Saints Triumphant!

Jesus rode a colt on his triumphal entry, and our football team did the same last night.

I never prayed that the New Orleans Saints would win the Super Bowl, although I was running in circles in my living room, screaming my head off when it happened.

I prayed with the team in their chapel services several times, but I did not pray for them to win. Win or lose, my prayers were that they would respond with the Christian character I know many of them possess. I prayed that they would give God the glory, speak unselfishly, and embrace their role as civic leaders and cheerleaders in a city still struggling to gain its footing.

I prayed for the New Orleans Saints. The players are young men with great athletic abilities under an intense spotlight. They respond spontaneously when the microphones are thrust in front of them. They face great temptations and great opportunities all at once.

My prayers were answered last night. By and large, the Saints responded to their astonishing victory with joy and self-restraint, celebration and thanksgiving, and often an explicit acknowledgment of faith in God. I was proud of them.

The term “Saints,” meaning “holy ones,” comes right out of the Bible. It is used most often in the letters of the Apostle Paul to refer to the members of the churches. It points to the holiness of God which he applies to us through the death of Christ upon the cross. We are “set apart” for God when we trust Christ as Savior and Lord. Saints are special in that they have been set apart for the purposes of God.

“Saints” also comes right out of New Orleans. We are and have been the “city of the saints” from the names of our streets to the names of our many churches (Catholic, Protestant, and others) to the monuments in our parks. You will not visit a city in America with more visible religious roots or more spiritual public culture.

The team here uses a religious term to designate their players. We use a religious symbol—the fleur de lis—as our team emblem. Down here in the bayou, we mean it. “Bless you, boys,” is our common commendation for these star athletes. Three archbishops have blessed this team with their interest and widely publicized attendance at games. Their presence is always front page news. So also is the display of the bones of Mary Magdalene and Ash Wednesday.

The local newspaper put a religious spin on the pilgrimage of our Saints. “Hell froze over” when we won the NFC championship, and we were “at heaven’s gate,” according to the headlines. The Saints went marching in last night. We were all in their number. Monday’s front page said it all: “Amen! After 43 years, our prayers are answered.”

The country—and maybe the world—have been cheering for us because we were the underdog. Our city and region are still struggling back to normalcy from a disaster of staggering proportions. The Saints have given a resounding answer to the question, “Can New Orleans recover?”

We are happy to be “America’s team” this year. We have been the subject of prayers and the destination of thousands of mission teams since Hurricane Katrina visited our shores. This outpouring of benevolence, perhaps unparalleled in the history of America, is followed appropriately by a great victory which all caring souls can embrace. As the Indianapolis Colts knew, the Super Bowl was a road game for them and a home game for the Saints.

New Orleans is an enigma, especially to those who view it from the outside, but also to us who live and work here. The city of the Saints is known to be one of the country’s flesh markets. The television shots bounced back and forth last night between Sun Life Stadium in Miami and the wall-to-wall, throbbing party on Bourbon Street. Is there any other place on earth where people dressed like nuns and popes lead parades of revelers? Is there another city where “revelers” is common lingo for Super Bowl enthusiasts?

Professional athletic competition may be mostly about entertainment, but it is also about character. The courage, determination and team work of the athletes inspire us to greater effort and better performance in our own contests of faith and strength.

The Saints are leading the charge in a city that aims to do better on every front. With the highest per capita murder rate in America and the lowest literacy rate and the highest rate of child hunger and rampant public corruption, the urgent needs in New Orleans transcend our tourist-focused Bourbon Street. The time for prayer has just begun.

The city elected a new mayor Saturday, Mitch Landrieu. Now there is a man to pray for! The son of a former mayor and brother of a current United States senator, “Mitch” won a landslide victory in the primary against five opponents—as startling a win as the Super Bowl.

The church of Jesus Christ, full of worshiping saints, is marching boldly into the future of this city, energized by the Holy Spirit, full of hope and faith, and prepared to do battle for the souls who live here. With the Good Samaritan as our model, we plunge into the fray eager to demonstrate the care of Christ in “the city that care forgot.”

