Alpha and Omega

 Many of us have heard the term “Alpha and Omega” applied to God. It usually means that God is in the beginning and the end of all things – that God himself is the Beginning and the End. While I do believe that this is true, I once had an experience that placed this divine designation in a different light.

 My mother usually came from Michigan to visit me and my family in Oregon every summer. We would all go together to the beach in Lincoln City for a week. Each year we looked forward to this time with great anticipation. We were in the process of making plans again for our special time, when my mother informed me that she would not be able to come this summer. She was seriously ill from cancer and could not make the trip.

 

We were devastated from this news. I knew I had to go back to Michigan to see my mother before she died. I thought to myself, “If my Mom can’t come to the beach, I’ll bring the beach to her.” She loved the beach, the sand and water. “I’ll go to the beach and dig up some sand and bring back a bottle of the sea water for her.”

 

When I arrived at the beach to collect my gift, it was storming; wind and rain drenched me. I went over to some rocks and filled up my water bottle. As I was getting a little teary eyed, thinking of how much my mother loved the ocean, I turned to look at the sand. The sand is ALL blackened from a recent oil spill. I’m soaked, emotional, and really needing to quickly find some clean sand.

 

I notice a patch of sand near the beach grass. It has an odd orange spot within it. I wonder, what is that? Walking over to the clear bit of sand, the orange spot begins to come into focus through my water spattered glasses. I get on my knees and the orange spot resolves into a toy shovel, probably left behind by some child. I use it to conveniently fill my bag with sand. It occurs to me that God has provided a tool for me so I can put the sand into the bag without having to use my hands. How kind!

 

But then my heart breaks. “Why is it,” I pray out loud, “I can see you in the small things, like this shovel, but it is so hard for me to see you in the big things, like my mother dying of cancer?”

 

A thought, right then, came to me: “If I am in the little things, I am also in the big. I’m the Alpha and Omega.” This concept instantly brought me peace. I could trust that God had not abandoned my mother in her time of need. The picture was bigger than I could see from where I stood.

 

Yes, my mother died of cancer a short while later. We buried the sand and water with her. Jesus is the Alpha and Omega -- the Beginning and the End -- who is in the Small and in the Big.

Playing the Music

 Playing the Music

 

I was asked a difficult question this week by a man who was seeking understanding. He asked me, “What is the biggest problem the church has in communicating its message to our society?” I was stunned for a moment trying to think of my answer. I then remembered something I had read recently (I don’t know where), which was an excellent summary of this issue.

 

My answer went something like this: Bach was a great composer. His music was some of the best that was ever written. Yet when someone who is not yet skilled tries to play a Bach cello sonata, it doesn’t sound very good. If your only exposure to Bach’s music was through people who couldn’t yet play it very well, you might conclude that Bach wasn’t a very good composer. The problem wasn’t the music, but how it was being played. So too the church’s problem in communicating its message to our society is not a problem with the message, but how it is played.

 

The church’s message, its music if you will, is the greatest and most beautiful ever written. But it is also, like many of Bach’s compositions, very difficult to play well. Our music has lines like “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life”. (John 3:16) Or “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” (John 13:34-35) The church’s ability to communicate this first line has to do with how well they play the second.

 

Like all music, to play it well takes practice. One has to put in the effort to master the material. It is not enough to just know which note follows which, although that is very important. To play music well, it has to become part of you. Your focus is on the music itself, not the mechanics of playing.

 

When Christians learn to love well, our message can then be heard. We won’t obscure it with a mechanical rendition, or by faking what we have not yet mastered. There needs to be examples from those who play the message well, so the rest of us can know how it should sound.

 

Fortunately, such examples exist. Jesus Himself is the message, and an example of how the message is to be played or communicated. The apostle Paul encouraged us Christians to “Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God.” (Romans 15:7) When we do this, Jesus, and Jesus’ message, is heard clearly. The music is being played well.

