Don't Look Back!

The frightened family packed up in the middle of the night. They could only get out with what they could carry, nothing more. The messenger gave them one stern warning: don't look back. In the bedlam and meelee surrounding them, the four of them wormed their way to the edge of the city. There were no cars to be found. There was no bus to take. This family would have to walk. Onward they trudged, fumbling and stumbling down the unlit road.

Before long, the family heard the commotion behind them. They heard the horrid screams as men, women, and children died under the fire bombs that pelted the city. When they hesitated for a moment, Dad suddenly rebuked the family, "Don't look back!" As they maneuvered through the darkness, the nameless wife and mother could stand it no more. She had to look. Most of her life had been invested in that city. Her friends were there. Her house was there. Her furnishings were there. So she dared look back. And in that one instance of regret, Lot's wife became a pillar of salt, forever frozen in time. Why? Because she craved and delighted in what she no longer had. And it cost her. It cost her two daughters. It cost her husband.

To my knowledge, that scene has never again been repeated. But how many times do we look back with remorse over what we had, not taking time to take stock and think about what we have?

Many among Israel, those who left Egypt with Moses, looked back with longing for the flesh pots of Egypt. It was symbolic of craving the sinful life. They died, wandering in a wilderness never intended for them.

Jesus said that a man, having put his hand to the plow and looking back, is not a worthy disciple; he said that man is not even fit for the kingdom of God (Luke 9:62).

That is looking back with remorse. There are those who also look back with delight. Paul wrote of this in Philippians 3. He spoke of all he had before he knew the Lord. He spoke, correctly so, of his bragging rights. Then he said he would forget that which was behind and press forward. Sometimes that is incomprehensible to me. Other times I think I can grasp a little of it.

One of my friends was driving my wife and girls to the airport one day. As he turned to the right at the corner, a bag in the back seat began to totter towards one of the passengers. He looked back while he turned, grasped the bag, and tried to right it. He forgot he was turning a corner. The truck continued right; this is a mechanical law regarding steering wheels. Much to my friend's dismay, the journey was suddenly interrupted by a large tree that stood in the way of the truck. Now to be fair to the tree, it was on the sidewalk. To be fair to the sidewalk, it did not extend into the right-hand lane. It is what happens when you drive while you are looking back. That is looking back with carelessness.

I know a Christian woman who had one story to tell me each time I visited her. She was in her 60's by then. She still had a lot of physical and emotional strength; just ask her family. Yet, when it came to spiritual things, this woman could only look back. She could only tell me what she used to do some 30 years earlier. She had not done anything since then. I wanted to shout to her, "Don't look back!"

What does that have to do with missions somewhere in South America? It's kind of simple, perhaps too much so. Some of us have bragging rights. We have done well. We have seen a lot of professions of faith; we have planted some churches. We could be tempted to relax and rest on what we have done. If we are wise, we won't look back.

Others of us did not do too well, if you measured things statistically. We tried; but, based on some definition of "success," we were anything but successful. If we look back, we could be tempted to discouragement. We could succumb to those voices that accuse us of failure. If we are wise, we won't look back.

Where should we look? Wherever Jesus is! Look there. Fix your vision on him. And go where he says to go. You may not turn into a pillar of salt by looking back; but you could find yourself running into a tree. So don't look back!

Merry WHAT?

This post is not for the politically sensitive; if you are of that persuasion, build a bridge now. I am about to say the two most-dreaded words of the season:

Merry Christmas!
Feliz Navidad!

I think even the politically-challenged, those who have regularly feasted on revisionist history, will agree that I have the Constitutional right to say Merry Christmas. After all, even the ACLU (American Communist Liar's Union) defends the right for me to express myself on my own blog.

I have the historical right to say Merry Christmas. It is only in the most modern of our history that some logger-head politicians and activist judges have dissuaded Americans from shouting those words. Christmas in America trumps Kwanza, Ramadan, the Hajj, and a whole bunch of other things.

And I have the theological right to say Merry Christmas. My God, the sole creator of this universe, dissected the curtain of time, conceived his son in a virgin named Mary, and thereby forever changed the world. That single event set into motion a series of events that culminated in the salvation of millions, well over a billion, of men and women over the past 2,000 years.

Salvation is exclusively through Jesus. That is precisely why the politically-challenged fear, shun, spurn, and scorn the idea of a Christmas that celebrates Christ. They may clothe their arguments in the garments of tolerance and even equality; but make no mistake: they are fearful of the idea of only Jesus as Lord.

It won't change a thing, though. I plan to have a Merry CHRISTmas. I will delight in his presence with me. And I will make room at my table for all who wish to do the same.

So, Merry Christmas!

Whom Shall We Send?

I just returned from a relatively new community in the southern part of our city of about ten million. The community is called "The Towers in the Corner." I kid thee not. I had been warned to not go to this part of town. Gangs roam the streets, both day and night. But I serve the One who can calm any storm. So off we went.

The ride alone was an adventure. To be sure of where I was going (I had never been to this particular community), I asked a local friend to take me. We went in his compact Hyundai, bouncing along roads that were not friendly to his car, or to my backside. We dodged pot holes, some of which looked like craters. We "enjoyed" the exhaust of a hundred busses. We challenged three-wheeled moto-taxis for the right of way.

It wasn't long after turning off the paved road that we were privileged to enjoy the fresh fragrance of the local hog farms. Hogs inside the city? Yes, hogs. And to make things more interesting, the good people were out burning the garbabe that had piled up. I quickly surmised that their garbage service was lacking; it made me more grateful for the part of town where I live.

Soon we arrived at our destination. We drove till we couldn't, then got out and walked up some recently-poured steps. Lots of steps. And then we walked a little more, this time on slippery slopes. There we met with local leaders who have asked for our help with some human needs projects. We are only too happy to help them. But we have ulterior motives. Did I just say that?? Yes, our motives run deeper than the skin and the belly. We aim for the soul!

I stood and looked out over this part of the city. Across the rugged hills men and women had dug into the rocks and built primitive homes. Some were made of plywood. A very few had some brick structure to them. Others were made of straw mats. There were at least 50 communities of 80 homes each. These communities, like The Towers in the Corner, are church-less. I did not say there are no believers there; there probably are some. But the vast majority are predominantly unchurched.

And that brings me back to my motives. We want God to plant a host of churches in this part of the city. We will minister to a perceived need so that we can get to the real need: people need the Lord.

And that brings me to yet another dilemma. I have a small pool of trained workers. God wants the gospel of Jesus to penetrate these lost, unchurched communities. I can hear him asking, "Whom shall we send, and who will go for us?" Pray, please that someone in this massive city will cry out, "Here am I! Send me."

Taking Every Thought Captive

I read an online article last week that claimed that 9 out of every 10 e mails is now spam--junk mail. I believe it. Already this morning, in less than 30 minutes, I have received 4 pieces of junk e-mails. When I lived in the United States, my mailbox would fill up with junk mail, each piece clamoring for my individual attention.

That mail that comes in does all it can to tempt me to open it. It's like those ads on some websites that say, "You are the umpteenth billionth person to access this site! You have definitely won something!" So you take a (ahem) minute to look and 30 minutes later you realized you are late for some meeting, or your tea boiled over, or your beans burned.

My junk e mail says things like, "Are you tired of looking fat? Try our new product, guaranteed to make you look slimmer." It must be an ad for one of those trick mirrors they use at the county fairs, or maybe in certain dressing rooms at certain stores.

And by now you are thinking, "This guy needs to learn about spam control." You're right! Now read on. . . .

There is another kind of junk mail that arrives more often than spam on my computer. It's worldly and devilish thoughts. Those come like an avalanche on some days. They come as loudly as a marching band; or they can slip in as softly as a sunset. But they come. And before I know it, I am dwelling on some thought that God never intended for me to consider.

Our God has given us Christians a powerful weapon. We, through Jesus Christ, can take every thought captive to the obedience of Christ. We can consecrate our thought life. We can tell the devil where to get off.

Turn on your spam control. Don't let your mind become a dumping ground for the devil's and th world's defeatist thoughts.

Shine the Light!

Last night I participated in the 5th anniversary of a local church, located in the southern part of our city. It was a moving experience. I was moved when I arrived; I was early, even though the announced beginning time had come and gone. So I sat in the car and used the reading lamp to go over my notes for the message I intended to preach that night. I read and I watched the activity around me.

Outside, under the dull, dust-covered, yellow street lights, people walked to and fro. Significantly, many of the young men and women I watched were gang members. That was not a surprise; I knew it. It's something a person better know if he or she is out in this part of town.

The pastor of this church knew it, too, when he decided God was calling him to plant this church. It was a community rife with gang activity. But he pressed on with dogged determination. His original target was the meanest gang leader there. And he won the young man, now a leader in his little church. Then he won most of the other gang members that young man belonged to. One gang down, a dozen more to go.

Pedro continues to reach into the gangs. Some of them came last night. They were mildly timid in front of me, all the while eyeing my car. When they weren't eyeing the car, they were checking out the girls. But they stood in the door and listened to the message of Christ. Pedro's wife told me they were on the verge of turning it all over to Jesus.

These gang members, by the way, are all under 18. Some won't live to see 18. Gangs often have wars in this part of our city. They pull out guns, machetes, rocks, bottles, and anything else that can hurt their rivals. The gangs don't think twice about hurting one another. And someone almost always dies.

So Pedro is there, telling them about someone else who died for them. It's a story he loves to tell. It's a light that shines brighter than those dull, yellow, dusty street lights. That light shines brigher than the sun. It's a light that penetrates the tough facades these guys put up.

