Now is the time for last minute gifts. The time of the holiday when folks all run out at the same time to buy more stuff to stuff the stocking or because they forgot Uncle Fred's gift...again. Or Aunt Gertie just called and said she's coming to your house for Christmas. Oh joy!
Last minute gifts. Aren't you glad Jesus wasn't a last minute gift? Jesus, the gift of God to the world, wasn't an afterthought. The gift of Christ to the world was most anticipated. More than 300 Old Testament prophecies were fulfilled with precision by the life of Jesus. 300!
Scholars and mathematicians have calculated the odds. Set 300 aside for a moment. If Jesus had only fulfilled 8 of the Messianic prophecies in the Old Testament, the odds would be 1 out of 10 to the 17th power (a one followed by 17 zeros).
Try wrapping your mind around it this way: Mark one silver dollar with a marker and hide it in a stack of silver dollars two feet deep that covers the entire state of Texas. Blindfold someone and have them pick the marked silver dollar at random on the first try. How do you like the odds? And that's only 8 of the prophecies. The odds of one man fulfilling 60 -- not 300 -- but 60 of these prophecies would be 1 out of 10 to the 895th power.*
Brain freeze!
Jesus was not a last minute gift. Unless you think of it in a much different way. The minute before I accepted the gift of Jesus as my personal Savior was the last minute I lived only for myself. The next minute was the first minute I began living for God. Between that last minute and that next minute, time met eternity in my heart. I was forgiven. The transaction for my soul was ratified. I was born again.
I didn't embrace a religion. I didn't pick up a new set of meditation mantras. I didn't hold myself real tight, embrace the inner child (mine's ADD...he won't hold still long enough to be embraced), or will my way into right living. I gave up. I surrendered. I quit. I died. Went into the tomb of my soul and found Jesus there. He wasn't dead. He was alive. And He was giving out new life! I resurrected from that tomb a new person -- alive only because Christ lives in me.
How difficult is it to describe new life to someone who is still spiritually dead? Probably as difficult as a butterfly trying to convince a caterpillar about the change in his life. All you can do is spread your wings, fly, and testify!
Don't wait until the last minute. You don't know which one it is any more than a blindfolded person knows which silver dollar is marked. Choose this minute to be the last minute you live without Jesus.
See you in a minute.
Perry Crisp
*Statistics provided in "A Rabbi Looks at the Last Days," by Rabbi Jonathan Bernis, p. 81-82.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Thursday, December 17, 2009
I'm a Kneedy Fella
"Fall on your knees, oh hear the angel voices. Oh night divine..." You know the Christmas hymn, don't you? "O Holy Night" was written in 1847 and was quite possibly the first song ever played on the radio. On Christmas Eve, 1906, Reginald Fessenden broadcast the first AM radio program which included him playing "O Holy Night" on the violin.
The lyrics are powerful. Yet, I wonder if anyone other than the person being shoved to the ground at a shopping mall ever falls to his or her knees any more at Christmas.
Falling on your knees is not a glamorous thing to do. The knee itself isn't much to look at. It's just a knobby saucer of bone designed to... Hmmm.
What great purpose DOES the knee serve? Obviously, it's a great source of humor when someone is shivering and you can see their knees quivering. Sure, it comes in handy when you sit at that part of the table where the table legs jut out and you scoot your chair up without realizing it. And I can attest to the importance of the knee when your brother's baseball bat "accidentally" (let's all roll our eyes in unison) slips out of his hands.
But seriously -- why is there a round bone floating around in there at that particular location? Does it serve any great purpose other than to make embarrassing popping noises?
The knee isn't given much respect in our anthropomorphic colloquialisms either. You'll never hear someone say, "Now, there's a man who can stand on his own two knees." No one ever shouts, "Let's give her a knee!" Noooo. The foot and the hand get the glory. What does the knee get?
The knee gets humility. If a football player "takes a knee," it means he would rather surrender than run with the ball. When a man is looking for forgiveness after saying or doing something really stupid and is in jeopardy of wearing (instead of eating) his dinner, he drops to his knees to beg forgiveness. The beggar pleads for help from his knees. The maid scrubs the floor while on her knees. All humiliating tasks for those calcified cups.
Oh, but the knee does enjoy a few moments in the spotlight. After scoring a touchdown, the football player drops to his knee to give thanks. The young man in love causes the woman he loves to gasp when he falls to his knee to propose marriage.
But the most powerful moment for our knees is when we fall on our knees to worship and adore Almighty God. In God's kingdom, the way up is down. Before you can ever rise in strength, you must kneel in weakness.
Jesus came humbly. He chose the horse trough over the Hilton. Christ IS Christmas. He is the Savior born to bring the hope of new life to all who will come to Him. So, somewhere at some point, would you clear out a moment to fall on your knees, listen again to those angel voices, and remember that night divine?
Obviously, some are not physically able to get on their knees. That's okay. It is the heart that makes the difference in prayer and worship, not the knees. The point is --- simply discover the power of a humble moment before God.
"'Til He appeared and the soul felt its worth..."
Jesus is all I Kneed,
perry crisp
The lyrics are powerful. Yet, I wonder if anyone other than the person being shoved to the ground at a shopping mall ever falls to his or her knees any more at Christmas.
Falling on your knees is not a glamorous thing to do. The knee itself isn't much to look at. It's just a knobby saucer of bone designed to... Hmmm.
What great purpose DOES the knee serve? Obviously, it's a great source of humor when someone is shivering and you can see their knees quivering. Sure, it comes in handy when you sit at that part of the table where the table legs jut out and you scoot your chair up without realizing it. And I can attest to the importance of the knee when your brother's baseball bat "accidentally" (let's all roll our eyes in unison) slips out of his hands.
But seriously -- why is there a round bone floating around in there at that particular location? Does it serve any great purpose other than to make embarrassing popping noises?
