Monthly Archives: March 2016

“On the evening of that day, the first day of the week, the doors being shut where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said to them, 'Peace be with you.'” John 20:19

Only a few days and weeks before, these disciples were sure they had all the answers. “We will never leave you!” “Though everyone else forsake you I never will!” “Yes we are able to drink from the same cup as you, Jesus!” They argued among one another about who was greatest and who would get privileged seats on the right and left hand of Jesus in his kingdom. They had cast out demons and healed people. Even the religious leaders were a little bit afraid of them. The disciples were a privileged group of men who spent most every hour with Jesus. They had all the answers.

Then Jesus was crucified. And all the answers rang a little hollow. So they huddled up in a room, unsure of what to do next.

The disciples in that room were terribly afraid. Jesus already had appeared to Mary. She had reported that to the 11 remaining disciples, two of them had been to the tomb and saw that His body was gone, but they did not believe Mary. She was delusional. She wanted to see him so badly. She imagined it because someone had desecrated the grave and stolen the body.

John tells us that they had gathered in a room. He also tells us that they had bolted the doors, and they had probably locked the windows. It was dark. They were afraid that the same people that arrested Jesus would come after them. In that feeble, early morning darkness I doubt they said much. Silently they asked all the questions and rehearsed all the doubts and disappointments. “How could this have happened?” “A messiah doesn’t die.” “Why didn’t we stay in Galilee? We told him he should not have come back here to Jerusalem! He even told us he would probably die here.”

Each one had their shattered dreams. “I left everything for this?” “I should have stayed in my boat.” “Where do I go now?”

Each one had their share of guilt. “I ran.” “I denied knowing him.” “We weren’t good enough.” “We weren’t strong enough.” “We weren’t faithful enough.” “We weren’t…enough.”

That dark room was as much a psychological and spiritual commentary on those people as it was a defense against being arrested. The air was thick with failure and disappointment. These were shattered people.

Each one of us has spent some time in that room. Life has not turned out for you the way you had imagined. Your dreams are smashed against cold, hard reality. Or maybe the pressures and strains of life have left you burned out and full of doubt. Something in you died a while back and you don’t even think it will ever live again. You drag yourself into that room, close the doors, bolt the windows and say to anyone who would listen, “leave me alone.”

Jesus understood their questions, just as he understands yours. A few days earlier on the cross he had uttered that unforgettable question, “My God, my God why have you forsaken me?” He understood darkness and loneliness and disappointment and fear.

So when He came into that room, suddenly appearing the midst of doubting disciples His first words were “Peace to you.”

Wait a minute! Is this any way to run a resurrection? Spielberg should have been in charge of this production. He could have spiced it up a bit. Jesus appears first to Pontius Pilate: “Good morning Pontius! Are your hands still clean?” Then he could move on to the Sanhedrin, that jury of rulers that sentenced him to death: “Hey fellows! You guys want to vote again?” The resurrection needs something big and splashy. “I’m back!!!!” It needed to be something that changed everyone’s mind, showed the bad guys they were wrong, and helped our team to know they were right! That’s the way it should have been!

Instead he appears and says simply, “Peace to you.” That never made sense to me, until I had spent some time in that room.

Jesus knew that what they needed most at that point was reassurance. So he came back to them, appearing in their midst and said, “peace to you.” He was back, and He brought what they needed most.

We all spend time in that room. It’s like a tomb. We put rocks of fear and self-loathing over all the openings.

And here’s the good news: Jesus is really good at removing all kinds of rocks. He’ll take them away from the openings, and He’ll encourage you to stop replacing them with new rocks. Soon the light of His love pours in, and then peace replaces fear.

Are you in that room right now? Easter Sunday is a reminder. Life wins. Good wins. Love wins. Hope wins. And peace reigns.

When all my boastful claims of faith and fidelity ring a little hollow, then I need a simple word from Jesus to remind me of what is real and lasting. And He says “Peace to you.”

Happy Easter,

Dr. Terry Ellis

March 27, 2016

“I pray that you, being rooted and firmly established in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints the length, width, height, and depth of God’s love; and to know that Christ’s love for you surpasses all knowledge and fills you with the fullness of God.” Ephesians 3:17b-19

God loves you. You know that don’t you? But you have heard it so often that it risks sounding trite or maudlin. What is indisputably true is that most Christians live as if they are unaware of God’s love. Your challenge this week is to remember the fact that God loves you, and let that fact change the way you live and think.

Here’s a way you can do it. Pretend you are an Ephesian Christian in the first century. You live in one of the truly magnificent cities of the empire, one of the top half-dozen or so. Due to its location on a major trading route, the city’s financial impact reverberates through the empire. The same it true of its political might.

And religiously? Before you became a Christian you could have worshiped in scores of temples dedicated to dozens of different gods and goddesses. The centerpiece is the Artemision (later called one of the Seven Wonders of the World), the temple dedicated to the city’s patroness: Artemis, whom the Romans adopted from the Greeks and equated with Diana. You worshiped there.

