The Trout
The stream was running fast, burbling over the rocks. There were pools eddying in spots on the stream. Hiding in the pools were trout; big, fast, strong brook trout looking for food, waiting patiently for some tender morsel to drift by.
The fisherman moved slowly towards the pool. Its prospects were encouraging. He had seen a rise or two while he was scouting the area, and he had marked this spot in his mind.
The sun was hidden behind clouds, so he didn’t make a shadow that would alarm whatever was hidden in the pool. Slowly he waded into the stream, the felt bottoms of his boots muffling the vibrations of his steps.
A Royal Coachman fly was tied to the line, similar to the ones his uncle used to tie. His rod, limber yet strong, was of sufficient quality for what he needed, but not one of those ultra-expensive rods that you would be afraid to get wet. Or break. His rod was well used, as if he had spent quite a long time in the water, flicking flies toward his opponents, the trout.
After letting some line out, the fisherman deftly flicked his wrist, accurately causing the fly to hit its mark. Time and again, using talent that only comes through years of experience; he drew the fly in and impelled it to another location. Regardless of the outcome, the fisherman was content.
The fish had watched the lure pass him several times without being tempted. This last time, however, was once too much. With a flick of his tail, he lunged at the fly, moving at a speed that defied belief. Mouth open, the trout took the fly and turned back to the shelter of the rock he was hiding behind. But something unexplained was holding him back.
Suddenly the water exploded with fury. Fish on!
The fisherman’s face held a determined grin, but his mind was silently yelling, “Tip up! Tip up!” Stumbling a little at the ferocity of the fight, the man held his pole up while trying to maintain his balance. Line screamed from the reel as the fish sought freedom. The man, with gentle firmness, slowly began to reel the fish in.
The fish, unused to such treatment, fought the line that was controlling him. His head strewed right and left in an attempt to throw the hook, his tail trying to turn him back toward the safe, secure bottom of the pool. Neither attempt worked. Slowly, inevitably, he came to the surface.
The fisherman was surprised at the length and heft of the fish. Surely this was a trophy. He brought his net towards the fish, looping it under it, capturing it in the mesh.
He had never seen a fish of this quality. Its skin was perfect, its flesh firm and strong. He lifted the fish out of the net and examined it carefully. What to do with it was the question running through his mind. He could keep it, or he could let it go.
If he kept it, he had two options. He could eat it. Yes… a pan with some butter, salt and pepper… add a few herbs… Ah, heaven. The thought of how a fresh caught trout cooked on an open fire excited his senses. He was almost salivating at the thought of how it would taste. But… and there was always a but, he could bring it back and have it mounted, hanging it on the wall for all to see and admire. That was option two.
As he pondered these two options the third option kept coming to his mind. “Let it go” wandered through his thoughts. “Let it live, give it freedom.” Curiously, this option was gaining a firm place in his brain. He again reviewed the options before him: Let it go, cook it, mount it. What to do, what to do?
In the end, the matter was taken out his hands, literally. The fish, with a mighty flexing of muscle wriggled out of the surprised fisherman’s hands and splashed into the water, where he quickly swam away.
“Ok,” the fisherman thought, “you won this round. I’ll be back. Soon, very soon.”
This story was created for and inspired by Mike Bellin.
May you fish forever.
Merry Christmas.
Jeff Quigley 12/20/2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
Monday, March 30, 2009
Here is a little story about America's game... Baseball.
Perfection
“Folks, this has been an amazing day, let me tell you. Yessiree, an amazing day. Zane Adams has to throw only six more strikes, that’s right, only six more strikes to cap off the most amazing pitching performance this radio announcer has ever been witness to. I know I keep using the word amazing, but that is what it is, simply amazing! Zane Adams is only six; count them, six strikes away from a perfect game. Not just a perfect game, mind you, but an absolute perfect game. Not only has no one gotten on base, not only has nobody walked, not only has nobody gotten a whiff of a piece of wood on the ball, but Zane hasn’t even thrown a ball. That’s right, not one errant throw. Well, I take that back, there was that one pitch that seemed a little outside, but it was close enough for the batter, Doug Warburton, to take a half-hearted swing at it for a third strike. Nine pitches an inning for the last eight and a third innings! Seventy-five straight strikes. Folks, this game is setting all sorts of records, let me tell you. Not to take anything away from the opposing pitcher, Jimbo Hammacker, but today doesn’t seem to be in the cards for him. Nosiree, Jimbo has pitched what would normally be considered an excellent game, a three hitter with only one run against him, but nobody, nobody in the world could imagine this kind of game from the likes of Zane Adams, not in a million years. In all my years, and I’ve seen more than my share, games that is, not years, I have never seen…”
It started out rather simply. My team, the Portland Penguins, the newest team in the American League, named me as the starting pitcher for the third game of the year. I‘m not what you would call the “star” of the rotation, more like one of the middlemen, the ones who face the “no-stars” on the other team. This has been my role for several years now.
