Shon Hopwood was not a particularly sophisticated bank robber. His bank-robbing strategy was not well planned. Listen to the strategy of someone assuming one of the most difficult tasks to get away with in this country: “We would walk into a bank with firearms, tell people to get down, take the money and run.”
Brilliant, right? Wrong. Shon pulled off 5 robberies in rural Nebraska in 1997 and 1998 that only brought in $200,000 in cash and resulted in over a decade-long vacation in federal prison. Yep. He got caught and went to prison.
No one was hurt in Mr. Hopwood’s bank robberies, but, according to the judge who sentenced Shon to prison in 1999, he and his accomplices “scared the (inserting Baptifanity* replacement word) heck out of the poor bank tellers.”
The judge was skeptical about Mr. Hopwood’s vow that he would change. He had heard it over and over again from those caught and convicted of crimes. After Shon's pledge to change, the judge said, “We’ll know in about 13 years if you mean what you say.”
Getting caught has a way of changing us. The honesty of it all is this: We get caught every time. There is never a time, never a crime, never a sin, never a slight of hand or eye that is not both seen and recorded. God sees. God knows. When I miss the mark, He doesn’t miss noticing that I missed the mark.
Ironically, getting caught is sometimes the door to true freedom. You’ll find that out about Shon Hopwood in a few minutes. You can see it in a nameless criminal in the gospel of Luke 23, beginning at verse 32 right now.
"There were also two others, criminals, led with Him (Jesus) to be put to death" (Luke 23:32). Criminals. The King James Version calls them "malefactors." The word in Luke is a combination of two words: "evil" and "work." Luke called them evildoers. Matthew and Mark were more specific and called them robbers. Luke wasn’t concerned with the flavor, just the poison. Sin is sin regardless of the label.
Matthew says that both men joined in the sneering and mocking of Jesus at first. But somewhere between verses 37 and 39 of Luke’s account, one of the criminals began to have a change of heart. After the other criminal screamed at Jesus to save Himself and them if He truly was the Messiah, the other criminal rebuked his partner in crime. He confessed that, of the three hanging on a cross that day, only one didn't deserve to be there. Then he turned to Jesus and said, "Lord, remember me when You come into Your kingdom" (v. 42).
How is getting caught the door to true freedom? To receive the forgiveness of God, you have to first admit you failed. Our conscience is supposed to weigh on us. And it usually does, but not always. When we continue on and push past our conscience, a hardness begins to set in. If left to harden and callous, we can become our very own hardened criminal. Sometimes, the only hope we have left is to get caught.
Had this criminal not been caught and punished on that very day, he may have never looked within himself nor to the Man on the Middle Cross who died to pay the price for his own evil work. But he did get caught. He did hang on a cross to pay humanity for his evil work. Yet simultaneously, the Man next to him hung on the cross to pay the debt owed to God by that evil worker…and this one.
One word made the difference… “Lord.” Jesus, by His own reply to that man in verse 43, opened a door no one ever thought could be opened for such a man. “Today, you will be with Me in Paradise."
No one would have ever picked that cross-hanging criminal to be the Valedictorian of Redemption. If he'd had a high school yearbook, the only thing written in it would have been, "You'll never amount to anything." Had we interviewed the old men from his neighborhood, they would have spoken of him in disgust, "That boy has been trouble since the day he was born."
But that boy was escorted by Jesus to the kingdom of heaven as the first trophy of God's amazing, redeeming grace.
Shon committed the crime and was forced to do the time. Once behind bars, Mr. Hopwood quickly began soul-searching. Prison has a way of getting a person’s attention. Shon said, “I didn’t want prison to be my destiny. When your life gets tipped over and spilled out, you have to make some changes.”
I would like to say that Shon turned to the Lord. He didn’t. Instead, he spent much of his time in the prison law library, and it turned out he was better at understanding the law than breaking it. He achieved something rare at the top levels of the American bar, and unheard of for someone behind bars: Shon Hopwood became an accomplished Supreme Court practitioner.
He prepared his first petition for certiorari (sir-she-o-rari) — a request that the Supreme Court hear a case — for a fellow inmate using a prison typewriter in 2002. Since Mr. Hopwood wasn’t a lawyer, the only name on the brief was that of the other prisoner, John Fellers.
That year, the court received 7,209 petitions from prisoners and others too poor to pay the filing fee, and it agreed to hear only 8 of them. One was Fellers v. United States .
Seth Waxman was the United States Solicitor General at the time. He had argued more than 50 cases in the Supreme Court. Of Shon’s petition, Waxman said, “It was probably one of the best cert. petitions I have ever read. It was just terrific.”
Mr. Waxman agreed to take the case on without payment. But he had one condition: “I will represent you,” Mr. Waxman told Mr. Fellers, “If we can get this guy Shon Hopwood involved.” Mr. Fellers agreed and they both felt good that Shon was there to quarterback the effort.
The former solicitor general showed Shon drafts of his legal briefings. The two men consulted about how to frame the arguments, discussed strategy, and tried to anticipate questions from the justices.
In January 2004, Mr. Waxman called Mr. Hopwood at the federal prison in Illinois to tell him they had won a 9-to-0 victory. Mr. Fellers’s sentence was reduced by 4 years.
The law library changed Mr. Hopwood’s life. Mr. Hopwood helped inmates from Indiana , Michigan and Nebraska get sentence reductions. Mr. Hopwood was released from prison in the fall of 2008. Mr. Fellers, the fellow inmate who was first assisted by Shon, was out before Shon, and owned a thriving car dealership in Lincoln, Nebraska .
“Here,” Mr. Fellers said, presenting his jailhouse lawyer with a 1989 Mercedes in pristine condition. “Thank you for getting me back to my daughter.”
Mr. Hopwood now works for a leading printer of Supreme Court briefs, Cockle Printing in Omaha . “What a perfect fit for me,” he said. “I basically get to help attorneys get their cases polished and perfected.”
His boss at Cockle said she had some misgivings about hiring Mr. Hopwood. It was hard to believe his story to start with, and it was really odd to see an aspiring paralegal driving around in a Mercedes.
But she called Mr. Hopwood’s references, including the former solicitor general, and was not only surprised to get right through to Mr. Waxman, but to hear his glowing endorsement of Shon. Did you catch that? Shon got through on the recommendation of a higher authority. So did the man in Luke 23. So do we.
Mr. Hopwood, who is 34, hopes to attend law at the University of Michigan. Mr. Hopwood’s personal life is looking up, too. He is married, and he and his wife had a son on Christmas Day.
A professor at Michigan who had worked with Shon in previous court cases said, “His gratitude for the quality of his life is that of someone who has come back from a near-death experience.”**
I know someone like that. Several someones. The man from Luke 23, the man who wrote what you are reading, and quite possibly the person now reading these words. Ours wasn't a "near-death" experience. It was a "true-death" experience. We were truly dead in our sins and needed the life-giving power of the blood of Jesus to make us alive to God. When you've been brought from death to life, you can't help but be grateful.
Excerpts from my favorite current writer are quite fitting here:
"The past doesn’t have to be your prison. You have a voice in your destiny. You have a say in your life. You have a choice in the path you take."
Remember this. Jesus, from the cross "saw you cast into a river of life you didn't request. He saw you betrayed by those you love. He saw you with a body that gets sick and a heart that grows weak. He saw you in your own garden of gnarled trees and sleeping friends. He saw you staring into the pit of your own failures and the mouth of your own grave. He saw you in your own garden of Gethsemane and he didn't want you to be alone ... He would rather go to hell for you than to heaven without you."***
Free Indeed,
Perry Crisp
*Baptifanity - replacement words used by Baptists instead of cusswords.
**Shon's story was published in the New York Times, February 9, 2010, and was written by Adam Liptak.
***Max Lucado
Monday, November 29, 2010
Thursday, November 4, 2010
The Search is On
Abel Madariaga saw his 28-year-old wife, Silvia, being forced into a car by Argentine army officers on January 17, 1977. That was the last time he saw his pregnant wife. Silvia, a victim of evil politics as part of the 1976-1983 "dirty war" against political dissidents, was kidnapped and killed after giving birth. Some Argentinian rights groups believe that about 400 children were stolen at birth during this time from women who endured the same fate as Silvia.