Actually “worshiped” is a bit of stretch. Temples practically were little more than elaborate eating clubs. Worshipers cooked and ate the sacrifice as part of “the service.” You may have participated in a number of such gatherings. They were social events. You respected Diana, but your sacrifice was more of an appeasement. Like most of your fellow Romans you went through the rituals in order to keep Diana off your back. Seriously. You did not love her any more than she loved you.

Diana was like all the gods and goddesses; capricious, capable of the very worst morals, and generally completely uninterested in people. Love her? You could never love something that dangerous or uncaring.

So what led you to become a Christian? It was the good news that a heretofore unknown God deeply loved you. He was nothing like Zeus or Apollo who were simply more like men with superhuman powers. No, this God was supremely good and so glorious that He could not be depicted in any art form.

The Christians that shared this good news with you explained that He was the only God, the Creator of all, and most amazingly, had sent His Son to show His great love for all people, to die to remove sin and guilt, and to rise three days later. What truly struck you, however, was the love part. This God loves you. You were so overwhelmed that you became a Christian. When you read the words quoted above from the letter addressed to your church you are still a little stunned, but warmed and encouraged beyond words to know the one and only God loves you.

Now back to today. The passage from Ephesians for this week’s GraceWaves is one of the most tender and emphatic declarations of God’s love to be found anywhere in the New Testament. It ranks with John 3:16 and Romans 8:38-39. The personal love of God for all people is the single most important, transforming revelation that enabled Christianity to convert an empire. God’s love was not greeted with a yawn in the early centuries, and it shouldn’t be today.

Yet most Christians never give ten minutes of serious consideration to this tremendous truth. The great God of the universe knows your name! He knows your history! He loves you deeply! He smiles when He thinks about you.

Recapturing some measure of the grand vision that God loves you truly does change the way you look at life. A loving God never neglects or forgets His children. Relaxing in God’s love removes the anxiety of life. Simply accepting that God loves you enables you to love other people.

No doctrine is more important. It all begins here. Waves of grace flow from God’s loving character. Never forget this greatest truth, and never allow it be diminished either by familiarity, or by the challenges you face this week. God truly loves you.

Grace,

Dr. Terry Ellis

March 20, 2016

“I will remember their sins and their misdeeds no more.” Hebrews 10:17

All preachers are grateful for their children, if for no other reason than that they are little walking bundles of sermon illustrations. Of course, as children get older they tend to resent even the subtlest hint that they are related to the preacher. I tried to respect the privacy of my own two, except when it was late on Saturday night and I was desperate.

I did broach the subject with Lauren when she was about 4. We were on the way home from church, and I had mentioned her in the sermon that morning. I asked if that bothered her. She said it did not. I then very helpfully told her that there would likely come a day when it did and not to hesitate letting me know. Clearly trying to assure me she said, “it’s all right, Daddy. I’m usually asleep by then anyway.”

Which brings me to my granddaughter, who is three and about to be the centerpiece of this brief devotional. One day she too will become an eye-rolling teen and forbid public mention of anything about her life. I will respect that, but right now she can’t read and is totally fair game.

The incident in question regards handwashing. I hasten to add here at the outset that handwashing is filled with religious significance especially among our Jewish forbearers. It’s no small matter. The following story is fraught with deep religious overtones!

Not really. The handwashing in this case was nothing nearly so serious. We were at the supper table, Emily Grace had to use the potty, and upon her return Leslie (Ma’mere) asked if she had washed her hands. She hesitated in such a way that clearly indicated she had not. Again this was no big deal, and one of the great things about being a grandparent is that you don’t tend to view every little incident as predictive of either future success or a life of crime and dissolution.

When asked “are you sure you washed your hands?” she nodded but started to look exceedingly guilty and tear up. At this point, I sensed a theological application coming. I suggested we just go back into the bathroom and do a good hand wash. Interestingly, she had closed the bathroom door (covering up her sin!).

Poor little thing looked absolutely miserable. Again, neither Leslie nor I had raised our voices or even sounded doubtful or accusing. We had just asked simple questions. But something was bothering her. She knew that she had crossed a line with people she loved.

Now as her Gandy I had a decision to make. Should I descend upon her with thundering clouds of judgment and accusation? Or should I take a gentler approach? Relax. I chose the latter.

I knelt down and said, “You’re not in trouble. Gandy loves you. If you want to tell me something, you can. It’s ok.” Now if she had tearfully confessed, then this would have been THE PERFECT ILLUSTRATION. But she did not. She just kind of melted into my arms and cried.

It’s still a good story though, with roots that go all the way back to Eden.

I did not threaten or punish her. She was doing that all by herself. I kept reassuring her that she could tell me whatever she wanted, and that she would feel better if she did. She’s just not there yet. One day I’m sure she’ll understand.

