Betting on the Wrong Horse!
In whom or on what are you betting your life? Trust is difficult to achieve, isn’t it? Not only is it difficult to give complete trust to someone or something, it difficult to receive it, also. In what or whom do you trust? Last week, I needed to do some work on the third story roof of our house. It takes two ladders plus a climb over the roof to get there. My youngest son came over to give me a hand. We held the ladder steady for each other as we climbed to the different levels. We literally put our lives in the hands of one another. The problem with life is that far too often, folks trust in the wrong things and in the wrong people. They literally “bet their lives” that they can trust in those things or persons. Have you ever bet on a sure thing, one that couldn’t possibly fail or let you down? Yeah, me, too! I heard an amusing story that illustrates what can happen. It seems that an archaeologist was digging in the Negev Desert in Israel and came upon a sarcophagus containing a mummy. After examining it, he called the curator of a prestigious natural history museum. “I’ve just discovered the 3,000 year old mummy of a man who died of heart failure!” the excited scientist exclaimed. The curator replied, “Bring him in. We’ll check it out.” A week later, the amazed curator called the archaeologist and said, “You were right about the mummy’s age and cause of death. How in the world did you know?” “Easy! There was a piece of paper in his hand that said, ‘10,000 Shekels on Goliath.’” King David, the one who defeated Goliath, wrote these words: It is better to trust the LORD than to put confidence in people. It is better to trust the LORD than to put confidence in princes. (Psalms 118:8-9 NLT) David also wrote the following: Those who trust in the LORD are as secure as Mount Zion; they will not be defeated but will endure forever. (Psalms 125:1) The Bible reminds us of this truth: “For God has said, ‘I will never fail you. I will never forsake you’” (Hebrews 13:5). But, do we really believe it? On what have you chosen to bet your life? In whom will you place your trust? If you choose some mere mortal human, you will be disappointed … sooner or later, someday in some way. So let me encourage you to choose to trust in God. He will never fail or forsake you no matter what! An old hymn reminds us to “Trust and obey, for there’s no other way to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.” Perhaps it is time to ask yourself: “In whom do I trust?” About the author: Russ Lawson is a former missionary to Africa and minister in Ohio. He now works with World Christian Literature Outreach and writes a weekly email devotional, Messages from the Heart. For more information about Russ, click here.
Standing at the Gate
Where is home when home is gone? Special Note:Just hours before His crucifixion, Jesus shared the following words of comfort with His disciples: Don’t be troubled. You trust God, now trust in me. There are many rooms in my Father’s home, and I am going to prepare a place for you. If this were not so, I would tell you plainly. When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am. (John 14:1-3 NLT) Little did Jesus’ disciples know what lay ahead for them – both ghastly and glorious. Neither do we know what lies ahead for us in this life. We only know that for some reason, deep in our soul, we have no lasting home here. We thank Elizabeth Price for such a touching reminder about our real home and hope. It is a sad thing to stand at the gate of where home used to be and now it is not. You stand like a stranger, a guest without a welcome, at a gate that once swung open to your touch. You have no right to open it now; no right to smile and step inside and say, “I’m home.” You stand outside; the warmth and the welcome that was once yours by right is now locked. Everyone inside the gate is a stranger to you and you feel like an alien to everyone outside. I know because I have stood there. Like passing generations, you repeat sadly, “I am a passing guest, as all my forefathers were.” It is a collective admission of insignificance by a disappearing people – a people who have no right to call this world “home.” So where do you go to go home? Like a little dark swallow, you slip into a cave to hide from a world that has shut its gate on you. But wait! A cave is not your home. Even the swallow and the sparrow are given more wonderful apartments than caves. Listen, “Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow has her nest where she rears her brood beside your altars, Lord of Hosts, my King and God.” (Psalm 84) You see, He has already prepared a place for you where the gate is always open. So tell the world and invite everyone you meet to come with you. Open the gate of your homelessness and let Him put His altar there to make His home your own. About the author: Elizabeth is a team writer for “Just a Minute” e-zine.