So I tell Pedro and his church, "Shine the Light!"

And they will.

Who Am I?

This article says it for us. We knew it; but this lady confirmed it once again. Women and men are different. Duh, who'd of thunk it?

The writer was a feminist. She spoke of how much women spoke compared to men. Now, I could play with that for a long time. And it would be fun until my wife read it. Then I would have to change my blog to "Home Alone on the South Pole." So I won't go there. Well, not too far.

A woman complained her husband never said that he loved her. He told her, "Dear, the day we married, I told you I loved you and if I changed my mind, I would let you know." Some men think saying something once a year is enough!

We know women arrive in Heaven 30 minutes after men do. The Bible says, "There was silence in heaven for about 30 minutes."

There is one thing that needs to be pointed out. The writer said, "Dr Brizendine, whose book is based on her own clinical work and analyses of more than 1,000 scientific studies, added: 'There is no unisex brain.

'Girls arrive already wired as girls, and boys arrive already wired as boys. Their brains are different by the time they're born, and their brains are what drive their impulses, values and their very reality.

'I know it is not politically correct to say this but I've been torn for years between my politics and what science is telling us.'" (emphasis mine)

Do you see the implications in that? Where is there room for the claim that, "God made me gay?" Simply put, it is not there! For once, a feminist got it right. We are wired from the womb to be men and women, each distinct from the other. And I, for one, am glad I am different from my wonderful redhead.

The next time someone wants to make you wonder who you are, remind them of that. More important, remind them of God's promise that he formed us in the womb. We are God's wonderful handiwork! And God does not make junk or mistakes.

Wisdom from South America

A retired missionary to Peru sent me this. It is obviously compiled and adapted from other sources; but it makes for good, light-hearted reading.

Some more missionary Wisdom

1. Don’t squat down in a cane field on the Pan American Highway without looking around you real good.

2. If you’re leading a group of brothers take a look back every now and then to make sure that they are still there.

3. After getting a new church started, a missionary felt so good that he kept bragging about it until the devil came along and tore it all up. The moral; when you’re full of it, keep your mouth shut and give God the glory that belongs to Him.

4. Never kick an empty garbage bag on the side of the street in Lima on a hot day.

5. There’s two theories to arguin’ with Nationals. Neither one works.

6. Never slap a “serrano” who’s chewin’ coca leaves..

7.. It don’t take a very spiritual missionary to spot a goat in a flock of sheep

8. When you give a lesson in meanness to a fellow missionary, don’t be surprised if they learn their lesson.

9. When you’re throwin’ your weight around, be ready to have it thrown around by somebody else.

10.. The quickest way to double your money in Perú is to fold it over and put it back in your pocket.

11. There are three kinds of missionaries: Those that learn by reading. Those that learn by observation. And the rest of us, that have to learn the hard way by being “airheads”.

Hermano Jaime Boswell
El Mismo

How true, Jaime; how true!

KDS

Booze, Bullets, and Blessings

Dickens said it quite poignantly in Tale of Two Cities: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."

The past week was both. God opened doors we never dreamed possible. We have managed to have a blessed reception in a new settlement of three thousand families. No church exists there. A few believers can be found there. Those with whom we spoke were excited at the thought of having a church in this brand new community. Two men are headed there at this very moment. They hope to begin inviting men and women to a Bible study, where they will be introduced to the greatest news in the world.

As the week melted into the weekend, I found myself on a plane headed to the southern part of this country. My role was to ordain a new man into the gospel ministry. I also intended to visit a struggling church and try to encourage them.

On Saturday night I looked into the eyes of a group of men of different ages. Most were hurting. They hurt because their church hurt. They needed healing. The ordination of a new pastor was a new prayer of hopeful healing for this group.

On Sunday morning those hurting eyes were multiplied by ten. The building was full. The atmosphere was electric. These were my friends. I had worked alongside many of them for almost ten years. Now I was there as a guest to try to help them overcome some devastating moments in their church's history. The day was a blessed one.

On Sunday night I stood before yet another group of believers. It was so distinct from the morning. Instead of pain, I saw indifference. Instead of hope, I felt heaviness. I preached a full hour here. This was no time for a wimpy, 3 points and a poem kind of message. It was time to try to wake up a sleeping church.

Unknown to me, back in my own city a tragedy had unfolded. It began Saturday night. A young man, one of our helpers in our city, had gone home after a day with the youth from the small church he helps us with. The group included two of our missionaries. The man told the two ladies that he hoped his friends would let him sleep; he was so tired from a hard day. They did not.

His friends showed up sometime that night. Some told us they had been drinking. Drugs may also have entered that picture. Some were flirting with girls that had ties to a local gang. So they brought a gun into the house. Our Christian brother, the only Christian in his family, was concerned over that. He asked if it was unloaded. They said it was. Someone pulled the trigger and our Christian brother was swept into the presence of Jesus.

Monday morning greeted me with that terrible news. The man is now buried. But the feelings his death evoked are clawing on the surface of the hearts of too many people. The tragedy has plunged its talons deep into hearts of believers and unbelievers alike. This man was a promising young preacher. None of us can make sense of it. The young men who woke him and insisted he sit with them during their party are hiding in shame.

This is what I know: the same Holy Spirit that was moving in the southern part of this country, blessing me, guiding me, and encouraging both me and the believers I was with--that same Spirit was here, consoling and calling to the men and women affected by this terrible, sensesless tragedy. He seeks to glorify Jesus in this, just as he sought to glorify Jesus where I was ministering.

I know that booze impairs judgment. Even one small shot impairs judgment. Even one glass of wine. Even one beer. Booze is bad news. God said give to those who are perishing. It is not for kings and princes. It is for dead men. It is not for believers; it is for the lost.

I know that bullets don't kill, in and of themselves. Neither do guns. But foolish young (or old) men, whose judgment is impaired by booze and drugs, tend to make stupid decisions. By the way, angry young men (or women) can have impaired judgment and make stupid decisions. But booze makes it easier than anger to make stupid decisions.

And I know that now is the time to reach those young men. It may not yet be the time to reach the parents and brother of this believer. But I believe it is time to reach the young men involved in this thing that has ransacked a small church and stolen one of its workers. They will listen now. So we will go. We will try to share the one hope for all mankind. That would be Jesus, by the way.

Somehow, someway, God will be glorified in this. Let it be so!

Water Bearers

My daughter and I went on a road trip on Sunday. Yes, instead of sitting in a nice church building, listening to some good preaching (albeit in Spanish, our second language), we chose to drive to the south part of this megapolis and do some investigation. We were on a hunt for churches.

Our trip took us to a place I have always wanted to visit: Sea Bass Hill. I am not kidding; we went to Sea Bass Hill. The drive was so steep, the road so sandy, I had to put the truck we used into 4-wheel drive to make it up to the top. Even at that, I had to wait. In front of me was a three-wheeled moto-taxi. The driver made it halfway up the hill before her motor bogged down. She made it the rest of the way by leaving it in gear and hitting the starter button. The little engine would kick over and the wheels would turn just enough to move forward about one foot. Over and over she repeated this innovated mountain-climbing till she made it to a point the motor would once again pull the machine she drove.

We climbed on to the top of the hill, looking at the small plywood houses on either side of us. At the summit, we were blessed with a view that I had hoped to see. There, across the busy Pan-American was the Pacific Ocean, glimmering, waves rolling slowly onto the rock beach. The hill we stood on rose some 200 feet, or more, above it.

On the side of the hill facing the ocean a cluster of houses seemed to claw their way into the hill. I looked more closely; most of the houses were made of woven material-- straw mats, if you will. These are among this city's poorest; many only make about $50 a month. I don't recall seeing electrical lines of any kind. The steep trails down to the houses were worse than any cow trail I have ever seen. Children peered up at us, curious. It's not every day that they see gringos in their neighborhood. We decided not to venture down there without an invitation.

We heard a commotion behind us. I turned to see a water truck rolling up the same hill we had just come up. I made sure our truck was not in his way. The water man went to the edge of the hill and whistled down to the kids who were watching us. Soon one of them climbed up to the top. Every few minutes the boy shouted, "Agua!" Water! Come get your water! Folks would have to line up with buckets and pans, dip their water out of barrels at the top of the hill, and wind their way back down the steep trails to their houses.

I asked a passerby if there were any churches down in that community. No, there were not. The water of life had not made it down that hill. Their souls were as barren as the sandy hillside. If they want to worship, they still have to claw their way up the hill to one of the few churches in that part of the city. Perhaps a few of them would do that; most will not. They will live and die in the squalid poverty that characterizes their spiritual lives. Their desire for the water of life won't be so acute as to drive them up the hill to one of those churches. It's up to us. We, who have the water of life, must go and let rivers of living water flow from us and into them.

We want to do that. We want to go and be water bearers. But we have some 8 thousand unchurched communities that we need to reach. What we need are some water bearers. We need more men and women, committed to God, willing to let the rivers of living water flow through them and touch others. God give us water bearers!