One of the great misconceptions about God is that He is the slinger of lightning bolts, the resident policeman, as J. B. Phillips put it. Too many folks believe He’s got His finger hovering over the “smite button,” just waiting for us to step out of line.

You can certainly point to a lot of biblical texts if you want to take that position, most all of them in the raw Old Testament. But the Bible is not flat. It has a progression in it, and in the latter days we’ve seen God clearly through His Son. The fact of the matter is Jesus never punished a sinner. Not once. He had harsh words for the hyper-religious people who were keen to punish sins, but He was known as a friend of sinners. That’s so powerfully significant, yet so often overlooked.

I know some people point to the second coming as the time when Jesus will get even, but they don’t have to be so gleeful about it. Besides, let’s handle the apocalyptic texts with care. Being literal in Revelation is a little dicey. But that’s another subject, and I’ll deal with the emails I’ll be getting for this little excursus.

The point here, and the one illustrated by my granddaughter, is that we’re not so much punished for our sins as by our sins. I remember them and suffer for them long after God has dismissed them. Sure God hates sin because it hurts His children. My heart ached for Emily Grace and her tender conscience. I longed for nothing more than to relieve her burden. I think that’s the way God responds to my transgressions.

Benedicta Ward put it this way, “God can exercise his mercy when we avow our defects. Our defects acknowledged, instead of repelling God, draw him to us, satisfying his longing to be merciful. As this is understood through meditation, the person realizes that those things by which he feels unlovable are exactly what he has to offer God to attract him.”

So Emily Grace was not ready yet to “avow her defects.” She’ll be fine. I need to be ready to avow mine before God and know that I really will feel so much better when I do. It doesn’t make me a bad person to have those defects. It makes me human. And I am one of the humans God longs to shed His mercy upon, to take into His arms, and to assure me that I am still His.

Grace,

Dr. Terry Ellis

March 13, 2016

[Spoke on addiction and faith this morning at a wonderful church, Delhi Presbyterian, am home for the evening, and fly out early tomorrow morning to visit Wingate Wilderness Therapy where I'll be living in the southern Utah desert for the week. Prayers appreciated. In fact, because of my schedule I'm rerunning a GW on prayer this week. That's right, it's not original. It's a repeat. If you got a complaint, just remember that your subscription is free. Grace…]

“After He had dismissed them, He went up on a mountainside by Himself to pray. When evening came, He was there alone.” Matthew 14:23

What do you do when life becomes difficult? When the rpms of the day rev up and life gets a little bit crazy what do you do? Jesus prayed. I’ve always found that infinitely significant. The Son of God relied in prayer on the Father and the Spirit. What possible hope do we have without an enduring reliance on prayer?

And yet… When pressed by life most of us tend to become practical. We want to act, to solve, to understand, to explain. We want to handle the situation. Frankly, being a mature and capable person in life requires some of this. We cannot pawn off every problem, blame others, and generally avoid taking responsibility. We do have to act.

What we omit, however, is the less evident resources of the Spirit. Busyness and hurry edge out prayer because we think we don't have time for it. Some people say I'm too busy to pray, but others say I'm too busy not to pray.

A few years ago I realized that I was in the former category. I never doubted the necessity of prayer nor was I agnostic about it. I trusted that prayer worked, but, when pressed by life, prayer seemed to be the first item I lopped off my to-do list. It was not practical.

I plead for understanding here. I was not angrily rejecting prayer or doubting God's care. My pride, the enfolding of self upon self, was more subtle. I knew that God gave me gifts and tools to make it through life. My problem was that I began trusting in the tools more than I trusted in the God who gave them to me. My attitude, not necessarily spoken, was "I've got this."

Little by little and then suddenly I was living more and more a self-directed life. I had become self-sufficient in the very worst sense of the word. Prayer, rather than a vital link to a sustaining God, had become nearly impractical. I knew what needed to be done, how to handle my problems. I just needed time, and heart, and courage to do it. I also yearned for the universal cooperation of everyone around me. My unconscious creed was “Don’t just stand there, do something” (or worry incessantly about what I believed should be done)

Now my creed is “don’t just stand there, pray.” Prayer is the most practical action I can engage in, for it invites God’s presence and power more deeply into my life at the precise point of need. Whenever I feel pressed, if I can remember to pause, breathe deeply of God’s Spirit through a simple prayer, then I have acted in the most practical way possible.

There is not a single problem that cannot be solved or at least made manageable through prayer. It used to be that when someone asked me if I had prayed about a problem I was slightly irritated. Of course, I had said some general prayers at some point in the recent past! Then I learned again the practical importance of naming a problem to God and asking for His help. Now I irritate all the “practical” people around me by reminding them to pray about a problem.

I’ve learned again to pray simply because I need God to help me handle all of life. God was always there doing His God-thing: waiting patiently, listening intently, and smiling lovingly. He was just waiting for me to become practical.

 

Grace,

Dr. Terry Ellis

March 6, 2016