 

So to those who are not Christians, I want you to remember that the music of Christ’s message is much deeper and more beautiful than anyone of us can ever play it. Hopefully, from time to time, you see glimpses of the grandeur of the music God wrote through Jesus. I invite you to come and learn, and become a person who truly loves God and people. 

Learning to Love

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When Malana was pregnant with our first child, she became really ill with “morning sickness”. You know, the kind that lasts all day and goes on for 7-8 months. She discovered she was pregnant soon after the second month of our marriage.

I was working making office furniture that was usually covered with a plastic laminate. In order to clean off the excess contact cement I washed my hands and everything else with lacquer thinner. Now this lacquer thinner would get into my breath and would take a while for it to completely dissipate.

Since we were newly married Malana was going to be the perfect wife and greet me with a kiss as I came home and came in the front door. But these days that I worked with the contact cement were becoming more common, and, when she greeted me at the door with a kiss, she would get a biff whiff of lacquer thinner. Her poor unsettled stomach couldn’t withstand the shock and she would run to the bathroom and vomit.

This went on for some time. I would go to work, come home, get greeted at the door with a kiss, and Malana would run to the bathroom and vomit. Besides all this, the smells of food being cooked were too strong and she felt lousy all the time. Not much got done while I was away at work.

Soon afterwards I went outside to the back porch, lifted up my hands, and complained to God. “God”, I said. “This is awful. This isn’t what I though marriage would be. What am I to do?”

There have been few times in my life where God so quickly answered. He spoke clearly in my heart in a voice that allowed for no wiggle room. He said, “Go back in there and love her!”

Well, that made sense to me. The Bible does say after all the husbands are to love their wives. So I went back I there and loved her.

But nothing changed. She still greeted me at the door with a kiss and ran to the bathroom to vomit. I still needed to do most of the cooking and stuff. After two weeks I got tired of it all and went again out to the back porch to pray.

“What should I do now Lord?” I asked. “I loved her but nothing has changed.” No sooner was my complaint out of my mouth than I heard again the voice of the Lord, the voice that breaks cedars, speaking in my heart. He said, ever so clearly, “Go back in there and love her!”

Then it dawned on me. I was to love her because I was to love her, not for the changes I thought it might make. She was deserving of love, always.

On The Meaning Of Life

A Conversation with Myself as an Introduction

Well Steve, this time you have really bitten off more than you can chew. The meaning of life! Why not pick a more difficult topic! Softening it by locating that preposition in the front won’t help. Who do you think you are? Augustine?

Well Steve, it doesn’t matter who I am as long as I am an honest person. That thing that matters is what I have seen and heard – what I’ve experienced. I can only discover what is already there. If life has meaning, it is not up to me to determine that meaning. So who I am is not the point.

But how can you say that? You can only say what it means to you. Meaning is not a fact that all can verify, it is a value judgment – that’s all. Life just is.

Seems like all the folks who write and edit dictionaries would want to quibble with you. Words mean things. Signs mean things. Actions mean things. If a plant dies it means something. It may mean that there is a lack of water, too much sun, or not the right soil – it is for the searcher to discover the meaning, not arbitrarily determine what is the meaning. Meaning is not created, it is found.

If I am an artist, the painting I make or may not have one meaning for me, and still have yet another meaning for those who contemplate it. That is the beauty of life. It is like a diamond that refracts and reflects light back and forth between its facets. Life without a multiplicity of viewpoints – the reflection and refraction – would be without beauty. And like beauty, meaning is in the eye of the beholder. Another way to say it is like when 6 blind folks met something in their path. One said it was a wall, another a tree, another a rope, still another a fan, another a snake, and yet another a spear. It took all of these disparate views together to understand that what they found was an elephant. So too what one person understands is only relatively true. It can never be the whole.