The knee isn't given much respect in our anthropomorphic colloquialisms either. You'll never hear someone say, "Now, there's a man who can stand on his own two knees." No one ever shouts, "Let's give her a knee!" Noooo. The foot and the hand get the glory. What does the knee get?
The knee gets humility. If a football player "takes a knee," it means he would rather surrender than run with the ball. When a man is looking for forgiveness after saying or doing something really stupid and is in jeopardy of wearing (instead of eating) his dinner, he drops to his knees to beg forgiveness. The beggar pleads for help from his knees. The maid scrubs the floor while on her knees. All humiliating tasks for those calcified cups.
Oh, but the knee does enjoy a few moments in the spotlight. After scoring a touchdown, the football player drops to his knee to give thanks. The young man in love causes the woman he loves to gasp when he falls to his knee to propose marriage.
But the most powerful moment for our knees is when we fall on our knees to worship and adore Almighty God. In God's kingdom, the way up is down. Before you can ever rise in strength, you must kneel in weakness.
Jesus came humbly. He chose the horse trough over the Hilton. Christ IS Christmas. He is the Savior born to bring the hope of new life to all who will come to Him. So, somewhere at some point, would you clear out a moment to fall on your knees, listen again to those angel voices, and remember that night divine?
Obviously, some are not physically able to get on their knees. That's okay. It is the heart that makes the difference in prayer and worship, not the knees. The point is --- simply discover the power of a humble moment before God.
"'Til He appeared and the soul felt its worth..."
Jesus is all I Kneed,
perry crisp
Monday, December 7, 2009
Life Puzzles
Jeff sat on his bed and turned the pages of the worn out, paperback Bible he had found a few hours earlier on a bench just outside the courthouse. He and a few other inmates from the county jail were frequently required to pick up trash around the courthouse. Jeff found the Bible and asked if he could keep it.
Lance, the officer in charge of keeping an eye on Jeff and the other members of the clean-up detail, looked the Bible over and handed it back to Jeff, "You can keep it if you want. It looks like it's sat out here for quite a while. There's plenty of Bibles in better shape than that back at the jail."
Jeff thanked Lance and tucked the Bible under his arm. Jeff knew about the other Bibles at the jail, but something about this Bible intrigued him. He had been alone with his thoughts for countless hours prior to finding this Bible, wondering how he could make some sense out of his life.
It was as if his life was a puzzle with a huge piece missing. He kept trying different pieces, thinking he'd found the missing piece time and time again with drugs, alcohol, and relationships. But as he placed each one of those pieces into his life puzzle, they all eventually ripped themselves out, leaving a bigger chunk of his puzzle incomplete. As strange as it seemed, finding this Bible tapped into Jeff's mind with a question, "Could this book be the answer to finding the piece I'm missing?"
Jeff didn't know if it was or not. But the way he looked at it, he had plenty of time on his hands to find out. And Jeff had quite an imagination. He approached this Bible as if he were a treasure seeker who had found an ancient map to a treasure chest.
He turned the pages, scanning...searching. He soon realized it would take quite a while to read the whole thing front to back. He looked down the index, hoping something would jump out at him. His finger stopped on Luke.
Luke was the name of Jeff's grandfather. A preacher, now retired. Jeff's grandfather was the one person in his life who had loved him unconditionally. Jeff turned to the book of Luke. This particular Bible was the Contemporary English Version with bold captions, like newspaper headlines, describing each section. Jeff scanned past the first three chapters. When he came to chapter four, the following bold caption caused his heart to jump, "The People of Nazareth Turn Against Jesus."
"Now THAT I can identify with!" Jeff thought to himself. Deep down inside, Jeff knew that he was responsible for where he was. But Jeff didn't get there without a few incidents in his life that contributed to a deep anger and resentment. He often felt like others had turned against him.
Jeff was shocked to know that HE could identify with JESUS. Or better yet, that Jesus could understand what Jeff felt. That thought drew Jeff to read beneath that caption. It was there that he found these words:
"Jesus went back to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, and as usual he went to the meeting place on the Sabbath. When he stood up to read from the Scriptures, he was given the book of Isaiah the prophet. He opened it and read, 'The Lord's Spirit has come to me, because he has chosen me to tell the good news to the poor. The Lord has sent me to announce freedom for prisoners..." Jeff stopped. Leaned closer to the words. He read those words again, "The Lord has sent me to announce freedom for prisoners."
Jeff was now captivated by this book. He continued, "'...to give sight to the blind, to free everyone who suffers...'" Without realizing that he spoke outloud, he said, "That's me!" Someone napping nearby raised up and asked, "Did you say something?"
Jeff realized then that he had spoken outloud. "No. Nothing," he said. "Go back to sleep."
Jeff kept reading. He discovered that Jesus was talking about himself. Jesus was the one Isaiah had written about. Jesus could set Jeff free. But how?
Jeff didn't find the answer to that right away. He folded the top of page 1060 in his "new" Bible and laid down to think. He fell asleep.
Over the next couple of days, Jeff kept looking in that Bible for the answer. "How can Jesus set me free?" He couldn't find it. One night, he woke up in the middle of the night and could not go back to sleep. He remembered something his Grandpa Luke once told him, "Jeff, if you can't go back to sleep, just lay there and pray. God's up all night. Just start talking to him and eventually you'll go back to sleep."
Jeff didn't know how to talk to God, but he did it anyway. Two words came out of his mouth, "God...how?" Tears rolled down the sides of his face. Just a few, at first. But once the tear pump was primed, out they gushed. All of Jeff's anger came out in sobs stifled into a pillow.
He fell asleep. When he awoke the next morning, he picked up his Bible again. It fell open to John 8. Another bold caption leaped off the page, "The Truth Will Set You Free." Just under that caption, Jeff read the words of Jesus, "You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free."
What truth? Jeff scrambled back through the previous seven chapters. He was beginning to learn who this Jesus truly was...is. When he caught up to chapter 8 again, he kept reading until he got to chapter 14. The life puzzle pieces began to fall like manna from heaven...
