All Rock, No Sham: The Heart of St. Patrick - Stephen

St. Patrick was believed to have died on March 17, around 460 A.D.[1] Over 1,500 years later, what was so great about his life that we have a holiday bearing his name complete with green clothing, pinching, and shamrocks (which we, for some reason, refer to only as three-leaf clovers every other day but this one)?

Here’s some things we know about the real St. Patrick that may surprise you: 

-       He wasn’t formally a saint because he was never officially canonized by the Catholic Church.[2]

-       He wasn’t really Irish either, having been born somewhere in Britain.[3]

-       He didn’t actually banish all snakes from Ireland because there were never any snakes there to begin with.[4]

-       He was kidnapped to become a slave on the Emarald Isle only to miraculously escape back to his home in Britain.[5]

I share all of this with you about Patrick to focus primarily on who and what he actually was, not on the person we have created him to be. 

 

He was truly kidnapped from his family and his home. 

He was actually forced into slavery in an unknown place. 

And he did miraculously make it back home alive. 

Yet, for some reason, he would later return to the place he was enslaved—not for revenge, to the chagrin of every Liam Neeson movie, but to share the truth that could spare them eternal destruction. Historical records even indicate that one of his very first converts in Ireland was none other than his former master.[6]

 

For decades, Patrick preached the Gospel to the island despite the risk that existed in doing so. He describes the danger as being “watched with malice,” “mangled and preyed upon,” and as “greedy wolves devouring the flock of the Lord.” [7]

 

 

If this was true, why did Patrick return? What was his true motivation? This goes against everything our natural wisdom and logic tell us. “Safety first” is not just some construction-site mandate but true of our innate defense system as human beings. “God spared your life from that place, why would you ever return?” we want to ask him. Thankfully, Patrick answers our question—because it was in Ireland he believed. 

 

It was there that the Lord opened up my awareness of my lack of faith. Even though it came about late, I recognised my failings. So I turned with all my heart to the Lord my God, and he looked down on my lowliness and had mercy on my youthful ignorance.[8]

 

 

Patrick not only returned but continued to be faithful in sharing the love of Christ to those in Ireland. This is the man we remember and celebrate every March. This was his heart. 

 

That is why I cannot be silent – nor would it be good to do so – about such great blessings and such a gift that the Lord so kindly bestowed in the land of my captivity. This is how we can repay such blessings, when our lives change and we come to know God, to praise and bear witness to his great wonders before every nation under heaven.[9]

 

After reading all of this, if there was one word to describe Patrick, what would it be? As you can see, he wasn’t known for wearing green, he didn’t go around pinching people for failing to do the same, and he was certainly all rock and no sham. Therefore, the word that comes to my mind to describe him would be steadfast—because nothing seemed to sway his commitment to loving others by sharing the love of God with them. 

 

How hard is this in the shifting sands of our everyday circumstances? When things are going well and both the figurative and literal sun are shining, it is easy to be committed to the Lord’s will. But on the days where the sun not only fails to shine but is nowhere to be found for seemingly weeks on end, how hard is it to be committed to the plan and mission of the One who is controlling the sun withheld?

 

Patrick wasn’t ever fully embraced for his efforts in Ireland. There was always difficulty and animosity from those who rejected the Gospel. But it was in those moments that Patrick’s true heart was revealed—the heart that was all rock—steadfast—and no sham. There was nothing fake about it. 

 

So, as you sport your green trousers, search your front lawn for a lucky clover, or merely find joy in continuously pinching the co-worker who failed to notice their calendar, remember Patrick’s heart. For it is his heart alone that is worth not only celebrating but emulating. 

 

“Therefore, my beloved brethren, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your labor is not in vain in the Lord.”

[1 Corinthians 15:58]     

---

[1] https://www.history.com/topics/st-patricks-day/who-was-saint-patrick

 

[2] Ibid. 

 

[3] https://www.snopes.com/news/2021/03/16/10-things-to-know-about-the-real-st-patrick/

 

[4] https://www.christianitytoday.com/history/2008/august/real-st-patrick.html

 

[5] Ibid. 

