Cream of blog 12.15.11

December 15, 2011

Thoughts from David Powlison on “How to Apply Scriptures When It Does Not Speak Directly and Personally to You.”

Scotty Smith, with “An Advent Prayer for Our Children and Grandchildren”

Gene Edward Veith shares a brother’s sharp view on whose job it is to “keep Christ in Christmas.”

The Resurgence tempts you to consider the lesson we can learn about God’s law from kids and forbidden marshmallows.

 

Is Nicolas your pastor?

December 13, 2011

From John Mark Reynolds’ blog (click here for the original)

This year I visited the house of Saint Nicholas.

It was in a hot town, nothing at all like the North Pole. There were no penguins, not even ice for my Diet Coke. My clearest memory was standing where the great pastor was buried and knowing his body had been stolen. Nicholas was no longer in the town he loved and no longer slept surrounded by his beloved people.

What was there was a powerful memory of a pastor so good to his congregation; he became the symbol of every good pastor. Nicholas cared so deeply for children, the weak, and the poor, that legends surrounded his actions. He stood so firmly for truth in confused times that he became a model of theological courage. Nicholas was not in Myra physically, but Myra was full of the memory of Nicholas.

Every good pastor is following in Nicholas’ steps. The medieval king had two bodies: his physical person and his sovereignty. The king could die as a person, but the Monarch never dies. The President might die, but then the President lives.

Santa has many bodies. Every pastor who loves the poor, defends orthodoxy, and serves the weak is Nicholas. Nicholas is dead, but Santa Claus lives!

In that sense, I grew up with Santa Claus, because my Dad was and is a very good parent and pastor. (Since my mother was the ideal pastor’s wife, she must be a very trim Mrs. Claus!)

My Dad and Mom did not mind if we played at Santa Claus, but every so often he would point out that the presents came from them and not Santa. “I am not giving the credit,” he chuckled, “to some fat man in a red suit.”

We knew Dad and Mom bought us thoughtful gifts, because they loved us. (The memories are good: a castle with knights, my Vic-20, my first watch, my own copy of the “Midnight Cry,” and my grandfather’s knife and tie rack.) They were Santa to us.

I watched Dad as he let folks move into our small parsonage and eat at our table for our time. Mom and Dad reached out to other people without any demand for a return. Dad may have been paid to preach, and he was an excellent preacher, but nobody paid him to answer the phone when it rang all the time.

I never saw my Dad lie. He sometimes did not want to help and would groan into action, but off to the hurting person’s home or hospital bed he would go. Dad never let me down, even when I shamed him. When I was at the bottom, Mom and Dad came and associated themselves with their prodigal son.

They were both Saint Nicholas to me.

They loved children not their own. They loved women in trouble. They loved their Church enough to pour out a lifetime of prayer and service to her. I honor them this holiday season every time I see that jolly man in a red suit or an image of the bishop of Myra in church.

Why not do the same for your pastor this Christmas?

Does he reach out and serve without being asked? Some pastors are well paid and work in large parishes, but most work for very little relative to their education. I know of times when Dad could hardly buy food for us, let alone treats. God always came through, but God often used people to help.

Can you help your pastor? Can you help his kids? Every time I saw Dad pray and some parishioner heard God and was used by God to meet the specific need that Dad was throwing up to God, my faith was strengthened. Many of our Christmas gifts were purchased by unexpected Christmas giftts from the faithful.

I remember the gifts that produced the gifts and feel very jolly.

I saw the Church work.

I know from friends that not everybody was blessed this way. There are bad pastors and foolish ones. My own life has fallen short of Dad’s integrity, especially when I was young, but most of us are blessed with giving couples who love us more than we deserve.

Saint Nicholas was not perfect and neither were my parents. Just as I hope for forgiveness for my (greater) sins, so I forgive those imperfections. There are, I know, millions of good men and women pouring out their lives for their own towns, their own Myra.

I saw people in the congregation used to answer my Dad and Mom’s prayers. Dad was like Nicholas, but his congregation was like the faithful in Myra that gave Nicholas the gold he used to bless the poor. I didn’t just know Mr. and Mrs. Claus, but all the elves in the workshop!

Can you give some little pastor’s kid the same blessing?