Abel made it his life's ambition to find out what happened to his wife and child. When Argentina returned to democratic control, Abel lobbied the government to create a DNA database and dedicate judicial resources to the effort.
Abel's efforts paid off. After years of searching, he was able to find out what happened to his wife, though the details were sketchy and heartbreaking. Abel learned that his wife, Quintela, gave birth to their son in July of 1977 while imprisoned in a notorious torture center in Buenos Aires. The newborn, whom the couple had planned to name Francisco, was taken from his mother the day after he was born. Quintela was never seen again.
Abel's son, with umbilical cord still attached, was taken by a military intelligence officer, Victor Gallo, to his own home and his own wife, Ines. They named him Alejandro Ramiro Gallo and never told him anything about the circumstances of his birth or his adoption. But Francisco knew that something wasn't right. He never felt that he belonged to the Gallo family. He looked nothing like his brother and sister.
The marriage between Victor and Ines didn't last. Victor was a violent man. As the Gallo family fell apart, Francisco found a way out as a professional juggler touring Europe. Meanwhile, Victor Gallo was convicted of murdering a couple and their child during a robbery in 1994 and was sentenced to prison for ten years.
Eventually, Francisco worked up the courage to confront his "adoptive" mother, Ines. She broke down and told him what she knew. She didn't know who his parents were or where Victor got him. But she told the young man she knew and loved as her son, Alejandro, that he had been adopted. The news was a welcome relief to the increasing doubts that had haunted Francisco.
Francisco forgave Ines and the two of them determined together that they would try to find Francisco's family. Finally, some friends encouraged Francisco to get a blood test. On February 3, 2010, over 33 years after his mother was kidnapped, Francisco's blood was sent for DNA testing to a database set up by his own father, Abel Madariaga. A couple of weeks later, the DNA results arrived.
The test results told Francisco that Victor and Ines Gallo were not his parents. Gallo was not his real name. His real name was Madariaga and his father, Abel, was alive and searching for him. On Friday, February 19th, 2010, father and son embraced for the first time.
"When he came through the door that night, we recognized each other totally," said Abel to a large gathering of media cameras and microphones. "The hug that brought us together was spectacular. Hugging him that first time, it was as if I filled a hole in my soul," he said.
At age 59, Abel had never stopped believing that he would one day find his child. For 33 years, he searched the faces in the streets of Argentina, hoping to see his son.
At another news conference, Francisco, who had learned his real name only a few days earlier, said, "For the first time, I know who I was. Who I am."
The only time Francisco stopped smiling during the news conference was when the name Alejandro, given to him by the Gallos, was mentioned. Francisco stopped smiling and said, "Never again will I use that name. To have your identity is the most beautiful thing there is."
My soul identifies with the life story of Francisco Madariaga. Something inside me was missing. I wasn't complete. I wasn't whole. I was filled with holes.
Then I met the Father who never stopped searching for me. The Father who created a means by which I could find the identity He purposed for me. It wasn't through a blood test, but through a blood gift. He and His Son created a plan to help me find my way home. He gave His own Son as a willing sacrifice and substitute to purchase my invitation to come home.
Like Francisco, I now know who I am. I have my identity. I'm a child of God through faith in Jesus Christ, His Son. And I must agree with Francisco -- to have my identity is the most beautiful thing there is.
I must also agree with Abel -- the holes in my soul have been filled.
Home Where I Belong,
Perry Crisp
Abel made it his life's ambition to find out what happened to his wife and child. When Argentina returned to democratic control, Abel lobbied the government to create a DNA database and dedicate judicial resources to the effort.
Abel's efforts paid off. After years of searching, he was able to find out what happened to his wife, though the details were sketchy and heartbreaking. Abel learned that his wife, Quintela, gave birth to their son in July of 1977 while imprisoned in a notorious torture center in Buenos Aires. The newborn, whom the couple had planned to name Francisco, was taken from his mother the day after he was born. Quintela was never seen again.
Abel's son, with umbilical cord still attached, was taken by a military intelligence officer, Victor Gallo, to his own home and his own wife, Ines. They named him Alejandro Ramiro Gallo and never told him anything about the circumstances of his birth or his adoption. But Francisco knew that something wasn't right. He never felt that he belonged to the Gallo family. He looked nothing like his brother and sister.
The marriage between Victor and Ines didn't last. Victor was a violent man. As the Gallo family fell apart, Francisco found a way out as a professional juggler touring Europe. Meanwhile, Victor Gallo was convicted of murdering a couple and their child during a robbery in 1994 and was sentenced to prison for ten years.
Eventually, Francisco worked up the courage to confront his "adoptive" mother, Ines. She broke down and told him what she knew. She didn't know who his parents were or where Victor got him. But she told the young man she knew and loved as her son, Alejandro, that he had been adopted. The news was a welcome relief to the increasing doubts that had haunted Francisco.
Francisco forgave Ines and the two of them determined together that they would try to find Francisco's family. Finally, some friends encouraged Francisco to get a blood test. On February 3, 2010, over 33 years after his mother was kidnapped, Francisco's blood was sent for DNA testing to a database set up by his own father, Abel Madariaga. A couple of weeks later, the DNA results arrived.
The test results told Francisco that Victor and Ines Gallo were not his parents. Gallo was not his real name. His real name was Madariaga and his father, Abel, was alive and searching for him. On Friday, February 19th, 2010, father and son embraced for the first time.
"When he came through the door that night, we recognized each other totally," said Abel to a large gathering of media cameras and microphones. "The hug that brought us together was spectacular. Hugging him that first time, it was as if I filled a hole in my soul," he said.
At age 59, Abel had never stopped believing that he would one day find his child. For 33 years, he searched the faces in the streets of Argentina, hoping to see his son.
At another news conference, Francisco, who had learned his real name only a few days earlier, said, "For the first time, I know who I was. Who I am."
The only time Francisco stopped smiling during the news conference was when the name Alejandro, given to him by the Gallos, was mentioned. Francisco stopped smiling and said, "Never again will I use that name. To have your identity is the most beautiful thing there is."
My soul identifies with the life story of Francisco Madariaga. Something inside me was missing. I wasn't complete. I wasn't whole. I was filled with holes.
Then I met the Father who never stopped searching for me. The Father who created a means by which I could find the identity He purposed for me. It wasn't through a blood test, but through a blood gift. He and His Son created a plan to help me find my way home. He gave His own Son as a willing sacrifice and substitute to purchase my invitation to come home.
Like Francisco, I now know who I am. I have my identity. I'm a child of God through faith in Jesus Christ, His Son. And I must agree with Francisco -- to have my identity is the most beautiful thing there is.
I must also agree with Abel -- the holes in my soul have been filled.
Home Where I Belong,
Perry Crisp
Monday, October 11, 2010
Open For Business
A mysterious stranger arrived at a New England seaport town from somewhere across the ocean. He opened an office with a sign that simply read, "Recovery of Lost Things." At first, no one entered the stranger's office, but everyone was curious.
The stranger put an ad in the paper to further explain his business, "I will help you find anything you have lost." The explanation did not satisfy all.
"So he's a detective?" asked one villager. His question received only shrugs of uncertainty.
Yet, the explanation was enough for a woman who had lost a great deal of money. She slipped into the stranger's office under cover of night. A few nights later, another person asked for the stranger's help because he had lost his great-grandfather's Bible.
Eventually, many of the villagers felt drawn to this stranger. The more comfortable they felt with him, the more they truly opened up to him about other "things" they had lost. An aging lady with wrinkles and sadness wept before the stranger, yearning to recover the beauty of her younger days. A young man of barely twenty was filled with regret and asked the stranger if he could help him get his innocence back.
After a few weeks, the stranger sat in his office late one night with a list of grand requests:
1. Bring back opportunities that were missed.
2. Restore tarnished reputations.
3. Replace sadness with joy forfeited long ago.
4. Renew relationships destroyed by selfishness, hatred, pride, and greed.
5. Resurrect loved ones buried both recently and long ago. Many asked only for one final moment to express feelings of love, or to apologize for things said or things not said.