 

[6] Ibid. 

 

[7] https://www.confessio.ie/etexts/epistola_english#undefined

 

[8] https://www.confessio.ie/etexts/confessio_english#undefined

 

[9] https://www.confessio.ie/etexts/confessio_english#undefined

The Ministry of Presence - Ben

As a pastor, I’m often in what I like to call “care mode.” Usually, I enter this posture when someone needs counseling or is mourning the loss of a loved one. And, sad to say, I’ve had to do quite a few of both in the four years I’ve been a senior pastor.  

Interestingly, I learned early on that, in these moments, someone who is hurting isn’t necessarily looking for advice; instead, they want to know they’re not alone. I had a friend describe this as the “ministry of presence” (shout out to Brandon May) where we’re not fixing a problem but making our company known and felt. It is as simple as being there. Because, when your there, in those hard moments of life, you’re not only sharing the burden but you’re also readily available to offer comfort. And that comfort can be nothing more than a hug, holding someone’s hand, or patting their shoulder. Touch can be powerfully effective. 

But I just don't know this from experience. Jesus often used touch when he ministered. One of the most extraordinary examples of this comes in the Gospel of Luke. 

“While he was in one of the cities, there came a man full of leprosy. And when he saw Jesus, he fell on his face and begged him, “Lord, if you will, you can make me clean.” And Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him, saying, “I will; be clean.” And immediately the leprosy left him. And he charged him to tell no one, but “go and show yourself to the priest, and make an offering for your cleansing, as Moses commanded, for a proof to them.”” 

Luke 5:12-14 (ESV)

Leprosy today (also called Hansen’s disease) isn't necessarily the same disease called “leprosy” in the first century. The term means “scaliness” and could refer to various skin-based diseases such as psoriasis, lupus, favus, or even ringworm.[1] In fact, Jewish texts identify as many as seventy-two different kinds of leprosy, including blemishes that might appear on clothing (cf. Lev. 13:47-48) or buildings (cf. Lev. 14:34-53).[2]

But, generally speaking, the effects of leprosy can be characterized by three things: 

First and foremost, it was an isolating disease.[3] Regardless of the severity, should a person contract any form of leprosy, they must be quarantined from their community to prevent it from spreading (cf. Lev. 13:45-46). So much so that they were required to stand at a distance of fifty paces from others.[4]  Not only were they required to self-isolate, but they also had to wear unique clothes, leave their hair in disarray, and cry out "Unclean! Unclean!" whenever they were around people.[5] “Lepers were required to make their appearance as repugnant as possible.”[6] This may seem cruel, but in a society that had no means of curing such a disease, it was necessary. 

Secondly, aside from the impact this disease could have had on the body, leprosy also had severe psychological ramifications.[7]  The leprous person would understandably feel ostracized by society. No one would come near them. They would have to sever ties with their family. They would never be touched by another human being again. Or, if they were touched, it was likely by another person who also had leprosy. “The leper was not just ill; he was an outcast.”[8]  He was a pariah. As such, lepers experienced something akin to a “living death.”[9] 

Lastly, it was also a disease that didn't only need healing but also "cleansing," as a person was considered to be ceremonially unclean if they contracted leprosy.[10] It was a spiritual disease as well as a physical one. Should they be cured, they'd have to go through a rigorous religious process that involved multiple sacrifices (i.e., two birds and three lambs)[11] and would take upwards of a week or more to complete. As such, people were just as afraid of becoming spiritually defiled should they come in contact with a leprous person as they were about contracting the disease. 