The American Church: A View from Within

The following is an article from the Baptist Press News Organization. I apologize for the length of it. Writing from down here in South America, Dr. Drace's observations cause me to ask you, the reader, if he is on target. Please read on:

FIRST-PERSON: Observations of an evangelist
By Jerry DraceOct 25, 2006
JACKSON, Tenn. (BP)--Since February 1975 when God led me to establish the Jerry Drace Evangelistic Association He has allowed me to preach in more than 1,000 churches across our nation. In His divine providence He has placed me in the company of some of His choicest servants as well as some who seek to be served. Throughout the past 31 years I have kept notes and observations on each of the pastors, staffs and churches where my team and I have been privileged to present the claims of Christ. I am sure some of these observations will be misunderstood, others will be embraced. I wish to share only 13 in hopes they will serve as a catalyst for your own reflections:

-- I have observed the lowering of the standards of holiness from the pulpit to the pew. It appears we are seeking to develop happy churches, but not holy churches. One pastor stated that he wanted his people to leave the Sunday morning worship feeling "affirmed, approved and applauded". Whatever happened to leaving feeling confronted, convicted, confessed and cleansed? Spurgeon put it in perspective years ago when he said, "Of all the griefs the church ever feels, the keenest is when those who once stood in her midst dishonor the name of Christ by unholy living."

-- I have observed the seductive fashions of the world being worn in the worship centers of our churches. Teenage girls and sometimes their mothers wear clothes to church they neither could wear to school nor in the workplace. The same applies to the male gender. We have developed such a laxity in our attire the result has numbed the spiritual senses of being in the presence of Deity. I am fully aware that God looks on the heart, but clothing, or the lack thereof, should not distract from looking into His face.

-- I have observed more and more churches having fewer and fewer revivals. Of course, the rural church will always hold a revival, whether they actually have one or not, the third week of August. Vance Havner once said, "Preachers speak of 'holding revivals'. Somebody ought to turn one loose!" Real revival -- which takes prayer and preparation and sees scores ushered into the Kingdom and church members rekindling the fire within -- is quickly giving way to one-day events. We have stopped singing "Take Time To Be Holy," because we don't have the time.

-- I have observed more and more churches decreasing from mortification rather than increasing due to salvation. There is more life outside in most church cemeteries than inside on the pews. At least in the cemeteries the grass grows and the flowers bloom. If there is not a revival in our land many of our rural churches will become bed and breakfast inns and our larger churches will be turned into antique malls. If you don't believe this, visit Great Britain.

-- I have observed more and more churches growing by transferring letters rather than transforming lives. It doesn't take a genius to build a church numerically. Given the right staff and programs you can fill a church. However, there is an eternal difference between filling a church with people and filling the people inside the church.

-- I have observed more and more pastors and evangelists preaching someone else’s sermons rather than studying and preaching their own. The call to preach has been replaced with the desire to succeed. Being an expounder of the Word requires time alone with God. Being a mouth for God to the people of God is an awesome responsibility. Preaching someone else's anointed sermon doesn't guarantee your anointment. If the sermon isn't gathered and set ablaze in the pastor's heart it likely won't spread to the hearts of the church members. Some of the greatest proclaimers of the Good News are seldom heard because they neither pastor a mega church nor are the featured speakers on Christian cruises.

-- I have observed unethical and even immoral conduct by religious leaders with little or no remorse on their part once their deeds were made public. The graveyard of compromise is filled with those who listened to the sirens of the world. Accountability and integrity were sacrificed for personal gain and puffed-up egos. When Christian leaders become legends in their own minds the ice has already broken.

-- I have observed the policies of the community dictating the policies of the church, especially in the area of sports. We now schedule the events of the church around the athletic calendar of our schools or recreational departments. We have surrendered to the god of sports. Many of our parents allow their children to play their favorite sport on Sunday morning with the rationale, "What can we do about it?" These same parents wouldn't allow their children to skip school for a church event. We even close our churches on Sunday nights if it is a national holiday. Good thing God doesn't cancel His services.

-- I have observed more and more churches teaching the latest trends in church growth rather than the doctrines of the Scriptures. We have churches full of people who can quote from the latest church growth guru, but for the life of them they can neither recall nor defend any of the doctrines of the Bible. We can be seeker friendly and purpose driven, but if we fail to seek Christ and find our purpose in Him alone all the books, seminars and mega conferences will only impede the salvation of the lost and the disciplining of the saved.

-- I have observed us becoming a people who enjoy the expression of worship without encountering the experience of worship. No one enjoys beautiful choruses more than me, yet with the freedom of style which this has ushered into our churches we must be careful not to allow our performance to overshadow His presence. Celebration without commitment leads to worthless worship.

-- I have observed religion becoming big business. Christian recording artists are now referred to as superstars and certain pastors are touted as religious CEOs. Religious leaders have evolved from troublers of society to trend-setters in society. We have religious personalities who are known as much for their political creeds as their theological convictions. Simple statements from the Bible are marketed into multimillion dollar enterprises. An executive in a Christian publication company once told me, "It's all about the buck." You half expect to see certain religious organizations listed on the New York Stock Exchange.

-- I have observed a few proclaimers who have comprised their call because of a cowardly commitment to the truths of God's Word. This brings about a deceitful delivery of devilish doctrines. The end result is a man who panders to the people and prostitutes the proclamation in the process. When wickedness enters the doors of the church it soon spreads throughout the land without any opposition. Satan himself could not have better allies than pastors who refuse to preach the truths of the Scriptures and church members who refuse to live godly lives.

-- I have observed a righteous remnant in every church who have a hunger and thirst for experiencing God to the fullest. It is this group, both young and old, who will pass on the teachings and doctrines of Holy Scripture to the next generation. Praise God for ministers and members who are not driven by fashions and trends, but remain faithful and true to fulfilling the Great Commission.

Jerry Drace is a past president of the Conference of Southern Baptist Evangelists. In addition to revivals and area wide crusades, he and his wife, Becky, conduct Hope for the Home conferences. They live in Jackson, Tenn. More information about the Draces is available at www.jdea.tn.org and www.HopefortheHome.org.

Copyright (c) 2001 Southern Baptist Convention, Baptist Press901 Commerce StreetNashville, TN 37203Tel: 615.244.2355 Fax: 615.782.8736 email: bpress@sbc.net

Absolutely!

I'm going down an old road today. In fact, it's as old as mankind. It starts there. It's an insidious thing that dominates every culture among every people, everywhere you can go. It's that old lie. It's that old promise that can never, ever be fulfilled. Here "it" is: moral truth is relative. Stated in other terms, there are no moral absolutes.

Someone said that a statement like, "There are no moral absolutes," is an absolute in and of itself and therefore contradicts its very premise that there are no moral absolutes. Whoever said that is a wise man or woman.

As I said, all this begins with Adam and Eve. There they were, living in perfect harmony, within a perfect garden, in perfect peace, with a perfect eco-system, and with nothing to fear. No lions roaming the area would have given thought to attacking them or any of the other animals in the garden. No poisonous spiders to bother them. No scorpions to attack them. Just peace, perfection, and a pleasant life.

They had one, and only one, prohibition: they could not take fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. It was the one thing God placed off-limits to them. Along came the serpent, complete with his persuasive arguments that God was withholding something from them. Yes, God was depriving Adam and Eve of a special treat that this serpent knew they could have: the right to believe whatever they wanted. The right to be their own gods. Adam and Eve took the bait. They swallowed the lie, one that was sweet to the mind, but bitter to the spirit. And thus began the march of moral relativism.

If God and God's words are not absolutely true, why do we have prisons? Why are we dismayed and disgusted by the likes of Sen. Mark Foley? Why is Iran a problem for us? Why is Osama Bin Laden the bad guy? Why is Chavez or Castro a threat?

If God and God's words are not absolutely true, why does death sting us so? Why do we cave under the news that we or a loved one has a terminal disease? Why do we stop them from terminating their lives? Why is murder wrong? Why is pedophilia wrong?

If God and God's word is not absolutely true, then what I am doing somewhere in South America? Why do men and women launch out, seeking to influence others with the claims of Christ? Why not just live and let live?

But God is true. His words are true. And his solutions to life are true.

We need absolutes as surely as a navigator needs a compass. Without them, we have no clue where to go. We won't even know if we have arrived.

One college student said he did not believe in absolutes. His professor asked if the young man was sure. He replied, "Absolutely!"

May we be so quick to respond about God's absolutes!

Light versus Darkness

I suppose some of you heard about the ruckus over NBC's choice to censor Veggie Tales. Yes, they have decided children will be harmed by hearing positive references to God. Now those same kids can hear negative references to God in many of that historical network's regular programs. In fact, if you watch their shows long enough, you will probably see children themselves taking that holy name and profaning it. But forbid it that children would be exposed to something positive about God! After all, that might make them choose to be one of those pesky little Christians running around out there, making life miserable for the rest of the world! Only radical Muslims are worse! Right? Well, okay, maybe we could throw in a radical Hindu, or two, just to be fair.

What surprised me most about that article about NBC's actions (which I am sorry to say I cannot hyperlink you, the reader, to) was that the Christian writer was surprised by such a thing. Why, pray tell, would we ever be surprised by such as that? Have we forgotten what John said? Please let me remind you: "And this is the condemnation, that the light has come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil." - John 3:19

It gets better in John 3:20: "For everyone practicing evil hates the light and does not come to the light, lest his deeds should be exposed."

There are two phrases there that I want to reiterate: "men loved darkness," and "everyone practicing evil hates the light." Darkness refers to cover for evil deeds. Men love darkness. Since The Fall, men, as well as women, always have loved darkness. Darkness has a way of hiding evil. Just as cobwebs are not easily seen in a dimly-lit room, evil deeds are more difficult to spot in a dimly-lit society.

Down here in South America, in the part where we live, that darkness is far more pronounced than other places where Christianity once prevailed. There is less light. So there is more evidence of evil deeds. As the light grows dim in North America, more evil deeds are becoming evident there, too. Wicked men are bolder in their wickedness. Few are in the closet anymore. Most have come out, proudly parading their contempt for God and for righteousness.