6. Return the accolades, fame, popularity and praise of years past that has now faded and been replaced with continual silence.
7. Remove the effects of aging, smoking, drinking, and hard living and restore health, fitness, and vibrance.
8. Replace bitterness, emptiness, loneliness, and callousness with love, joy, forgiveness, and peace.
The stranger shook his head in disbelief. He only meant to help others find lost luggage, cargo, or other tangible items left behind on nearby ships. Yet, just as these hurting souls felt drawn to him to express the loss of their truest valuables, he felt the depth of their pain, listened to their requests without clarifying his intentions, and assured each one, "I will do everything I can."
He became a praying man, a compassionate man, a broken man, and a man of great understanding concerning the importance of valuing relationships and redeeming the time.
These requests were neither returned nor recovered by the mysterious man. But at least the longing of each visitor to his office was addressed. At least the pain was confessed. At least someone listened. Someone cared.
What each villager did not know was the trail of pain and heartache from which this stranger from across the ocean had fled. He came to their village to escape. Each of their longings reflected the longings of his own heart. His wife had died giving birth to their first child. The child followed his mother into eternity an hour behind her. He dealt with the pain of his loss with great anger and drunkenness. He boarded a ship with his few possessions in hopes of getting away from the painful memories. Upon arrival at the village, the ship's crew could not find some of the belongings he had stored below deck.
As the weeks turned into years, many who had once visited his office met him along the sidewalk or in the market. They met him with smiles, hugs, handshakes, and expressions of gratitude. With renewed hope and lifted spirits, they thanked him for all he had done. What had he done?
Only what each of us can do for one another. He gave them permission to grieve, promised to get involved, and prayed on behalf of their woundings. He did so unwittingly. We can do so intentionally. In helping others with their wounds, he found healing for his own.
This morning, let's go into business together. You grab a hammer and a nail. I'll hold the shingle above our business door that says, "Recovery of Lost Things."
Perry Crisp
The stranger put an ad in the paper to further explain his business, "I will help you find anything you have lost." The explanation did not satisfy all.
"So he's a detective?" asked one villager. His question received only shrugs of uncertainty.
Yet, the explanation was enough for a woman who had lost a great deal of money. She slipped into the stranger's office under cover of night. A few nights later, another person asked for the stranger's help because he had lost his great-grandfather's Bible.
Eventually, many of the villagers felt drawn to this stranger. The more comfortable they felt with him, the more they truly opened up to him about other "things" they had lost. An aging lady with wrinkles and sadness wept before the stranger, yearning to recover the beauty of her younger days. A young man of barely twenty was filled with regret and asked the stranger if he could help him get his innocence back.
After a few weeks, the stranger sat in his office late one night with a list of grand requests:
1. Bring back opportunities that were missed.
2. Restore tarnished reputations.
3. Replace sadness with joy forfeited long ago.
4. Renew relationships destroyed by selfishness, hatred, pride, and greed.
5. Resurrect loved ones buried both recently and long ago. Many asked only for one final moment to express feelings of love, or to apologize for things said or things not said.
6. Return the accolades, fame, popularity and praise of years past that has now faded and been replaced with continual silence.
7. Remove the effects of aging, smoking, drinking, and hard living and restore health, fitness, and vibrance.
8. Replace bitterness, emptiness, loneliness, and callousness with love, joy, forgiveness, and peace.
The stranger shook his head in disbelief. He only meant to help others find lost luggage, cargo, or other tangible items left behind on nearby ships. Yet, just as these hurting souls felt drawn to him to express the loss of their truest valuables, he felt the depth of their pain, listened to their requests without clarifying his intentions, and assured each one, "I will do everything I can."
He became a praying man, a compassionate man, a broken man, and a man of great understanding concerning the importance of valuing relationships and redeeming the time.
These requests were neither returned nor recovered by the mysterious man. But at least the longing of each visitor to his office was addressed. At least the pain was confessed. At least someone listened. Someone cared.
What each villager did not know was the trail of pain and heartache from which this stranger from across the ocean had fled. He came to their village to escape. Each of their longings reflected the longings of his own heart. His wife had died giving birth to their first child. The child followed his mother into eternity an hour behind her. He dealt with the pain of his loss with great anger and drunkenness. He boarded a ship with his few possessions in hopes of getting away from the painful memories. Upon arrival at the village, the ship's crew could not find some of the belongings he had stored below deck.
As the weeks turned into years, many who had once visited his office met him along the sidewalk or in the market. They met him with smiles, hugs, handshakes, and expressions of gratitude. With renewed hope and lifted spirits, they thanked him for all he had done. What had he done?
Only what each of us can do for one another. He gave them permission to grieve, promised to get involved, and prayed on behalf of their woundings. He did so unwittingly. We can do so intentionally. In helping others with their wounds, he found healing for his own.
This morning, let's go into business together. You grab a hammer and a nail. I'll hold the shingle above our business door that says, "Recovery of Lost Things."
Perry Crisp
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Doggone?
This past weekend, we had an outdoor expo at Lake Fork Baptist Church. Among the many activities over the weekend, we were blessed with three performances of Hank Hough and his Amazing Dogs (www.kingdomdog.com).
The dogs truly were amazing. Hank wasn't bad either. At the 1 o'clock show last Saturday, we gave away an AKC Registered Lab puppy (valued at $600) named Lucy. Hank and his dogs visited some of the area schools on Friday and we promoted the puppy giveaway to hundreds of children.
There was a big crowd at Lake Fork Baptist at 1 o'clock Saturday. Lots of little boys and girls were praying to win the puppy while quite a few moms and dads were praying NOT to win a puppy! But this wasn't just ANY puppy. This was Lucy.
Lucy is a black lab puppy that stole all of our hearts with her sweet, gentle disposition. Lucy was given to us by a generous donor who believed in what we were doing. We received Lucy on July 29th, but the Expo wasn't until September 11th. Someone had to take Lucy in and care for her for 45 days.
Bob and Charlotte Orr took Lucy into their home. Lucy took the Orr's into her heart and snuck into theirs, too. Bob was the overall team leader of the Expo. He didn't have to take on this additional responsibility. But the burden of caring for a pet melted away and quickly became a labor of love. Lucy became a part of their family.
As the Expo drew near, we were able to secure twin yellow lab puppies a little younger than Lucy. They were both AKC Registered from a great bloodline as well. We had planned on giving one puppy away at the 1 o'clock dog show and another puppy away at a men's dinner, but now we had three puppies.
The temptation was strong for the Orr's to celebrate the addiontal dog and keep Lucy for themselves. But they decided to give all three puppies away. They began to pray for Lucy to be given to a little boy or girl who would love her, play with her, and be able to afford the best care for her.
September 11th came and the Orr's were overextended with all the duties of the Expo events. They were physically exhausted. But more than anything else, they were emotionally exhausted. It was a gut-wrenching day because they knew Lucy would be given away. They wanted her to go to the "best person" possible. They prayed to that end over and over all morning.
Charlotte sat on the back row as the drawing for Lucy took place. I could tell she was praying. I could tell she was struggling.
Finally, the name of the winner was called out. We all knew the name. We know the boy who won Lucy very well because he is at church every time the doors are opened. He and his brother started visiting Lake Fork Baptist about a year ago. A retired couple in our church invited them, picked them up from their small home, and brought them every Sunday and Wednesday.
These two boys didn't have much in the way of earthly possessions, but they certainly had a way of grabbing our hearts. We have helped the family with food and clothes, but not because they asked or expected it. We saw the need and wanted to help.
The boy who won Lucy was the first of their family to invite Christ into his heart. He was saved in the fall of 2009. A short time later, his brother accepted Christ, too. Both boys were baptized together on a Sunday night. Their dad and grandparents came to the baptism. We presented the good news of God's plan of salvation the night of their baptism and we began praying for the boys' dad and grandparents.
This past Easter, our children's department put on a play written by one of our church members. Those two boys were in the play. Their dad was at church again to see his sons in the play. The children in the play shared God's plan of salvation with the audience as clearly as I've ever heard it. They even led the congregation in a prayer to receive Christ. When the play was over, I reminded the congregation of that prayer and led them in it again.