So, in light of all that, imagine how shocking it was for Jesus to touch him. Today, we know how powerful touch can be.[12] Skin-to-skin contact in the first few moments after birth regulates a baby’s body temperature, assists in the development of the neurological function, and even helps to improve weight gain for both premature and full-term babies.[13]  In fact, we know that children who aren’t given the proper loving care exhibit “behavioral, emotional and social problems as they grow up.”[14]  Even worse, “Babies who are not held, nuzzled, and hugged enough can stop growing, and if the situation lasts long enough, even die.”[15]  

But the benefits of touch are not just for children; adults need it too. “The right kind [of touch] can lower blood pressure, heart rate, and cortisol levels, stimulate the hippocampus (an area of the brain that is central to memory), and drive the release of a host of hormones and neuropeptides that have been linked to positive and uplifting emotions. The physical effects of touch are far-reaching.”[16]

More than any other gospel writer, Luke mentions how Jesus often employed touch when healing (cf. Lu. 7:14; 13:13; 18:15; 22:51).[17] And we know from Mark's parallel that Jesus had compassion at this moment (cf. Mar. 1:41). His touch was motivated by love. 

Admittedly, we're not told how long this man had been a leper, but, as COVID proved, even a little bit of isolation is almost unbearable.  And considering he was “full of leprosy,” we can safely assume he had this condition for some time.[18]  And so, because he had been in this state for so long, we can see now why Jesus touched him. 

We know that Jesus didn’t need to touch someone to heal. He performed many miracles without physical touch (cf. Matt. 5:5-13; Mar. 5:21-34). But the Lord touched the Leper because he wanted to heal more than just his physical ailments; Jesus also wanted to heal the emotional, psychological, and spiritual aspects of that disease. Consequently, after Jesus' healing touch, this man could reintegrate into society again.[19] Jesus even tells the man to show himself to the local priest and offer up the required sacrifices (vs. 14), not because he needed further cleansing but because this would be how he could get a clean bill of health. The Lord wanted him to get a doctor's note. Jesus wanted to cleanse him from leprosy and reunite him with his friends, family, and neighbors. 

The sin-sick need the healing touch of Jesus, but sometimes their sin is such a deterrent to us that we are unwilling to approach them with the good news. Are we willing to offer a healing hand when we see someone hurting? Or are we content to leave them in their leprous state for fear that they may “contaminate” us?  The hands of Jesus are willing to heal all. This story proved at least that. But so often we don’t want to get our hands dirty. 

It is time for us to set aside our spiritual haphephobia and reach for the pariah. They need Jesus. 

 

[1] Danker, Frederick William, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature, Third Edition, (Chicago, IL; The University of Chicago Press, 1979), p. 592.

[2] Garland, David E., Luke, Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament, (Grand Rapids, MI; Zondervan 2011), p. 238.

[3] Green, Joel B., The Gospel of Luke, The New International Commentary on the New Testament, (Grand Rapids, MI; Eerdmans Publishing, 1997), p. 236.

[4] Edwards, James R., The Gospel According to Luke, The Pillar New Testament Commentary, (Grand Rapids, MI; Eerdmans Publishing, 2015), p. 160.

[5] Youngblood, Ronald F., Nelson’s Illustrated Bible Dictionary, New and Enhanced Edition, (Nashville, TN; Thomas Nelson, 2014), p. 684.

[6] Edwards (2015), p. 159.

[7] Morris, Leon, Luke, The Tyndale New Testament Commentary, (Downers Grove, IL; InterVarsity Press, 1988), p. 135.

[8] Wilcock, Michael, The Message of Luke, The Bible Speaks Today, (Downers Grove, IL; InterVarsity Press, 1979), p. 52.

[9] Bock, Darrell L., Luke 1:1-9:50, The Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament, (Grand Rapids, MI; Baker Academic, 1994), p. 473.

[10] Morris (1988), p. 135.

[11] Edwards (2015), p. 161.

[12] Carey, Benedict, “Evidence That Little Touches Do Mean So Much,” February 22, 2010, The New York Times, https://www.nytimes.com/2010/02/23/health/23mind.html?scp=3&sq=touch&st=cse, [accessed, February 23, 2023].

[13] Greicius, Julie, “The benefits of touch for babies, parents,” September 22, 2013, Standford Medicine, https://med.stanford.edu/news/all-news/2013/09/the-benefits-of-touch-for-babies-parents.html, [accessed February 23, 2023].

