleaner, brighter, safer world. I have no way of knowing how life would have turned out had we remained in The Patch, but I do know that in retrospect, I am very thankful for what our father did for us.
As much as I appreciate what my earthly father did for our family, I realize that his sacrifice pales in comparison to what my Heavenly Father has done for me. He has rescued me from “The Patch of Spiritual Darkness” and brought me into the kingdom of the Son he loves. (Col. 1:13) He has prepared for me a room in the Father’s house (John 14:2), and He did this through Emmanuel – “God with us.” This is what we are to be remembering during this holiday that the world calls “Christmas” – the arrival of God himself, in the form of a human being, in the body of a child.
Occasionally I need to remind myself that Christ was not born so that we would have a reason to establish a holiday. He was born as the fulfillment of God’s divine plan to redeem sinful man. He was born for me – to pay the penalty for my sin – to rescue me from my Patch of Spiritual Darkness.
My earthly father died at age 40 – long before I came to appreciate his sacrifice for my mother, my siblings, and for me. In light of the perspective I now have about what he did for my family through his hard work and effort; I imagine that a celebration of his birthday would be a bit different than the traditional. I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be about the gifts and the decorations. It would be a day to celebrate and honor his arrival into this world – the day his sacrifice began.
In Christ –
John
Soli Deo Gloria
1The South Hills area of Pittsburgh has been extensively mined.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
TRUE CONFESSIONS AND UNFAILING LOVE
It’s a ritual that began when she was a little girl, and it was repeated again as I said goodbye to our daughter after staying with her for a few days over Thanksgiving. We hugged, and I said quietly in her ear, “You’re my girl.” She responded, “You’re my Dad.” Six words exchanged between a 60 year old father and a 31 year old daughter. To some it may seem silly. To us it is simple, yet profound, as those six words are packed full of meaning.
I really have no idea how or when our ritual started. I do know that it began early in her young life, that it happened naturally, and that the ritual - and more importantly - the meaning, was immediately established. And it has gone on ever since.
From the moment that God brought her into the world, I knew that there is something very special about the love of a father for his daughter. Now don’t get me wrong – God has blessed us with a son as well, and I don’t love him any less than I love our daughter. By no means. It’s just different. It’s more tender, more protective…
Now that she lives seven hours away, we don’t get to see her as often as we would like. Now and then I remind her of my love for her. I concluded a recent e mail with these words:
“Always remember Erin, the unlimited love the Father has for you. It is immeasurable, and ‘as high as the heavens are above the earth.’ And remember that your earthly father loves and cherishes you. You have always been so very special to me, and time and distance between us has not, and will not change that one bit.
I love, like, respect, and admire you, Erin. And remember this – You will always be My Girl.”
As I have been thinking about this over the days since our Thanksgiving visit, I am reminded that, as much as I love my wife, my son, and my daughter, that love is puny compared to the love that God has for me. His love is not only greater in quantity than my love, it is greater in quality.
I have a confession to make – sometimes I love myself more than I love others, and this includes my wife, my son, and My Girl. And the rest of you? Well, you fall even further down the list. Sorry, but It’s true. Because of my sinful nature, my “default setting” is selfishness, and I find that unless I am yielding to God’s Spirit, allowing him full control, I am unable to love others as I should, for love comes from God. (1 John 4:7)
Praise God that his love is not like mine. The unfailing love of God is referenced over thirty times in the Psalms and twice in Proverbs, and this love will not be shaken (Isaiah 54:10). His love is not dependent upon mood, circumstance, or the worthiness of those he loves. He loves because it is part of His nature. He IS love. (1 John 4:8; 1 John 4:16)
As God continues the process of transforming my life, He has shown me that my human love is subject to failure. I’m talking “crash and burn” failure. At the same time, He has, through His word, taught me that love – real love – is one of the fruits of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22) and that as a believer, the Spirit is always with me and in me (John 14:17). When I give up the stubborn desire to be in control and yield to the Holy Spirit, then and only then am I capable of loving my wife, my son, my daughter – and yes, the rest of you – as I should.
May it be so…
In Christ –
John
Soli Deo Gloria
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