After the play was over and the kids were taking down the set and removing their costumes, I was on the platform trying not to get run over by all the excited children when the dad of those two boys walked up onto the platform, shook my hand, smiled, and said, "I prayed that prayer just now."
We hugged and cried and I began to look for his boys. They had already made their way to the Family Life Center to eat ice cream. Their dad and I went looking for them. We found both boys and their dad told them that he had just accepted Christ as his Savior.
Both boys smiled real big. The boy who won Lucy pumped his fists and said, "Yes!" He told me time and time again that his dad was going to get saved because he had been praying for him. He was right.
We all know the boy who won Lucy. We know his family. We know their financial struggles. We've helped them. We've prayed for their dad to get a job and God gave him a job. The dad has become quite a testimony. He tells people they ought to come to Lake Fork Baptist because "those people will love you no matter what."
Before the Expo and just before the 1 o'clock show, many of us heard that boy say, "I'm gonna win the puppy." We just smiled and patted him on the head. When his name was called, there were quite a few jaws that dropped. But not his. His arms went straight into the air and he did the same fist-pumping motion he did when his dad got saved. He ran onto that stage as quick as lightning, fell on his knees, and wrapped his arms around Lucy. It was a sweet embrace.
I must admit, I had my concerns that the boy and the family would be able to afford to provide the care Lucy needed. Charlotte was more than a little concerned about the same thing. She was confused and upset. Not because of anything she had against this boy or his family. Not at all. She was concerned that they wouldn't be able to take care of Lucy. Quite frankly, Lucy had it made at the Orr's. She lived there in a beautiful home in a beautiful neighborhood with lots of neighbors who had dogs who were well cared for. To know the Orr's is to know that Lucy was loved and cared for by the sweetest of people.
After a couple of days of personal mourning, anguish, and prayer, Charlotte and Bob decided to buy Lucy some food and medicine and take it to her. They called the Children's Minister and asked her to go with them to Lucy's new home so they could see Lucy and take her the food and medicine. The Children's Minister agreed to go with them. Charlotte then called the number where Lucy now lives and spoke with the boys' grandmother to get permission to come by on Thursday (tomorrow).
I'll let Charlotte tell the rest from an email I received from her this morning:
"My conversation with her (the grandmother) is one I will never forget. She said that today started with she and the grandson and Lucy on the front porch waiting for the school bus. Lucy's new proud owner got on the bus after saying good-bye to Lucy and her tail was just wagging. After the bus left, her tail quit wagging. She was already missing him. When her new owner came home she (Lucy) was so excited to see him. They were playing with her when I called. We had told the boy who won Lucy that Lucy needs to go out in the morning by 6:30 am . The grandmother said her grandson cannot normally get up in the mornings, but now he gets up at 6:15 am , gets dressed, and takes Lucy out. He also takes her out at 9:00 pm before he goes to bed. Lucy has not had an accident in their home. I told her we would see her Thursday and she said ok. I hung up the phone and told Bob the conversation and we both cried."
Charlotte then came to the following conclusions: "God knew what He was doing when that boy’s name was drawn. All the 'things' that we all have do not generate the most important thing and that is Love. I am convinced that the boy who won Lucy loves Lucy. The family may not have a lot of 'things', but when I hung up the phone I knew that Lucy was cared for and loved. I have cried most of today and I have had many talks with God. I prayed and asked Him to take care of Lucy and He did. I tried to control the situation and all the time God was in control. I know this, but I continued to try to help Him. Only now have I given everything back to God."
Charlotte knows that the family will need help with Lucy because the food, medicine, and veterinarian bills can get costly, so she has started the “LUCY SOCIETY’ to help provide for her and to give whatever help she can to a truly needy family.
After reading Charlotte's email and wiping away a ton of tears, I began thinking about all of these events. Things we often can't see when prayers aren't answered "our way" can become clear when we give them up to God and trust that He knows what He is doing.
Maybe God's plan is two-fold: 1) To let Lucy love a young boy who will return her unconditional love. Anyone who knows this little boy knows his heart is filled to overflowing with love. 2) To find a way -- a way named Lucy -- to help us truly get involved in helping a needy family. Yes, we have already helped them in the past. But have we loved them like God loves them? Have we gone the second mile? Has God sent this family to us as an example of how His love for us should be imitated by us toward them?
There's a deeper meaning -- a parable, if you will -- for all of us in the story of Lucy and the boy she loves.
Wiping doggone - correction - dogSHARED tears because Lucy is shared, not gone.
The dogs truly were amazing. Hank wasn't bad either. At the 1 o'clock show last Saturday, we gave away an AKC Registered Lab puppy (valued at $600) named Lucy. Hank and his dogs visited some of the area schools on Friday and we promoted the puppy giveaway to hundreds of children.
There was a big crowd at Lake Fork Baptist at 1 o'clock Saturday. Lots of little boys and girls were praying to win the puppy while quite a few moms and dads were praying NOT to win a puppy! But this wasn't just ANY puppy. This was Lucy.
Lucy is a black lab puppy that stole all of our hearts with her sweet, gentle disposition. Lucy was given to us by a generous donor who believed in what we were doing. We received Lucy on July 29th, but the Expo wasn't until September 11th. Someone had to take Lucy in and care for her for 45 days.
Bob and Charlotte Orr took Lucy into their home. Lucy took the Orr's into her heart and snuck into theirs, too. Bob was the overall team leader of the Expo. He didn't have to take on this additional responsibility. But the burden of caring for a pet melted away and quickly became a labor of love. Lucy became a part of their family.
As the Expo drew near, we were able to secure twin yellow lab puppies a little younger than Lucy. They were both AKC Registered from a great bloodline as well. We had planned on giving one puppy away at the 1 o'clock dog show and another puppy away at a men's dinner, but now we had three puppies.
The temptation was strong for the Orr's to celebrate the addiontal dog and keep Lucy for themselves. But they decided to give all three puppies away. They began to pray for Lucy to be given to a little boy or girl who would love her, play with her, and be able to afford the best care for her.
September 11th came and the Orr's were overextended with all the duties of the Expo events. They were physically exhausted. But more than anything else, they were emotionally exhausted. It was a gut-wrenching day because they knew Lucy would be given away. They wanted her to go to the "best person" possible. They prayed to that end over and over all morning.
Charlotte sat on the back row as the drawing for Lucy took place. I could tell she was praying. I could tell she was struggling.
Finally, the name of the winner was called out. We all knew the name. We know the boy who won Lucy very well because he is at church every time the doors are opened. He and his brother started visiting Lake Fork Baptist about a year ago. A retired couple in our church invited them, picked them up from their small home, and brought them every Sunday and Wednesday.
These two boys didn't have much in the way of earthly possessions, but they certainly had a way of grabbing our hearts. We have helped the family with food and clothes, but not because they asked or expected it. We saw the need and wanted to help.
The boy who won Lucy was the first of their family to invite Christ into his heart. He was saved in the fall of 2009. A short time later, his brother accepted Christ, too. Both boys were baptized together on a Sunday night. Their dad and grandparents came to the baptism. We presented the good news of God's plan of salvation the night of their baptism and we began praying for the boys' dad and grandparents.
This past Easter, our children's department put on a play written by one of our church members. Those two boys were in the play. Their dad was at church again to see his sons in the play. The children in the play shared God's plan of salvation with the audience as clearly as I've ever heard it. They even led the congregation in a prayer to receive Christ. When the play was over, I reminded the congregation of that prayer and led them in it again.
After the play was over and the kids were taking down the set and removing their costumes, I was on the platform trying not to get run over by all the excited children when the dad of those two boys walked up onto the platform, shook my hand, smiled, and said, "I prayed that prayer just now."
We hugged and cried and I began to look for his boys. They had already made their way to the Family Life Center to eat ice cream. Their dad and I went looking for them. We found both boys and their dad told them that he had just accepted Christ as his Savior.
Both boys smiled real big. The boy who won Lucy pumped his fists and said, "Yes!" He told me time and time again that his dad was going to get saved because he had been praying for him. He was right.