So what are we to do? We are to do what we are called to do: be light. Jesus told us in Matthew that we are the light of the world. If we Christians are the light, all we have to do is ensure that we are in a place where we can shine and be seen by others. Some will flee. They hate light. Others, however, will be drawn to the light that shines through us; they will want Jesus as Lord.

Instead of being surprised, we should take NBC's sad choice as a warning that American Christians no longer shine with the brightness they once emanated. The evil deeds of men are becoming more and more rampant. Darkness is more prevalent; so much so, darkness feels comfortable telling the light that it can no longer shine.

It's time to get back on the hillside and shine out over America's cities.

Clearing the Air

I just read an article about Muslims burning an effigy of the Pope over some comments he made regarding Mohammed. While they burned the effigy, others spoke of how peace-loving Muslims are. Is anyone out there confused over the whole image? This group insists on acceptance and tolerance, yet reacts with violence towards any and all who disagree with them. Yes, there are moderate Muslims, some of whom have been condemned by some of their own. What does that earn them?

Peace-loving, or not, here is the plain truth: only Jesus Christ saves. No man's religion will save him. No woman's works will save her. Faithfulness and strict adherance to one's beliefs will not save. ONLY JESUS CHRIST SAVES! It's not about being Baptist, Methodist, or any other "ist;" it's about that personal relationship with the Son of God.

We must return to boldly proclaiming the truth of the Gospel. Away with our modern-day softness! Answer a fool according to his folly, lest he be wise in his own eyes.

Jesus is Lord!

The Pied Piper Is Playing Our Song

I watched America slip this week. No, that's not right. I watched America skip happily down the road this week. The trouble to me is that it's not a road I want to be on.

This week the FDA approved what is known as "Plan B." All kinds of people are hailing it as a wonderful thing. Even our so-called Evangelical president supports it. You can read about it here. It's almost a non-story. I am not seeing much dust in the air over it. Few seem to be lamenting this disastrous decision. But they should.

Please let me paint the picture with clearer strokes. Suppose your teenaged daughter or son decides to become sexually active. Many are; may yours not be among them! As a result of their foolish choice to circumvent God's perfect plan, they decide they need extra protection. They can now go to their local drugstore and purchase a pill known as an abortifacient, now known as "Plan B," and ensure that a pregnancy does not occur. They don't need a prescription if they are at least 18. It's an OTC for them: over the counter.

The proponents of this stupid action by the FDA insist that one must be 18 to purchase it. Well, duh! Do they think that teens under the age of 18 don't have friends over the age of 18 that can make that purchase? If so many have friends over 21 who purchase booze for them, why do we think a little hurdle like an age limit is going to present a deterrent for those hormone-driven children that seek it?

I fear dire consequences for America at large. I fear an increase in pre-marital sex. I fear a rise in STDs, including AIDS; after all, we can now engage in unprotected sex with little fear of pregnancy. Worst of all, I fear that God will turn his back on America, close his ear to their prayers, and remove what little hedge of protection we have left.

The Pied Piper is playing our song! Our children are marching, skipping, and dancing happily behind him, completely unaware that their end is close upon them.

May God turn us back!

Living in the Light of Code Red

I flew the day after we all heard the words "Code Red." We watched in alarm as they showed long lines in airport after airport. No one wants to embark on a trip with that kind of chaos waiting for the traveler. Not even the airlines wanted us to fly. They offered to let us postpone our trip, to wait. All the signs said, "Don't travel!" But we did. We needed to get back to South America.

We went to the airport earlier than we normally would have. We waited longer than we wanted. But we arrived in our South American city safe and sound.

The security agents were the most nervous. I suspected that there were more air marshalls on our flights, too. Two men parked themselves in front of me, one sitting and one standing off to the side; they somberly and intently watched me and my 15-year-old daughter. I mean, they watched us for several minutes and were unashamed to do so. I was tempted to stare back, but my mother taught me better. Common sense said don't do it, either. If they were federal authorities, I did not want to give them a reason to say anything more to me than the hellos that we exchanged.

Some are put off by the increased security. I am not. I am glad for the concern for my safety. I don't mind spending a few extra minutes going through the checkpoints, unpacking and repacking my carry-ons, and all the other things that must happen to make us safe. I am grateful that, behind the scenes, agents are walking among the baggage, checking that out as well.

I also have a spiritual lesson in this. Peter told us to be on the alert; our adversary prowls about like a lion, seeking whom he may devour. Paul told us to do all we could and take our stand. We must be those spiritual air marshalls, those security agents, watching carefully lest the forces of darkness penetrate our lines and wreak havoc among us. We must rise early and stay up late, defending the weak and strong alike. Our arena is the halls of prayer.

We must go in armed with the Word of God. We must be in full uniform, putting on all the armor of God. I wonder how many times I have gone to battle with only part of my armor in place? We must be diligent and dress for the battle at hand.

Why? Souls are at stake. Eternity is ahead of every man, woman, and child with whom we have contact. Ours is a far greater, much more serious, and a farther-reaching battle. It's the battle for the soul of man.

Today the world lives in the light of Code Red. Christians have lived there since Jesus rose from the grave.

The Sting of Death

I wish I was writing this from somewhere in South America. The story doesn't even begin there, though. I am well above the Mason-Dixon Line, in the heartland. It is here that my daughter and son-in-law live. And it is here that I experienced a level of pain I have never known.

Kory, my son-in-law, called me the evening of July 27th. His voice forbode bad news. My mind raced to all the possibilities as he asked me if I was alone, and as I closed the office door. I told him I was and he told me of the evening's events.

Michelle had laid her firstborn baby down for a nap at about 4:30. After some time she went in to check on little Grace, now just a week shy of 3 months. And there she lay, not breathing. As easily as you just read this e mail, in a matter of seconds, Grace departed from this world into the presence of God.

We were stunned. We wailed. We wept. We asked why. We walked in circles in the house. We held one another. We gripped ourselves, wrapping our arms around in a tight body hug, trying to keep our heart from exploding.

Pam, Melissa, and I were on a plane the next morning; we made it to Nebraska before midnight on the 28th. Our hearts felt like stones within us, but we did what we could to maintain our composure.

We buried our first grandchild a few days later.

The pain we felt from death's stinger is much abated now. It's still there, to be sure. There are still certain triggers that cause our emotions to overflow. But we do not dwell on the pain. We have a blessed hope in the Lord Jesus Christ.

I once heard of some heretic who went to a Southern Baptist seminary to speak. This pea-brained and dead-spirited man had the gumption to tell that crowd of men and women that he believed babies were divided into two classes. Should they die, one of those classes of babies goes on to heaven; the other goes to hell. The trouble with his shock theolodgy was, aside from the sheer madness of it, there were women and men present whose babies had died in the past few weeks and months. Those men and women had come to chapel for a fresh word of comfort; their hearts were wounded. And this foolish man was Satan's sharp sword to reopen those wounds.

I am far more Calvinistic in my theology than I am anything else. But God help the man who looks me in the face and tells me my 3-month-old granddaughter (or anyone else's) is burning in hell! There is enough pain in death without such heresy being spewed onto wounded spirits.

Life moves on. We are learning to enjoy the sunsets again. We are learning that pain is lessened by "group hugs." We are learning that resting in Jesus is the only sure way to make it through a time like this. We are learning that we have more friends than you can shake the proverbial stick at. We are learning that Jesus also shares his love with us through their love. We are learning the importance of faith, of walking in the Spirit (before calamity comes), and of the power of prayer.

Above all, we are learning that the sharpest part of the spear on death's shaft went into God's heart. We feel a small part of the sting Jesus felt for us. By faith we await the day we will walk the roads of heaven, hand in hand with Grace Elizabeth. Until that day, we let the Holy Spirit rub our hearts with the healing balm he carries in his hand.

Come Along for the Ride

The past couple of weeks I have been doing ministry the south cone of our city of nearly ten million. The community where I have been spending the past couple of weeks is purported to have the highest concentration of people in all of Latin America. From my house, it's a 40-minute drive to the fledgling church that I have been teaching. The joy of teaching new believers is a story worth telling; but the ride there and back has its own tale, too. So I want to mention that today as I tell you what God is up to in this part of South America.

After some 30-plus minutes I approached the edge of the community where I wanted to work. I noticed a sight in front of me on the divded, four-lane paved road I traversed. I saw a funeral procession trying to turn onto the main road. No one would pause to let them in. Being a true southerner, I did. The cars behind me honked in anger when I stopped and motioned for the not-so-long procession to enter the road in front of us. Cars packed with men, women, and children slowly turned onto the road, trying to catch the hearse. Intermingled were pickup trucks; each truck had its complement of passengers and even more stuffed into the bed. That's when I saw a sight I am not accustomed to seeing. There, in the back of more than one truck, sat men and women, hoisting old 2-liter soft-drink bottles filled with homemade corn liquor--Peruvian moonshine, if you will. They raised them to me in a salute for letting them in; then they took a long swig, all to the laughter and cheers of passengers in a bus that went around me in the right lane. Never did Proverbs 31:4 and 6 seem more relevant: it is not for kings to drink. . . ; give it to those who are perishing, and whose life is bitter.