"Don't be worried! Have faith in God and have faith in me" (John 8:1). A huge puzzle piece fell into place. In Jeff's heart and mind, it seemed like lights were starting to come on and darkness was being driven away.
Then he read Jesus' words in verse 6, "I am the way, the truth, and the life!"
Suddenly, it became clear. The truth that would set Jeff free was Jesus! If Jeff would believe in and trust Jesus, he would become a free man. Not free from a county jail. Free on the inside...where true freedom exists.
Jeff got on his knees while others around the jail gave him puzzled glances. Jeff prayed, "Jesus, I believe in God and in You. Please forgive me and set me free. I'm not much, but You can have me. I want You to take my life and make something of it."
The prayer was answered. Jeff's life was no longer an unfinished puzzle, but a clear picture of what it means to be truly free. Jeff carried that Bible with him everywhere he went. It was so worn out, others just had to ask about it. Jeff was glad to tell them how much like that Bible he was. To everyone else, Jeff didn't seem worth much. Some folks thought he should just be discarded. But Jesus found Jeff, picked him up, tucked him under His arm, and now carries Jeff everywhere He goes so that he can tell his story and help others find the missing pieces to their life puzzle.
As a writer, it is easy for me to make up a Jeff story and feel good about it. As a Christian, I need to realize that there is a world filled with Jeffs and Jeff puzzles. When the Jeffs of this world are set free, will they find love, acceptance, and ministry in our churches? In my heart? Our challenge is simple. Love who Jesus loves. Accept who Jesus accepts. It doesn't matter whether you find Jesus in a pew or a prison. We all need the same grace and mercy.
Don't look for an "X" on the treasure map of life. Look for a cross.
Perry Crisp
Lance, the officer in charge of keeping an eye on Jeff and the other members of the clean-up detail, looked the Bible over and handed it back to Jeff, "You can keep it if you want. It looks like it's sat out here for quite a while. There's plenty of Bibles in better shape than that back at the jail."
Jeff thanked Lance and tucked the Bible under his arm. Jeff knew about the other Bibles at the jail, but something about this Bible intrigued him. He had been alone with his thoughts for countless hours prior to finding this Bible, wondering how he could make some sense out of his life.
It was as if his life was a puzzle with a huge piece missing. He kept trying different pieces, thinking he'd found the missing piece time and time again with drugs, alcohol, and relationships. But as he placed each one of those pieces into his life puzzle, they all eventually ripped themselves out, leaving a bigger chunk of his puzzle incomplete. As strange as it seemed, finding this Bible tapped into Jeff's mind with a question, "Could this book be the answer to finding the piece I'm missing?"
Jeff didn't know if it was or not. But the way he looked at it, he had plenty of time on his hands to find out. And Jeff had quite an imagination. He approached this Bible as if he were a treasure seeker who had found an ancient map to a treasure chest.
He turned the pages, scanning...searching. He soon realized it would take quite a while to read the whole thing front to back. He looked down the index, hoping something would jump out at him. His finger stopped on Luke.
Luke was the name of Jeff's grandfather. A preacher, now retired. Jeff's grandfather was the one person in his life who had loved him unconditionally. Jeff turned to the book of Luke. This particular Bible was the Contemporary English Version with bold captions, like newspaper headlines, describing each section. Jeff scanned past the first three chapters. When he came to chapter four, the following bold caption caused his heart to jump, "The People of Nazareth Turn Against Jesus."
"Now THAT I can identify with!" Jeff thought to himself. Deep down inside, Jeff knew that he was responsible for where he was. But Jeff didn't get there without a few incidents in his life that contributed to a deep anger and resentment. He often felt like others had turned against him.
Jeff was shocked to know that HE could identify with JESUS. Or better yet, that Jesus could understand what Jeff felt. That thought drew Jeff to read beneath that caption. It was there that he found these words:
"Jesus went back to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, and as usual he went to the meeting place on the Sabbath. When he stood up to read from the Scriptures, he was given the book of Isaiah the prophet. He opened it and read, 'The Lord's Spirit has come to me, because he has chosen me to tell the good news to the poor. The Lord has sent me to announce freedom for prisoners..." Jeff stopped. Leaned closer to the words. He read those words again, "The Lord has sent me to announce freedom for prisoners."
Jeff was now captivated by this book. He continued, "'...to give sight to the blind, to free everyone who suffers...'" Without realizing that he spoke outloud, he said, "That's me!" Someone napping nearby raised up and asked, "Did you say something?"
Jeff realized then that he had spoken outloud. "No. Nothing," he said. "Go back to sleep."
Jeff kept reading. He discovered that Jesus was talking about himself. Jesus was the one Isaiah had written about. Jesus could set Jeff free. But how?
Jeff didn't find the answer to that right away. He folded the top of page 1060 in his "new" Bible and laid down to think. He fell asleep.
Over the next couple of days, Jeff kept looking in that Bible for the answer. "How can Jesus set me free?" He couldn't find it. One night, he woke up in the middle of the night and could not go back to sleep. He remembered something his Grandpa Luke once told him, "Jeff, if you can't go back to sleep, just lay there and pray. God's up all night. Just start talking to him and eventually you'll go back to sleep."
Jeff didn't know how to talk to God, but he did it anyway. Two words came out of his mouth, "God...how?" Tears rolled down the sides of his face. Just a few, at first. But once the tear pump was primed, out they gushed. All of Jeff's anger came out in sobs stifled into a pillow.
He fell asleep. When he awoke the next morning, he picked up his Bible again. It fell open to John 8. Another bold caption leaped off the page, "The Truth Will Set You Free." Just under that caption, Jeff read the words of Jesus, "You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free."
What truth? Jeff scrambled back through the previous seven chapters. He was beginning to learn who this Jesus truly was...is. When he caught up to chapter 8 again, he kept reading until he got to chapter 14. The life puzzle pieces began to fall like manna from heaven...