Saint Nicholas is in glory in the great cloud of witnesses. You honor him when you honor men like he was. Honor some Santa Claus.

Cream of blog 12.5.11

December 5, 2011

How to Talk with People about the Gospel: Harvey Turner suggests we stop viewing people as “projects.”

5 Benefits Drawn Out from Sorrow: Zach Eswine draws out some sweet comforts from the sympathy of our Lord Jesus.

iPhones are pro-life: Gene Veith notes a curious feature on the new iPhone operating system.

The Elf who stole Christmas: Gene Veith slaps around the increasingly popular Elf on the Shelf…and it’s high time someone did!

The Church has waited long

December 28, 2010

A hymn from the great Horatius Bonar:

“The Church Has Waited Long”:

The Church has waited long,
Her absent Lord to see,
And still in loneliness she waits,
A friendless stranger she.
Age after age has gone,
Sun after sun has set,
And still in weeds of widowhood,
She weeps a mourner yet.

Saint after saint on earth
Has lived, and loved, and died;
And as they left us one by one,
We laid them side by side;
We laid them down to sleep,
But not in hope forlorn;
We laid them but to ripen there,
Till the last glorious morn.

The serpent’s brood increase,
The powers of hell grow bold,
The conflict thickens, faith is low,
And love is waxing cold.
How long, O Lord our God,
Holy, and true, and good,
Wilt Thou not judge Thy suffering Church,
Her sighs, and tears, and blood?

We long to hear Thy voice,
To see Thee face to face,
To share Thy crown and glory then,
As now we share Thy grace.
Should not the loving bride
Her absent bridegroom mourn?
Should she not wear the signs of grief
Until her Lord return?

The whole creation groans,
And waits to hear that voice
That shall her comeliness restore,
And make her wastes rejoice.
Come, Lord, and wipe away
The curse, the sin, the stain,
And make this blighted world of ours
Thine own fair world again.

Redeeming Santa

December 14, 2010

Hey, I’ve been blogless for a while. If you’re still interested in following and considering, I’m back in business…

Mark Driscoll has a good piece in The Washington Post about “redeeming” Santa from the “You’d better watch out and behave or Santa won’t visit you” crowd and the “No Santa has ever crossed the threshold of our home because we’re real Christians” crowd.

That’s Christmas

December 30, 2009

I’m a few days late on this. This is a great 10-minute video from the brethren at St. Helen’s Bishopsgate in London:

See their Easter videos here.

Cream of blog 12.18.09

December 18, 2009

The Sweet Dropper has been silent about 10 days, as a trip to Belize has hindered my blogging. Here are a few blog entries worth your time.

Advent of humility

December 24, 2008

What a great Christmas gift Tim Keller and Christianity Today have given us in his article on humility in the December issue. I think this is worth reading and re-reading to the point of memorization. Read it here.

Two kings

December 23, 2008

Can I give you a ‘once upon a time’ story? Once upon a time, a little more than two thousand years ago, in a land the Romans called Judea, two kings were alive at the same time and in the same place. One king was about seventy years old; the other king was an infant. The big king was evil; the little king was pure. The big king was rich and powerful; the little king was poor. The big king lived in a palace staffed with servants; the little king was born in a stable. The little king’s mother was a young peasant girl from an obscure village, and his adoptive father was a carpenter.

Of course, you know the names of the two kings. The big king’s name was Herod. He was known as “Herod the Great.” He was a master builder, starting an ambitious expansion of the Temple in Jerusalem. A large portion of a supporting platform of that Temple structure, now known as the Wailing Wall, is still standing today.

But there are a couple things you ought to know about King Herod. He was a puppet-king. Judea was under Roman control and occupation. The Roman emperor allowed Herod to ‘rule’ in Palestine. Herod was appointed governor of Galilee in 40 BC, and later that year the Roman senate declared him “King of Judea.” He was a king, but a king who would not dare displease Rome.

In Judea Herod was not considered to be so “great.” In fact, most conservative, observant Jews of his day would say that he was not even Jewish! His ancestors were Edomites and not Jews—and his grandfather’s generation had embraced Judaism because there were a lot of swords were pointed at them. He could never be recognized as a true king of the Jews. He was not of the tribe of Judah. He was not related to David.