“Another strike, this one a called strike on the inside corner. There’s no question about that one. It was a waist high fastball with a little “hello mama” on it! Zane appears to be still in full command out there, folks, with that spheroid hitting right where he wants it. I know I have seen pitchers throw more pitches by the third inning than Zane has thrown all day today. It’s like he has the batters mesmerized, the umpires, too.”
I felt fine before the game, you know, but nothing special. I didn’t go up to the coach and say “I can feel it in my bones that this is going to be special day.” Nope, none of that. There wasn’t some sick kid in a hospital telling me to “Strike ‘em all out”, either. There weren’t any premonitions about what was going to happen. I just wanted to pitch my best, like every other time I went to the mound.
“Strike two! Wade Emerson sat there with his bat on his shoulder. Not that I blame him, that curve came from nowhere, starting way outside and breaking right across the plate like a fly after leftovers. Only four more strikes and we can close the books on the most awesome spectacle I have ever witnessed. People, if you could only see through the radio what I am seeing now.”
I knew after the first inning that things were different. I was in a groove. I could feel it. By the third inning the guys in the dugout were becoming subdued, no horsing around, nobody leaving to get a drink of water. They avoided me, in fear that they would be the one to break the spell, jinx me. I don’t know, I don’t think anything could have stopped what happened out there.
“I’m having heart palpitations on top of my heart palpitations, here, folks! Wade Emerson gave it a mighty big swing, but it was if the ball had radar or something. He missed by a mile. Strike three, yer out! Coming up is what just might be the last man to face Mr. Adams tonight, the D.H., Gary Dillman. Everybody knows that the D.H. stands for Designated Hitter, but tonight it may as well be D.W. which stands for Designated Whiffer.”
By the time I came out for the seventh inning, even the most obnoxious fans had quieted down. Everybody realized what was going on, from Marty, my catcher, to the guy third from the top row in right field. Maybe even the Penguin mascot.
“This game is going down in history. Speaking of history, I will bet you are wondering about the history of this amazing pitcher, Zane Adams. Well, to be honest with you, there isn’t much history there. He came into the league six years ago with the Nashville Nuggets. He did not have an astounding year, only sixty-nine strikeouts and a five and eight record, just an “Average Joe” type of pitcher. Even last year was nothing spectacular. Nothing like what we are seeing here.”
Everything was working for me. My fastball was sharp, my splitter was crisp, my changeup kept them guessing, and my overhand curve froze them in their tracks. Only in my dreams could a game like this take place, only in my dreams.
“You might as well call me a pony, folks, because I’m a little hoarse from all this screaming. Zane Adams put the first one across the plate right at the knees-- a scorching fastball with lightning on it. Dillman just watched it go by, if he even saw it. The ump saw it, though. Strike one. Seventy-nine straight strikes, only two more to go, only two more. Here’s the next pitch...”
When Dillman hit that pitch in the ninth, I had two sensations. The first one was almost a sense of relief, a relief that this was all over; it wouldn’t be the “Perfect Game”. I could fade into obscurity as the pitcher that “almost” did it. Then, as the ball started going foul, I wasn’t sure if I was rooting for…foul ball and another chance for a strike; fly out and the fame was over, still a perfect game but not “The” perfect game; or maybe we all quit and go home. The other sensation was a very sharp pain radiating from my shoulder to my wrist.
“He called time out, he called time out! How can he do this to me? Oh, the humanity! Zane Adams has one strike to go, only one, and this game is over, this game is History. The coach, Murph “The Smurf” Walker, slowly proceeds to the mound. I wonder what is going through his mind. I would Pay to be a gnat on that mound right now. Gary Dillman is the only batter to get any wood at all on the ball, and that was a little pop foul for his second strike. That bloop foul was just out of the reach of the third baseman, Ricky Price. And then Zane Adams, trying to give me a heart attack here, calls for a time out to talk to his coach. All ya got to do, Zane, is to throw one more strike!”
Murph had a puzzled look on his face when I called for him. You could tell that the last thing he wanted to do was break my rhythm, to interrupt the flow of the game. What he didn’t notice was that I waved him over with my left arm.
“The conference at the mound looks serious, folks. Murph “The Smurf” doesn’t look too happy, not that he ever does. Let me recap this game for you, in case you’ve just tuned in to the most amazing pitching exposition I have ever seen. You have missed the game of the century. Forget that, the game of All Time. Zane Adams is one strike away from the most perfect game ever. Eighty pitches, every one of them a strike! One more strike, one more pitch between the knees and the letters, one more pitch over that plate right down there and it is all over but the shouting. Gary Dillman has to have nerves of steel to wait as patiently as he is right now. There goes the ump to break up the little coffee klatch.”