We all know the boy who won Lucy. We know his family. We know their financial struggles. We've helped them. We've prayed for their dad to get a job and God gave him a job. The dad has become quite a testimony. He tells people they ought to come to Lake Fork Baptist because "those people will love you no matter what."
Before the Expo and just before the 1 o'clock show, many of us heard that boy say, "I'm gonna win the puppy." We just smiled and patted him on the head. When his name was called, there were quite a few jaws that dropped. But not his. His arms went straight into the air and he did the same fist-pumping motion he did when his dad got saved. He ran onto that stage as quick as lightning, fell on his knees, and wrapped his arms around Lucy. It was a sweet embrace.
I must admit, I had my concerns that the boy and the family would be able to afford to provide the care Lucy needed. Charlotte was more than a little concerned about the same thing. She was confused and upset. Not because of anything she had against this boy or his family. Not at all. She was concerned that they wouldn't be able to take care of Lucy. Quite frankly, Lucy had it made at the Orr's. She lived there in a beautiful home in a beautiful neighborhood with lots of neighbors who had dogs who were well cared for. To know the Orr's is to know that Lucy was loved and cared for by the sweetest of people.
After a couple of days of personal mourning, anguish, and prayer, Charlotte and Bob decided to buy Lucy some food and medicine and take it to her. They called the Children's Minister and asked her to go with them to Lucy's new home so they could see Lucy and take her the food and medicine. The Children's Minister agreed to go with them. Charlotte then called the number where Lucy now lives and spoke with the boys' grandmother to get permission to come by on Thursday (tomorrow).
I'll let Charlotte tell the rest from an email I received from her this morning:
"My conversation with her (the grandmother) is one I will never forget. She said that today started with she and the grandson and Lucy on the front porch waiting for the school bus. Lucy's new proud owner got on the bus after saying good-bye to Lucy and her tail was just wagging. After the bus left, her tail quit wagging. She was already missing him. When her new owner came home she (Lucy) was so excited to see him. They were playing with her when I called. We had told the boy who won Lucy that Lucy needs to go out in the morning by 6:30 am . The grandmother said her grandson cannot normally get up in the mornings, but now he gets up at 6:15 am , gets dressed, and takes Lucy out. He also takes her out at 9:00 pm before he goes to bed. Lucy has not had an accident in their home. I told her we would see her Thursday and she said ok. I hung up the phone and told Bob the conversation and we both cried."
Charlotte then came to the following conclusions: "God knew what He was doing when that boy’s name was drawn. All the 'things' that we all have do not generate the most important thing and that is Love. I am convinced that the boy who won Lucy loves Lucy. The family may not have a lot of 'things', but when I hung up the phone I knew that Lucy was cared for and loved. I have cried most of today and I have had many talks with God. I prayed and asked Him to take care of Lucy and He did. I tried to control the situation and all the time God was in control. I know this, but I continued to try to help Him. Only now have I given everything back to God."
Charlotte knows that the family will need help with Lucy because the food, medicine, and veterinarian bills can get costly, so she has started the “LUCY SOCIETY’ to help provide for her and to give whatever help she can to a truly needy family.
After reading Charlotte's email and wiping away a ton of tears, I began thinking about all of these events. Things we often can't see when prayers aren't answered "our way" can become clear when we give them up to God and trust that He knows what He is doing.
Maybe God's plan is two-fold: 1) To let Lucy love a young boy who will return her unconditional love. Anyone who knows this little boy knows his heart is filled to overflowing with love. 2) To find a way -- a way named Lucy -- to help us truly get involved in helping a needy family. Yes, we have already helped them in the past. But have we loved them like God loves them? Have we gone the second mile? Has God sent this family to us as an example of how His love for us should be imitated by us toward them?
There's a deeper meaning -- a parable, if you will -- for all of us in the story of Lucy and the boy she loves.
Wiping doggone - correction - dogSHARED tears because Lucy is shared, not gone.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
A MUST Read
What if I'm right?
In an instant, the levy broke. It wasn't a slight breach. It was a wide, gaping break that emptied an entire lake in a matter of hours. Within minutes, a wall of water forced its way over and through trees, homes, streets, and towns. The water was so powerful, trees snapped and houses crumbled and disappeared. Dozens of people were swept away in an instant.
Dozens. Not hundreds. Not thousands. Dozens. The dozens swept away were the ones who refused to believe the warnings and heed the voluntary and eventual mandatory, evacuations. The Corps of Engineers had warned the public of the likelihood of a pending breach or even complete failure of the levy. Warnings and precautions had been public for three months. Officials went door to door insisting that residents evacuate.
Many heeded the warnings and evacuated. Some who evacuated early decided the authorities were wrong and snuck back into their homes after a month or two. Others grew impatient and held rallies in their towns to protest the evacuations, angrily shouting insults at the public officials and engineers who kept them from returning to their homes.
Then the levy broke.
Just as the engineers predicted, the water runoff from the rain miles away from the lake eventually made its way to the lake and increased the already tremendous pressure on the weakening levy, and it broke open with the same force as if detonated by a bomb.
Dozens died instantly. The anger of those who once protested the intrusion of the evacuation turned to tears of sorrow, disbelief, humility, and gratitude. Those who had been the objects of constant verbal assaults comforted and cried today with those who had cursed them yesterday.
Once the initial force of the water passed and left the area flooded, rescue teams manned dozens of boats and several helicopters to search for those who might have survived. The helicopter pilots guided the rescue boats to people in trees, on rooftops, and hilltops. The "eye in the sky" (via radio communication) also warned of unsafe areas so that the rescue boats would not get swept away in dangerous currents or their motors entangled in power lines. The results of the search were not as positive as everyone had hoped. Less than twenty people were rescued.
One rescue boat came upon a man in a boat tied to a tree. When the waters initially swept the man from his front porch, he managed to grab onto a tree limb and hold on. Within an hour, an empty boat came floating toward him. He swam to it and climbed inside. He drove the boat around for a while, but could not tell where he was. Afraid of running out of gas or getting completely lost, he tied the boat to a tree and waited for help.
The rescuers pulled their smaller boat next to his and instructed him to get into their boat, but he refused. "This boat saved my life and I'm gonna keep it," he insisted. The rescuers tossed the man a rope and told him to tie it to his boat so that they wouldn't get separated. He tossed the rope back to them, shook his head, and motioned for them to go on. He would follow.
He followed. For a little while. Apparently, the man eventually recognized where he was. Once he got his bearings, he sped up, passed the slower rescue boat, and took off. The rescuers shouted and tried to wave at him to stop, but he kept going. They tried to catch him, but he was quickly gone. A rescue helicopter followed above him for a few minutes, but lost him in the trees.
Two hours later, the helicopter pilot spotted the man's boat. The hull was severely compromised. Water filled the boat. The man was nowhere in sight. His body was found a week later.
As sad as this story is, it reaches infinitely greater depths of sadness when you realize it is a modern-day parable of those who refuse to heed the teachings of Scripture; and instead, believe the popular modern-day myth that there are many paths to heaven.
I believe the Bible is the true Word of God with the same depth of conviction that you believe oxygen is vital to the survival of your body. I believe what Jesus said when He said, "I am THE way, THE truth, and THE life. NO ONE comes to the Father, but by Me" (John 14:6). Jesus, in His own words, excludes Himself from the argument that there are many ways to heaven.
I believe Acts 4:12, "Nor is there salvation in ANY other, for there is NO OTHER NAME under heaven given among MEN by which we MUST be saved."
I believe what the Bible reveals. And the Bible doesn't argue about it. It states it as fact. Jesus said He's coming back and this world will one day end. I believe Him. The signs provided in the Bible to help us know when the end time is drawing near have never been more contemporary than they are now. The end could be closer than any of us realize. The levy is swelling.
Jesus said there is a heaven and there is a place of eternal torment called "Hell" and I believe Him. I also believe HIS description of hell over your favorite joke or country song about hell. There will be no partying. There will be no friends. There will be no escape.
Back to my first question: What if I'm right?
What if Jesus IS the only way? What if God gave us ONE way and the devil manufactured twenty alternatives to deceive those who preferred a different way than God's way? What if the Bible is 100% accurate?