Homeless Shelter Cold Snap

Beth is an employee of Winn-Dixie. She works at night in the bakery. She also has experience working in a pharmacy. She is articulate, bright, and interesting. I met her Friday night at the Allie Mae Williams Auditorium. She is homeless.

She was working to husband her funds so that she could spend the night Sunday night in a hotel. I saw her again Sunday night at dinner at the temporary homeless shelter, and she told me that she would not be spending the night. She came to eat, but she had a hotel room for the night.

Beth is pleasant and full of smiles. I do not know why she is homeless. I do not think it has to do with drug use or mental illness.

Rocky is a big talker. He, too, is interesting and cheerful and homeless.

Thanks to all who helped and gave and served and prayed us through this cold weekend just past. We communicated the love of Christ to many homeless people who told me how grateful they are for the food and other goods we provided them. We worked alongside city employees, Unity for the Homeless, and other churches to man the center and feed the people.

God is good to give us new friends and new connections to people who are very precious to him.

Soggy Days

My life behind the levee is all about water.

The rain gauge overflowed this morning for the second time in four days meaning that I have received at least 18 inches of rain at my house in the last eight days. More is on the way. I am catching tiny rivulets in pans in front of the fireplace and have been in the attic and on the roof searching for the leak.

My brother, Jonathan Paul, was born on this day 51 years ago. That also was a blue day for me. I already had three brothers, and I wanted a sister really badly. They tell me I was inconsolable when the sad news came, so they named the little boy “Jonathan” because he was the best friend of David.

I felt a little better, but it greatly distressed my older brother, Timothy, the eldest child, who thought that this fifth sibling should be named in reference to him rather than a noisy five-year-old like me. So Jon’s middle name is “Paul” because Paul was the close friend of Timothy.

You make the best of rainy days. And usually in hindsight they are not as disappointing as they seem at first. Jonathan Paul turned out to be useful to Tim and me in a number of ways. He made an interesting target when we got our new pop guns, and he took the girl’s part in our quartet.

Something good will come of all this rain, I am sure. The storm drains in the parking lots at the church were clogged a few days ago, and the lower parking lot turned into a retention pond. But at least it kept a little water out of the cemetery where caskets are at risk of bobbing when the water rises (a casket was stranded on church property after Hurricane Katrina).

I am in New Orleans, thankfully, where every drop of water that falls inside the levee system is channeled to giant pumps that spew it into the lake. I watched a flooded street once turn into a river running toward the drains, and then two creeks on either side of the street’s crest, and then small streams. You could almost hear the giant sucking sound as every drop disappeared into the storm sewers. It took all of 15 minutes to go from an eight-inch-deep lake to moist asphalt curb to curb.

The water was waist-deep in the baptistery Sunday as I baptized a Jordanian man who placed his faith in Christ as a teenager but waited to be baptized until both his father and mother trusted Christ as well.

Salem grew up in the desert where 18 inches of rain falls over a two-year period. John the Baptist walked into the Jordan River to baptize because half of the fresh water in that part of the world is in that one, not-too-wide, river. Galilee is the water pipeline for the rest of Israel.

I have stood in ancient baptismal pools along the Jordan River and the Dead Sea. The rabbis devised complex systems for capturing rain water and transporting water from nearby wells and streams.

Herod the Great actually built swimming pools at the impregnable mountain fortress of Masada. The water to fill these large pools was carried by slaves and beasts of burden up the precipitous cliffs along hazardous trails. The radical Hebrew sect that later occupied Masada had sufficient water in hand for a thousand people to endure a two-year siege by the Romans.

Baptists immerse new followers of Jesus in pools of water just as John the Baptist did. God’s abundant supply of all good things is strikingly illustrated in this powerful ritual that began in such a parched part of the world.

My father laments that Central Texas always needs rain. The further west, the more pronounced the need.

My yard in New Orleans is green today, and the roses and hibiscus are blooming. Soggy days are now and always have been God’s promise of blossoms and buds to follow.

Commercializing Christmas

My brothers and I were some of the original people to commercialize Christmas. Dad was trying to make ends meet one year, and he decided to sell Christmas candy in the suburbs of El Paso. I was about twelve, I think, and Tim was fourteen, Tom was eleven, Danny was nine, and Jon was almost eight. Our younger siblings waited in the station wagon.