Before long I turned off the main road, descending down one long hill and proceeding up another. The pavement gave way to packed sand and dirt. There was plenty to go around. Not a sprig of grass could be seen anywhere. Just dirt, sand, and rocks, which rose quickly into a steep, steep hill. Piled in one spot was a small mountain of garbage. One one side of the garbage all kinds of dogs rummaged. On the other side, a young mother and her two children dug. One of the children looked up at me. Her face was smudged with the grime of the area I drove through. Her eyes looked empty, as did her mother's when she finally looked at me.

Beyond them were groups of young men and women walking about. Some of these youth would hang around until after dark, when they would exchange their friendly greetings for gang greetings. I knew that and hoped they knew that I knew it; after all, a little knowledge goes a long ways around gangs in this city.

I bounced and rocked my way up the hill to my destination. Outside my car the dust rose up. Inside, the fresh air flowed and the sound system thumped out the music of some of the latest praise and worship albums I obtained while stateside. There, waiting with smiles were the faithful few. On that day it would be all women. On some days a man or two will show. There we sat, praying for one another, trying to sing without instruments or anyone who could carry a tune, and studying the word of God.

These same ladies once had that same empty look as the ones I encountered on the garbage heap. But they heard the gospel some months ago. They heard it and they believed it. And the change! Even their husbands complain because they do not run to the same excess as they once did (didn't Peter say something like that would happen?). Two ladies were there because they had to discover what it was that changed the first two converts. They figured it must be some powerful stuff. One lady was a brawler. Now she was kind and gentle. One was known for her party life; now she sought to lead people to drink of the Holy Spirit. Something must have happened! And it did: Jesus happened.

The contrast could not have been greater. The houses looked the same: shacks made of plywood, woven mats, and tin. But their hearts shone with the light of Jesus.

It's not happening at lightning speed, but God is changing this small community. God is building his church where there was no church. And he just happened to invite me along for the ride.

It's something he says to all of his children: come along for the ride. Join me in my work. All I can say is that the ride with Jesus is worth it. Come along!

About America

If you are a citizen of the United States, Happy Independence Day! If you are not, please tolerate my patriotism for a moment. In spite of her flaws, America is a beautiful country. Her ideals are primarily Christian. Even today, though veiled in secular terms, a significant number of America's values are Christian. For that, plus many other reasons, I am not ashamed to rejoice in the birth of that great nation. I am not ashamed to identify myself as American. I love America, I pray for America, and I continue to defend America as "the land of the free and the home of the brave."

I am going to include in this post an abridged manuscript from a message I preached in 2002, one year after that horrible tragedy that struck our nation. While some of the illustrations are now dated, the content and context is still valid.

One last word: God bless America!

What’s Right about America?
Proverbs 14:34

Righteousness exalts a nation, but sin is a reproach to any people.

This message was born about 15 years ago, in the labor room of intercession. I was seeking a word from God regarding this country, the United States of America. Since that time and after many, many miles of world travels I have refined the message. Last year’s catastrophic events helped a lot to move me to continue to meditate on this important question.
As America wept, men and women all around asked rhetorically, “What’s wrong with America?” I stood on a rooftop in a Latin American country, where I watched a riot in progress; men shouted to me, “Death to the United States!” Two days later, as we attempted to sneak out of that troubled city under the cover of darkness, men who saw us shook their fists angrily at the bus carrying my friends and me to the airport. My heart cried, “What’s wrong with America?” Why do men and women want to dance in the streets when we suffer calamities that they would weep over? Why do countries who so readily receive our dollars offer us death in return?

That is the wrong question. It is not a question of what is wrong with America. Anyone can easily see the decadence and moral corruption that takes more time on the evening news than anything else. The question that needs to be asked in times like these is, “What is right about America?” I believe if we could rediscover what is right about this great country, then our greatness would loom even larger in the face of certain determined enemies. I believe it is what is right about America that makes madmen design attacks to bring us to our knees. I believe it is what is right about America that makes it even more imperative that we rediscover our roots.
In this message I want to share four truths that will speak to your hearts about America. Some of these are little known truths. Others have been “colored” to fit modern revisionist philosophies. Hopefully, this will help to set the record straight.

First, America has the right foundation. The foundation is the most important aspect of construction. Ask any builder. If the foundations are destroyed, the building will not stand. If the foundations are built without proper preparation, the building will not stand. So it is with a life; so it is with a family; and so it is with a country.

Before I describe that the foundation is, I need to tell you what the foundation is not. Unlike what some want to believe, the foundation of America is not freedom from taxation. The colonists did not completely oppose taxation. They understood the need to tax in order for a government to function. What the colonists opposed was taxation without representation.
The foundation of America is not freedom from government. Our founding fathers said repeatedly that any society needed government to help maintain and preserve order. This is not to laud the monstrous government we have today; it is just to debunk one of the many myths out there, that the colonists were escaping government.

Not only is the above true, but the foundation of America is not freedom from moral restraints. We have all heard it all our lives: that cry to be free to do whatever you want. No society can function without moral restraint. Even the most primitive of the Amazon tribes have a set of mores that preserve the order of their societies. The writer of Proverbs said, “Where there is no vision, the people perish (29:18).” Modern translations state that as, “Where there is no vision, the people cast off restraint.” The founding fathers were very careful to ensure moral restraint.

The right foundation of America was freedom to pursue a personal relationship with the Lord Jesus Christ. Our founding fathers established a society and government which was intended to protect this, the most valuable of all pursuits of life.

Unlike what Mr. Michael Newdow, that infamous atheist of California, believes, America’s foundation is not freedom from religion. All of the original 13 colonies’ constitutions insisted that one had to believe in God in order to hold public office. Almost all the states insist on Godly not godless leadership. Our founding fathers believed very strongly what we have cast aside: righteousness exalts a nation. Righteousness can only be found in a right relationship with God through Jesus Christ.

In spite of a small group of small-thinking, mean-spirited, godless senators who refuse to appoint to the Federal Courts anyone with moral integrity, America’s foundation is still the moral convictions found in Scripture. One senator recently opposed the nomination of one candidate for the appellate court, based on the candidate’s recommendation that her pastor serve as a chaplain in her home state. How low can you go? Try refusing to appoint men and women who think most forms of abortion is murder, but who still swear to uphold the law. What are these senators afraid of? Are they afraid that someone might insist that our leaders be godly once again? This is one citizen who does!

From the Mayflower Compact to the Constitution itself, you will find repeated evidence of a hunger for one nation under God. These documents are pregnant with Bible references.
Kenneth Woodward and David Gates, writers for Newsweek magazine, said in 1982, “Historians are finding that the Bible, perhaps even more than the Constitution, is our founding document.” How often do you hear that discovery voiced in the classrooms of today? Noah Webster said, “[O]ur citizens should early understand that the genuine source of correct republican principles is the Bible, particularly the New Testament, or the Christian religion.” This, dear friends, is the foundation of America.

Secondly, America had the right founding fathers. From the Pilgrims to the Puritans, the founding fathers of this country followed what is today called Evangelical Theology. They were almost entirely Evangelical Christians. To be sure and fair, there were a few whom we would not consider to be Christian. Some were considered to be Deists. They believed in God, but would not embrace Jesus as God come in the flesh. Still, many of them attempted to govern themselves according to the moral principles outlined in the Bible. Others were Christians, but of other denominations, such as Anglican, including the Father of our Nation, George Washington. But there were no atheists among the founding fathers. There were no Buddhists. There were no Muslims. There were no Hindus. The founding fathers were overwhelmingly Christian.

Listen to some of their statements of faith taken from David Barton’s book, Original Intent:
“My hopes of a future life are founded upon the Gospel of Christ….” – John Quincy Adams.
“[T]he religion I have [is] to love and fear God, believe in Jesus Christ, do all the good to my neighbor, and myself that I can, do as little harm as I can help, and trust on God’s mercy for the rest.” – Daniel Boone.

“I desire to bless and praise the name of God most high for appointing me my birth in a land of Gospel Light where the glorious tidings of a Saviour and of pardon and salvation through Him have been continually sounding in mine ears.” – Robert Treat Paine

“Principally and first of all, I recommend my soul to that Almighty Being who gave it and my body I commit to the dust, relying upon the merits of Jesus Christ for a pardon of all my sins.” – Samuel Adams, in his last will and testament (lwt).

This is all the inheritance I can give to my dear family. The religion of Christ can give them one which will make them rich indeed.” – Patrick Henry, lwt.

Unto Him who is the author and giver of all good, I render sincere and humble thanks for His manifold and unmerited blessings, and especially for our redemption and salvation by his beloved Son…. Blessed be his holy name.” – John Jay, lwt.

Barton’s book holds many more examples of the founding fathers’ faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. Evidence abounds that reveals that the founding fathers fully expected this nation to be a nation, not only under God, but especially under the Lord Jesus Christ. Even at that, it is the freedom of Christ which allows any man to pursue whatever other false god he may wish to follow.

I was equally amazed to learn of some of the founding fathers’ personal activities. Did I say personal? Some of these activities spilled over into political life. Dozens of our founding fathers were members of the American Bible Society, including such names as John Quincy Adams, Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, Benjamin Rush, and Chief Justice John Jay.
All of this and more makes me believe today that if the men and women who govern our country now were the men and women who founded our country, there would not be a United States of America! This nation would have foundered and disappeared in to insignificance decades ago.