"Don't be worried! Have faith in God and have faith in me" (John 8:1). A huge puzzle piece fell into place. In Jeff's heart and mind, it seemed like lights were starting to come on and darkness was being driven away.
Then he read Jesus' words in verse 6, "I am the way, the truth, and the life!"
Suddenly, it became clear. The truth that would set Jeff free was Jesus! If Jeff would believe in and trust Jesus, he would become a free man. Not free from a county jail. Free on the inside...where true freedom exists.
Jeff got on his knees while others around the jail gave him puzzled glances. Jeff prayed, "Jesus, I believe in God and in You. Please forgive me and set me free. I'm not much, but You can have me. I want You to take my life and make something of it."
The prayer was answered. Jeff's life was no longer an unfinished puzzle, but a clear picture of what it means to be truly free. Jeff carried that Bible with him everywhere he went. It was so worn out, others just had to ask about it. Jeff was glad to tell them how much like that Bible he was. To everyone else, Jeff didn't seem worth much. Some folks thought he should just be discarded. But Jesus found Jeff, picked him up, tucked him under His arm, and now carries Jeff everywhere He goes so that he can tell his story and help others find the missing pieces to their life puzzle.
As a writer, it is easy for me to make up a Jeff story and feel good about it. As a Christian, I need to realize that there is a world filled with Jeffs and Jeff puzzles. When the Jeffs of this world are set free, will they find love, acceptance, and ministry in our churches? In my heart? Our challenge is simple. Love who Jesus loves. Accept who Jesus accepts. It doesn't matter whether you find Jesus in a pew or a prison. We all need the same grace and mercy.
Don't look for an "X" on the treasure map of life. Look for a cross.
Perry Crisp
Monday, November 30, 2009
Walk This Way
God did a pretty cool thing when He changed Jacob's name to Israel. He could have made it simpler and changed Jacob's name to Roller Coaster because Jacob's entire life story was filled with ups and downs.
Jacob started life in second place, but he didn't like it. He was the second twin out of the womb, but had his hand on his brother's heel. Before his first breath of oxygen, he was caught red-handed trying to cheat. He was meant to be second, but did everything he could to become first.
I do the same. Do you?
The name "Jacob" means "supplanter." To "supplant" is to try to force your way past someone else, even if they were there first. He was a line-jumper. He was a pusher and a shover. If you shop at all this Christmas season, you will be an eyewitness to supplanting. Jacob tried to get a hand up on life from the moment he was born.
I have the same nature. Do you?
Jacob's story follows a pattern. He would commit a low-down despicable act of selfishness and greed. Then he would follow that up with a surprising act of humility, brokenness, and self-sacrifice. One minute he was cheating, arguing, and fighting with his family and neighbors. The next minute he was blessing, worshipping, and obeying God.
Jacob is the worst and best of us.
Jacob IS us.
Israel IS us.
Isaac's twin boy is appropriately named both Jacob (supplanter) and Israel (prince with God). He had the capacity to walk deep within his lower nature and soar to great heights within his higher nature. He is the essence of the conflict that rages within us to battle our selfishness and surrender to God's dominance in our lives.
But that's not what I love most about Jacob. What I love most about Jacob is his limp. After his pivotal wrestling match with God ("The Rock" of Ages), Jacob received both a blessing and a limp.
We all limp. But oh, how we try to hide it. "What? Me? Limp? Ha! That's not a limp. It's a strut!"
Whatever.
You limp. I limp. I struggle with God. You struggle with God. I can be sadly supplantive. So can you. And yet, through God's personal touch, I can be surprisingly sincere.
"He touched the socket of his hip; and the socket of Jacob's hip was out of joint as He wrestled with him" (Genesis 32:25). We cannot supplant God. When our selfishness soars to such heights, God pokes a finger in our hip and we forever limp. Then, when we humbly return to God and surrender our lives to His will and His ways, God touches our heart, and our spirit soars.
Just after Jacob received his blessing and his limp, he returned to his twin brother, Esau, from whom he had stolen the family inheritance. This time, Jacob didn't supplant. He surrendered. Forgiveness replaced bitterness. The broken bond between brothers was repaired with Jacob's brokenness.
Had an artist ever sat down with Jacob as his subject, we would have never noticed the Mona Lisa. Yet, I see the painting anyway in my mind's eye. Jacob forever stands (albeit a bit awkwardly) as the pinnacle pose of humanity.
And the subliminal message we would all do well to see in that portrait is this: Limping is okay.
I limp, therefore I'm blessed...or is it the other way around?
Perry Crisp
Jacob started life in second place, but he didn't like it. He was the second twin out of the womb, but had his hand on his brother's heel. Before his first breath of oxygen, he was caught red-handed trying to cheat. He was meant to be second, but did everything he could to become first.
I do the same. Do you?
The name "Jacob" means "supplanter." To "supplant" is to try to force your way past someone else, even if they were there first. He was a line-jumper. He was a pusher and a shover. If you shop at all this Christmas season, you will be an eyewitness to supplanting. Jacob tried to get a hand up on life from the moment he was born.
I have the same nature. Do you?
Jacob's story follows a pattern. He would commit a low-down despicable act of selfishness and greed. Then he would follow that up with a surprising act of humility, brokenness, and self-sacrifice. One minute he was cheating, arguing, and fighting with his family and neighbors. The next minute he was blessing, worshipping, and obeying God.
Jacob is the worst and best of us.
Jacob IS us.
Israel IS us.
Isaac's twin boy is appropriately named both Jacob (supplanter) and Israel (prince with God). He had the capacity to walk deep within his lower nature and soar to great heights within his higher nature. He is the essence of the conflict that rages within us to battle our selfishness and surrender to God's dominance in our lives.