Murph stood there a minute, looking at me, not sure what to say. “Enjoying yourself out here, kid?”
“Murph, I can’t lift my arm. Something snapped on that last pitch”
“Well, kid, you’re already in the record book. Eighty straight strikes. You can go into the dugout with your head held high. You pitched the best game I have ever seen, ever will see. But if it were me, I’d throw it underarm, I’d throw it left handed, I’d push it over the plate with my nose, anything to get one more strike. Here comes the ump, I’ll leave it up to you.”
“Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, I don’t know what they said out there on that mound, but I do know this: Walker is going back to the dugout, the ump is back behind the plate, and Zane Adams, a name that will go down in history with the likes of Ford, Dean, Ryan, Larson and Johnson, is ready to throw what will hopefully be the last strike. What a ballgame we are having here! You could cut the tension with a knife. Yessiree, I’ll never see another ballgame like this as long as I live. The crowd is standing up but not a peep can be heard. It’s as quiet as a church on Tuesday. Even the peanut man is standing up and waiting for this pitch.”
I threw that last pitch with all I had. Pain shot through my shoulder with an intense flash of heat. The ball went up in the air over twenty feet, arced towards home and bounced four feet from the front of the plate. Why Dillman swung at that pitch, I’ll probably never know. Maybe he swung automatically, hypnotized by the loft of the ball; maybe he didn’t want to go down in history as the man who ruined the “Perfect Game”; maybe he wanted to be a part of something special, someone to be talked about for years to come. I don’t know his reason, but someday I’ll ask him. Maybe…when I can pitch again.
“Here’s the pitch, it’s a high looping…a lob…I don’t know what to call it. It bounces in front of the plate for a ball…no, Dillman swung! Dillman swung at the pitch, it’s a strike, it’s a strike! Strike three! Wait, the ball hit the ground, it’s still alive. Dillman is running to first. Marty Beelman picks up the ball, steps in from of home plate, and throws him out at first. Dillman is out, strike three, the ballgame is over, the ballgame is over! The Perfect Game, the Absolute Perfect Game is over! Oh, I just wet my pants.”
Perfection
“Folks, this has been an amazing day, let me tell you. Yessiree, an amazing day. Zane Adams has to throw only six more strikes, that’s right, only six more strikes to cap off the most amazing pitching performance this radio announcer has ever been witness to. I know I keep using the word amazing, but that is what it is, simply amazing! Zane Adams is only six; count them, six strikes away from a perfect game. Not just a perfect game, mind you, but an absolute perfect game. Not only has no one gotten on base, not only has nobody walked, not only has nobody gotten a whiff of a piece of wood on the ball, but Zane hasn’t even thrown a ball. That’s right, not one errant throw. Well, I take that back, there was that one pitch that seemed a little outside, but it was close enough for the batter, Doug Warburton, to take a half-hearted swing at it for a third strike. Nine pitches an inning for the last eight and a third innings! Seventy-five straight strikes. Folks, this game is setting all sorts of records, let me tell you. Not to take anything away from the opposing pitcher, Jimbo Hammacker, but today doesn’t seem to be in the cards for him. Nosiree, Jimbo has pitched what would normally be considered an excellent game, a three hitter with only one run against him, but nobody, nobody in the world could imagine this kind of game from the likes of Zane Adams, not in a million years. In all my years, and I’ve seen more than my share, games that is, not years, I have never seen…”
It started out rather simply. My team, the Portland Penguins, the newest team in the American League, named me as the starting pitcher for the third game of the year. I‘m not what you would call the “star” of the rotation, more like one of the middlemen, the ones who face the “no-stars” on the other team. This has been my role for several years now.
“Another strike, this one a called strike on the inside corner. There’s no question about that one. It was a waist high fastball with a little “hello mama” on it! Zane appears to be still in full command out there, folks, with that spheroid hitting right where he wants it. I know I have seen pitchers throw more pitches by the third inning than Zane has thrown all day today. It’s like he has the batters mesmerized, the umpires, too.”
I felt fine before the game, you know, but nothing special. I didn’t go up to the coach and say “I can feel it in my bones that this is going to be special day.” Nope, none of that. There wasn’t some sick kid in a hospital telling me to “Strike ‘em all out”, either. There weren’t any premonitions about what was going to happen. I just wanted to pitch my best, like every other time I went to the mound.
“Strike two! Wade Emerson sat there with his bat on his shoulder. Not that I blame him, that curve came from nowhere, starting way outside and breaking right across the plate like a fly after leftovers. Only four more strikes and we can close the books on the most awesome spectacle I have ever witnessed. People, if you could only see through the radio what I am seeing now.”