The third truth I want to show you is that America had the right focus. Once again, let me remind you, “Where there is no vision, the people perish.” Our founding fathers had a vision for the new world. For about 7 generations, that vision predominated the drive of America. It was their vision that molded us and shaped us into the nation that slowly rose to world prominence.
At the turn of the 20th century, however, the vision began to get fuzzy. Don’t be mistaken. There were always moments when the nation had lost its focus. But there were always men who stood tall and called the nation back to its original intent. Still, it is in recent times that the vision has so blurred that we can’t seem to find the right “prescription” to correct the problem.
What was that vision that drove this great country? Was it financial prosperity? Not at all. Yet, because of the founding father’s vision, prosperity came to be commonplace in America. Was it world dominance? No. Leaders throughout modern times have accused America of empire-building, but that has not been the true vision of America. The vision of America was two-fold. It was to be a strong moral influence around the world, and it was to carry the Gospel into all the world.

John Winthrop, one of our founding fathers, wrote, “We are a company, professing ourselves fellow members of Christ. The end is to improve our lives and do more service to the Lord, that ourselves and our posterity may be better preserved from the common corruptions in this world.” John Adams wrote, “Our Constitution was made only for a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other.” Do you see those words, “only for a moral and religious people?” Hear me, the United States of America was founded a moral nation. The entire structure of its government depends upon moral restraint.

There are six words that do not exist in the Constitution of the United States: “The separation of church and state.” But if you asked most men and women in America today if these words were a part of the Constitution, they would tell you they were. Listen to the 1854 minutes of the House Judiciary Committee of the United States Congress: “[Religion] must be considered as the foundation on which the whole structure rests…. In this age there can be no substitute for Christianity; that, in its general principles, is the great conservative element on which we must rely for the purity and permanence of free institutions.” Yet, in the name of church and state separation, we have effectively eradicated Christianity from the mainstream of America! To borrow the misspoken and ill-timed words of one of our elder senators of today, that is wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong!

Not only did our founding fathers hope to be a moral influence around the world, they also planned, prayed, and purposed to carry the light of the Gospel into all the world. In the Mayflower Compact, the Pilgrims stated they were planting a colony in the northern parts of Virginia (they missed by a few hundred miles), “for the glory of God and the advancement of the Christian faith….” The first few presidents of the US, including Thomas Jefferson who was not a Christian, directed federal funds to mission efforts among American Indians.

You have to ask that if this was the original vision of this great nation, what happened? Well, that vision began to be actively reshaped at the turn of the 20th century, more particularly, in the 1920’s. This happened when the educational system began to be reshaped. Before then, your mind was to be developed, to be filled with knowledge and information. But educator John Dewey taught that schools were for socialization and that the mind was not the property of the individual, but of humanity. Did you get that? The man taught a new thing in America. That means schools are not for learning knowledge; they are for learning how to get along with others. That also means you should not be allowed to think for yourself. This, ladies and gentlemen, is known as socialism.

In order to accomplish this, the National Educators Association knew they had to get Christianity out of the school system. Why? Because Bible reading and prayer helped to keep our focus on the main things. Courses on the Bible taught us the morality that makes this nation great. It only took 3 generations to accomplish their goal to make our education system a godless one. Coupled with liberal, sin-satisfied, prayerless churches, the NEA took God out of public life. Add to that judges who began to legislate rather than to adjudicate and you have a nation with a skewed vision.

A nation with a godless and clouded vision gives way to heinous sins and hedonistic pastimes. Abortion is a product. Marital infidelity is a product. Premarital infidelity is a product. Homosexuality is a product. High murder rates are a product. Suicide is a product. Corporate scandals are a product. Cutthroat business practices are a product. The destruction of the family is a product. The loss of personal rights to an ever-growing government is a product.
Where there is no vision, the people perish!

If we were to end this here, the tendency would be to despair. I want to end on a positive note: America can have the right future. I believe that the future of America rests squarely on the shoulders of America’s Christians. God blessed this great country for years and years. As Christians grew cold and silent, however, God’s blessings grew leaner; we are mistaken to think that the wealth of America is a sure sign that God is pleased with us. Some, if not a lot, of that wealth has been obtained in ways that do not reflect the presence of God. You see, capitalism is a Christian way of doing business; but it does not accomplish its intended end without committed Christians running the businesses!

Deuteronomy 28 spells out much of this for us. God told Israel, his covenant people, that if they honored him, then he would honor them. He would bless them, protect them, grant them wealth and power, cause their enemies to flee from them, and in general watch over their borders. But, if their heart grew cold toward God; if they attributed their wealth and power to themselves, then God said he would send them diseases, disasters, death, and determined enemies who would cause them to flee. He said he would allow their enemies to penetrate their borders and carry them away.

You may wonder what that has to do with us. Our founding fathers made a covenant with God. They often referred to Deuteronomy 28 when they felt a need to call our ancestors back to God. Christians are God’s covenant people, too. We are grafted into the tree, as Paul says in Romans. God offers us a blessing or a curse; it is up to us.

We can have a future that is bright. On 9-11, a reporter asked a fireman how he got out of the falling tower #1 of the World Trade Center. He replied, “I followed the light.” America can have a bright future if it follows the light of Jesus.

Or America can have a future filled with fright. Compared to what we will face if we don’t repent, 9-11 was nothing. God will not bear much longer with an unrepentant America.
Historian Benjamin Hart said, “All gods require submission: either we will submit to the God of Scripture, immutable and unchanging, or we will submit to the ever-shifting god of human convenience. Agnostic pluralism, too, is a jealous god. It is a militant philosophy, a closed system that in the end cannot tolerate other creeds.” Joshua told Israel to put away its gods and decide whom they would serve. Elijah told Israel to quit wavering between two opinions and choose whom they would serve. God tells America’s Christians to put away their idols, to quit wavering, and to choose whom they will serve. Todd Beamer – “Let’s pray. Are you guys ready? Let’s roll.” To the men and women who hear my voice now, “Let’s pray and let’s roll.”

Revival, final part

Why would a missionary in South America want to comment so much on the subject of revival in North America? It comes down to this: un-revived churches are unconcerned churches. Unconcerned churches do not continue to send great numbers of missionaries. A dark world grows darker; a world once known for its spiritual light, grows dim. Everyone loses.

I want to be in South America as long as God allows. I also want a strong spiritual base back "home."

May God bless America with revival!

Revival, part 2

Last week I attended meetings of a sort that are slowly, but surely fading away. It's called a Revival Meeting. This one was poorly attended, based on what I know of the church where it was held. I don't plan to get into all the potential reasons for the disappearance of such a thing. But I think this needs to be contemplated.

There are those who would oppose them for theological reasons. In Jonathan Edwards' day they opposed them, too. Edwards and others ignored their protests. God rewarded their faithfulness.

Yet, revival meetings are now a thing of the past. I still recall when meetings lasted all week long. In my lifetime, they moved to lasting just 4 nights. Now a weekend is a long meeting. One evangelist told me he gets more invitations to "One Night Revivals" than ever before. How, pray tell, do you have one night revivals? Doesn't that sound contradictory to you? Or perhaps its very descriptive. After all, I have seen moves of God that lasted all of 3 hours--one night. After that, all was as it was before, if not worse.

No, I believe that the chief reason for the disappearance of the revival meeting in North America has more to do with our misguided sense of practicality over our theological convictions. If it is a theological conviction on your part, may God teach you otherwise!

By practicality, I mean that such meetings are no longer practical for us. It is an inconvenience for us; and we all know that making time for a revival meeting would mean sacrificing something else. I only have to look at America's spending habits to know we are not real keen on sacrifice. For example, I went to a popular sporting goods store the other week. They sell boats, guns, fishing gear, clothing, and all the things one needs to be an outdoorsman. Some of those boats sold for more than 40 thousand dollars. [I could use 40 grand. It would go a long ways to funding our ministries and the men and women being called to work with me in South America.] If a man can afford it and has the discretionary income to buy it, more power to him. But there are men and women who will go to the bank, take out a loan, buy a boat and trailer, a new truck, and all the gear they need to go "enjoy" a few hours on a lake front. They will create a level of indebtedness that causes them to sacrifice on the altar of pleasure, all the while claiming there is no time (or money) for a revival meeting. Behold your god, America!

We have traded the Living God for the no-gods of pleasure, practicality, and possessions. And that, to me, is one reason that the revival meetings of old are no longer a thing to be attended.

Americans think they are doing okay with God. So did Israel just before God took them to Babylon. While the revival meeting is not, in and of itself, the answer to revival, it does give us a chance to be revived. I believe America would do well to spend some corporate time together, seeking God's face, turning from their wicked ways, and begging God for forgiveness. That, after all, was the original intent of the revival meeting.

May God send a great revival!

Revival

I just wrote an entire discourse on revival. Where it went, no one knows. I hit that "publsh" button and the good folks in the cyberworld told me it had been published. But it was gone. Vanished. As we say in South America, se hizo humo. Up in smoke.

So I will try again. This subject is important enough I cannot let the cyber-demons eat it.

What do you know about revival? Have you ever experienced a true revival? What about a spiritual awakening among the lost; have you experienced that? I heard a man preach Sunday. He is hungry for revival. He wants to see his church revived. And he was honest enough to say he had never seen a revival.

His message made me think. It was a good one, to be sure. The long arm of the Holy Spirit stirred among us. Some were able to ignore Him; but not all of us. God spoke.

Why do we not hear about revival in America these days? Has God closed up heaven and told us that it's too late? I don't think so! I actually believe the problem is on our end. We have not because we ask not. When we do ask, we ask for the wrong reasons. I think those words from James 4 are applicable to revival.

There are many reasons we do not see a revival today. One of them, perhaps one of the greatest reasons, lies with the preachers. We preachers are too soft, too complacent. We love our comfort. We love our frills, our fringe benefits. We even believe we deserve them, all the while preaching against prosperity theology.