Figuring Out the Future
So what’s going to happen with all this mess? We human beings are not very adept at predicting the future. Littered along the highway of human history are countless bad guesses and failed insights. The more often we speak with certainty, the more embarrassed we are likely to be. “Everything that can be invented has been invented,” declared Charles H. Duell, the U.S. Commissioner of Patents. That was in 1899. Horace Rackham was advised by a president of the Michigan Savings Bank not to invest in the Ford Motor Company in 1903. “The horse is here to stay,” he predicted, “but the automobile is only a novelty – a fad.” Fortunately for Rackham, Henry Ford’s attorney, he ignored the banker’s short-sightedness and bought $5,000 worth of stock. He sold it several years later for $12.5 million. In rejecting an aspiring band in 1962, Decca Records made this fearless prophecy about its future in music. “We don’t like their sound. Groups of guitars are on the way out.” Thus the company passed on signing the Beatles. “There is no reason for any individual to have a computer in their home,” said the president and founder of Digital Equipment Corporation in 1977. Clifford Roberts, founder of golf’s prestigious Masters Tournament, once said, “As long as I’m alive, golfers will be white, and caddies will be black.” He clearly didn’t have the prescience to foresee either the Civil Rights Movement or Tiger Woods’ domination of the professional tour. Humility will always be in order for us as we try to anticipate what lies ahead. But are there no certainties about tomorrow? Is there nothing on which to anchor our hope? Here are a couple of promises to keep in mind in these stressful times. Nothing in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:39). No test or temptation that comes your way is beyond the course of what others have had to face. All you need to remember is that God will never let you down; he’ll never let you be pushed past your limit; he’ll always be there to help you through it (1 Corinthians 10:13). Markets and the future of global economies, music and other cultural trends, breakthroughs in science and medicine – all are beyond our ability to predict. But the spiritual certainties based on God’s sure promises take the uncertainty out of today and let us move forward with confidence. If you want some confidence about the future, focus your attention on the one person who actually knows something about it. About the author: Rubel Shelly preached for decades and served as a professor of medical ethics, Bible, and philosophy at multiple universities. He was a former president of Rochester College and Professor of Philosophy and Religion at Lipscomb University. He was the author of more than 30 books and hundreds of inspirational articles. His commitment to a non-sectarian presentation of the gospel touched countless lives.
Where to Begin
Is there a place to start making the world a better place? Have you ever had the feeling that something needs to be done to straighten a crooked thing? Right a wrong? Slay a dragon? Perhaps the issue at hand was a social evil, a family matter, or a church problem. It could have been abortion, teen-age rebellion, or division. Most often the outcome is merely that we wring our hands, lament the problem is larger than our resources, and do nothing. There’s a better approach. “But what can just one person do about problems of such immense proportions?” somebody asks. In Alexander Solzhenitsyn’s The First Circle, the character who appears to speak for him is named Nerzhin. At one point, Nerzhin is pondering this question: “If you wanted to set the world to rights, who would you begin with – yourself or other people?” The frustration most of us feel about solving great problems is that we have no control over others and their behaviors. Thus we are willing to let the problem remain unaddressed – but feeling pious now that we are at least aware of it and concerned. Every problem you have a true concern about, however, is one with which you can begin with yourself to make a difference. What can you do about the abortion problem? How about opening your home to a scared teen-ager whose choice is between an abortion and being kicked out by humiliated parents? The crisis pregnancy center in your city would love to have you as a volunteer to provide shelter for one of those girls. What can you do about adolescent rebellion? Spend more time with your own children to build bridges of love and communication. Or stick out your neck to share the pain of fellow-parents in their nightmare of alienation. What can you do about division in your church? Call a person from whom you have been estranged to have lunch and talk. Or host a luncheon for two people who are at odds to see if you can be a peacemaker for them. Problems that remain someone else’s responsibility go unresolved forever. At some point, somebody has to begin to set a matter right. Decades ago now, a London newspaper asked its readers to respond to this question: “What is wrong with the world?” Letters began pouring in and were printed. One simply said, “Dear Sirs, I am. Sincerely, G.K. Chesterton.” Can you think of anything that needs to be put right today? “You are the salt of the earth. But what good is salt if it has lost its flavor? Can you make it useful again? It will be thrown out and trampled underfoot as worthless.” (Matthew 5:13) About the author: Rubel Shelly preached for decades and served as a professor of medical ethics, Bible, and philosophy at multiple universities. He was a former president of Rochester College and Professor of Philosophy and Religion at Lipscomb University. He was the author of more than 30 books and hundreds of inspirational articles. His commitment to a non-sectarian presentation of the gospel touched countless lives.