I knew after the first inning that things were different. I was in a groove. I could feel it. By the third inning the guys in the dugout were becoming subdued, no horsing around, nobody leaving to get a drink of water. They avoided me, in fear that they would be the one to break the spell, jinx me. I don’t know, I don’t think anything could have stopped what happened out there.
“I’m having heart palpitations on top of my heart palpitations, here, folks! Wade Emerson gave it a mighty big swing, but it was if the ball had radar or something. He missed by a mile. Strike three, yer out! Coming up is what just might be the last man to face Mr. Adams tonight, the D.H., Gary Dillman. Everybody knows that the D.H. stands for Designated Hitter, but tonight it may as well be D.W. which stands for Designated Whiffer.”
By the time I came out for the seventh inning, even the most obnoxious fans had quieted down. Everybody realized what was going on, from Marty, my catcher, to the guy third from the top row in right field. Maybe even the Penguin mascot.
“This game is going down in history. Speaking of history, I will bet you are wondering about the history of this amazing pitcher, Zane Adams. Well, to be honest with you, there isn’t much history there. He came into the league six years ago with the Nashville Nuggets. He did not have an astounding year, only sixty-nine strikeouts and a five and eight record, just an “Average Joe” type of pitcher. Even last year was nothing spectacular. Nothing like what we are seeing here.”
Everything was working for me. My fastball was sharp, my splitter was crisp, my changeup kept them guessing, and my overhand curve froze them in their tracks. Only in my dreams could a game like this take place, only in my dreams.
“You might as well call me a pony, folks, because I’m a little hoarse from all this screaming. Zane Adams put the first one across the plate right at the knees-- a scorching fastball with lightning on it. Dillman just watched it go by, if he even saw it. The ump saw it, though. Strike one. Seventy-nine straight strikes, only two more to go, only two more. Here’s the next pitch...”
When Dillman hit that pitch in the ninth, I had two sensations. The first one was almost a sense of relief, a relief that this was all over; it wouldn’t be the “Perfect Game”. I could fade into obscurity as the pitcher that “almost” did it. Then, as the ball started going foul, I wasn’t sure if I was rooting for…foul ball and another chance for a strike; fly out and the fame was over, still a perfect game but not “The” perfect game; or maybe we all quit and go home. The other sensation was a very sharp pain radiating from my shoulder to my wrist.
“He called time out, he called time out! How can he do this to me? Oh, the humanity! Zane Adams has one strike to go, only one, and this game is over, this game is History. The coach, Murph “The Smurf” Walker, slowly proceeds to the mound. I wonder what is going through his mind. I would Pay to be a gnat on that mound right now. Gary Dillman is the only batter to get any wood at all on the ball, and that was a little pop foul for his second strike. That bloop foul was just out of the reach of the third baseman, Ricky Price. And then Zane Adams, trying to give me a heart attack here, calls for a time out to talk to his coach. All ya got to do, Zane, is to throw one more strike!”
Murph had a puzzled look on his face when I called for him. You could tell that the last thing he wanted to do was break my rhythm, to interrupt the flow of the game. What he didn’t notice was that I waved him over with my left arm.
“The conference at the mound looks serious, folks. Murph “The Smurf” doesn’t look too happy, not that he ever does. Let me recap this game for you, in case you’ve just tuned in to the most amazing pitching exposition I have ever seen. You have missed the game of the century. Forget that, the game of All Time. Zane Adams is one strike away from the most perfect game ever. Eighty pitches, every one of them a strike! One more strike, one more pitch between the knees and the letters, one more pitch over that plate right down there and it is all over but the shouting. Gary Dillman has to have nerves of steel to wait as patiently as he is right now. There goes the ump to break up the little coffee klatch.”
Murph stood there a minute, looking at me, not sure what to say. “Enjoying yourself out here, kid?”
“Murph, I can’t lift my arm. Something snapped on that last pitch”
“Well, kid, you’re already in the record book. Eighty straight strikes. You can go into the dugout with your head held high. You pitched the best game I have ever seen, ever will see. But if it were me, I’d throw it underarm, I’d throw it left handed, I’d push it over the plate with my nose, anything to get one more strike. Here comes the ump, I’ll leave it up to you.”
“Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, I don’t know what they said out there on that mound, but I do know this: Walker is going back to the dugout, the ump is back behind the plate, and Zane Adams, a name that will go down in history with the likes of Ford, Dean, Ryan, Larson and Johnson, is ready to throw what will hopefully be the last strike. What a ballgame we are having here! You could cut the tension with a knife. Yessiree, I’ll never see another ballgame like this as long as I live. The crowd is standing up but not a peep can be heard. It’s as quiet as a church on Tuesday. Even the peanut man is standing up and waiting for this pitch.”