I listen to preacher talk among themselves. I have heard the coarse language. I have heard the off-color comments. I hear them laugh at things that should bring tears.

I read the surveys. I know that preachers are far more in love with the internet than they are the Bible. One man told me that his preacher bragged about not studying the Bible. He did not prepare sermons because he feared he would forget them before he ever got to the pulpit. Preacher, fall in love with God's word. If you cannot, then quit preaching. Quit starving God's sheep.

I know that preachers have lost their zeal for prayer. The demands of a modern-day church suck out the zeal like a hungry leech. Yet we have not because we ask not. We must rediscover the joy of sacrificial prayer.

Our cups do not run over. Norman Grubb wrote of that on page 19 of his booklet, "Continuous Revival:" "But here comes the point of it in this message of revival. We are to recognize that'cups running over' is the NORMAL daily experience of the believer walking with Jesus, not the abnormal or occasional, but the normal,continuous experience."

If America is to experience revival, my prayer is that America's preachers get in on it.

Revive us, Oh Lord!

Farewell to a Friend

I am not somewhere in South America today. I am somewhere in South Mississippi. I am here with my wife's family. It's a sad time. It's also a joyful time. I guess that means it's a bittersweet time. What time is it? It's time to say goodbye to my wife's dad. He was my friend before he was my father-in-law. He was my patient mentor when I was a know-it-all preacher boy. That was over twenty-eight years ago.

As I look back at the past twenty-eight years of preaching ministry, when I see where I began, I see the fingerprints of a good man. My father-in-law/friend/mentor shows up in some of my preaching style today. To be sure, I have long since developed my own style; but this man showed me how to read a passage of Scripture for all it is worth. He gave me tools that have never grown dull, never worn out, never become useless.

Soon--very soon--we will say "farewell" to this good man. But it is really more like a "see you later." My father-in-law was sure and satisfied with his relationship to Jesus Christ. I am sure of mine. So one day we will see one another again.

His last words he intended to share with his church were these: I am saved, I am sure, and I am satisfied. Is there anything more fitting to ask the readers today? Are you saved? Are you sure you are saved? Are you satisfied? Is Jesus enough?

To God be the glory for a man who did what he could with what he had. He buried nothing in the ground; it was all used for the glory of God.

Kevin,
Somewhere in South Mississippi

Are You a Junk Food Junkie?

I think I sat here two full minutes, staring at a blank text box; I felt I needed to write something, but what? After all, it probably does more good for my mental processes than it does for your eternal value. Still, time ticks by and the text box is not filling up with anything important. It must be all that pizza I ate this week.

Yes, I can blame it on pizza. My wife is somewhere in North America, taking care of our daughter, son-in-law, and their new baby. I am somewhere in South America, whiling away my Saturday after three consecutive days of pizza. Yes, pizza. After all, I have a 15-year-old daughter who needed to eat, too. Otherwise, it may have been peanut butter imported by the last volunteers who came to see us.

But how could something that tastes so good be so bad for your thinking process? Or your motivation? Answer: GREASE. It's not the cheese; it's the grease! It wasn't the tomato sauce; it was the grease! All that pepperoni was loaded with the stuff. And this pizza was loaded with pepperoni. The truth is, it's junk.

I purged my guilty conscience yesterday when I went out to buy groceries to feed my daughter and me. I stopped and ate a delicious salad. It had stuff in it from every major food group. That made me feel better. It felt so good I didn't mind stopping by the cinnamon roll place and picking up some of those.

That wasn't my tongue you saw in my cheek; it was a piece of a cinnamon roll!

I had to stop and admit it. I love junk food. Junk food producers love me, too. Mark Lowry sang a sarcastic song one time: "I can eat it all!" Sing it, Mark!

Let me get somewhat serious for a minute. Before any nutrition fanatics go for my juglar, you should know my blood will glob out; it won't flow. Seriously, I have a point to this.

What we put in our bodies has its impact, for good or for bad. That is equally true about what we put into our souls. Your soul is the focal point for your mind, will, and emotions. If you feed the mind with meaningless trivia and nothing more, then you deprive yourself of greater things. Our kids once imbibed on television; now it's the computer. There is little difference, in my opinion, as to the ultimate outcome of mindless entertainment. It starves your spirit and feeds junk into your mind.

It is in your soul that the thing called "flesh" resides. "Flesh" is what makes sin so fun. "Flesh" is what makes us brag when we blast another person (believer or not). "Flesh" is what makes us brag about what we did before we knew Jesus; or what we do now. "Flesh" is what makes us pleased with our spiritual accomplishments.

And the Flesh craves "food." Not that kind! Though it could be physical food. Some people I know are fat because they crave to an excess the food God intended to be both sustaining and pleasurable. But the food the Flesh wants is that food that feeds its passion and ways. So Flesh tells your mind what it wants; your mind tells your emotions; your will then becomes the key. To feed the Flesh, or not to feed the Flesh.

Sometimes we feed the Flesh, feel guilty, and then purge our consciences by some so-called spiritual thing. We pray. We read our Bibles. We attend church services. We help someone. We think about God for ten minutes. And then we go back to our feeding frenzy.

The Holy Spirit has a really good plan regarding the Flesh. Kill it! Deny yourself, take up your cross DAILY, and follow Jesus. If you die to the Flesh, your perspective begins to change. Paul said he died daily.

So what do you plan to feed on this week? Will it be true spiritual nourishment? Or will it be junk food?

Kevin,
Somewhere in South America

There's a Happy Dance Goin' On!

My firstborn had her firstborn today. The delivery process actually began a few days ago. The really tough part began last night. The part that fulfills Genesis 3:16 began this morning. Michelle's pain was greatly multiplied. But God's hand was firm and the beauty of a new birth unfolded for Michelle and her husband Kory. Sometime close to 11:15, Grace Elizabeth greeted the world with a cry.

It was a joyful experience for all who were there (I am not there; I am somewhere in South America). Tears flowed freely, and not just down Grace's cheeks. The multiplied sorrow and pain soon gave way to overwhelming joy and pride. The Psalmist captured the moment, though speaking of something else: Weeping will endure for a night; but joy comes in the morning. - Ps. 30:5 Someone just wrote me and said, "There's a happy dance going on here." Yes, joy comes in the morning.

Being a part that experience is unspeakable. Holding a newborn is delightful. Gaither's words were dead on:

How sweet to hold a newborn baby, and feel the love and joy [she] gives.

As joyous a thing as a birth, especially that of the firstborn, there is greater joy in the new birth, that birth that only comes by grace through faith in Christ Jesus and his finished work. When one sinner repents, there is joy in the presence of the angels. When one sinner repents, heaven takes notice. When a man or woman is born into the kingdom of God, the Godhead shines with joy. Angels thunder praises to the Lamb who was slain, and who is worthy. Saints in heaven fall on their faces.

Why is it, do you suppose, that we so often receive the news of the new birth with barely a yawn? Why--HOW--can we receive such news with stoic looks, when in heaven the King of kings is having a party over it? Could it be that we have become the elder brother of Luke 15?

I look forward to listening to my daughter and son-in-law as they describe all the new things that both they and Grace will discover in the years to come. I look forward to the joy that will bring. But I want to have greater joy over those newly born into the kingdom of God.

Kevin, Somewhere in South America

Peace, Y'all!

It's Easter weekend. Well, it's Good Friday where I am. When much of the world thinks of Easter, images of peace and messages of world peace innundate the media. Perhaps only Christmas rivals Easter on its messages of "peace on earth."

It would be wonderful to speak about peace. I would love to shout, "Peace on earth, and to goodwill to men!" Or, "Peace!" to the SBC. "Peace to South America!"

But that Passover weekend around 30 AD was anything but peaceful. That passover was marred by at least three crucifixions. And one of them was God. In one of the Gaithers' songs, there is a line that said something like, "The earth shakes with the force of the conflict, and the sun refuses to shine." (My apologies to the songwriters if I missed that.) Do you see that word? Conflict. Does that sound like peace?

God was fighting for the souls of mankind. There was a conflict going on. His only begotten son was hanging on a Roman death tree. His hands and feet were fixed to the wood with spikes. His body was unrecognizable. If we had been there, up close, we could have smelled the horrible odors rising from his ravaged body. And would have heard, not just seen, the blood as it puddled down, slowly, steadily, drop by drop, around the ground. Does that sound like peace?

See from His head, His hands, His feet

Sorrow and love flow mingled down;

Did e're such love and sorrow meet,

Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

Why did the sun refuse to shine? Did God turn out the lights? Or were the demons of hell so thick in that place that their presence darkened the whole earth? Or had that spot of ground become hell? After all, Jesus said that unbelievers will be cast into "outer darkness." And the Scriptures say that God made "him who knew no sin to be sin for us; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him." (2 Cor. 5:21) Does that sound like peace?

In six short hours, it was over. Jesus was dead. The demons croaked with glee. The priests and the rabble they had aroused were not so certain; after all, an earthquake had raped their temple. Their most holy place was desecrated by light from without. The ark, if there was one, was now exposed for all to see. I can envision those poor Levites scurrying about, trying to close the doors so that no one could see within their sanctuary. The priests were so uncertain they asked for Pilate to grant a guard for the tomb where Jesus was buried. It was an armed guard. Their weapons were not for show. Should anyone approach, death would have been likely. Does that sound like peace?