But that's not what I love most about Jacob. What I love most about Jacob is his limp. After his pivotal wrestling match with God ("The Rock" of Ages), Jacob received both a blessing and a limp.
We all limp. But oh, how we try to hide it. "What? Me? Limp? Ha! That's not a limp. It's a strut!"
Whatever.
You limp. I limp. I struggle with God. You struggle with God. I can be sadly supplantive. So can you. And yet, through God's personal touch, I can be surprisingly sincere.
"He touched the socket of his hip; and the socket of Jacob's hip was out of joint as He wrestled with him" (Genesis 32:25). We cannot supplant God. When our selfishness soars to such heights, God pokes a finger in our hip and we forever limp. Then, when we humbly return to God and surrender our lives to His will and His ways, God touches our heart, and our spirit soars.
Just after Jacob received his blessing and his limp, he returned to his twin brother, Esau, from whom he had stolen the family inheritance. This time, Jacob didn't supplant. He surrendered. Forgiveness replaced bitterness. The broken bond between brothers was repaired with Jacob's brokenness.
Had an artist ever sat down with Jacob as his subject, we would have never noticed the Mona Lisa. Yet, I see the painting anyway in my mind's eye. Jacob forever stands (albeit a bit awkwardly) as the pinnacle pose of humanity.
And the subliminal message we would all do well to see in that portrait is this: Limping is okay.
I limp, therefore I'm blessed...or is it the other way around?
Perry Crisp
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Been There Again
You knew it was coming. You probably expected it sooner. So here are some random thoughts on my trip to Israel. It is overwhelming to even attempt to process what the trip meant to me.
Jet lag and emotional lag have wrapped a huge lock around my keyboard up to this point. Maybe God wanted me to take time to process what I experienced for myself before sharing it with others.
I can tell you that a trip to the Holy Land for anyone is a worthwhile investment. For a Jew or a Christian, the value is multiplied and magnified. It reaches beyond history into a personal, spiritual, and emotional pilgrimmage. As a pastor, to walk the land that holds the stories I've studied, taught, and preached for 30 years turned me into a one-man tear factory.
For your own well-being, I am going to limit myself to my top three favorite places and/or moments in the land of Israel.
First, the Garden of Gethsemane. I was immediately surprised at how close the Mount of Olives and the Garden of Gethsemane were to the city of Jerusalem. It is just across the Kidron Valley. I already knew that. But I'm from Texas. A Texan would have never called that a valley. Gully or ravine, maybe. Possibly even a ditch. But a valley? Let's just say it was a very narrow valley. To walk from Jerusalem to the Mount of Olives would be like walking across a football field (from sideline to sideline, not end zone to end zone).
In today's Garden of Gethsemane, there is a church. Where most churches would have an altar, this church has a large rock jutting up out of the floor. This church was built around this rock. It is called the Rock of Agony. It is a place for followers of Christ to remember how Jesus agonized over what was about to take place. He prayed, "Father, if it be possible, take this cup from me."
Jesus wasn't afraid of a cup. He wasn't really even afraid of a cross. What Jesus did NOT want to experience was the part of the Father's plan that involved the sins of the world being placed upon His shoulders. Jesus had never known sin. Yet when He was placed on that cross, the sin of the world was placed on Him so that His death would be an eternal payment for all sin.
It was in the Garden of Gethsemane that He surrendered to the cup of our sin. It was there that He said, "Nevertheless, not My will, but Thine be done." His surrender came through great agony as His sweat glands and capillaries joined together. Mini explosions of bloody sweat trickled down the face of Jesus...because of me.
I knelt at that rock, placed my hand on it, and cried tears of contrition and sorrow for the awful price of my terrible debt.
Second, the Garden Tomb next to Gordon's Calvary. Whether these were the actual sights of the crucifixion and empty tomb of Jesus, only God knows for certain. A case could certainly be made for it. The important thing to me was to be there...again. In so many ways, I was there 2,000 years ago. When Jesus died on that cross, He died for me. He died in my place to pay my debt. When He arose, He arose with special gifts. It was there that I received the gift of victory over sin and the gift of an eternal home in heaven.
It felt like I had returned home to visit the place where I was born spiritually. Although I had accepted Christ as my personal Savior in Hawkins, Texas in 1978, the transaction that made it possible took place long before that, just outside Jerusalem. It was a great feeling to see my spiritual birthplace.
Third, the Sea of Galilee. It is actually a freshwater lake. It reminded me a lot of where I live now at Lake Fork. I felt a connection to Jesus in that sense. Most of His ministry took place around the Sea/Lake of Galilee. Capernaum was His ministry base. He called fishermen to be His followers. Having been where Jesus was, I can see why Jesus chose to spend so much time there. There was just something about walking the shoreline, taking a boat ride, and gazing out over the Sea of Galilee that brought a sense of peace to me.
It's like I connected with Jesus my Savior in Jerusalem, and then connected with Jesus my Friend in Galilee.
I've made it very hard on myself so as not to make it hard on you. I could tell you of baptizing in the Jordan River, floating in the Dead Sea, standing on top of Masada, the Mount of Beatitudes, Mount Carmel, and along the shores of the Mediterranean. I'm sure, these stories will ooze out of me in future blogs.
But for now, it is enough to report to you that your Bible is not an old, outdated book of history on ink and paper. It is a story of truth that took place in a land still very much alive. The land of Israel tells the old, old story as fresh as this morning's newspaper and as vividly as your back yard.
Forever Grateful,
Perry Crisp
Jet lag and emotional lag have wrapped a huge lock around my keyboard up to this point. Maybe God wanted me to take time to process what I experienced for myself before sharing it with others.
I can tell you that a trip to the Holy Land for anyone is a worthwhile investment. For a Jew or a Christian, the value is multiplied and magnified. It reaches beyond history into a personal, spiritual, and emotional pilgrimmage. As a pastor, to walk the land that holds the stories I've studied, taught, and preached for 30 years turned me into a one-man tear factory.