I threw that last pitch with all I had. Pain shot through my shoulder with an intense flash of heat. The ball went up in the air over twenty feet, arced towards home and bounced four feet from the front of the plate. Why Dillman swung at that pitch, I’ll probably never know. Maybe he swung automatically, hypnotized by the loft of the ball; maybe he didn’t want to go down in history as the man who ruined the “Perfect Game”; maybe he wanted to be a part of something special, someone to be talked about for years to come. I don’t know his reason, but someday I’ll ask him. Maybe…when I can pitch again.
“Here’s the pitch, it’s a high looping…a lob…I don’t know what to call it. It bounces in front of the plate for a ball…no, Dillman swung! Dillman swung at the pitch, it’s a strike, it’s a strike! Strike three! Wait, the ball hit the ground, it’s still alive. Dillman is running to first. Marty Beelman picks up the ball, steps in from of home plate, and throws him out at first. Dillman is out, strike three, the ballgame is over, the ballgame is over! The Perfect Game, the Absolute Perfect Game is over! Oh, I just wet my pants.”
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
The Patchwork Quilt
The woman who opened the door to go out on that frosty morning was a bitter, unpleasant person. If you were to ask a neighbor about her, the kindest words you would hear would most likely be “lonely” or “angry” with maybe a “disagreeable” put in for effect. For the most part, they would be accurate.
As she moved to step out the door she noticed something on the stoop. It looked to be a bundle of cloth, multicolored rags.
“Who would leave their garbage on my stoop?“ she muttered, “Whoever it was can just come and clean it up. Imagine the nerve, people leaving their junk all over the place.”
As her eyes focused, she saw that the bundle was not rags, not by any means. It appeared to be a quilt. When she bent over to pick it up, she found that it indeed was a quilt, and a quilt of some quality. The differing fabrics that comprised the quilt were of various textures and colors. It seemed that no two pieces were the same, yet the overall effect was pleasing to her eyes.
“For heaven’s sake,” she exclaimed as she carried it inside, her trip forgotten, “what a beautiful quilt. Who would leave such a thing at my door?”
She shrugged out of her overcoat, placed it in its usual place by the door. Her wrinkled face had a look of confusion and consternation on it. It was not that she didn’t like the quilt, but people were not in the habit of giving her anything, except a hard time. As she looked again at the quilt, she thought of who could have possible left it for her.
“Not even a card,” she said. “Well, maybe that’s for the best. I wouldn’t want to be beholden to anyone.”
In all of her years, she could only remember a few times when she was not alone. Even her mother had given her to an orphanage, left to fend for herself. For well over seventy years, her life had been one of loneliness and hollow emotions. Love had forsaken her, joy abandoned her, so anger and disagreeableness became her companions of choice.
As the woman sat in the comfort of her overstuffed chair, she clutched the quilt to her frail body. Warmth spread over her, as though the quilt was creating its own heat. That was when she “heard” the voice.
“Nice quilt, isn’t it?” she heard.
The woman looked around, startled. She knew that she had heard a voice, but there was no one there.
“Who’s there?” she asked. “What are you doing in my house? Get out. NOW!”
When there was no reply, she started to wonder if she had, in fact, heard anything. After a few nervous glances about the room, she settled back into her chair. The quilt, once again resting upon her body, spread soothing warmth over her.
As she began to nod off the voice said, “Come now, Edda, you shouldn’t raise your voice to a friend.”
Eyes wide open, she shouted, “Who are you? I know someone is there. How come I can’t see you? And… how did you know my name. Come out, I say.”
“But I am right here. I am the spirit of the quilt. Your quilt.”
“Stuff and nonsense, Mr. Voice. Quit playing games. I’m in no mood to be playing games with someone who won’t show themselves. Come out, you coward. Spirit of the quilt, indeed.”
“But Edda,” the voice started.
“There you go again, who told you my name. I told you to come out, now I’m telling you to get out. And don’t come back.”
“Edda, I know your name like I know your life. I am the spirit of the quilt, and the quilt is your life.”
Edda peered around the chair and under the table, looking for the voice and whoever was making it. She could see nothing that was any different in the room, except for the quilt. With resignation, she decided to humor the voice.
“So, you say you’re the spirit of this quilt, and the quilt is my life? How can a quilt be a life? Huh? Answer me that, Mr. Smartypants Voice.” She glanced around, hoping to see if anyone was there.
“The quilt represents your life. The pieces are actually pieces of your life. If you were to touch any particular piece, you would see the joys and love from that time in your life.”
“Ha! Caught you there. I have no love in my life, no love at all. My whole life has been nothing but bitterness and sorrow and pain.”