No, I’m not writing a special for the History Channel. What I want you to understand is the insecure position Herod was in during his reign. In Herod’s life, reality didn’t quite match up with outward appearances. That is something worth remembering.

One day Herod receives some unusual visitors from far away—“Magi from the East,” as Matthew describes them. [Nowhere is there an indication of how many there were!] Magi were most likely Persian [think Iranian] priests of Zoroaster, who were into the interpretation dreams and the study of astrology. The Magi came to Herod because they were following a heavenly object [“a star at its rising/in the east”]. Their search led them to Judea. “We have come to worship him—he who has been born king of the Jews.”

No wonder Herod was greatly troubled. He didn’t like the idea of another king in his realm, especially a true king whose birth was signaled by signs in the sky! He consults the chief priests and scribes about Messiah. [By the way, I wonder why the chief priests didn’t go along with the Magi—perhaps indifference?] He tried to fool the wise men. He met with them secretly and asked them how to find this newborn king. He lied to them. His fear and obsession with keeping his kingdom intact turn him into a liar. When his plan fails after the Magi scoot back to Persia without reporting to him, Herod becomes enraged, and you know what happens next. Herod becomes a mass murderer, ordering the slaughter of all male children in the area of Bethlehem under two years of age. But God warned Joseph in a dream, and the young family fled to Egypt. In a short time Herod the Great died, and the new king came back from Egypt.

The big king died and now is remembered as a little king—pathetic, paranoid, murderous. The little king grew up. He is Jesus, and now he is King of all Kings and Lord of all Lords. His Kingdom is an everlasting Kingdom.

A part of the Christmas story is the story of a king who missed the real king. His little, insecure, pathetic kingdom mattered more than the Kingdom which God was bringing into the world. Really it’s an old, old story. The little kingdom wars with the big Kingdom, and the kingdom of this world wars against the Kingdom of heaven. The kingdom of man wars against the Kingdom of God.

This war wages behind every human intention, decision, thought, word, desire, and action. Everything any of us does is done in pursuit of one of these two kingdoms. We were created, as Paul Tripp likes to say, for ‘big Kingdom’ living. But sin twists and perverts our allegiances and causes us to become Herods—fiercely dedicated to our little kingdoms, believing our kingdom is as good as it gets, and blind to transcendent, eternal glories of the big Kingdom—the Kingdom of heaven.

Think about Herod again. Herod’s greatest achievement was a religious one. He expanded the Temple. But even that was all about advancing and securing his little kingdom. This is how we get ourselves in trouble without realizing it. Most of us don’t wake up in the morning thinking in Kingdom terms. And without realizing it, we can do religious things (go to church, help others, study the Bible), all in the hope that God will ensure the success of our little kingdom.

We end up living for earth-bound treasures: success, someone’s affection, power and control, a certain lifestyle, parenting successful children, a trouble-free marriage, pleasure, or stuff. Let me ask you this: What makes your day a ‘good day’? What tends to make you happy and satisfied with life? If we watched a video of you during 2008, what treasure would we conclude that you are seeking?

We end up defining life in terms of our needs and anxieties. Herod felt stuck between keeping Rome happy and proving himself to skeptical Jews. Maybe you feel stuck in a similar way. You will never be able to control all the things that need to be controlled in order for you to guarantee that all your needs will be met and that your kingdom will come and your will be done.

Living for your little kingdom will shape the way you respond to everything God has placed in your life. Living for your little kingdom turns life into an endless, fruitless search for earth-bound treasure and an endless, fruitless focus on yourself. The Bible has a word for this way of living: sin!

We know what we like and the people we want to be with. We know the kind of house we’d like to own and the car we want to drive. We know how we want people in our family to respond to us. Without even recognizing it, we quickly fall into a ‘my desire, my will, my way’ lifestyle, driven by the cravings of our hearts. Like Herod, the more threatened my kingdom becomes, the more likely I am to manipulate, lie, become outraged, and destroy. But the promises of the Bible are an invitation to be a part of a bigger and better Kingdom—the Kingdom of God.