[14] Harmon, Katherine, “How Important Is Physical Contact with Your Infant?" May 6, 2010, Scientific America, https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/infant-touch/, [accessed, February 23, 2023].

[15] Szalavitz, Maia, “Touching Empathy: Lack of physical affection can actually kill babies,” March 1, 2010, Psychology Today, https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/born-love/201003/touching-empathy, [accessed, February 23, 2023].

[16] Konnikova, Maria, “The Power of Touch,” March 4, 2015, The New Yorker, https://www.newyorker.com/science/maria-konnikova/power-touch, [accessed February 23, 2023].

[17] Bock (1994), p. 473.

[18] Edwards (2015), p. 160.

[19] Garland (2011), p. 238.

Self: Where is Your Soul? - Ron

In Tragedy in the Church, Tozer brings the body of Christ to the forefront and questions its veracity. We would not disagree with what Tozer writes, and certainly not with the small excerpt to which I am referring in this post. However, finishing the reading left me pondering thoughts deep enough for me to begin a post.

The comparison runs simply enough. Scripture tells us that we are the body of Christ. We understand from First Corinthians 12, Romans 12, and other places that the Spirit gives believers gifts and God has a place for each believer in the body. We understand–with the help of Audio Adrenaline, no doubt–that we are to be the hands and feet of Jesus Christ out in the world.

As Tozer puts it, “Every true Christian, no matter where he or she lives, is a part of that body…”

It is the end of Tozer’s sentence that caused me to pause and reflect deeply: “…and the Holy Spirit is to the church what our own souls are to our physical bodies.”

The thought struck me: as the church goes, so goes culture (typically). Our culture is obsessed with building soulless replicas of ourselves. Have we become obsessed with building a soulless replica of our worship?

It is easy to look at churches and wonder from where their help truly comes. By and large, church services are ruled by schedules and programs. The messages are planned weeks in advance. The songs are planned. The announcements are even planned (though still we miss them). The buildings are designed for creature-comforts. A telling sign that Douglas Wilson suggests is due to viewing people like consumers rather than souls.

But I don’t want to take the road of pointing out faults in the American church. I feel like there are a lot of people on that road already. Besides, I am responsible for exactly zero churches (or their services). But I am 100% responsible for myself, and if I am honest, the question of soulless worship must begin there. You see, I began writing this blog post more than one week ago, and much can change in a week.

For the first time as a parent, I had a child not speak to me for multiple days. I don’t imagine this is anything outside of the ordinary parental existence. I remember when I thought my dad was enemy number one. But I am also old enough to lament those times.

Always the introspective one, I began searching for faults of mine in this family upheaval that felt–at the time–like a real emergency. As if I imagined my child would truly hate us forever. True to form, I found that I had played multiple villainous roles in the debacle of both parenting and child-ing.

I like control. Which was much harder to type than it should have been.

I want things done a certain way. You might be surprised to know that I typically enjoy things done the way that I do them. After all, if I thought the way that I did something was ineffective or inefficient, I would do it a different way.  For example, I like to put things back where I found them so that I know where they are the next time. I do this with clothes, keys, important documents, books, video game controllers, Blu-ray disc cases, and every other blessed thing that I ever use.

But my family–I love them–does not operate on this elevated plane of existence.

I like to set one alarm each day. When that alarm rings, I fly out of bed ready to start the day. Some in my family–I love them–like to set multiple alarms which begin ringing long before we are required to greet the day. Others like to be told several times a day to get out of bed, which seems to me like disobedience and disrespect after a certain point.

Those are miniscule examples, but enough to get the point, especially if you live with someone that likes things done a certain way. I like control, and my need for control totally overlooked the fact that God has my children in a growth program much like the one that He has me in. I want them to do things my way. I want them to be as grown as me. But God is growing my children, and He is doing it even when they aren’t speaking to me. God is growing my family even when dad is screaming to get out of bed for the third time. 

I know He is growing them because it is His job and responsibility to grow them.

