We Cannot Live without God: Camp Meeting and Connection

“Come to the fountain there's healing in Jesus” says the old church song. 
When we find Him all else begins to fall into its place. 

When we reject Him, nothing else can ever really make sense.

Life Lessons at Camp Meeting

This camp ground is similar to the one in Miltonvale, KS in my memory.

I loved camp meeting when I was young. I love it now. The human yearning to connect is inextinguishable, a driving force that will be satisfied at any cost. That's what made camp meeting so great. People. People together. People together with a common purpose. People together whose common purpose calls them to strive for God and His goodness.

This always reminds me what I learned about human nature one summer at camp. One of my best boyhood friends was a camp meeting friend, and we had a mutual friend there who was so very eager for connection he drove people away. Even then, at age 12 or so, I could feel the compassion, dismay, and pain of watching someone who tried so hard to fill the void that he alienated the ones who could fill it.

Who knows all the reasons for this? It is complicated and simple at the same time. When we deeply lack a basic human need we will do almost anything to fill the need. Bodily appetites reveal this. Deprived of something we have long since relied upon – say, sugar -- we do whatever we can to meet the need. The body will be satisfied.

And so will the soul. But modern thinking has denied the idea of soul for so long we no longer know what to do with those deep longings. So we try to deny the need or possibility of meeting it, and only compound the problem. For example, discouraged people often can't bring themselves to get outside, work on a project, or share their needs with another. Yet those things often help the problem, and avoiding them only makes it worse. The malady causes us to avoid the cure.

It is Real Everywhere and for Everyone

This came to mind as I remembered a young college student I knew. He was talented and strong, well-loved and able to love in return. Hard worker, athletic, good-looking. He had learned well how to connect but also had a tender intensity that made him deeply vulnerable. We all have that in various measure, but he was more intense than average.

Somewhere along the way that innocent intensity and love for life and family was shattered. Perhaps it was many incidents – he never could talk of it very well. For sure it grew from misunderstandings, but just as certainly it came from being ill-treated. The more tender a soul the more deeply it can be crushed. This young college student was vulnerable. And his innocence and love and care had been smashed.

Enter the normal human response of trying to learn the stiff upper lip, the determination not to be crushed, the “I'll show you!” He began to withdraw and be fearful of love.

As I awoke in the night this was on my mind. We do not really know what to do when our deepest needs go unmet. We need other people, yet we drive them away. What's more, as important as they are, others cannot meet those deepest needs. They are merely a help to it. In some ways they help us go deeper by revealing, in their inadequacy, that there must be something – some One – we cannot live without.

Francis Thompson

This shattering truth is revealed in the poem Hound of Heaven. The author, Francis Thompson, was addicted to opium, a desperate situation in the London streets of the late 1800's. He could not get free and his famous poem pictures the pursuit of God. Thompson sought solace, connection, reality in everything, and found, in turn, that it all left him empty. Opium was simply another way of seeking the ultimate, leaving him more desperate still. And in it all he was rejecting that which he most deeply needed. 

In fact it is not a matter of degree – most versus sort of. There is nothing that can replace God. Everything else is a dim facsimile that, like fax paper, crumples in our hands, cheap and disgusting, leaving us more needy still.

My young camp meeting friend sought God in the wrong places, and with great intensity. His desire drove him to bitter disappointment while pursuing the most beautiful good. 

The young college student was in the same boat. All the substitutes – anger, relationships, long hours of satisfying work, felt good but left him empty. He needed something more but he kept driving It away. In pursuit of reality he looked everywhere where it is not, placing expectations that could never be met. Those who loved him “gave him room” and felt the pain without knowing what to do.

This is the human problem and we all are mired in it. That which we need most we refuse to believe will really satisfy. We deny the desire and we deny the answer, and we are left with ourselves in our messes, scoffing at the possible answers not least for the humility required to live into them.

Thompson finally found the answer was God, the living One who sought him without stopping, the Connection at the center of his deepest longing which he feared and loathed with intensity equal to the need. This One never quit pursuing and Francis never quit running until all options were tried and found wanting. He eventually died in his addiction, for he had trained his body well. But when he had been delivered for a time it was through the faint and dim reflection of God given by the editor and his wife who took him in and cared for him. This showed the reality of the living God, one who is connected in His very being and made us to be so as well. When they connected with Francis and he with them that love of God pursuing him had, in some sense, found him and he it. And it began to meet that insatiable longing of his soul.