I remember those colorful tin cans we carried from house to house. They had pictures on the outside of the candy on the inside. It was the hard candy that is good to suck but terrible to chew - sticks in your teeth and you have to rub it out with your tongue! I never could resist chewing that candy. It just melted too slow for me.

We thought we were on silver stocking lane in that subdivision. Looking back, I realize it was just an average middle class neighborhood, but I didn't have any idea about socioeconomic classes back then. I figured everybody wore hand me downs and took their lunches to school in grocery sacks.

The people in those houses were very nice to us. I suppose I would have been the same way, it being Christmas and us being young boys trying to make some money for a "needy family." That's what we told them if they asked we were raising money for a needy family. I think some of them guessed that the needy family was us!
So that's how we did our part to commercialize Christmas when I was a boy. I didn't know then that we could count the shopping days until Christmas. It would have helped us sell more candy. It's hard to communicate a sense of urgency about buying candy unless you have some kind of deadline to do it in.

Have a great holiday season, and don't let the pressure get to you. Remember that the time you spend together as a family is more important than what's in the boxes. Have your family in church for the Christmas concerts and the Christmas Eve Service. Sing the songs loudly enough so you can hear each other. Think about the words: "Silent night, holy night, all is calm."

THE EFFECT OF CARING

Caring for another human being has an effect. The effect is felt both by the giver and the recipient of the care.

Caring is an experience. It originates in heart and soul. It occurs in time and space. It affects and connects giver and recipient—I and thou discovered in the moment of caring.

Caring has power—amazing power. It is healing and transformational. No one in the matrix of care remains unchanged. Caring carries us from the inertia of self-absorption into the energy of dynamic relation.

The greatest feeling in the world is not created by illegal drugs. It is experienced through the power of caring.

You have not lived until you have cared for another person with no thought of a return favor. Literally, this statement is true. Life itself unfolds and multiplies only in the process of giving.

Acts of compassion are generally seen as blessings bestowed upon those in need. And they are.

However, Jesus taught that it is more blessed to give than to receive (Acts 20:35). If we describe the blessing of giving accurately, we will first address the greatest blessing—that bestowed upon the giver. This is the primary and most predictable effect of care.

Caring for a person in need is liberty. It is liberation from the black hole of selfishness. Caring for another person wrenches my mind from the prison of self, from the trap of regrets and doubts, into the mysterious and exhilarating journey of concerned relationship.

Caring for a person in need is therapy. The most common sicknesses in the human heart are guilt, sorrow, anger, and shame. They are products of a fixation upon what used to be or could have been or should have been. This orientation backward robs the present of its potential and frustrates the universal longing for meaningful relationships now. The sick of heart are best advised to become care-givers. Meeting the needs of another person is the best way to your own healing.

Caring for a person in need is hilarity. The Apostle Paul wrote, “God loves a cheerful giver” (2 Corinthians 9:7). The Greek word translated “cheerful” is hilaros from which we get the English word hilarious. God loves a hilarious giver—a cheerful, joyful, happy giver.

You will be happier and more satisfied with life. Your family will enjoy better emotional and spiritual health. Your church will experience a new unity and greater sense of purpose and mission. The community around you will acknowledge your caring ways, and a new reputation of love and concern will emerge.

Like eagles that mount the lofty heights, people who express their love through practical deeds of kindness soar above and beyond the doldrums of life. Jesus came to give us abundant life. He modeled this abundance in his own giving ways. And he challenged his followers to imitate the servant spirit exemplified in washing the feet of others. Foot-washing, along with his crucifixion, was his premier example of an abundant life lived according to God’s will.

The Care Effect: More Blessed to Give

I checked the street sign one day to see if it said “Skid Row,” craning my neck up and around. Dad always said that the Rescue Mission in El Paso was on Skid Row, and I thought he meant the street outside the doors of the mission. Maybe Skid Row is the side street, I thought, not the main drag.

My father took my brothers and me with him to Skid Row every other Sunday. He preached to the gathered assortment of street people, hitchhikers, alcoholics, and ladies of the night. We boys sang hymns in four-part harmony.