Fine!
What gives us hope in the middle of crisis? I told Elder Bob that I thought we would be fine. We were officiating at the funeral of our dear sister, Maryanne. Both being close to her family, we shared the thought that standing and speaking might introduce some difficulty into the experience. I had previewed just a minute or so of three different audio-visual presentations. And in the brief glimpse, I made the judgment that the first collection of music and pictures would not trigger our emotions like the last two. The good news was that both Bob and I would have our part of the program completed long before the last two were played. After a few songs, I welcomed those who had gathered on that overcast March afternoon. A brief prayer later and Bob and I stepped off the platform to watch the first video. With baby pictures of Maryanne displayed above and before us, I breathed easily as Brown-Eyed Girl echoed through the auditorium. I silently prayed a thanksgiving for the way that churches now allow the families to plan services that memorialize and celebrate. Happy pictures spun through happy music. Minutes later, we were on far more difficult ground. Maryanne was, for almost five years, a cancer survivor. She was a hero and a champion of her faith. For some of us, our memories of her battle were incomplete. We could remember when she and her husband, Darell, would travel off to a distant hospital for surgery or chemotherapy or the stem cell transplant. We missed much of the struggle. We rejoined their story when they returned home. Now, from the front row, I was watching pictures that recorded those incredibly hard times when she was away. Each photo spoke of her incredible courage and longsuffering strength. They also told stories of tears, fatigue, and pain. Ron, a family friend and a photographer from the local paper, had lovingly and carefully documented each stage of their journey. “I thought you said we’d be fine,” Elder Bob whispered. “I thought wrong.” I turned away from the images – concentrating on my notes – hoping against hope that I could fulfill my duties that afternoon. As He so graciously does, God did provide both Bob and me with the words we needed and a measure of tranquility. When we were sitting once again, the second presentation rolled. It was a beautiful collection of video brought together by Nellie, a friend of the family. There were times for laughter and sadness. The way the message was presented was a glorious testimony to Maryanne’s family and the way that they walked together over the years of pain and suffering. I was unprepared for the final clip. Maryanne sat gazing into the camera with those big brown eyes. The ones that captivated Darell so many years ago. The ones that welcomed visitors to her home and eventually to her hospice room. Those eyes that would open to see Darell or one of her children or a dear friend. Those eyes that would say, even when her lips could not, “I’m glad to see you. I love you.” She began speaking with her eyes. Her voice was soft. Her words were for Darell. For the one who had been at her side for more than twenty years. For the one who led the parade in being positive. For the one who refused to accept setbacks like denial of insurance coverage for new procedures. For the one who was always there. For the one she loved. For just a few seconds, we were all eavesdropping while Maryanne talked to Darell. “I could have never made it through this life without you.” Maryanne and her family heaped blessings on all of us through the way they faced adversity. And particularly in the way that they included us in those final years and months and days and minutes. Even if the cameras hadn’t captured it all, we would have already known of the love that spilled out of that marriage and that family. We would have known of Maryanne’s love for God and for all of us as His children. A long line of well-wishers crowded by the open casket, stopping to speak and to hug the family. The family said their touching good-byes. In the back of the limousine on the way to the cemetery, Elder Bob and I talked about the impact of Maryanne’s life and witness on us all – how God had spoken through her. I told Elder Bob that I thought we would be fine. How we thank God, who gives us victory over sin and death through Jesus Christ our Lord! So, my dear brothers and sisters, be strong and steady, always enthusiastic about the Lord’s work, for you know that nothing you do for the Lord is ever useless. (1 Corinthians 15:57-58) About the author: Joey Cope (Dr. Joe L. Cope) is the executive director of the Center for Conflict Resolution at Abilene Christian University. He teaches graduate courses in advanced conflict management, negotiation and mediation. The work of the Center includes mediation/intervention services and educational offerings through seminars, conferences and special courses designed for businesses, non-profit organizations, and churches. Cope is an attorney and received his certificate in dispute resolution from Pepperdine University School of Law. Cope is an elder of the Highland Church of Christ in Abilene, Texas.
