EASTER “HUH?” TO “WOW!”

American minister and theologian, Frederick Buechner once said, “Resurrection means the worst thing is never, ever the last thing.” God will have the final word. And that final word is all about love.

CRY HOSANNA

We drove through a tiny city in west central Saskatchewan.
Going into the city we ascended from the beautiful North Saskatchewan River valley over which the great Yellowhead Highway runs.

As we approached the city’s downtown, we were underwhelmed by the sheer emptiness of the place. It looked a wee bit like a western film set. I could almost see tumble weeds blown by the wind and John Wayne walking out of a pair of squeaky swinging doors with his hand over his holster! The empty streets lined with old brick buildings with unoccupied storefronts, a beautiful but seemingly desolate church at the center of town, a few old “skyscrapers” (of prairie standards), and some old red barns visible from a distance, greeted us coldly. It seemed to me that the city is spiritually parched as well.

Following lunch at a local restaurant, we took the descent from that city on a hill back to the Yellowhead. I knew I’d come across the city of North Battleford in one of my readings back in seminary, I just couldn’t peg what it was about. All I remembered was that the city had to do with some form of Christian activity worth mentioning in Church History books, a former Church History teacher in Bible college that I am.

Then it hit me. North Battleford was the site of the 1947 “Latter Rain” revival. A group of Pentecostal Christians (mostly Bible college students) desperate for renewal in the churches was said to have spent time seeking God for “the fresh rain of the Spirit” in their lives and communities. These students held “camp meetings” that drew crowds to the thousands– all desiring one thing “a fresh anointing” from the Spirit! The influence spread like wildfire with teachings focused on a much higher level/dimension of “sign gifts”– something greater and better than what the apostles received. Eventually, this movement was branded “cultish/cultic” by their fellow Pentecostals and Charismatics because of their overemphasis on the signs gifts. They were more concerned with what people could receive from the Giver than the Giver Himself.

From a time when people took “pilgrimages” to the city of North Battleford to “to receive and be filled,” today, nearly all churches in town are not even half full on Sunday mornings.

Why is it so? That’s the question that lingers in the air. Why are we more enamored of the gifts than the giver? Why are we like children squabbling over the gifts and toys strewn under the Christmas tree oblivious to the one who wrapped them up for us as a wonderful surprise?

Today is Palm Sunday, commemorating the time when the city of Jerusalem welcomed Jesus Christ- with people waving palms, staging a parade, and singing praises- shouting “Hosanna! Baruch ‘ata b’shem  Adonai” (Save now! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.). Before the week ended, the same people who cried “Hosanna” cried out, “Crucify!”

Human nature hasn’t changed all that much over the course of our recorded history – with just a little effort we can begin to understand the dynamics swirling within when Jesus rode on a donkey into Jerusalem. All the people wanted was something for themselves! We recognize people’s motives embedded within their time and situation. “They’re not so unlike us, right?” so we ask. How could “Hosanna” and “Crucify” be said in the same breath? How could “Hosanna” and “Crucify” be said in the same breath? Reality is, we are all alike. We make our happiness our first priority. We want what works for us. We welcome things and people into our lives that’s/who’s going to be beneficial for us.

Jerusalem’s populace welcomed Jesus thinking he will overthrow the oppressive Roman government of their day. But he didn’t. He was the Lamb of God being led to the slaughter in order that in God’s great plan of things, we may profess Him as Savior and Lord, and be saved.

WHOA! THAT’S EXPENSIVE!

In the church where I previously served attended a lady named Ann. She and her husband, Bill moved to Manila from Argentina for him to direct a big Christian Evangelistic Festival in 2006. Of all the churches they could have chosen to participate in, they picked the one I served in.

On their first Sunday at that church, I stood to do an opening song, she walked in with the help of a cane with Bill. She limped down the aisle and found a spot close to the back. I asked everyone to stand and sing, and she remained seated. I figured it was difficult for her to do so, so that didn’t bother me as some form of “I’m not following you” kind of gesture. They came up to me after the service to say how much they appreciated the worship service, and how they believed they’d found a church home. Sure enough, they kept coming.