“It seems then,” said Tyrian, smiling himself, “that the stable seen from within and the stable seen from without are two different places.”
“Yes,” said the Lord Digory. “Its inside is bigger than its outside.”
“Yes,” said Queen Lucy. “In our world too, a stable once had something inside it that was bigger than our whole world.” [C.S. Lewis, The Last Battle]

The big Kingdom really is big! Its purposes span all of history and spread to all of creation and speak to all kinds of people. After all, a group of Iranian Zoroastrian priest-astrologers are the first seekers! The big Kingdom of God and my little kingdom cannot co-exist peacefully. The Kingdom of God cannot be squeezed or chopped down to fit into the constricted space of your little kingdom. And that is a good thing: that is why we weekly call you all to worship. Worship is opening ourselves up to the grandeur of the Kingdom of God—acknowledging one greater than we are, whose Kingdom is greater and much, much better than ours—the Lord God is his name.

I want this Christmas to be a time when you reconsider Jesus the Messiah and ponder what it is to worship him and what it is to seek first his Kingdom and his righteousness—to welcome a new way of living, a way of living that recognizes a loving heavenly Father and his unwavering commitment to provide all his children need to live lives committed to his Kingdom. The little king born in Bethlehem came to tear down your kingdom and expose its emptiness. He gave his life to buy us, to bear our sins, and to welcome us into his Kingdom. By his grace may everyone hear be able to say with the Iranians, “We have come to worship him.”

Here’s a Sweet Dropper Christmas tradition [which, being interpreted, means, 'I posted this each of the last two years and can't come up with anything better.']. Enjoy the leftovers.

It’s Friday. There must be another Christmas party to attend–I hosted one last night. There must be another little gift to buy. Who’s going to be so favoured as to receive one of my signature fruitcakes? C.S. Lewis wrote a short essay for the December 1957 edition of the publication, Twentieth Century. Under the heading, ‘What Christmas Means to Me,’ Lewis launches a scathing attack on the ‘commercial racket’ that overwhelms the season–NOT because it isn’t ‘religious,’ but because it drains our energies and undermines the merry-making, and hospitality that ought to characterize the season:

The interchange of presents was a very small ingredient in the older English festivity. Mr. Pickwick took a cod with him to Dingley Dell; the reformed Scrooge ordered a turkey for his clerk; lovers sent love gifts; toys and fruit were given to children. But the idea that not only all friends but even all acquaintances should give one another presents, or at least send one another cards, is quite modern and has been forced upon us by the shopkeepers. Neither of these circumstances is in itself a reason for condemning it. I condemn it on the following grounds.

1. It gives on the whole much more pain than pleasure. You have only to stay over Christmas with a family who seriously try to ‘keep’ it [in the commercial sense] in order to see that the thing is a nightmare. Long before December 25th everyone is worn out—physically worn out by weeks of daily struggle in overcrowded shops, mentally worn out by the effort to remember all the right recipients and to think out suitable gifts for them. They are in no trim for merry-making; much less (if they should want to) to take part in a religious act. They look far more as if there had been a long illness in the house.

2. Most of it is involuntary. The modern rule is that anyone can force you to give him a present by sending you a quite unprovoked present of his own. It is almost a blackmail. Who has not heard the wail of despair, and indeed of resentment, when, at the last moment, just as everyone hoped that the nuisance was over for one more year, the unwanted gift from Mrs. Busy (whom we hardly remember) flops unwelcomed through the letter-box, and back to the dreadful shops one of us has to go?

3. Things are given as presents which no mortal ever bought for himself—gaudy and useless gadgets, ‘novelties’ because no one was ever fool enough to make their like before. Have we really no better use for materials and for human skill and time than to spend them on all this rubbish?

4. The nuisance. For after all, during the racket we still have all our ordinary and necessary shopping to do, and the racket trebles the labour of it. We are told that the whole dreary business must go on because it is good for trade. It is in fact merely one annual symptom of that lunatic condition of our country, and indeed of the world, in which everyone lives by persuading everyone else to buy things. I don’t know the way out. But can it really be my duty to buy and receive masses of junk every winter just to help the shopkeepers? If the worst comes to the worst I’d sooner give them money for nothing and write it off as a charity. For nothing? Why, better for nothing than for a nuisance.

From C.S. Lewis, “What Christmas Means to Me,” in God in the Dock: Essays on Theology and Ethics (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994), 304-305.

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