Get Out of the Car!
Would you have just driven on by in your car? Hear the Story Corey Gober did it. She got out of her car and did it; she touched the dying woman and God transformed her faith. The story is told by Melody McDonald in the Sunday issue of the “Star-Telegram.” After dropping her kids off at school and day care, Corey had planned to meet a friend at a gym in Decatur and work out. It wasn’t like her to leave her purse and tennis shoes at home, but that was just another mess-up in her messed up life. As Corey turned off Texas 114 and headed south on Farm Road 51 toward home to pick up the items, she came upon a horrible wreck. A little white car had collided with a tanker truck. “I stopped for a second and I looked, and then I started to go again,” Corey recalled. “Then I said, ‘No, you need to stop.’ I felt like I needed to get out to see if she needed any help.” The driver’s door of the car was crushed and the steering wheel was hanging by wires. The driver, a woman, was lying across the front seats with her feet under the steering column. “I just kind of stood there and looked at her,” Corey said. “I think God was telling me I needed to help this woman. I needed to talk to her, to touch her or something.” Corey walked over to the passenger side, opened the door and touched the woman. Mary Kamp was lying inside her mangled car. While Corey held her hand and picked glass off her face, Mary opened her eyes and realized her horrible dream was real. She whispered, “I going to die. Tell my children that I love them. And, tell my husband that I’m sorry.” She told Corey about Amberly who is on the honor roll and is the mascot for Springtown High School. She talked about Olivia who was in day care. And she repeatedly asked for her husband. She wanted to know where he was. “Where is Rusty?” “You know,” Corey said, “it’s a good thing that I came back to my house, because I forgot my tennis shoes.” “Yeah,” Mary replied. Corey was with Mary about an hour talking to her, holding an oxygen mask over her face, and shielding her from the broken glass as workers removed the windshield. Then Mary closed her eyes. “She was at peace,” Corey said. Looking back, it seemed like Mary was actually trying to comfort Corey. Afterward, Corey got into her car and drove home. Two days later, Corey called the funeral home, asking if they would tell the family that she was with Mary when she died and pass along her phone number. “Within about 15 minutes, Mary’s husband called me,” Corey said. “I just told him that Mary was conscious, that she was able to talk. She was able to tell me about her children and she wanted me to tell them that she loved them and to tell him how sorry she was.” It was a long conversation. At the time of the wreck, Corey was an unhappy 28-year-old mother of four who was headed for a divorce. “I was angry with my husband. I was angry with God. I had all this anger inside of me. I wasn’t able to forgive.” She had been separated from her husband for several months and had already contacted a divorce attorney. That all changed after meeting Mary. “I think this was God’s way of grabbing me by the shoulders and telling me to wake up and appreciate and be thankful for what I do have.” In the hours and days after the wreck, Corey was transformed. Corey now thanks God every day for her healthy children and for having a husband who loves and cares for her. They are living together again and going through marriage counseling at their church. She thanks God and Mary for restoring her marriage, her faith, and her life. All she did was get out of the car. Find the Story Stories of transformation are all around us. Sometimes they are hidden in books, movies, or songs. They are waiting to be found and treasured. Is there a Corey story in your past or in a friend’s past? Faith is defined, not by our words, but by our actions. Ask around. Encourage your family and friends to share their faith in action stories. These stories have transforming power, you know. Be the Story I know you have already made the connection. It’s time to be the story – to get out of the car, to talk to a stranger, to touch a friend. We are too isolated and private. Our actions are too few. It’s time to be bold, courageous, brave, and involved. It’s time to risk a little, and let God work wonders. A Final Word from Ron James proclaims that