Don’t get me wrong, I know my duty as a dad. But I can’t force my kids to change. I can’t force a love for the Word down my children’s throat and expect anything but a gag reflex. Just like they can’t force me to wake up and spend time with the Lord. I can’t force respect, although I can demand it and provide consequences.

You may be wondering what this post has to do with the beginning few paragraphs. That’s fair. I began noticing that my need for control spills over into my personal walk with the Lord, too. And it took the beginning few paragraphs of this post and a rough week of parenting to find that out.

It is in my personal life that I am not leaving real and active room for God to work. It is in my personal study that I have become so organized that I leave small room for the Spirit to direct me. It is in my own heart that I see deadness of attitude toward worship services, little expectation of the miraculous, and barely a hope to experience God in a real, life-changing way.

It is easy to point to the body at large and ask: “Where is your soul?” It is a harder thing to take the bony finger of judgment and turn it within. To find the courage to ask, “Where is my soul?” is not easy. Maybe that is why it took an upheaval for me to see that God can even work through a pre-planned day-by-day devotional book featuring A.W. Tozer and a stubborn teenager. Because the work is HIS in the first place. And HE will complete it (1 Thessalonians 5:24). He says He will (Philippians 1:6). It will be done (Isaiah 43:13).

I don’t know where you find yourself today. Maybe lamenting a prodigal. God will complete the work He starts. Maybe you are lamenting the death of life-changing worship in your own heart. Tozer also wrote "the average Christian is so cold and so contented with His wretched condition that there is no vacuum of desire into which the blessed Spirit can rush in satisfying fullness." Does that describe you?

God will complete the work, and He can work through the most amazing things. So ask yourself, “where is the ‘soul’ in my walk with the Lord?”

Masculinity: A Soft Shoulder or a Strong Arm? - Stephen

“I don’t like John Wayne. He always played the same part in every movie.”

Living in Texas at the time, I didn’t realize the magnitude of my opinion. But I found out very quickly. 

 

In small-town Texas, John Wayne was not just some actor of the past; he was a man who exhibited the very ideals of what a Western man should be. He was the ideal cowboy. The ideal of the male gender. And, rumor has it, the ideal candidate for any political position in the state—dead or alive. 

 

As with many, masculinity and manhood were not topics to be discussed here but examples to emulate. And this example was illustrated in all of Wayne’s movies…even if it was the same part played: the strong arm of a sheriff, the strong arm of a military general, the strong arm of a rancher, and even the strong arm of a man now in charge of a little girl who wasn’t his own. (See: True Grit – the only Wayne movie I think I have ever seen in its entirety.) 

 

My point is not to argue the accolades of John Wayne but to get to the heart of what masculinity truly is. Truth be told the generation that views Wayne as the ideal man is slowly dying off only to be replaced with another model. 

 

As with every held ideal of the past, the present generations like to swing the pendulum the other direction. And the ideal of manlihood is certainly no exception. 

 

The model man no longer wears a cowboy hat and boots but skinny jeans and a fedora. No longer riding a horse but an environmental-friendly Prius. And no longer is the ideal modeled by a strong arm but a soft shoulder. 

 

Where once the ideal was encapsulated with traits such as leadership, toughness, and unwavering principles in the face of the cruelest villains. Now the traits being held in manly esteem are compassion, gentleness, and an unlimited love for puppies. 

 

That might be a slight stretch but take the 2020 Presidential Election for an example. Do you remember the characterizations of our choices that year between Republican candidate and incumbent, Donald Trump, and Democratic candidate and current president, Joe Biden? The argument was not typically centered on their diverse policy platforms but on their different personalities. 

 

Donald Trump was characterized as a “quick-triggered, feud-dueling, mean Tweeter.” Whereas Joe Biden was carefully portrayed in contrast as a “soft-spoken, grandfatherly unifier.” These descriptive comparisons are not brought out to argue their accuracy specifically but to explore the underlying point when it comes to the two competing ideals of masculinity behind them. 