What if I'm right?
I know what you're thinking at this point: What if the narrow-minded, holier than thou preacher is dead WRONG? Good question. What if I'm wrong? That would mean you are right.
What if YOU'RE right and there are many ways to God and/or heaven? Then I've lost nothing and gained everything. In that case, I am ON one of the so-called "many ways" to heaven. Why do I feel like I've gained everything? I have lived as both a non-Christian and a Christian, and I'll take the Christian life of joy, peace, grace, forgiveness, and love over the life of emptiness, ambiguity, uncertainty, emotional-roller-coaster-living ANY DAY...even if I'm wrong. But I know I'm not. How do I know? Faith. Faith confirmed daily. I know because I know Him experientially.
What if I'M right and you're wrong? You lose everything and gain an eternity in hell. Your shouts of anger and defamatory name-calling toward those of us who are trying to help you find the truth in Jesus place you in the parable as those who foolishly rally against and curse the ones who have saved your life before you realize it. If I'm right, then your perception of my intentions toward you are wrong. If I'm right, you might also be the man in the boat who felt he had a superior boat and knew a better way to safety only to find out that the other ways lead to disaster. If I'm right, I'm in contact with the "Eye in the Sky" who is trying to lead you in the right way.
Shouldn't that be a sobering enough thought to send you into an honest inquiry of the truth about Jesus? Not a quick googling of websites that agree with your presuppositions and prop up your opinions. I'm asking you to take an honest heart journey. I'm challenging you to drop your argumentative anger and face the issues of your soul without bias.
If I'm right, or even have a ten percent chance of being right in your mind, then what would it be worth to you to find out? And if YOU are so right, why not take my challenge, read the Bible, attend an evangelical church faithfully for a few months, and listen. Really listen. Not just to what the preacher says. Listen to what you hear inside your heart.
One more sobering question for you to think about today: If there were many ways to God and/or heaven, why would Jesus claim otherwise, and then believe it enough to die for it, knowing that man could reach God through lesser means? In other words, there's no wiggle room. You have to decide whether Jesus was/is the Son of God or whether He was a misinformed, delusional liar.
I'm just a man in a boat who is in contact with an eye in the sky who knows the way. And I'm begging you...
...please take the rope.
Perry Crisp
In an instant, the levy broke. It wasn't a slight breach. It was a wide, gaping break that emptied an entire lake in a matter of hours. Within minutes, a wall of water forced its way over and through trees, homes, streets, and towns. The water was so powerful, trees snapped and houses crumbled and disappeared. Dozens of people were swept away in an instant.
Dozens. Not hundreds. Not thousands. Dozens. The dozens swept away were the ones who refused to believe the warnings and heed the voluntary and eventual mandatory, evacuations. The Corps of Engineers had warned the public of the likelihood of a pending breach or even complete failure of the levy. Warnings and precautions had been public for three months. Officials went door to door insisting that residents evacuate.
Many heeded the warnings and evacuated. Some who evacuated early decided the authorities were wrong and snuck back into their homes after a month or two. Others grew impatient and held rallies in their towns to protest the evacuations, angrily shouting insults at the public officials and engineers who kept them from returning to their homes.
Then the levy broke.
Just as the engineers predicted, the water runoff from the rain miles away from the lake eventually made its way to the lake and increased the already tremendous pressure on the weakening levy, and it broke open with the same force as if detonated by a bomb.
Dozens died instantly. The anger of those who once protested the intrusion of the evacuation turned to tears of sorrow, disbelief, humility, and gratitude. Those who had been the objects of constant verbal assaults comforted and cried today with those who had cursed them yesterday.
Once the initial force of the water passed and left the area flooded, rescue teams manned dozens of boats and several helicopters to search for those who might have survived. The helicopter pilots guided the rescue boats to people in trees, on rooftops, and hilltops. The "eye in the sky" (via radio communication) also warned of unsafe areas so that the rescue boats would not get swept away in dangerous currents or their motors entangled in power lines. The results of the search were not as positive as everyone had hoped. Less than twenty people were rescued.
One rescue boat came upon a man in a boat tied to a tree. When the waters initially swept the man from his front porch, he managed to grab onto a tree limb and hold on. Within an hour, an empty boat came floating toward him. He swam to it and climbed inside. He drove the boat around for a while, but could not tell where he was. Afraid of running out of gas or getting completely lost, he tied the boat to a tree and waited for help.
The rescuers pulled their smaller boat next to his and instructed him to get into their boat, but he refused. "This boat saved my life and I'm gonna keep it," he insisted. The rescuers tossed the man a rope and told him to tie it to his boat so that they wouldn't get separated. He tossed the rope back to them, shook his head, and motioned for them to go on. He would follow.
He followed. For a little while. Apparently, the man eventually recognized where he was. Once he got his bearings, he sped up, passed the slower rescue boat, and took off. The rescuers shouted and tried to wave at him to stop, but he kept going. They tried to catch him, but he was quickly gone. A rescue helicopter followed above him for a few minutes, but lost him in the trees.
Two hours later, the helicopter pilot spotted the man's boat. The hull was severely compromised. Water filled the boat. The man was nowhere in sight. His body was found a week later.
As sad as this story is, it reaches infinitely greater depths of sadness when you realize it is a modern-day parable of those who refuse to heed the teachings of Scripture; and instead, believe the popular modern-day myth that there are many paths to heaven.
I believe the Bible is the true Word of God with the same depth of conviction that you believe oxygen is vital to the survival of your body. I believe what Jesus said when He said, "I am THE way, THE truth, and THE life. NO ONE comes to the Father, but by Me" (John 14:6). Jesus, in His own words, excludes Himself from the argument that there are many ways to heaven.
I believe Acts 4:12, "Nor is there salvation in ANY other, for there is NO OTHER NAME under heaven given among MEN by which we MUST be saved."
I believe what the Bible reveals. And the Bible doesn't argue about it. It states it as fact. Jesus said He's coming back and this world will one day end. I believe Him. The signs provided in the Bible to help us know when the end time is drawing near have never been more contemporary than they are now. The end could be closer than any of us realize. The levy is swelling.
Jesus said there is a heaven and there is a place of eternal torment called "Hell" and I believe Him. I also believe HIS description of hell over your favorite joke or country song about hell. There will be no partying. There will be no friends. There will be no escape.
Back to my first question: What if I'm right?
What if Jesus IS the only way? What if God gave us ONE way and the devil manufactured twenty alternatives to deceive those who preferred a different way than God's way? What if the Bible is 100% accurate?
What if I'm right?
I know what you're thinking at this point: What if the narrow-minded, holier than thou preacher is dead WRONG? Good question. What if I'm wrong? That would mean you are right.
What if YOU'RE right and there are many ways to God and/or heaven? Then I've lost nothing and gained everything. In that case, I am ON one of the so-called "many ways" to heaven. Why do I feel like I've gained everything? I have lived as both a non-Christian and a Christian, and I'll take the Christian life of joy, peace, grace, forgiveness, and love over the life of emptiness, ambiguity, uncertainty, emotional-roller-coaster-living ANY DAY...even if I'm wrong. But I know I'm not. How do I know? Faith. Faith confirmed daily. I know because I know Him experientially.
What if I'M right and you're wrong? You lose everything and gain an eternity in hell. Your shouts of anger and defamatory name-calling toward those of us who are trying to help you find the truth in Jesus place you in the parable as those who foolishly rally against and curse the ones who have saved your life before you realize it. If I'm right, then your perception of my intentions toward you are wrong. If I'm right, you might also be the man in the boat who felt he had a superior boat and knew a better way to safety only to find out that the other ways lead to disaster. If I'm right, I'm in contact with the "Eye in the Sky" who is trying to lead you in the right way.
Shouldn't that be a sobering enough thought to send you into an honest inquiry of the truth about Jesus? Not a quick googling of websites that agree with your presuppositions and prop up your opinions. I'm asking you to take an honest heart journey. I'm challenging you to drop your argumentative anger and face the issues of your soul without bias.