faith without works is dead, buried, lifeless, and godless. We are defined by what we do, not by what we merely think or feel. So, what’s happening in your life? God is waiting for us to get out of the car. He is only limited by our fears and isolation. Don’t limit him this week. Please begin to pray for me as I get out of the car and form the initial faith coaching team. This coaching ministry will focus on helping men get out of the car and grow beyond their limitations. Pray that God leads the way. Let’s just get out of the car! About the author: Ron Rose was a beloved minister, noted author, and leader of several ministries. Ron made himself available as a listener and friend, spending time with people on the go and in coffee shops, sharing grace and a listening ear, and connecting them with God who is always in the room. Ron went to be with the Lord in November 2024,
The Value of Pain
Does pain really serve a useful purpose? And we are also happy with the troubles we have. Why are we happy with troubles? Because we know that these troubles make us more patient. And this patience is proof that we are strong. And this proof gives us hope. And this hope will never disappoint us – it will never fail. Why? Because God has poured out his love to fill our hearts. God gave us his love through the Holy Spirit. That Holy Spirit was a gift to us from God. (Romans 5:3-5 ERV) Tony Dungy is the head coach of the NFL’s Indianapolis Colts. Many were expecting his team to be competing in Super Bowl XL, but it wasn’t to be. He did, however, speak at the Athletes in Action breakfast on Saturday before the game. After receiving a lengthy standing ovation and paying tribute to Curtis Martin for winning the Athletes in Action Bart Starr Award, Dungy told the hundreds of attendees that he wanted to talk about lessons he had learned from his three sons. Reporters say the room fell silent except for the coach’s voice. He spoke first of his middle son, Eric, and his competitive nature that is so focused on athletics that “it’s almost a problem.” Then he turned to his youngest son, Jordan, whose rare congenital condition makes him insensitive to pain. “That sounds like it’s good at the beginning, but I promise you it’s not,” said Coach Dungy. “We’ve learned some hurts are really necessary for kids. Pain is necessary for kids to find out the difference between what’s good and what’s harmful.” He explained in terms of Jordan’s love for his mother’s cookies. “Cookies are good,” the coach continued, “but – in Jordan’s mind – if they’re good out on the plate, they’re even better in the oven. He will go right in the oven when my wife’s not looking, reach in, take the rack out, take the pan out, burn his hands – then eat the cookies and burn his tongue and never feel it.” With no fear borne of pain, Jordan must be watched constantly. And the lesson from that, Dungy said, is pretty simple. “You get the question all the time, ‘Why does the Lord allow pain in your life? Why do bad things happen to good people? If there is a God of love, why does he allow these hurtful things to happen?’ We’ve learned that a lot of times because of that pain, that little temporary pain, you learn what’s harmful. You learn to fear the right things. “Pain sometimes lets us know we have a condition that needs to be healed. Pain inside sometimes lets us know that spiritually we’re not quite right, and we need to be healed. And that God will send that healing agent right to the spot. Sometimes pain is the only way that will turn us as kids back to the Father.” Only then did Coach Dungy speak of his oldest son, James, who took his life three days before Christmas. Of his family’s pain. Of lessons they learned. Coach Dungy reminds us all that the only way to overcome heartache and death, discouragement and anguish is to let them turn us back to the Father. When that happens, we have discovered the ultimate value our pain can have. About the author: Rubel Shelly preached for decades and served as a professor of medical ethics, Bible, and philosophy at multiple universities. He was a former president of Rochester College and Professor of Philosophy and Religion at Lipscomb University. He was the author of more than 30 books and hundreds of inspirational articles. His commitment to a non-sectarian presentation of the gospel touched countless lives.
Emergency?