Your own examples betray you. Only an objective viewer could tell it was a jewel or an elephant. Those within the examples could never know if there were yet more unknown views which would modify their understanding of the whole. Only an objective view of reality can provide meaning for the whole and thereby meaning for the individual observers. You are right in that we, as individual observers, cannot have that objective view. I am only saying that I have met the “storyteller” and have been taught the meaning of the whole.

To say that your experience, and thereby your individual viewpoint, is the one, true, objective view is the height of arrogance!

You misunderstand me. I am not saying that I have the true, objective viewpoint. I am as blind as the next guy. I am saying that I have met the one who is the creator, the architect of life, and that this is the one and only one who has the right to determine the meaning of life. I can only relate to you what I have learned, what I have seen and heard, from this one who made it all. You can see for yourself how faithfully or not faithfully I have relayed the meaning of life by learning from the same one I have learned.

So I invite you to look over my shoulder and see if I have interpreted what I have seen and heard correctly.

Christmas Break Coincidences

One winter a friend of mine named George and I decided to drive home to Michigan for Christmas break. George wanted to take back an old pick-up because he thought that they were worth more in Michigan than in Oregon. He figured he could make some money by selling it when we got back. So he found a 1945 Dodge pick-up and put a sheet metal canopy over the back in which we could store our stuff and sleep. He also put a stove in there for warmth.

On the day we were to leave George received a letter from his father. In the letter was a check, made out to George, for $127.10. We looked at each other with wonder on our faces trying to figure out why his Dad would send a check for such an odd amount. Stumped, he just folded the check and put it into his shirt pocket.

We were off. There were three cars in our caravan. Two were going to Michigan, while one was turning south at Cheyenne to go to Denver. Just to the east of Pendleton, Oregon, are some very large steep hills, about ten miles of six percent grade. I was driving the car behind the Dodge pick-up. At the top I saw what looked like oil spray out of the rear axel. I pulled in front and stopped the caravan. After inspection we decided that it would not be safe to drive the Dodge any further. One of the young ladies, Judy, had some relatives who lived nearby. She suggested that we stay there while we get the pick-up repaired.

A little further up the road we found someone to replace the axel. After having it towed to the repair guy we discovered that the local junkyard had three axels from 1945 Dodge pick-ups to choose from. Two of them were already out! After picking out the best, we all went over to Judy’s relatives for the next day or so, awaiting the repair.

Judy’s relatives raised beef cattle. We had steak. Did I say we had steak? The meals were tremendous. Soon, the repairs were done and we went over to the shop to get the vehicle and pay for it. George and I were walking together towards the shop office where the repairman was writing out the bill. We both looked at each other with a faith gleam in our eyes and knew what the check from George’s Dad was for. We stood at the window to the office and George said to the guy, as he was finishing adding the column, “Don’t tell me. It’s $127.10 isn’t it?”

“How did you know?” he replied as he turned the clipboard around so George could sign it. Not only was it for $127.10, but the guy took an out of town check, made out to and endorsed by George, for the payment. Did we ever rejoice!

Yet our troubles were not yet over. When we neared Evanston, Wyoming, the truck began to leak oil. The mechanic told us that it was the main seal between the engine and the transmission that needed to be replaced. He wanted to charge us $600. This is the kind of incident that re-coined the phrase “highway robbery”. No way could we afford such an expense. George made a decision. He went and bought a case of oil and a case of STP™. We were going to pour oil through it until we got home. Our plan was to stop every 50 miles or so and put more oil in. I checked it the first time or two and the oil never went down. The oil never went down until we crossed the Mississippi river. Then it used the last quart as we pulled near Port Huron, Michigan. George didn’t tell us that he had spent the last of the money to purchase the oil. What we had in oil was all we could have. Thank you Jesus!