 

Are the choices of manlihood in our day-and-age truly between these two—a strong arm and a soft shoulder? The answer, I firmly believe, is no. 

 

As with most black-and-white characterizations, there is a middle ground when it comes to the ideal display of masculinity also. And the answer is it comes with both. 

 

True masculinity is not exemplified fully in either one of these one-dimensional examples. The key to being the ideal man is to being like the fullest example we have of such, and, as with most things, that example is Jesus. 

 

A strong arm without a soft shoulder of compassion might give you strong leadership in a time of war but will also present an unmovable force in a time of peace when compromise is not only desired but sometimes necessary for that peace to endure. On the other hand (or arm), a soft shoulder in the time of peace will give you that compromise necessary to help that time to remain but when it breaks down to conflict there is no decisive leadership to be found. 

 

Obviously, I am over-simplifying and characterizing the very things I argued against earlier, but I hope the point is clear: Jesus was both. 

 

In the time He was faced with a woman caught in adultery in John 8, Jesus mutually displayed both of these. He exhibited a strong arm of decisiveness as He wrote on the ground to dissuade the religious leaders full of arrogance and armed with stones of condemnation. Yet, Jesus followed that strong arm with a soft shoulder as he raised the woman awaiting judgment and pronounced, “Neither do I condemn you, Go and sin no more.” 

 

To wrap it all up, let’s conclude with the obvious: masculinity has very little to do with the external portrayals of where you live, what you wear, or the vehicle you start every morning. True masculinity, better yet godly masculinity, is more about wisdom. Wisdom that understands you need both a strong arm and a soft shoulder. Wisdom that can discern when one is needed and the other is not. 

 

A strong arm is necessary when someone is breaking into your home to attack your family, but that same strong arm falls short when your little girl scrapes her knee learning to ride a bike. It is in both moments that we have a choice to make. 

 

In a society seeking to characterize and label masculinity by one dimensional character or another, choose neither. Instead, choose the One who died young, called out sin, yet had grace on those who admitted its weight. 

 

Choose Jesus. And choose both.

Loving Evangelism - Ben

When I say "loving evangelism," you might think, "Is this post about how I can enjoy evangelism more?" And the answer is, "maybe."  If you take what I'm about to say to heart, you might find that evangelism is a blast. But, to be clear, this post is more about evangelism characterized by loving acts rather than how we ought to feel about evangelism.  Because let's be honest, many Christians don't enjoy sharing their faith.  Why?  Well, for me, it's because there are no guarantees in evangelism.  Sometimes the best presentation fails, and the worst succeeds.  Sometimes you're the planter, and other times you're the harvester.  Or, sadly, it feels like sometimes you've done nothing at all.

But one way I’ve found that can help stack the deck in your favor is to show a person that you genuinely love and care for them before trying to force-feed them Jesus.  Too many times, I've got that backward.  I would try to get them to know Jesus before ever getting to know who they really are.

Now, I'm not saying a spontaneous moment where you witness to a stranger is wrong.  Sometimes, God divinely positions you in a specific place and time where all you need do is ask, "Would you like to get saved today?" I once led a Muslim man to Christ in my office at the church.  I had no dealings with him before.  He just happened to be in the right place at the right time. So, yes, you should take the seemingly random opportunities that God gives you to present Christ whenever and wherever you can.  

However, most of our prospects aren't so randomly placed.  Often, the very people we are called to witness to are our friends, family, and neighbors.  These are people who know us better than some stranger.  And the question we should be asking ourselves is, "Do they know I love them?" If not, the odds that they'll listen to you when you want to have a gospel conversation are slim to none.  Jesus said it best in John 13:35, "By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.” And interestingly, before he ever called Peter to be a disciple, he first healed his mother-in-law.  Loving evangelism is effective evangelism. 

If you have someone that you desperately want to know Jesus, take them out to lunch.  Invite them over to your house.  Have a game night.  Golf.  Do something that gets you two together for an extended period of time, doing something you both enjoy. 

Your relationship with a person might very well become the bridge by which they can cross into a relationship with Christ.