Again, it's a stretch of my imagination, but I can envision the procession from the cross to the grave. Men and women walked, carefully, mournfully, carrying the body of Jesus. Maybe there were others there, warning the pallbearers that they were ceremonially unclean and no longer eligible to partake of the fast-approaching Passover. Waltzing, buzzing about, jumping for joy, and cackling were those foul, stench-covered demons. They drooled with delight. They strutted like proud turkeys. Not far away were the legions of righteous angels.

Waiting.
Watching.
Silent.

Joseph and the others laid the body in the niche inside the tomb. They came out and rolled the stone into its groove in front of the opening. As the stone groaned while the men pushed it into place, those forces of evil wheezed for joy. The stone finally rolled into place, fully covering the opening. What light there was, was extinguished. The son of God was dead and buried. Does that sound like peace?

Low in the grave he lay, Jesus my Savior.

Time passed by slowly. One day melted into another. Who really wanted to taste the roasted lamb this year? There would be no celebration for Jesus' friends and family. The bitter herbs the disciples had tasted on Preparation Night were more bitter than ever. They laid heavy on their stomachs. Every belch was a bitter one. There were no more tears to shed. All that was left was the empty heaviness that accompanies death and separation. All that enshrouded their hearts was confusion. They walked the streets, perhaps kicking at a lone pebble here and there. "Peace I give you," said Jesus. Peace? What peace? "My peace," said Jesus. Is this what your peace feels like? I am not sure I want this!

The Sabbath gave way to Sunday. Early in the morning the brave ladies went to the tomb. We know what they found. The stone was rolled away. Before too long, their darkest doubts gave way to the light of a sudden realization. Jesus was alive! No devils were there now! Stalwart angels, illuminating the glory of God, stood erect and regally. Soldiers lay in heap, sleeping a holy sleep placed on them by the brush of angels' wings. King Jesus rose from the grave!

He arose! He arose! Hallelujah! Christ arose!

It's the evening now. Sunday has come and gone. At least nine apostles (Judas is dead, hanging by a rope from a tree,and cursed is everyone who hangs from a tree, Peter is out, still processing his encounter with Jesus, and Thomas is just absent) are still huddled in the upper room. Jesus appears out of "nowhere" and calls out, "Peace, y'all!" Once the shock and awe passed of seeing someone alive whose death they had witnessed only a few days earlier, that peace began to grip their souls. Not like it would on the Day of Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit came to indwell them. But it was there. And it was real. And it is real. Because it is his peace.

More than 2,000 years later, I want to stand on my rooftop. I want to shout to my lost neighbors, to the two men I watched sipping their suds at a local gas station, to the Jehovah's Witnesses who doggedly pound on my door, to all of this city somewhere in South America, to the SBC, to its leadership, to the IMB, to its leadership, to you, "PEACE, Y'ALL!"

What Kind of Churches Do We Plant?

Let me begin by stating a few salient facts. First, I am a Baptist. I am not ashamed of that. I am not ashamed that God saved me through the teaching/preaching ministry of a Baptist church. I am not ashamed to have been called to preach under the preaching of a Baptist preacher. He was a "Landmarkist." The particular Baptist denomination where I was at that time had statements that were so exclusive in their nature that I could not continue there.

Second, I am a Baptist missionary. I am not ashamed that God called me to missions through the ministry of a Baptist missionary and her husband. I am not ashamed to be a Southern Baptist missionary. I take joy in that.

Third, I have been a church planter and continue to participate in church planting, though my role is much larger. It's one of those things that cannot be equaled in other walks of life. The joy of seeing souls come to faith in Christ is incomparable. The satisfaction of seeing a church formed is unspeakable.

So that leads me to an important question: when a Southern Baptist missionary sets out to plant a church, what does he have in mind? What is the "final product" that any SBC M wants to see?

Logically, we want to plant Baptist churches. I happen to live in a megacity somewhere in South America. I happen to be able to plant Baptist churches. Those churches suffer mild persecution (mostly emotional), but they can paint a sign with the words "Baptist" on it and their non-evangelical neighbors will understand that it "ain't mainstream."

Now I don't plant Southern Baptist churches. I don't live in the United States; the SBC is not here, except incarnationally through its missionaries. My national brethren would not appreciate me planting an SBC church when they are attempting to plant churches that affiliate with their own convention.

That is as simple as it gets. But I want to complicate the matter a bit. First, the least complicated thing is the following scenario: SBC missionary V lives and works among a people group in a closed country. They are antagonistic to evangelism, church planting, and open Christianity. They cannot post their name on a sign. What do missionary V and his team do? They plant baptistic churches; that means the church is baptistic in doctrine, but not in name. To openly identify it as "baptist" could jeopardize the entire church planting effort.

SBC missionary Z, on the other hand, works among a people group that is ever-so-slightly tolerant of evangelicals. But the people group has no concept of denominational ties. Their fledgling work has been what we could describe as "independent." Missionary Z has the opportunity to work with and train some national church planters, none of whom are Baptist. What kind of church does Missionary Z then plant? Does he impose his origin (Baptist) upon the group, or does he teach and promote baptistic doctrine?

This is my humble opinion: SBC missionary Z should plant New Testament churches, which I believe will be baptistic in nature. He can later return and shore up the doctrine and reveal his Baptist origin in that subsequent teaching. But if this is a New Testament church, and we hope it is, that church will still have the responsibility to choose whether or not to be identified as a Baptist church. Missionary Z cannot force that upon them.

For that matter, neither can I require that the churches I help plant choose the name of Baptist. It is a matter of local church autonomy. The chances are that they will choose the name of Baptist, because we wield much influence. But I cannot require it. I will not require it. I will only seek to be baptistic and hope that the name "Baptist" finds its way on the sign. Anything more could be construed as paternalistic and counter-productive to the missionary enterprise.

Kevin, from Somewhere in South America

The Right to Fight

Let me be clear from the outset: this is not one of those "Rodney King-like" appeals, pleading that we all just get along. This is a mosaic; we need to know when to fight and when not to fight. After all, if any of you read Wild at Heart you know that a man's gotta fight (pardon my grammar). I mean, just look at King David: 2 Samuel 11:1 says, "Then it happened in the spring, at the time when kings go out to battle, that . . . David stayed at Jerusalem." Guys, we are princes; we are made to bend a bow of bronze. (2 Sam. 22:35)

It's right to fight for the faith. That is what Jude said, "Contend earnestly for the faith." A century ago a group of men decided that needed to be done. They set forth what we now call the essentials of evangelical faith: the virgin birth, deity, and lordship of Jesus Christ; the efficacious death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus; salvation by grace, through faith in Christ alone; the innerant authority of the Bible as the word of God. Add to that the imminent return of Jesus, the person and work of the Holy Spirit in the life of the believer, the missionary mandate given to the church, the importance of personal evangelism, and the power of prayer. Those (and perhaps a few others I did not mention) are the essentials.

Oh, by the way, back then they called them "The Fundamentals of the Faith." Today we call a fundamentalist anything but right. We allowed the world to influence our use of a perfectly good word, making it pejorative. Forgive me if I do not allow the world to steal perfectly good words and destroy them. Ask God's forgiveness if you think all fundamentalists are crazed lunatics (yes, that is redundant) who only seek to steal your freedoms.

It's right to fight when that fight is spiritual warfare. Paul said we wrestle all kinds of principalities, powers, world forces, and spiritual forces in the heavenlies." - Ephesians 6

I did not learn about spiritual warfare in South America. I learned about it in south Mississippi. I learned plenty about spiritual warfare in south Mississippi. I know we say that we don't see demons behind every bush, but there were days it seemed as though there were as many demons as there were pine trees.

That only increased down here in South America. But regardless of when, where, or how many, the truth still remains that "greater is he that is within us than he that is in the world." Amen to that! Lift the sword of the Spirit and stand firm in Christ's strength!

It's right to fight those social ills that plague us. Abortion is a plague. Gender neutrality is a plague. Those so-called sexual preference rights are plagues on society.

Down here we can add to that list the rampant drinking. That bottle of alcohol is one baby we can toss out with the bath water. Europe may love its booze; you can keep it to yourself. And yes, I can quote all the Bible verses you can throw back at me; so please don't bother.

But it's not right to fight when that fight is motivated by selfish, sensual, and worldly desires. James 4 says, "What is the source of quarrels and conflicts among you? Is not the source your pleasures that wage war in your members? You lust and do not have; so you commit murder. You are envious and cannot obtain; so you fight and quarrel." Flesh fights are from the same poisonous tree as worldly wisdom.

That man who slips in front of you in the line of traffic suddenly becomes your enemy; he invaded your space. He took your place in line. That one who buys the last imported soft drink (only those living overseas will relate to this) has suddenly stolen what is "rightfully yours." After all, you wanted a soft drink. Now he took it. It doesn't matter that the can is past date. It doesn't matter that you prefer Pepsi and they only sell Coke. It only matters that someone else got it.

For those North Americans who read the above and shook their heads in dismay, just recall last Christmas. I watched the news videos of my fellow compatriots as they wrestled over dolls, action figures, and stuffed toys. I saw women claw and scratch. And I have been in church business meetings that had plenty of verbal clawing and scratching.

As I look at what is going on in the SBC today, I greatly fear that we have some King Davids who did not go out to battle. We have some princes who cannot or will not bend that bow of bronze. Now they are bored, looking for a place to vent the energy God intended for them to expend against their true enemies.

When my words and actions are detrimental and do not have the ultimate goal of edifying, instructing, protecting, encouraging, and even expanding the citizens of the kingdom of God--as well as expanding the kingdom itself, then my words and actions are wrong. My motives are wrong. My fight is not right.

I defend your right to fight. But make sure your fight is a right fight.