The voice whispered, barely loud enough to hear, “You are so wrong, so wrong. There has been love in your life, love abounding, but you were so caught up in your hurt you couldn’t feel it.”
“No one loved me,” she cried, “Not even my mother. She left me in an orphanage and went away, leaving me all alone. And I am still alone, even now. There has been no love in my life. Get that through your head, if you have one.”
“Edda, do you want to know the true story of your mother? Would you like to see what really happened?”
“I know the truth. My mother left me just like my father left us both. Left alone, all alone.”
The voice of the quilt spoke softly. “Edda, touch that blue square. The one made of gingham.”
“This one? Why, it looks familiar. Yes, it looks like fabric from a dress I once wore. It looks like… it is! It’s the dress I wore when my mother took me to the orphanage.” As she touched the square, her fingers began to warm, the heat spreading up and all over her body. She closed her eyes, and then she could see, see into the past.
It was a room, a small space with a desk and two chairs, one in front and one in back of the desk. Her mother was sitting in one of the chairs, and she could see herself, standing next to her mother. A lady sat behind the desk, and she was talking.
“As you have seen, this facility is one of the best. We see to the needs of each child individually. They are brought up to be obedient, responsible, and correct in manners.”
“I’m sure you will do your best.” said her mother, “I just wish this wasn’t necessary. If only…”
“I know, if only your husband had survived the war. Things would have been different then.”
“And now, with me in this condition, well, the doctors give me a couple of months at best. The cancer is spreading throughout my body, even as we speak. You are my only hope that Edda will grow up proper.”
The lady at the desk asked, “Are you sure there is no one else? No sister, brothers, aunts, or grandparents that she could be with?”
“No, there’s no one left in either family. Not even… no, there’s no one at all.” The mother started to softly cry, small tears coursing down her cheeks. Edda patted her on the leg, trying to comfort her.
The lady found a box of tissue, and handed the mother one. “All of your paperwork is finished, and we are prepared to take your child at this time. The proceeds from your estate will see her through until she graduates from high school. Then she will be on her own. If there is any residual, Edda will have it available to her at that time.”
“Thank you. Could I stay with her a while? I don’t have to check in to the clinic until tomorrow.”
“Stay all day, if you like. We’ll even have dinner for the both of you in the dining room.”
“Oh, and one more thing?”
“Yes?”
“Will you make sure she knows her mother loved her, to the end?”
“Of course, Mrs. Leonard. Of course.”
Edda’s eyes slowly opened. There were tears running down her face. “She loved me? She didn’t leave me because she didn’t want me?”
“You saw the truth,” said the voice. “Your mother was dying, and didn’t have long to live. I think she only lasted another week, at most. It broke her heart to leave you.”
“And my father?” “Your father died in the war, fighting for his country. He only saw you once, when he came home on furlough. He cried for joy when he held you. He loved you, too.”
In a whisper she continued, “I was loved. I never knew. I was loved.” To the quilt she said, “Why didn’t they tell me? Why didn’t the orphanage tell me about my mother?”
“They did, but you were still so young, and the adjustments were very difficult. You just didn’t understand.”
She sat there, stunned with the revelation of what had transpired so many years ago. “But, what about the rest of my life? No one else cared for me, did they?”
The quilt was silent.
“Quilt? Are you there? Say something,” cried Edda.
The quilt whispered, “Do you really want to see the loves in your life? To see the loves that you ignored and chased away?”
“Yes, tell me I was loved. Show me, please.”
“Very well,” said the quilt, “Touch the light yellow square, yes, that one right there.”
“Why, it looks like, no, it can’t be. Quilt, there must be some mistake. This looks like the dress I wore, or was going to wear, to the prom.” She reached for the square, but stopped. “This is not right, that night was terrible. It has to be a mistake. No one showed love to me that night.”
“Touch the square and see if there I am in error.”
Edda reached out with her finger and gingerly stroked the yellow square. Again, warmth spread through her body, from her finger to her heart.
Young Edda was standing at the top of the stairs near the door, her heart pounding with anticipation. Her bright yellow dress hung smartly from her lean body, the color allowing her face to glow. She kept looking out the window, waiting for Walter to show. Finally, someone had shown some interest in her. All through school, all those many years, she mostly sat alone, both in class and in the cafeteria. It was as if there was an aura about her that kept people away. Now, though, someone had broken through that atmosphere of loneliness. Walter had asked her to the prom. Mrs. Vegal, her foster mother, had helped her select the right dress for such an occasion. Now, standing by the window, she felt emotions that had been suppressed all these years. A trace of hope, of yearning, of … could it be… love? She thought about Walter, wondering what it was that drew her to him. His looks were acceptable; his eyes, if not dreamy, were at least clear and bright; and he had a strong chin, didn’t he? She knew, instinctively that, although Walter was still a boy, he would grow into a steady, strong, manly type of man.