Is this really a situation that demands a 911 call? I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well-fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength (Philippians 4:12-13). Emergency. For me, the word brings to mind catastrophes. A fire, an earthquake, a tornado. A broken dike that floods a city. A terrorist attack. A violent crime. A terrible accident. To my way of thinking, an emergency requires the intervention of police, rescue, or medical personnel. But maybe I’m too narrow in my definition. Maybe I should broaden my understanding of the word to include, say, a restaurant running out of delicious chicken products. Latreasa would apparently say so. Earlier this week, she ordered a ten-piece Chicken McNuggetsTM meal at a McDonald’s in Fort Pierce, Florida. After she had paid for the food, she was told that they were out of McNuggets. Latreasa became “irate,” especially after the cashier told her (mistakenly, as it turned out) that she couldn’t give Latreasa a refund. She offered Latreasa another choice from the menu, and that’s when Latreasa decided it was time to let the professionals handle this emergency. She called 911. Three times. Wouldn’t you love to hear those 911 recordings? You can! Recording Call 1 Recording Call 2 Recording Call 3 No, sorry, Latreasa. I can’t buy it. Being hungry and completely without food, like many people in the world actually are – that’s an emergency. But a restaurant being out of your favorite item, with a whole menu full of alternatives? Well, at best, I’d call that an inconvenience. A minor annoyance. But, aren’t we good at magnifying those minor annoyances into major catastrophes? I mean, maybe you’ve never called 911 because of anything that’s happened at the counter of a fast-food restaurant, but I imagine you’ve sat fuming in traffic, staring at your watch, thinking about all the important things that weren’t getting done while you sat there. Or if not that, maybe you’ve inflated a small setback at work into a crisis. Perhaps you can relate more to allowing a romantic reversal to send you spiraling into depression or relate to losing your temper at a relatively minor spousal misstatement or misdeed. Maybe it’s none of those things specifically, but you get the picture, right? And I’m guessing that you, like me, have been guilty of breaking the glass and pulling the “emergency” alarm just a hair too quickly. Our problem, I think, is that underneath our grown-up exteriors and our ability, when necessary, to make sacrifices, is still that cosmology we had in childhood. You know the one I mean. The one where I think the world revolves around me. And if the world revolves around me, then everything that goes wrong for me is potentially an emergency. And, thus, potentially an occasion for sulking, yelling, lashing out, or striking back. That’s why I’m intrigued when Paul says that he’s learned “the secret of being content in any and every situation.” If you know anything at all about Paul, then you know that he found himself in some fairly hair-raising situations. He was hungry sometimes – not in the sense of wishing he could get some delicious chicken products, but hungry in the sense of literal starvation. He spent some considerable time in jail. He narrowly escaped lynch mobs – or more historically accurate, mobs that wanted to stone him – more than once. He had health problems, relationship problems, and he was even shipwrecked a time or two. And that doesn’t even include the stress of travelling all the time, dealing with church problems, and putting up with people who went out of their way to sabotage everything he tried to do. So when Paul says he’s learned to be content, I tend to want to pay attention. The secret, though, is a little tough to hear. Paul says that his ability to be content whatever the situation comes out of replacing himself as the one around whom the world revolves. With his believe that Jesus had risen from the dead and his decision to let Jesus call the shots in his life, the center of gravity in Paul’s life changed. What happened to him mattered not nearly as much as whether or not he lived a life that was faithful to his new calling. And with that perspective, things that he once would likely have considered crises – emergencies – became non-events. And the serendipity of this change, for Paul, was that Jesus became not just Lord, but “him who gives me strength.” By choosing to trust the Lord and not hit the panic button when things seemed to go off the rails in his life, Paul discovered a source of strength to endure and overcome that he never would have known otherwise. He discovered that he could not only survive in difficult situations, but that he could thrive – because where his strength ended, there Jesus’ power began. That’s the problem in not learning to find contentment in Jesus regardless of circumstances. When we hit the panic button too early, we invariably lurch into crisis mode and try to come up with our own solutions to our problems. Trouble is that our own solutions are almost always about finding a quick way out, with as little personal discomfort as possible. Worst of all, when we chase our own solutions, we miss out on what the Lord would do for us. So here’s what we do, I think. First, we tell God that, with his help, we’re going to find our contentment in him. We’re going to trust in his goodness and generosity, and when times are lean we’re going to believe that in him we’ll have all the strength to endure whatever we have to endure. Secondly,
No Room for Death?