Dad always closed his message with an invitation for the assembled crowd, weary and hungry. He invited them to trust in Jesus Christ for their salvation. When the flush-faced, inebriated middle-aged man fell upon the railing at the front, kneeling to pour out his soul, one of us boys would kneel down beside him and pray with him.

Dinner followed the worship service. The mission had no money to give my father for his message, but they graciously fed his family. We sat down beside the street people and gratefully ate the fare. Often we departed with exotic leftovers, dates expired, from nearby grocery stores—lobster tails and strange cheeses.

This stretch of my childhood, when my father was only marginally employed, was the time when we were most economically deprived as a family. We returned to El Paso from Minnesota after repossessing a home my father built. We had a place to live on Easy Way near Canutillo, but Dad did not have a church to serve.

So trips to the Rescue Mission became our routine when I was 11 or 12 years old. Dad taught his four oldest children—four stair-step boys—to sing a capella in four-part harmony. We sang, Dad preached, and we prayed with those who responded.

I was introduced to the Care Effect at that Rescue Mission. My own soul warmed in the experience of caring. We helped the clients bring in from the sidewalk their possessions, captured in pasteboard boxes. They wore ill-fitting hand-me-downs. I did, too. I learned to care for these people, as my father did, and the caring transformed a time of hardship into an era of wonder and joy that I have never forgotten.

It marked my soul, those months of ministry at the mission. The effect of those days surfaced over and over again through the subsequent years. The vivid memories linger in my mind and heart to this very day. My understanding of life and my self-understanding were shaped by the activities and experience of caring for the down-and-out.

Dad took us to the orphanage across the border in Juarez, Mexico. We met and played with children abandoned by their parents. I held a toddler whose desperately poor mother rubbed hot peppers in her eyes so that, as a blind infant, she would generate greater sympathy and make begging more productive.

These childhood experiences of ministry to the poor were some of the first laboratories in which I learned the desperation of poverty and the power of caring. But they were not the last.

I have been a pastor for 35 years, and the poor have always been with me, just as Jesus said they would be. I find joy in seeking to lift the downtrodden, comfort the broken-hearted, and care for the dying. I mark the moment when I meet a person in need. The contact point is in and of itself sufficient reason for my involvement regardless of any future outcome. I do not justify my ministry by “results.” I attempt to view the moment of service as complete in itself.

The Care Effect is what happens to me if I am able to give myself fully in the moment of need, engaging the other person with sincere love. The act of caring draws my soul outward and upward—an exercise of the heart. I may feel satisfaction later with the results achieved, or I may be disappointed at the apparent futility of my effort.

Regardless, the pure joy of caring for another, the blessedness of giving, is its own reward.

THE END IS COMING!

Nothing sells books and movies like predicting the end of the world. Janet and I saw a new commercial this week for “2012,” yet another cinematic adventure in this literary genre.
Eschatology is the theological study of last things. Much of the excitement about “Bible prophesy” is not actually about Bible prophesy at all. It is the same excitement that comes with the movie “2012.”
The Bible makes it clear that the Lord Jesus will return one day. It also makes it crystal clear that no one knows when this will happen except the Father in heaven.
Eschatology is not about when or how. It is about who and what. Jesus is the end of all things. That is the who. And God wins. That is the what.
Jesus told us about the end of time so that we would live for him in the here and now. His childish disciples pled with him for dates and charts about the end of time. He refused to succumb to their foolish curiosity. They asked him many times. He gave them this answer: “It is not for you to know” (Acts 1:7).
People, it is not for us to know. The prophets of the Bible were generally forth-telling, not fore-telling. They were speaking the word of God to the leaders and the people. That was their task. When they digressed into fore-telling, predicting future events, they always did so in order to challenge the people of the present to live for God and to abandon their sinful practices. That is the purpose of prophetic utterances—to point the people of God to their true source and their true behavior.
The “when and how” boys are opportunistic and entrepreneurial. They sell millions of books generation after generation despite their mistaken and often fraudulent claims. The sheep keep coming back for more.
All the charts are wrong. None of them actually come from the Bible. They are pieced together by humans who write into them their preconceptions, biases, systems, and errors. The true center and purpose of eschatology is not timelines but ethics—how I live here and now. Get that right and you are ready for end whenever and however it comes.