God is the Only Answer

Man cannot live without God. Augustine put it, “He has made us for himself and we cannot rest until we rest in Him.” For my camp meeting friend, the young man I've worked with from time to time, my wife and friends and loved ones, for me -- we cannot live without God. The modern experiment to expunge Him from the world of reality leads to all kinds of pathological attempts to replace God, and they all leave us more empty still. Drinking salt water is no answer to thirst.

“Come to the fountain there's healing in Jesus” says the old church song, often heard at those camp meetings. That was the call and I'm glad I heard it, a claim that there was indeed Someone who could heal the human spirit and meet the human need. When we find Him all else begins to fall into its place. When we reject Him, nothing else can ever really make sense.

I am quite aware the skeptic has little time for this, the nominal believer or casual agnostic much the same. I cannot pretend certainty nor perfect practice – no one can. But I believe. And I invite the skeptic to re-consider. 

Along the way we find it is we ourselves, more than the possibility of God, of whom we should be skeptical. We may answer by saying there is no ultimate answer. Yet that answer itself would be an ultimate answer, so we have a logical conundrum. An infinite, personal God who transcends while at the same time being with, meets the life-sized conundrum necessarily and perfectly. Maybe, just maybe, He is.

Come and see. Dare the life of faith. You will not be disappointed.

Ministry Remnants: The Miracle in Jonah

If God acts with our fallen sense of "get-what-you-deserve" justice, 

we're all done for. 

He shows mercy instead and we all can feast at the table of grace if we will.

[Theology Thursday]

Yesterday I tried....

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I interrupt this monologue to comment on the expression "I tried." Why not simply say "I....[did whatever it is I did"]? 

I used to think it was unnecessary for preachers to say "as I try to preach" or some such. It seemed superfluous, maybe even a false humility or just unnecessary. Now I say it of myself because it is true -- "I tried." Did not I also "do it"? Of course! :) 

I say "I tried" because I feel the lack. If I had some sense I had done an extraordinary job of preaching maybe I wouldn't say "I tried" because I know it implies something like "I fell short" and that would sound false if I had not. Of course, even if it seems it went well to most, many might still say, "He should have tried harder!" :) 

So when I say "I tried" I mean exactly that. Everything we do is a trial of sorts. We don't get it as right as we wish, but we give it our best. 

- - - - -

So...Sunday "I tried" to preach on Jonah, that most unusual jewel of Scripture. I read 3:10 to 4:11 and proceeded to speak of the miracles in Jonah, beginning with the fish. I listed 9, including the very miracle of God interacting with Jonah, for it is the Grandest miracle of all that God is "with us" in this sense, an expression of the Incarnation itself, God entering into our life.

But it seemed I should finish with the greatest miracle of the book which is the mercy of God. He shows mercy in giving Jonah room to run, in caring for Jonah the person more than Jonah the prophetic tool, and most remarkably in caring for Nineveh enough to relent from his plans to destroy it.

Jonah was no fan of the Ninevites. They had been cruel to his own people and their way of life was an affront to all the prophet would hold dear. This is why, it seems, he was likely fully sincere in his protest against God: "This is why I ran -- I knew you would show mercy to these awful people! I'd rather die than see this spectacle! These people don't deserve this -- not one iota!"

I paraphrase, but that's the gist.

This is Theology 101 in that it attempts to reveal God, how He makes Himself known to us. He is one who is a friend of sinners, who has no self-protecting pride, who gives blessing to the just and unjust, who loves to help the self-righteous among us find the grace of humility as we watch the undeserving find mercy.

We've all been Jonah, or at least I know I have. I'll describe it for you. One of the finest people I know, an old childhood friend, has been unusually blessed of God. He has loved God with all his heart and has thought no sacrifice too large to give. But by his own admission he worked too hard, neglected his family, was often unwittingly crass and unfeeling. 

What's the problem? His three daughters are some of the best people you will ever meet. Models of care and beauty and discipline, shapers of families in their turn who will mark the world with grace and excellence. Why is this a problem? Because, like Jonah looking on, folks know my friend doesn't deserve this mercy, this grace, this blessing beyond measure. It's even easy to say to the Lord, "What gives?"

But this is the Gospel, the unworthy servant, the man showing up at the end of the day who gets full wages like everyone else. If God acts with our fallen sense of "get-what-you-deserve" justice, we're all done for. He shows mercy instead, and we all can feast at the table of grace if we will.

But to do so we have to quit deciding who is worthy, and learn that no one is.