As time went on I noticed that her condition was getting worse– from a cane, she started using a folding walker, and eventually, a wheelchair. It had become very painful for her to even stand.

One morning I stood to do a short exhortation before the offering. I read 2 Samuel 24:24: “…I will not sacrifice to the Lord my God burnt offerings that cost me nothing.”. Following that exhortation, while people gave their offerings, we sang a song titled “Because of Who You Are.”

Because of who you are I will lift my hands

I will lift my heart and sing a song of love to you

Because of who you are I offer you my life surrendering my all,

a living sacrifice to you because of who you are everything you are

 

Chorus:

I give you all the glory I give you all the praise

I pledge to you each moment for the length of all my days

my rock and my redeemer my savior and my strength

Oh I will ever praise you

Yes I will ever praise you

Yes I will ever praise you Lord because of who you are

While we worshiped God seated, I saw her RISE TO HER FEET. With her head held high, arms raised and a smile on her face, she sang to her Savior. Occasionally squinting which signified that she was in pain, she stood through the entire song regardless of how she felt physically. Soon after, everyone else was standing in worship!

After that service as I stood by the door to greet people, her husband pushed her wheelchair towards me. In her lovely Argentine accent she said, “Jon, thank you for leading us in worship. I felt so moved to praise Jesus regardless of my condition. I thought of what I could give to Him at that point and was prompted by the Spirit to STAND– because that is what’s most difficult for me to do. I will not offer anything that’s easy for me to give up!”

She got it right. We do not worship only when it’s convenient for us. Worship is most precious when it is done in willful sacrifice- “I will not offer anything that costs me nothing” (1 Samuel 24:24).

365!

Yesterday, my plane landed! Yesterday was my 364th day in Canada.

Five churches in five different locations needed worship pastors- Saskatchewan, Illinois, New York, Wisconsin, Singapore.  I prayed for each and the direction God wanted me to take. I had served joyfully as worship pastor at my home church for nine years but felt an inner longing to serve some place else. Only the church in Saskatchewan  sent an emissary to Manila. Long story short, I now live in Alberta and am pastor in a church in Saskatchewan!

This morning, as I stood in front of First Baptist Church to lead worship I thought of the possibilities of having ended up leading a yuppies-filled church on the beautiful Upper East Side of Manhattan, or riding the subway to church in the progressive island nation of Singapore, or preaching to an all-white congregation in America’s dairy heartland Wisconsin, or serving in a predominantly Latino church in culturally-diverse Chicago! But here I am, pastoring in a predominantly white church with a generous sprinkling of Asians, Africans, Polynesians and Europeans in the middle of the vast Canadian prairies!  This afternoon, I led a band of Filipinos to participate in worship at a Cree church in the Onion Lake First Nations Reserve. I admitted to the pastoral staff of First Baptist how I did not open all my luggage until after my third month in Lloydminster, thinking that when things go sour or south, I can always fly out. I remember opening one for the very first time since I arrived. I felt free from the bondage of having an “escape” and human security.

How I ended up here is all part of God’s plan.  How the Lord led me to meet the people I know now still astounds me. The privilege of participating, witnessing and engaging in the work of God in the church and in people’s individual lives is something I feel so grateful for. Disciples are made. Lives are changed. People are sent. Problems are solved. The enemy is silenced. God is praised.

When I sit with all of this in my head, I find it really compelling. This describes why I’m in this “business” and suit up in this “outfit.” Compelling, challenging, demanding, profoundly hopeful. The most hopeful message I know is the fact my life and yours are in the hands of the Lord Jesus, the gate, the shepherd, the author and perfector of faith. He opens up relationship with God with a flurry of transforming possibility born from deep loving intimacy – we recognize his voice and he knows us by name. We are held, saved, from all that would threaten to undo us and called into community of astonishing abundance. Our sole task is to claim it as our own birthright.

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures
He leads me beside still waters
He restores my soul.
He leads me in right paths for his name’s sake.

Even though I walk through valley of the shadow of death,
I fear no evil,
For you are with me;
Your rod and your staff – they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You anoint my head with oil;
My cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
All the days of my life,
And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord, forever.
PSALM 23