“What is keeping him?” she muttered. She continued to peer out the window, hoping for a glimpse of him as he came out of his parent’s house. Walter lived down and across the street from the house she lived in with Mrs. Vegal, who took her in when the orphanage closed down. “He is almost a half hour late.”
Then she saw him, in his dark blue suit. He was, no, it couldn’t be. He was standing on the front porch of his parents house, holding another woman. How could he? She looked out the window, just to make sure. It was him, with his arms around another woman, ushering her into his parent’s car. This was uncalled for. How could he do such a thing. She had looked forward to this day for two months, and he was going to… at this point her eyes misted over. Her heart broke in two and her blood ran cold. Edda made a vow that no matter how much he tried, he could never, ever, make up for what he had done to her this night.
Edda slowly made her way upstairs, took off her dress, leaving it in a crumpled mess on the floor, and fell on the bed sobbing for love lost and hope gone away. Mrs. Vegal tried to comfort her, to no avail. The next day young Walter came knocking on the door, but Edda would have nothing to do with him. She shut him out of her life and would not even allow his name to be spoken in her presence. She didn’t let him speak to her, even though he tried. His letters would be tossed, unopened, his phone calls hung up on, and when he tried to approach her on the street or at school, she turned the other way and ran. She never spoke to him ever again.
Edda’s eyes flashed open with anger burning. “See, I told you there was no love there. Nothing at all. Quilt, you are a fraud.”
“Edda, what you did not see was Walter escorting his sister to the hospital, where she lost the child she was carrying. It was an emergency, and he was the only one who could respond at that time. His desire was to be with you, but he also had a responsibility to his sister and her needs. He tried to tell you so many times but you had shut him out. His love for you, and your rejection of him, broke him in his spirit, and he was never the happy fellow he was when you knew him. You broke his spirit, and his heart.”
“But he never, I didn’t hear, how could he… oh quilt, what have I done? Could I have been so callous that I never allowed him to explain himself? I took for granted that he had left me, jilted me, broke my heart, and I never allowed him to explain. It’s my fault, it’s all my fault.”
“Edda,” the quilt said, “you have been loved by many, many people, but you have rejected them all. No one could break through the wall of anger and fear you have built up around you.”
“But, what about Walter? Is it too late to see him, talk to him, make amends? Quilt? Can I do that?”
The quilt responded, “I’m sorry, Edda, but Walter passed three years ago. He went in his sleep, alone, as he spent all his years. You see, Edda, Walter never go over you. His desire was to be with you, and he never formed another attachment. He died with your name on his lips.”
“Quilt, what have I done?”
“You have lived your life as you saw fit, and ignored the love all around you.”
“You mean there’s more?” she asked?
“Yes, much more. Are you ready to see the love that was with you your entire life?”
“Yes, quilt, yes, I am ready. Show me, please?”
That night was spent with Edda touching pieces of the quilt, living and reliving parts of her life that represented the many loves that she had spurned and shut off. There were times of joy, times of repenting, times of refusal and acceptance. The quilt patiently described, explained, and demonstrated the things in her life that she didn’t know, or had refused to see.
When the morning sun kissed the window of her room, it glistened off of her face. Edda had breathed her last that night, clutching the quilt to her body, a smile for once on her face, knowing she had been loved.
The end.
The woman who opened the door to go out on that frosty morning was a bitter, unpleasant person. If you were to ask a neighbor about her, the kindest words you would hear would most likely be “lonely” or “angry” with maybe a “disagreeable” put in for effect. For the most part, they would be accurate.
As she moved to step out the door she noticed something on the stoop. It looked to be a bundle of cloth, multicolored rags.
“Who would leave their garbage on my stoop?“ she muttered, “Whoever it was can just come and clean it up. Imagine the nerve, people leaving their junk all over the place.”
As her eyes focused, she saw that the bundle was not rags, not by any means. It appeared to be a quilt. When she bent over to pick it up, she found that it indeed was a quilt, and a quilt of some quality. The differing fabrics that comprised the quilt were of various textures and colors. It seemed that no two pieces were the same, yet the overall effect was pleasing to her eyes.
“For heaven’s sake,” she exclaimed as she carried it inside, her trip forgotten, “what a beautiful quilt. Who would leave such a thing at my door?”
She shrugged out of her overcoat, placed it in its usual place by the door. Her wrinkled face had a look of confusion and consternation on it. It was not that she didn’t like the quilt, but people were not in the habit of giving her anything, except a hard time. As she looked again at the quilt, she thought of who could have possible left it for her.
“Not even a card,” she said. “Well, maybe that’s for the best. I wouldn’t want to be beholden to anyone.”