One of the young men on the trip with us was a new Christian named Ramon. A hippie, he smelled like he bathed in patchouli oil. I had met him in Ypsilanti before I had ever met Jesus. That fall he had come down to visit some of us Portland Bible College from Alaska and just recently met the Lord. One night as we walked into a restaurant in Wyoming we asked Ramon what he would do if he ran into some of his old drinking buddies. Has he really put his old life behind? He contemplated his answer for a while. Once inside the restaurant we heard some raucous laughter and someone yelling, “Hey Ramon! You wanna go out and have a few beers?” Against all odds some of his old Alaskan drinking buddies were in that very restaurant, in December, in the middle of Wyoming, when we walked in. Ramon looked surprised and embarrassed. He told the guys after joyfully greeting them that he did not want to go drinking. He came and ate with us instead.

These coincidences are amazing. A friend of mine at our church likes to say that it is odd that when she stops praying those coincidences seem to stop happening. Keep trusting in God and the may those happy happenstances happen!

What Convinced Me

A Christian is someone who believes in Jesus. Now that doesn’t seem to say much, does it? After all, what does “believe in” mean? Is it like asking if you believe in ghosts? Or, do you believe in Harry Potter? And why Jesus? Who is he anyway? Couldn’t you say that you just believe in God and be done with it? What difference does it make?

I like questions; they are the best way to get answers. If you don’t ask questions, an answer can hit you in the face and you may never even know it. Of course, just because you ask a question doesn’t mean you automatically get the answer. But at least you are looking for an answer, and that’s the first step in finding one.

To me, the best questions have to do with the word why. Why does ice float? Or, why do people have so many different languages? I especially like this why question: Why is the universe here? Some people say this is a question without a real answer. Like questioning why the jelly fish or why yellow. Few would accept the answer “Well, just because it is.” Same with the question Why is everything here? There is a reason why, and the Bible helps us understand what that reason is.

People have thought about how the universe got here for a long time, probably as long as there have been people. Many answers have been suggested. The problem with this question is that no one can prove his or her answer is better than anyone else’s. No one ever saw how it was done. For a scientist to answer this question, the scientist would have to prove that answer was correct by doing it all over again. Before that, it would just be a theory. So far, no one can make something from nothing, let alone a whole universe! Just for starters I wonder if anyone can even make a space where they can prove that nothing is in it?

You might be wondering what all this has to do with Jesus. Good question! The Christian is convinced there is one God who made everything out of nothing. The Christian is also certain this one God came into the world of humans by being born only as Jesus of Nazareth and no one else, ever. This is the same Jesus that I said Christians must believe in. Think of what this could mean! If God did come as a person, we could get to know God and find out the answers to some of our questions, such as "Why do people do so much bad stuff to each other? Do we have a purpose in life? If so, what is it? Is there any way to change myself, or others? Is there a way to have a life with real joy, or satisfaction?"

Most importantly of all, we could get to know what God thinks. We could find out what is important to God.

The Christian believes in this Jesus. This means that the Christian is convinced that God, the One-who-made-it-all, is Jesus. This is why Jesus is called the Son of God. Like Father, like son, the saying goes. If you have seen Jesus, you have seen God.

Now why would a person believe that God came to humankind as Jesus? What could convince a person that Jesus is God? When you ask this question of Christians, you get many different answers. This is because people are convinced by different things. What it took to convince a scientist, like the guy who mapped human DNA, would probably be different from what it took to convince my daughter Sarah when she was four years old. Each one became convinced in their own way.

What convinced me was something that I have never heard happen to anyone else. I was not raised as a Christian and I had never read the Bible, except for three small parts. As a teenager, I had become involved with drugs. One day, on December 28, 1970, I was smoking marijuana at my parents house in the living room with the neighbor girl who lived across the street. A fire was burning in the fireplace that we hoped would help hide the smell. We were thinking about going to a party later when the phone rang in the kitchen. I got up and answered the phone, one of those old dial types that hung on the wall. It was my sister Beth wanting to talk with me. This was unusual, and I asked if she wanted to talk instead to her friend who was in the living room. She said no, she really wanted to talk with me. I asked her why.

“Because Jesus Christ has chosen you,” she replied.