Is there room beyond the cemetery plot for you? But the truth is that Christ has been raised up, the first in a long legacy of those who are going to leave the cemeteries. … Everybody dies in Adam; everybody comes alive in Christ. But we have to wait our turn: Christ is first, then those with him at his Coming (1 Corinthians 15:20-23 MSG). Gerard Lalanne has a problem. And the ordinance he’s passed is not going to solve it. Mr. Lalanne is the mayor of the village of Sapourenx, in the southwest of France. The problem he’s facing is a lack of space. Not in City Hall, or in the retail district of town – the lack of space he’s trying to deal with is a bit more problematic than that. The cemetery of Sapourenx is full. And apparently – wait for it – people are just dying to get in. Mr. Lalanne has tried to be reasonable. He really has. But an administrative court ruled against his proposal to acquire private land adjoining the cemetery in order to increase its, uh, capacity. And so Mr. Lalanne took the only recourse open to a politician. In an ordinance posted in the city council offices, he informed the 260 residents of the town that they are no longer allowed to die. The ordinance reads, in part, “[A]ll persons not having a plot in the cemetery and wishing to be buried in Sarpourenx are forbidden from dying in the parish.” “Offenders will be severely punished,” it adds. Something tells me that Mr. Lalanne’s ordinance isn’t likely to be enforced. It isn’t supposed to be, of course; it’s intended as a statement to those who the mayor feels have put him in an impossible situation. “Oh, I can’t expand the cemetery? Well, then, I’ll just pass a law against dying. That should solve the problem.” Would that it were that easy, huh? Odds are that some of the people reading these words right now would love to believe that passing a law could stop death. I know, in fact, of several families touched by death recently. A mother and grandmother. A husband, father, and son-in-law. A beloved uncle and friend. Funerals seem to occur in bunches in my life, and lately I’ve just been to too many. I know the families touched most deeply by those losses would agree, and wish with all their hearts that there could be, well, a moratorium on death. And then there are those who haven’t been touched by death yet, but who are being stalked. A young man, younger than me, with cancer. An elderly lady, another mother and grandmother. All of us, eventually, feel death closing in on the people we love. And sooner or later, on us. Remember the story of the servant who came to his master, terrified because he had seen Death in the marketplace? “Death made a threatening gesture toward me,” the servant whimpers, and so the master makes arrangements to send the servant on an errand to another town, Samarra, so that Death won’t be able to get to him. Then the master goes to the marketplace and tracks down Death. “Why did you threaten my servant?” he asks. Remember Death’s response? “I didn’t threaten him,” Death answers. “I was just surprised to see him here in the marketplace, because I have an appointment with him tonight in Samarra.” The moral, even for a people with the best medical care in history and an extended life expectancy, is that Death catches up with all of us eventually. “Everybody dies in Adam.” That’s Paul’s way of saying that we’re not immortal. It’s his recognition that the Fall was real and that God’s warning was true: by going our own way, human beings would be the midwives that brought death into the world. We thought we’d be like God, but now we have a problem: Death walks in our marketplaces and takes who he wants, whenever he chooses. To the extent that we share in the same human nature as Adam, we share in his death. And, sadly, there’s nothing we can do about it. Might as well pass a law against dying, for all the good it’ll do. Happily, what we can do about it isn’t the end of the story. In the same way that we look a few days down the road toward Easter, we anticipate the fulfillment of the hope to which Jesus’ resurrection attests. “Everybody comes alive in Christ,” is the way Paul put it. In the same way that we all share in death because of Adam’s sin, we will all share in resurrection because of Jesus’ life. He identified with us by sharing in death, even though he was not guilty of the sin that brought it about. And he did this so that we can share in the victory over death that his resurrection brought about. As surely as he was raised to life, so will everyone who has trusted in him. As surely as his tomb was empty, so will be the tombs of everyone who identifies with him. In effect, Jesus did what we only wish we could do. He passed