- - - - -

"Thank you for the lesson of Jonah, dear Lord. Save me from begrudging your goodness to those I deem unworthy. I am the unworthy one. I ask your mercy and grace in my life for it is You Yourself I need and it is I myself gets in the way. For your very presence I pray, Amen!"

Sated

 (100 Word Wednesday -- 'Short and Sweet is Hard to Beat!')

What can be said in 100 words? Literature scholars might call this a pericope, albeit not a large one. Jesus said every jot and tittle will be judged, an admonition of gravity. Words have weight and too many of us use too many of them, meaning each of them lose value.

Too many words. How do we learn simplicity? Put differently, why are we addicted to more, to most, to “never enough?” Malcolm Muggeridge helpfully broached the idea for me when he confessed, “I was never satisfied.”

Can I be satisfied with silence, with letting go the last word, with stopping?

Writer's Block

TenMinuteTuesday: Free writing with a quick deadline.
Maybe less really is more!

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Writer's Block

Difficult chores become easier once begun. And they become harder the longer delayed.

Writer's block -- what is it? It describes what happens when someone is trying to write but can't seem to get over the hump. The reasons are often not flattering. Succumbing to any distraction is easier than writing.

I think of two examples. The amazing writer of westerns, Louis L'Amour said something like, "I don't need inspiration or 'setting' to write. I could sit in the middle of a freeway with my typewriter and turn out a couple chapters." Malcolm Muggeridge, the gifted English journalist was less sanguine: "Writing's not hard. All you do is sit down at the typewriter, slit your wrists, and bleed to death!" 

Someone said to Paul S. Rees, evangelist and author of many books, "You must really like to write," to which he replied: "No, not all. I like to have written!" And I come 'round to my high school pastor who gently prodded me with the old reminder, "Inspiration is 95% perspiration you know."

And now I've spent 6 of my ten minutes avoiding the question. Sort of. Writing is hard, L'Amour's stoicism aside. But as I face it now for a sensitive assignment that calls for more time and heart than I have to give I know I'm kicking in the dust around the reason. It is hard work, it won't come easy.

So I wait for inspiration.

I am finding, something we all know but still avoid in practice too often, that difficult chores become easier once begun. And they become harder the longer delayed.

So when my ten minutes for this project are up I am going to the task at hand and will not stop until the rough draft is done. I am almost sure a job I kicked down the road for 2 days will only take 1 hour to passably complete.

The struggle is real. :)

What is the church for?

[Meandering Monday] 

A few years ago at gym night I asked a bunch of men a curious question: curious to me at least. Seems there are ten thousands of questions and I learned early in life the pain of asking curious questions when no one is interested, not even a little. But, having learned that lesson long ago, I easily sense when the question rising in my soul can be spoken without being rejected.

We were standing around between games, chatting about church life when I tossed it out: 

“What is church for?”

Blanks stares. I must have really mis-read this. I immediately expected looks of derision and plain avoidance by changing the subject. It wasn't that bad, but no one answered. There were 4 or 5 guys there, all responsible, thinking people with whom I had mutual respect. But they had no ready answer. (I should add, none of them were from my own church.)

And maybe for good reason. What is church for? Perhaps best to define terms and see if we know what we are asking.

Church: a gathering of people, usually on Sunday morning in a context known as religious, usually indoors, usually including music, spoken word, reading of Scripture, forms of practice, and mutual relational bonding.

For: To what end? What is the purpose of church? What does church do that cannot be done in any other way?

Now it is I who do not have a made-from-scratch answer, at least not one without qualifications. But I'll give it a go.

Church is for.....connecting with God. But we said it had to be a purpose that cannot be accomplished outside the church. So the purpose must be larger.

Church is for.....corporate worship. This qualifies and explains and seems true to me. All other purposes are secondary to this and flow out of it. The kicker here is if we think it must be something that no other organization can do. And any one else who is doing corporate worship is by definition doing what a church is for.

Where does that leave us? What of the "salvation station a block from hell?" What of fellowship, Gospel teaching, moral accountability? Surely those all apply. But are they the principle purpose of the church?

This is a meander and I'll not finish it. So I will stop by asking you, welcomed occasional reader, What is the church for? (In one sentence or less.)

"Smoke" (from George MacDonald)

For my Saturday meditation I offer this poem from the incomparable George MacDonald.* If you can, take some long moments to savor the plain simplicity and life-opening prayer.