For your own well-being, I am going to limit myself to my top three favorite places and/or moments in the land of Israel.
First, the Garden of Gethsemane. I was immediately surprised at how close the Mount of Olives and the Garden of Gethsemane were to the city of Jerusalem. It is just across the Kidron Valley. I already knew that. But I'm from Texas. A Texan would have never called that a valley. Gully or ravine, maybe. Possibly even a ditch. But a valley? Let's just say it was a very narrow valley. To walk from Jerusalem to the Mount of Olives would be like walking across a football field (from sideline to sideline, not end zone to end zone).
In today's Garden of Gethsemane, there is a church. Where most churches would have an altar, this church has a large rock jutting up out of the floor. This church was built around this rock. It is called the Rock of Agony. It is a place for followers of Christ to remember how Jesus agonized over what was about to take place. He prayed, "Father, if it be possible, take this cup from me."
Jesus wasn't afraid of a cup. He wasn't really even afraid of a cross. What Jesus did NOT want to experience was the part of the Father's plan that involved the sins of the world being placed upon His shoulders. Jesus had never known sin. Yet when He was placed on that cross, the sin of the world was placed on Him so that His death would be an eternal payment for all sin.
It was in the Garden of Gethsemane that He surrendered to the cup of our sin. It was there that He said, "Nevertheless, not My will, but Thine be done." His surrender came through great agony as His sweat glands and capillaries joined together. Mini explosions of bloody sweat trickled down the face of Jesus...because of me.
I knelt at that rock, placed my hand on it, and cried tears of contrition and sorrow for the awful price of my terrible debt.
Second, the Garden Tomb next to Gordon's Calvary. Whether these were the actual sights of the crucifixion and empty tomb of Jesus, only God knows for certain. A case could certainly be made for it. The important thing to me was to be there...again. In so many ways, I was there 2,000 years ago. When Jesus died on that cross, He died for me. He died in my place to pay my debt. When He arose, He arose with special gifts. It was there that I received the gift of victory over sin and the gift of an eternal home in heaven.
It felt like I had returned home to visit the place where I was born spiritually. Although I had accepted Christ as my personal Savior in Hawkins, Texas in 1978, the transaction that made it possible took place long before that, just outside Jerusalem. It was a great feeling to see my spiritual birthplace.
Third, the Sea of Galilee. It is actually a freshwater lake. It reminded me a lot of where I live now at Lake Fork. I felt a connection to Jesus in that sense. Most of His ministry took place around the Sea/Lake of Galilee. Capernaum was His ministry base. He called fishermen to be His followers. Having been where Jesus was, I can see why Jesus chose to spend so much time there. There was just something about walking the shoreline, taking a boat ride, and gazing out over the Sea of Galilee that brought a sense of peace to me.
It's like I connected with Jesus my Savior in Jerusalem, and then connected with Jesus my Friend in Galilee.
I've made it very hard on myself so as not to make it hard on you. I could tell you of baptizing in the Jordan River, floating in the Dead Sea, standing on top of Masada, the Mount of Beatitudes, Mount Carmel, and along the shores of the Mediterranean. I'm sure, these stories will ooze out of me in future blogs.
But for now, it is enough to report to you that your Bible is not an old, outdated book of history on ink and paper. It is a story of truth that took place in a land still very much alive. The land of Israel tells the old, old story as fresh as this morning's newspaper and as vividly as your back yard.
Forever Grateful,
Perry Crisp
The above picture: The writer in me could not pass up an opportunity to "ride a column." Get it? Oh, come on. I know it's corny.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Non-Fiction Fish Story...Really...I Promise
Fishermen tell three types of stories: 1) True stories, 2) Lies, and 3) Stories that start out true, but grow in creativity and length. The size of the fish, the bait, the boat, or the waves may increase with each telling.
The following story falls under category number one. It is 100% non-fiction. A few years ago, I stumbled onto an opportunity to fish at a pond and I was unprepared. It was a family get-together, cookout, reunion thing. They mentioned the pool to swim in, but failed to mention the pond to fish in. So there I was...bypassing the pool to contemplate the fish population of the pond.
The urge to fish was strong. But first I had to hunt. In the garage attic of our family reunion hosts, I found a rod and reel. The rod and reel had a cork and a hook. Fantastic! But I had no bait. I rummaged around for a fishing lure of any kind and found none.
The reunion hosts lived in a subdivision within a city. They had a well-manicured lawn (about as big as a phone booth) and a few tiny flower beds. Similar houses surrounded the large pond. I resisted the urge to dig up the flower beds in search of worms, but I needed some kind of bait.
A thought came to mind. I quickly hid the fishing pole and went back to where the humans were grazing around a food table filled with sandwiches, chips, and dip. It was there that I found the bait I had hoped for: bologna! Pronounced "ba-lo-ney," bologna is a refined slab of delicious round steak. It's an aquired taste. It's also a word commonly used by those who just heard a politician speak.
This was a rather fancy affair, so the sandwiches were trimmed of bread crust and cut up into tiny squares. I guess rich folk can't eat a whole sandwich. Trying not to draw attention to myself, I stuffed a few sandwich squares into my mouth and a couple into my pockets.
I chatted with a neice or two and headed back to the garage where I had stashed the rod and reel. I tried to make my way to the pier that went out over the pond unnoticed, but a couple of youngsters in the pool saw me and followed.
I tore off a piece of bologna and put it on the hook. Almost immediately, the cork started bobbing up and down. It wasn’t long before I caught a small perch. With a few more pieces of bologna, I caught a few more perch. But I'm not much of a perch guy. It was sorta fun catching them, but it didn't satisfy the fisherman in me nearly as much as a bass would.
When I started running low on bologna, an idea came to me. I caught a tiny perch that was no bigger than the palm of my hand, took the hook out of the perch’s mouth and stuck it through his (or her) back under the dorsal fin. I cast my live bait with baloney-breath out into the pond.