a decree against death; he prohibited death from exercising its power over human beings. “The trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable,” Scripture promises. “Then the saying that is written will come true: ‘Death has been swallowed up in victory’” (1 Corinthians 15:53-54 NIV). We still have to die, and we still have to mourn, but because of Jesus there is hope. We grieve for those we love while celebrating their new, eternal lives. We face our eventual death with peace, not fear, trusting in the promise that “Everybody comes alive in Christ.” So while there is no hope of a moratorium on death on this side of Jesus’ return, there is a solid guarantee that on the day he comes back, death will be dealt with
How Falsehoods Diminish Truth
Why would we discredit the resurrection of Jesus by our lifestyle? The story is absolutely mesmerizing! It is a touching tale from the years of the Holocaust. A little Jewish girl from Belgium makes her way across Europe to search for her Nazi-deported parents. She is able to escape capture herself only by taking refuge with packs of friendly wolves. In the course of her incredible escape, she even kills a German soldier. This multi-layered account of Nazi cruelty, childhood innocence, and unlikely rescue was published as Misha: A Memoire of the Holocaust Years. It generated millions of dollars in revenue and was translated into 18 languages. A French movie from the book has been a hit during its current run. Then came the confession through her lawyer last Thursday that Misha Defonseca’s dramatic story is a shameful lie. Defonseca spent the war years in safety in Belgium. Despite her moving speeches about experiences that led to her bestselling book, we know now that she made up the stories about wolves and Nazis. She isn’t even Jewish. Scholars had challenged a garble of dates, events, and information in the book. But their research largely fell on deaf ears, as the public received the book with eagerness. Now the house of cards has collapsed. People who misrepresent significant realities with trumped-up, self-serving false claims actually manage to tarnish the truth. In the words of Dr. Lawrence Langer, one of the scholars who knew all along it was a hoax: “What happened to the Jews was the worst atrocity in history, and people who exploit it for profit, by posing as Jews or lying about being part of the experience, insult those who went through it. It’s as bad as saying the Holocaust never happened.” The gruesome facts of the Holocaust don’t change; a woman’s misrepresentation of her experiences related to that event minimizes it, however, and gives comfort to Holocaust-deniers and anti-Semites. Neither do the facts of Christ’s resurrection and the life-changing power of the gospel change; people who misrepresent themselves as its messengers or devotees tarnish the Christian faith, discredit Jesus of Nazareth, and decrease the likelihood that unbelievers would consider – much less embrace – it. Sleazy televangelists, gay-bashers at military funerals, priests who molest children, church-member moms and dads who betray families, Sunday school teachers who bully or curse employees at work – all are agents of betrayal. They sabotage the gospel, undermine Christ’s appeal, and make faith unattractive. Truth’s credibility is always tied to the integrity of its messengers. For the appeal we make does not spring from error or impure motives, nor are we trying to trick you. On the contrary, we speak as those approved by God to be entrusted with the gospel. We are not trying to please people but God, who tests our hearts. You know we never used flattery, nor did we put on a mask to cover up greed – God is our witness. We were not looking for praise from any human being, not from you or anyone else, even though as apostles of Christ we could have asserted our prerogatives. Instead, we were like young children among you. Just as a nursing mother cares for her children, so we cared for you. Because we loved you so much, we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well. Surely you remember, brothers and sisters, our toil and hardship; we worked night and day in order not to be a burden to anyone while we preached the gospel of God to you (1 Thessalonians 2:3-9 TNIV). About the author: Rubel Shelly preached for decades and served as a professor of medical ethics, Bible, and philosophy at multiple universities. He was a former president of Rochester College and Professor of Philosophy and Religion at Lipscomb University. He was the author of more than 30 books and hundreds of inspirational articles. His commitment to a non-sectarian presentation of the gospel touched countless lives.