If I'm right, or even have a ten percent chance of being right in your mind, then what would it be worth to you to find out? And if YOU are so right, why not take my challenge, read the Bible, attend an evangelical church faithfully for a few months, and listen. Really listen. Not just to what the preacher says. Listen to what you hear inside your heart.
One more sobering question for you to think about today: If there were many ways to God and/or heaven, why would Jesus claim otherwise, and then believe it enough to die for it, knowing that man could reach God through lesser means? In other words, there's no wiggle room. You have to decide whether Jesus was/is the Son of God or whether He was a misinformed, delusional liar.
I'm just a man in a boat who is in contact with an eye in the sky who knows the way. And I'm begging you...
...please take the rope.
Perry Crisp
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Ya Reckon?
Bobby crouched behind a thicket of bushes in the southeast Texas woods, waiting for his target to appear. He heard the crunching of leaves and twigs to his south and waited to see if it was an animal or his enemy approaching. Armadillos make a great racket in the woods, but not nearly as much as an eight-year-old boy.
This was the sound of an eight-year-old boy. Bobby lifted his rifle -- a wooden stick to an adult observer -- but a sniper's rifle to a boy's imagination. Within seconds, a skinny, blonde-haired eight-year-old boy wearing only cut-off jeans came into Bobby's line of fire.
As Bobby squeezed the invisible trigger, he yelled, "Pow, pow, pow, pow!" (Imaginary rifles require vocal sound effects).
Bobby's enemy ducked behind a tree, apparently unharmed.
"I shot you! You're dead!" shouted Bobby.
"Nu- uh! You missed! I dodged your bullets before they could get here!" I shouted back. (Yes, I was the noisy eight-year-old playing army in the woods between Bobby's house and mine. And yes, I've had an overactive imagination all my life...but I really was fast, so he DID miss).
The argument continued. He claimed victory. I claimed stealth. He said I was dead. I said I was alive. The war within the war was never settled.
So it is with the soul and flesh of the believer. The soul tells the flesh to die. Sometimes the flesh dies, but dies slowly; like a black-hatted cowboy in an old western movie who's just been shot. Sometimes the defeated flesh should just go ahead and die, but won't; like a white-hatted cowboy in the same movie who's been shot four times center mass and calls it a flesh wound. But most of the time, the flesh dies like J. R. Ewing: Dead for a season, but makes a comeback.
The Bible tells the believer to die to his old sinful nature. A new nature is in town. "Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new" (2 Corinthians 5:17, NKJV).
"But you are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if indeed the Spirit of God dwells in you. Now if anyone does not have the Spirit of Christ, he is not His. And if Christ is in you, the body is dead because of sin, but the Spirit is life because of righteousness" (Romans 8:9-10, NKJV).
Good stuff. What does it mean? Perhaps an imaginative translation will help: "So don't you see that we don't owe this old do-it-yourself life one red cent. There's nothing in it for us, nothing at all. The best thing to do is give it a decent burial and get on with your new life" (Romans 8:9-10, The Message).
Earlier, Paul wrote, "Reckon yourselves to be dead indeed to sin, but alive to God in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Romans 6:11, NKJV).
If ever a truth were a challenge, this is it. How do I "reckon" myself to be dead? The principle is solid. The fact is, from heaven's perspective, what Jesus did on the cross buried sin's power to destroy us. But we need to transition from principle to practice. How?
First of all, it may surprise you to know that this kind of thinking is psychologically sound. What we think usually translates into conduct. The thought gives birth to the act. But it isn't mechanical. It can't be ritual. There's no going through the motions or chanting a magical set of words. You have to truly desire to be free from sin and alive to the desires and wishes of God for your life.
Being dead to sin and alive to Christ must become the constant conviction of your heart and mind. Everything you think, do, and say must sift through the filter of this truth. You are no longer what you used to be.
"Sin speaks a dead language that means nothing to you; God speaks your mother tongue, and you hang on every word. You are dead to sin and alive to God" (Romans 6:11, The Message).
Let's go literal for a minute. As a pastor, I've stood beside the casket of many a brother and sister in Christ. I've seen the families of the deceased lean over caskets and whisper words of affection and faith. Nothing ever said, no amount of dripping tears ever shed, have altered the reaction of the deceased. It isn't that the deceased is deaf, blind, or uncaring. He's dead. Conscious elsewhere? Absolutely. The soul lives on. Conscious of earthly noise? Nada. A twenty-one gun salute in a cemetery disturbs none of its occupants.
Oh, that we could respond to temptation's noise the same way!
Paul's words in Romans 6 are strengthened by Paul's words in Colossians 3: "If then you were raised with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ is, sitting at the right hand of God. Set your mind on things above, not on things on the earth. For YOU DIED and your life is hidden with Christ in God" (3:1-3).
A Christian is camouflaged in Christ. Time means nothing in heaven. So when God sees the Christian, He sees the result of Christ's death, burial, and resurrection. From heaven's view, I died when Christ died. His victorious resurrection was mine, too.
I Reckon So,
Perry Crisp
This was the sound of an eight-year-old boy. Bobby lifted his rifle -- a wooden stick to an adult observer -- but a sniper's rifle to a boy's imagination. Within seconds, a skinny, blonde-haired eight-year-old boy wearing only cut-off jeans came into Bobby's line of fire.
As Bobby squeezed the invisible trigger, he yelled, "Pow, pow, pow, pow!" (Imaginary rifles require vocal sound effects).
Bobby's enemy ducked behind a tree, apparently unharmed.
"I shot you! You're dead!" shouted Bobby.
"Nu- uh! You missed! I dodged your bullets before they could get here!" I shouted back. (Yes, I was the noisy eight-year-old playing army in the woods between Bobby's house and mine. And yes, I've had an overactive imagination all my life...but I really was fast, so he DID miss).
The argument continued. He claimed victory. I claimed stealth. He said I was dead. I said I was alive. The war within the war was never settled.
So it is with the soul and flesh of the believer. The soul tells the flesh to die. Sometimes the flesh dies, but dies slowly; like a black-hatted cowboy in an old western movie who's just been shot. Sometimes the defeated flesh should just go ahead and die, but won't; like a white-hatted cowboy in the same movie who's been shot four times center mass and calls it a flesh wound. But most of the time, the flesh dies like J. R. Ewing: Dead for a season, but makes a comeback.
The Bible tells the believer to die to his old sinful nature. A new nature is in town. "Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new" (2 Corinthians 5:17, NKJV).
"But you are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if indeed the Spirit of God dwells in you. Now if anyone does not have the Spirit of Christ, he is not His. And if Christ is in you, the body is dead because of sin, but the Spirit is life because of righteousness" (Romans 8:9-10, NKJV).
Good stuff. What does it mean? Perhaps an imaginative translation will help: "So don't you see that we don't owe this old do-it-yourself life one red cent. There's nothing in it for us, nothing at all. The best thing to do is give it a decent burial and get on with your new life" (Romans 8:9-10, The Message).
Earlier, Paul wrote, "Reckon yourselves to be dead indeed to sin, but alive to God in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Romans 6:11, NKJV).
If ever a truth were a challenge, this is it. How do I "reckon" myself to be dead? The principle is solid. The fact is, from heaven's perspective, what Jesus did on the cross buried sin's power to destroy us. But we need to transition from principle to practice. How?
First of all, it may surprise you to know that this kind of thinking is psychologically sound. What we think usually translates into conduct. The thought gives birth to the act. But it isn't mechanical. It can't be ritual. There's no going through the motions or chanting a magical set of words. You have to truly desire to be free from sin and alive to the desires and wishes of God for your life.
Being dead to sin and alive to Christ must become the constant conviction of your heart and mind. Everything you think, do, and say must sift through the filter of this truth. You are no longer what you used to be.
"Sin speaks a dead language that means nothing to you; God speaks your mother tongue, and you hang on every word. You are dead to sin and alive to God" (Romans 6:11, The Message).
Let's go literal for a minute. As a pastor, I've stood beside the casket of many a brother and sister in Christ. I've seen the families of the deceased lean over caskets and whisper words of affection and faith. Nothing ever said, no amount of dripping tears ever shed, have altered the reaction of the deceased. It isn't that the deceased is deaf, blind, or uncaring. He's dead. Conscious elsewhere? Absolutely. The soul lives on. Conscious of earthly noise? Nada. A twenty-one gun salute in a cemetery disturbs none of its occupants.