The perch made the cork bob up and down as it tried to swim away from the hook in it's back. Then the cork went straight down and disappeared! Whoa baby! The fight was on!
In order to keep this story on the non-fiction level, I will admit that when I reeled in the bass, he was not a wall-hanger (for the outdoor illiterate, that means he wasn't a big fish). The bass weighed a little over ten -- I mean, two pounds. But it was the way that I caught the bass that made it so much fun. Thankfully, I have witnesses.
Let's get out of the pond for a minute and into the parabolic significance of this story. Isaiah 25:8 predicts the atoning death of Christ on the cross and says, "He will swallow up death forever." Paul quotes this prophetic statement in 1st Corinthians 15:54 to reinforce the fact that Jesus saved us from the curse of eternal death.
With those Scriptures in mind, think of the Christian as the bologna, the perch as death, and the bass as Jesus. Before Jesus died on the cross, we (humans) were dangling on a hook without hope. Death feasted on us and continually swallowed us up. When Jesus died on the cross, He looked like another bologna-victim of death. But while in the grave, God removed the hook from Jesus, stuck it in death, and when Jesus rose from the dead, He swallowed death, like the bass that swallowed the perch, and ended death's pursuit of all who believe in Jesus.
To the unbeliever, it looks like death swallows life. But the believer knows it isn’t so. Death doesn’t swallow the Christian. Christ swallows death and gives the Christian eternal life!
Hooked on Jesus,
Perry Crisp
The following story falls under category number one. It is 100% non-fiction. A few years ago, I stumbled onto an opportunity to fish at a pond and I was unprepared. It was a family get-together, cookout, reunion thing. They mentioned the pool to swim in, but failed to mention the pond to fish in. So there I was...bypassing the pool to contemplate the fish population of the pond.
The urge to fish was strong. But first I had to hunt. In the garage attic of our family reunion hosts, I found a rod and reel. The rod and reel had a cork and a hook. Fantastic! But I had no bait. I rummaged around for a fishing lure of any kind and found none.
The reunion hosts lived in a subdivision within a city. They had a well-manicured lawn (about as big as a phone booth) and a few tiny flower beds. Similar houses surrounded the large pond. I resisted the urge to dig up the flower beds in search of worms, but I needed some kind of bait.
A thought came to mind. I quickly hid the fishing pole and went back to where the humans were grazing around a food table filled with sandwiches, chips, and dip. It was there that I found the bait I had hoped for: bologna! Pronounced "ba-lo-ney," bologna is a refined slab of delicious round steak. It's an aquired taste. It's also a word commonly used by those who just heard a politician speak.
This was a rather fancy affair, so the sandwiches were trimmed of bread crust and cut up into tiny squares. I guess rich folk can't eat a whole sandwich. Trying not to draw attention to myself, I stuffed a few sandwich squares into my mouth and a couple into my pockets.
I chatted with a neice or two and headed back to the garage where I had stashed the rod and reel. I tried to make my way to the pier that went out over the pond unnoticed, but a couple of youngsters in the pool saw me and followed.
I tore off a piece of bologna and put it on the hook. Almost immediately, the cork started bobbing up and down. It wasn’t long before I caught a small perch. With a few more pieces of bologna, I caught a few more perch. But I'm not much of a perch guy. It was sorta fun catching them, but it didn't satisfy the fisherman in me nearly as much as a bass would.
When I started running low on bologna, an idea came to me. I caught a tiny perch that was no bigger than the palm of my hand, took the hook out of the perch’s mouth and stuck it through his (or her) back under the dorsal fin. I cast my live bait with baloney-breath out into the pond.
The perch made the cork bob up and down as it tried to swim away from the hook in it's back. Then the cork went straight down and disappeared! Whoa baby! The fight was on!
In order to keep this story on the non-fiction level, I will admit that when I reeled in the bass, he was not a wall-hanger (for the outdoor illiterate, that means he wasn't a big fish). The bass weighed a little over ten -- I mean, two pounds. But it was the way that I caught the bass that made it so much fun. Thankfully, I have witnesses.
Let's get out of the pond for a minute and into the parabolic significance of this story. Isaiah 25:8 predicts the atoning death of Christ on the cross and says, "He will swallow up death forever." Paul quotes this prophetic statement in 1st Corinthians 15:54 to reinforce the fact that Jesus saved us from the curse of eternal death.
With those Scriptures in mind, think of the Christian as the bologna, the perch as death, and the bass as Jesus. Before Jesus died on the cross, we (humans) were dangling on a hook without hope. Death feasted on us and continually swallowed us up. When Jesus died on the cross, He looked like another bologna-victim of death. But while in the grave, God removed the hook from Jesus, stuck it in death, and when Jesus rose from the dead, He swallowed death, like the bass that swallowed the perch, and ended death's pursuit of all who believe in Jesus.
To the unbeliever, it looks like death swallows life. But the believer knows it isn’t so. Death doesn’t swallow the Christian. Christ swallows death and gives the Christian eternal life!
Hooked on Jesus,
Perry Crisp
Monday, October 26, 2009
See For Yourself
For as long as I can remember, my dad has talked about two important places: Israel and Heaven. Dad has visited the first place. Mom resides in the second. One is just as real as the other.
My Dad went to Israel when I was just a child, but I'll never forget hearing his report to the church when he returned. His pictures were made into tiny picture squares called "slides" that fit into a carousel projector. I marveled at Masada. I was captured by the Via Dolorosa. I was wide-eyed when my eyes beheld Golgotha through the pictures.
Seeing those pictures made it all more real. All those stories I'd heard all my life came to life because my dad was there! He saw it! He walked where Jesus walked. He shed tears where Jesus shed blood.
There has always been a dream and a desire in my heart to go to Israel one day. But like Heaven, I always assumed I would be an old man before I saw it. But we serve a God who blesses us with occasional unexpected surprises.