“What does he want to do with me?” I asked. “I’m about the biggest wreck there is.” I had taken drugs so many times that for the last year I had been unable to carry on a whole conversation because I would forget what I was talking about, even in the middle of a sentence. But there was something about her words and the way she spoke that it did not occur to me to doubt her.
“That’s just why He wants you, to fix you up,” she insisted.

Well, this started a conversation about Jesus. As we talked, I started to laugh at stuff that really wasn’t that funny. I explained to Beth that the reason I laughed at such times was because I had just smoked some marijuana. This made Beth upset.

“I don’t want you to smoke that stuff ever again,” she commanded in a stern voice.
As soon as she said this, I felt something snap on my chest, then I felt something like a cloak or jacket fall off my shoulders, and I knew instantly that I would never abuse drugs again. And I haven’t.

Beth went on to say that it was my sin that had closed me off from God. Now you have to understand, we didn’t use the word “sin” in our home when we were growing up, except as a joke. So I asked Beth what did she mean by sin?

“You know,” she said. “The stuff you’ve done wrong.”

I knew I must have done something wrong in my life, but at that moment I couldn’t think of anything specific. Beth then told me that I needed to ask God to forgive me.
I had no idea how to do such a thing. I stalled by asking Beth if I needed to do it right then.

“Do you know for sure that you’ll live till tomorrow?” she asked pointedly.

“Well, not for sure.” I answered, although I was planning on it.

“We had better do this right now. I’ll guide you in what to say. You can repeat after me,” she directed.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s do it right now.”

As soon as I agreed to ask God to forgive me, something weird happened. I was standing with my back leaning on the kitchen wall talking on the phone, yet it was behind me and a little to my left I seemed to hear someone say, “Go ahead and get into it. But if after a while you find out that it is not God, you can always get back out again.”

As soon as that voice was done speaking I heard another voice, deep and strong, this time coming from in front of me, a little to my right and above my head. “No, it is all or nothing!” it commanded.

I thought for just a small moment, and then I decided it would be all. So Beth led me in asking God to forgive me and be the Lord of my life. When we were done, I had this strong sense of the truth of it all. I knew that I knew I had just met God, talked with Him personally, and that God’s name was Jesus. In all this I somehow also knew the Bible was true. I was so happy and excited! I knew God!

Beth told me she had to go but for me to ask God for the baptism in the Holy Spirit (more about this later). She told me that when I received the Holy Spirit, I would get wisdom. She also told me that God liked to be talked to all the time. Some people call this prayer. She then hung up the phone, as did I.

I stood there in the kitchen, letting it all soak in. I had just met God, and His name was Jesus! Talk about something unexpected! I then walked back out to the living room where just a little while ago I had been smoking marijuana with the neighbor girl. There were now two young ladies there. They asked me if I wanted to go to a party with them. I told them no, I didn’t. They asked me why.

“I just met God.” I answered. “His name’s Jesus! I’m going to go upstairs and pray.”
You should have seen their jaws drop—they were so stunned! They looked at me as if I had finally wandered off, went around the corner, and lost my way back. They couldn’t leave fast enough! I went upstairs to ask God for this baptism in the Holy Spirit thing, whatever that was.
Nothing seemed to happen. As I lay upon my bed, I felt as if I would die if I didn’t get this baptism in the Holy Spirit. I found myself becoming more and more fearful. Then I thought about how ridiculous this fear was. I would just trust Jesus. I then fell asleep.

When I awoke the next morning I was shocked by how clear my thinking was. I could think a sentence all the way through! When I went to the bathroom, I looked into the mirror and saw this guy (me) with a beard all the way down to the middle of his chest. How outrageous! So I trimmed it conservatively to about three inches in length. My mind was clear…I could think again! I felt free! Everything looked so new! Wow!

This was the start of a long journey.
I have never found anything that could change my mind
from knowing for certain
that I have actually met and know God,
the One-who-made-it-all.
I believe in Jesus and that makes me a Christian.