Oh, that we could respond to temptation's noise the same way!
Paul's words in Romans 6 are strengthened by Paul's words in Colossians 3: "If then you were raised with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ is, sitting at the right hand of God. Set your mind on things above, not on things on the earth. For YOU DIED and your life is hidden with Christ in God" (3:1-3).
A Christian is camouflaged in Christ. Time means nothing in heaven. So when God sees the Christian, He sees the result of Christ's death, burial, and resurrection. From heaven's view, I died when Christ died. His victorious resurrection was mine, too.
I Reckon So,
Perry Crisp
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
It Pains Me to Say This...
"There shall be no more pain" (Revelation 21:4). I have no fondness for pain. Not a single happy painful memory. Sure, good things have often risen out of pain. But neither the pain itself nor the memory of it bring a smile.
Jesus said we will always have the poor with us. The same is true of pain. Pain is always at hand. If not our own, then someone we know. Can you think of someone you know right now who is suffering? I can.
A grieving family a few miles north of me struggles with a pain I cannot imagine -- the drowning death of their three-year-old son.
A dear couple in our church family brought a sack of fresh vegetables from their garden to give to their daughter yesterday...only to be met at the door by the son-in-law saying, "When I tried to wake her up this morning, she was dead."
Parents burying their children flies high off the pain chart.
We know where pain originated. Genesis. The book of beginnings tells us. Adam, Eve, and the serpent had the first committee meeting in human history and decided one of God's rules was suspect. They decided God didn't have their best interests at heart, so they deliberately dined on a forbidden fruit.
God punished each of them with pain. The serpent's mode of transportation went from whatever it was to belly-crawling. If you don't think that's painful, try it. Along with the belly-crawling, the serpent's sin earned him dust-eating and head-crushing.
The woman's punishment was two-fold: Greatly multiplied sorrow and pain when having children, and having to submit to the authority of the dumber of the two genders. Why childbirth? Probably for more significant reasons than I, the dumber of the genders, will ever know. But childbirth had not yet occurred in human history. Chapter 4 of Genesis hadn't been written yet. So, childbirth, the next event in Adam and Eve's lives, was going to be more unbearable (pat yourself on the back if you recognized the pun) than originally planned.
The man obviously took one for the team when the punishment was handed out, though. One could argue that the woman's punishment would be enough for both genders due to the fact that the woman's punishment would naturally be transferred onto the man. Thus, the phrase, "If momma ain't happy, nobody's happy" was born.
Not only that, a man standing next to a woman during the birthing process, FEELS her pain if he is dumb enough to be within reach of her fingernails or teeth. We usually are. One bite has led to a billion more. The woman's second punishment lands in the man's lap as well. Things like heavy sighing, rolling of the eyes, tapping of the foot, hands on the hips, etc., have all evolved from this punishment.
But wait...there's more! For the man. Man had to go out and work the uncooperative fields. The woman and kids needed food. Food came from the ground. But the ground was as cooperative as the clamped jaws of a baby refusing a spoonful of medicine. Thorns, thistles and sweat awaited the man every day until he dropped dead.
Pain.
Isn't it interesting that the Bible introduces us to pain's birth in the first book and then points to pain's death in the last book? "There shall be no more pain."
What happened between Genesis and Revelation that led to the promise of a future in heaven without pain? The answer is not a what, but a who...
Jesus.
Jesus happened.
Genesis even predicted Jesus would happen. When God was doling out the serpent's punishment, He said, "I will put enmity between you (serpent) and the woman, and between your seed and her Seed; He (Jesus) shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise His heel" (Genesis 3:15, parenthesis mine).
Seems to me the winner of that battle is the one with the bruised heel. My, what a bruise it was. Are you with me? Between the birth of pain in Genesis to the death of pain in Revelation, Jesus was born.
Jesus was born.
The cure came via the curse.
Jesus came to pay the price for the sin of humanity. He gathered up all the rotten apple cores that have ever fallen from the sin-dripping lips of mankind, toted them to the cross, and paid for them with His life. Through pain.
More pain than any human has ever known. Through His own excruciating pain, He paid sin's penalty with His pure life's blood. The pain was meant for us, yet He stepped between it and us and took it upon Himself.
We still feel pain. Though the penalty has been paid, though forgiveness has been settled, we still live with pain...for now. But there is coming a day when there will be no more pain.
That's something worth knowing. And worth sharing.
Advil until then...
Perry Crisp
Jesus said we will always have the poor with us. The same is true of pain. Pain is always at hand. If not our own, then someone we know. Can you think of someone you know right now who is suffering? I can.
A grieving family a few miles north of me struggles with a pain I cannot imagine -- the drowning death of their three-year-old son.
A dear couple in our church family brought a sack of fresh vegetables from their garden to give to their daughter yesterday...only to be met at the door by the son-in-law saying, "When I tried to wake her up this morning, she was dead."
Parents burying their children flies high off the pain chart.
We know where pain originated. Genesis. The book of beginnings tells us. Adam, Eve, and the serpent had the first committee meeting in human history and decided one of God's rules was suspect. They decided God didn't have their best interests at heart, so they deliberately dined on a forbidden fruit.
God punished each of them with pain. The serpent's mode of transportation went from whatever it was to belly-crawling. If you don't think that's painful, try it. Along with the belly-crawling, the serpent's sin earned him dust-eating and head-crushing.
The woman's punishment was two-fold: Greatly multiplied sorrow and pain when having children, and having to submit to the authority of the dumber of the two genders. Why childbirth? Probably for more significant reasons than I, the dumber of the genders, will ever know. But childbirth had not yet occurred in human history. Chapter 4 of Genesis hadn't been written yet. So, childbirth, the next event in Adam and Eve's lives, was going to be more unbearable (pat yourself on the back if you recognized the pun) than originally planned.
The man obviously took one for the team when the punishment was handed out, though. One could argue that the woman's punishment would be enough for both genders due to the fact that the woman's punishment would naturally be transferred onto the man. Thus, the phrase, "If momma ain't happy, nobody's happy" was born.
Not only that, a man standing next to a woman during the birthing process, FEELS her pain if he is dumb enough to be within reach of her fingernails or teeth. We usually are. One bite has led to a billion more. The woman's second punishment lands in the man's lap as well. Things like heavy sighing, rolling of the eyes, tapping of the foot, hands on the hips, etc., have all evolved from this punishment.
But wait...there's more! For the man. Man had to go out and work the uncooperative fields. The woman and kids needed food. Food came from the ground. But the ground was as cooperative as the clamped jaws of a baby refusing a spoonful of medicine. Thorns, thistles and sweat awaited the man every day until he dropped dead.
Pain.
Isn't it interesting that the Bible introduces us to pain's birth in the first book and then points to pain's death in the last book? "There shall be no more pain."
What happened between Genesis and Revelation that led to the promise of a future in heaven without pain? The answer is not a what, but a who...
Jesus.
Jesus happened.
Genesis even predicted Jesus would happen. When God was doling out the serpent's punishment, He said, "I will put enmity between you (serpent) and the woman, and between your seed and her Seed; He (Jesus) shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise His heel" (Genesis 3:15, parenthesis mine).
Seems to me the winner of that battle is the one with the bruised heel. My, what a bruise it was. Are you with me? Between the birth of pain in Genesis to the death of pain in Revelation, Jesus was born.
Jesus was born.
The cure came via the curse.
Jesus came to pay the price for the sin of humanity. He gathered up all the rotten apple cores that have ever fallen from the sin-dripping lips of mankind, toted them to the cross, and paid for them with His life. Through pain.
More pain than any human has ever known. Through His own excruciating pain, He paid sin's penalty with His pure life's blood. The pain was meant for us, yet He stepped between it and us and took it upon Himself.
We still feel pain. Though the penalty has been paid, though forgiveness has been settled, we still live with pain...for now. But there is coming a day when there will be no more pain.
That's something worth knowing. And worth sharing.
Advil until then...
Perry Crisp
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