Due to the generosity of someone I've never met, I will see Israel sooner than expected. Expect no devotionals from me next week. November 1-10th, I'll be walking where Jesus walked. I'll be crying where Jesus was dying. My hands will be raised at the site where His body did the same thing. My eyes will see in panoramic fashion what they once saw through tiny picture squares.
I've talked about the Sea of Galilea from behind a pulpit. I will soon sail across it in a boat. I've told the story of Jesus feeding thousands with a young boy's small lunch on a hillside. In a few days, I will sit on that same hill, breathe that same air, and become that little boy. Who knows? I may even break out a balogna sandwich to "christen" the moment.
In short, I'm going to Israel! My ticket has been purchased. My way has been paid. I didn't earn it. I don't deserve it. Someone I never met gave sacrificially for me to go. I could never express enough gratitude to the giver of such a marvelous gift.
Sound familiar? The two places my dad always talked about have now intertwined in my life. I'm going to Israel. But, I'm going to Heaven, too! My ticket has been purchased. My way has been paid. I didn't earn it. I don't deserve it. Someone sacrificed for me before we ever met. I will never be able to thank Him enough for His gift of eternal life.
Though I haven't met the benefactors who purchased my trip to Israel, I have met the One who purchased my ticket to Heaven. His name is Jesus. He gave His life on the cross on Golgotha's hill to open the door of Heaven for you and me. You may or may not ever see Israel. I hope you will have that privilege one day. But the far greater need of your soul is to know that you are going to Heaven. Your way has been paid.
You can pick up your ticket at the foot of the cross. Bow your heart before Jesus. Admit that you are a sinner in need of His saving grace. Ask Him to forgive you personally. Then, invite Him into your life. Accept Him and the sacrifice He made on the cross for you. With all your heart, mind, and soul give yourself completely to the One who gave Himself for you.
Did you? Have you? I hope and pray you have. If so, Mom and I will see you in Heaven.
Just as my dad saw the land of Israel and reported what he saw back to us, my mom did the same with Heaven. Days before the Lord took her home, Mom laid in her hospital bed and started waving her hands in the air as if she were conducting an orchestra.
Dad asked her what she was doing. She said, "Can't you hear it?"
"Hear what?"
"The music..."
"No, honey. I can't."
"Oh, it's beautiful! I've never heard anything like it!"
If you can't be in Israel this next Sunday morning, come to Lake Fork Baptist Church in East Texas. While I'm going to the place my dad talked a lot about, he will be preaching in the place I've talked a lot about. How good is God? God is good all the way through. All the day long.
Israel & Heaven Bound (separate trips, you understand)...
Perry Crisp
My Dad went to Israel when I was just a child, but I'll never forget hearing his report to the church when he returned. His pictures were made into tiny picture squares called "slides" that fit into a carousel projector. I marveled at Masada. I was captured by the Via Dolorosa. I was wide-eyed when my eyes beheld Golgotha through the pictures.
Seeing those pictures made it all more real. All those stories I'd heard all my life came to life because my dad was there! He saw it! He walked where Jesus walked. He shed tears where Jesus shed blood.
There has always been a dream and a desire in my heart to go to Israel one day. But like Heaven, I always assumed I would be an old man before I saw it. But we serve a God who blesses us with occasional unexpected surprises.
Due to the generosity of someone I've never met, I will see Israel sooner than expected. Expect no devotionals from me next week. November 1-10th, I'll be walking where Jesus walked. I'll be crying where Jesus was dying. My hands will be raised at the site where His body did the same thing. My eyes will see in panoramic fashion what they once saw through tiny picture squares.
I've talked about the Sea of Galilea from behind a pulpit. I will soon sail across it in a boat. I've told the story of Jesus feeding thousands with a young boy's small lunch on a hillside. In a few days, I will sit on that same hill, breathe that same air, and become that little boy. Who knows? I may even break out a balogna sandwich to "christen" the moment.
In short, I'm going to Israel! My ticket has been purchased. My way has been paid. I didn't earn it. I don't deserve it. Someone I never met gave sacrificially for me to go. I could never express enough gratitude to the giver of such a marvelous gift.
Sound familiar? The two places my dad always talked about have now intertwined in my life. I'm going to Israel. But, I'm going to Heaven, too! My ticket has been purchased. My way has been paid. I didn't earn it. I don't deserve it. Someone sacrificed for me before we ever met. I will never be able to thank Him enough for His gift of eternal life.
Though I haven't met the benefactors who purchased my trip to Israel, I have met the One who purchased my ticket to Heaven. His name is Jesus. He gave His life on the cross on Golgotha's hill to open the door of Heaven for you and me. You may or may not ever see Israel. I hope you will have that privilege one day. But the far greater need of your soul is to know that you are going to Heaven. Your way has been paid.
You can pick up your ticket at the foot of the cross. Bow your heart before Jesus. Admit that you are a sinner in need of His saving grace. Ask Him to forgive you personally. Then, invite Him into your life. Accept Him and the sacrifice He made on the cross for you. With all your heart, mind, and soul give yourself completely to the One who gave Himself for you.
Did you? Have you? I hope and pray you have. If so, Mom and I will see you in Heaven.
Just as my dad saw the land of Israel and reported what he saw back to us, my mom did the same with Heaven. Days before the Lord took her home, Mom laid in her hospital bed and started waving her hands in the air as if she were conducting an orchestra.
Dad asked her what she was doing. She said, "Can't you hear it?"
"Hear what?"
"The music..."
"No, honey. I can't."
"Oh, it's beautiful! I've never heard anything like it!"
If you can't be in Israel this next Sunday morning, come to Lake Fork Baptist Church in East Texas. While I'm going to the place my dad talked a lot about, he will be preaching in the place I've talked a lot about. How good is God? God is good all the way through. All the day long.
Israel & Heaven Bound (separate trips, you understand)...
Perry Crisp
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