Lord, I have laid my heart upon thy altar

But cannot get the wood to burn;
It hardly flares ere it begins to falter
And to the dark return.

Old sap, or night-fallen dew, makes damp the fuel;
In vain my breath would flame provoke;
Yet see—at every poor attempt's renewal
To thee ascends the smoke!

'Tis all I have—smoke, failure, foiled endeavor,
Coldness and doubt and palsied lack:
Such as I have I send thee!—perfect Giver,
Send thou thy lightning back.

I bring this poem-prayer today as a way to express my need for everything in my life to be an offering to God. That which is unworthy will never catch fire but only give smoke. Surely my whole life must needs be the offering and just as surely is the need for the lightning of God to purge wood, hay, stubble. It seems true we too easily offer sacrifices of Cain which are not worthy of our God. 

Today I offer myself and all I am, unworthy, even in the offering, but I offer all the same. 

"May Thy good will be done, O Lord. Thank you for the sacrifice of Christ on my behalf and for the hope of your goodness which will, in your time, make good and light and holiness of the life you have given to me."

With glad hope in the goodness and truth of Christ I pray....

*MacDonald turned to writing to support his large family. His book of Poems, Diary of an Old Soul, gives a brief poem for everyday of the year. I was surprised to learn that C. S. Lewis considered him his master. "I imagine," Lewis said, "I never wrote a thing in which MacDonald was not present." His fantasy literature includes Lillith and Phantastes. His children's story are wonderful: after I read them I felt as if I had been at the altar in a camp meeting after hearing a strong and convicting sermon. His other work includes sermons and many novels.

Some Thoughts on Time for the New Year

 [Some of you are well-studied in the mystery -- and science -- of time. I have read Augustine's famous discussion in Confessions and have wondered at the mystery. These musings attempt to look into it a bit further, with realization that Lewis' famous sermon Weight of Glory pointed the way for part of it.]

“If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.” (C. S. Lewis)

Maybe the Passing of Time Hints at Eternity

“Time, flowing like a river, to the sea…till it’s gone forever, gone forever.”

In my high school years I often heard the above lyric from The Alan Parsons Project on the radio. It spoke of passing friendships, life, and of course, time. The music was alive with beauty and melancholy. Over 40 years later I can still hear and feel the wonder and mystery mixed with a hint of something like hope.

Hope?

Yes! If time means so much as to leave us devastated by its passing, then maybe it has real meaning. Why else would we be devastated? Put another way, there is something in this life, in our very existence, that is real in a way far beyond us. The fact that life and loved-ones pass leaves us deeply sad, and that may be a clue that the moments and relationships really matter.

The ancient writer of Ecclesiastes nails this to the wall over and over. “Life is full and it really, really matters,” he seems to say. “Except.” And the whole world is in that last word. “Except...everything you love and work so hard for is lost to you when you die. Someone else will use it and squander it and you will be a bare memory, if that.”

Ugh! Who wants to be reminded of that! And yet, we must if we would seek wisdom. As the author says elsewhere in so many words, “There is more to be learned in the house of mourning than in the house of glee.”

And there is still more. Ecclesiastes offers clues here and there and gives a final conclusive answer at the end. But tucked in the early chapters we are told we have “eternity in our hearts.”

We don’t do eternity well because we are too chained to the here and now. Time is a creation, a construct: if you don’t believe me, try to grab it. We place crushing significance in time when it is the thing most slippery in life. Time is so elusive we don’t even know what it is or what it means. Moderns have tried to control it, but it controls us. “Father time never stops,” we are told, and our only recourse is to surrender. Time will win.

Where does this leave us? In mystery to be sure, for the greatest verities of life are beyond our complete grasp. But I think it leaves us daring to believe there must be something more, something to which time itself is subject. As a Christian I believe this is an infinite, personal God who is himself eternal and has put that eternity in our hearts. That sense of the eternal is what makes us both despise the bounds of time and hope for the something beyond.

Parsons’ lyric of time flowing to the sea is an apt metaphor as far as it goes, but it still leaves empty. What is the sea? Void and meaningless, time lost within it. Where are we? Only material beings bound by time when alive, simply gone when not? What was it that is now gone? What is it that was?

These things always bring me ‘round to what I believe life itself suggests and what C.S. Lewis put so well: “If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.” The eternity in our hearts makes us long for something beyond this world. For me this is the blessed hope at the heart of Christmas, and the grandest reason to embrace the New Year with joy.

He has set eternity in their hearts (Ecc. 3:11)