In all of her years, she could only remember a few times when she was not alone. Even her mother had given her to an orphanage, left to fend for herself. For well over seventy years, her life had been one of loneliness and hollow emotions. Love had forsaken her, joy abandoned her, so anger and disagreeableness became her companions of choice.
As the woman sat in the comfort of her overstuffed chair, she clutched the quilt to her frail body. Warmth spread over her, as though the quilt was creating its own heat. That was when she “heard” the voice.
“Nice quilt, isn’t it?” she heard.
The woman looked around, startled. She knew that she had heard a voice, but there was no one there.
“Who’s there?” she asked. “What are you doing in my house? Get out. NOW!”
When there was no reply, she started to wonder if she had, in fact, heard anything. After a few nervous glances about the room, she settled back into her chair. The quilt, once again resting upon her body, spread soothing warmth over her.
As she began to nod off the voice said, “Come now, Edda, you shouldn’t raise your voice to a friend.”
Eyes wide open, she shouted, “Who are you? I know someone is there. How come I can’t see you? And… how did you know my name. Come out, I say.”
“But I am right here. I am the spirit of the quilt. Your quilt.”
“Stuff and nonsense, Mr. Voice. Quit playing games. I’m in no mood to be playing games with someone who won’t show themselves. Come out, you coward. Spirit of the quilt, indeed.”
“But Edda,” the voice started.
“There you go again, who told you my name. I told you to come out, now I’m telling you to get out. And don’t come back.”
“Edda, I know your name like I know your life. I am the spirit of the quilt, and the quilt is your life.”
Edda peered around the chair and under the table, looking for the voice and whoever was making it. She could see nothing that was any different in the room, except for the quilt. With resignation, she decided to humor the voice.
“So, you say you’re the spirit of this quilt, and the quilt is my life? How can a quilt be a life? Huh? Answer me that, Mr. Smartypants Voice.” She glanced around, hoping to see if anyone was there.
“The quilt represents your life. The pieces are actually pieces of your life. If you were to touch any particular piece, you would see the joys and love from that time in your life.”
“Ha! Caught you there. I have no love in my life, no love at all. My whole life has been nothing but bitterness and sorrow and pain.”
The voice whispered, barely loud enough to hear, “You are so wrong, so wrong. There has been love in your life, love abounding, but you were so caught up in your hurt you couldn’t feel it.”
“No one loved me,” she cried, “Not even my mother. She left me in an orphanage and went away, leaving me all alone. And I am still alone, even now. There has been no love in my life. Get that through your head, if you have one.”
“Edda, do you want to know the true story of your mother? Would you like to see what really happened?”
“I know the truth. My mother left me just like my father left us both. Left alone, all alone.”
The voice of the quilt spoke softly. “Edda, touch that blue square. The one made of gingham.”
“This one? Why, it looks familiar. Yes, it looks like fabric from a dress I once wore. It looks like… it is! It’s the dress I wore when my mother took me to the orphanage.” As she touched the square, her fingers began to warm, the heat spreading up and all over her body. She closed her eyes, and then she could see, see into the past.
It was a room, a small space with a desk and two chairs, one in front and one in back of the desk. Her mother was sitting in one of the chairs, and she could see herself, standing next to her mother. A lady sat behind the desk, and she was talking.
“As you have seen, this facility is one of the best. We see to the needs of each child individually. They are brought up to be obedient, responsible, and correct in manners.”
“I’m sure you will do your best.” said her mother, “I just wish this wasn’t necessary. If only…”
“I know, if only your husband had survived the war. Things would have been different then.”
“And now, with me in this condition, well, the doctors give me a couple of months at best. The cancer is spreading throughout my body, even as we speak. You are my only hope that Edda will grow up proper.”
The lady at the desk asked, “Are you sure there is no one else? No sister, brothers, aunts, or grandparents that she could be with?”
“No, there’s no one left in either family. Not even… no, there’s no one at all.” The mother started to softly cry, small tears coursing down her cheeks. Edda patted her on the leg, trying to comfort her.
The lady found a box of tissue, and handed the mother one. “All of your paperwork is finished, and we are prepared to take your child at this time. The proceeds from your estate will see her through until she graduates from high school. Then she will be on her own. If there is any residual, Edda will have it available to her at that time.”
“Thank you. Could I stay with her a while? I don’t have to check in to the clinic until tomorrow.”
“Stay all day, if you like. We’ll even have dinner for the both of you in the dining room.”
“Oh, and one more thing?”
“Yes?”
“Will you make sure she knows her mother loved her, to the end?”
“Of course, Mrs. Leonard. Of course.”
Edda’s eyes slowly opened. There were tears running down her face. “She loved me? She didn’t leave me because she didn’t want me?”
“You saw the truth,” said the voice. “Your mother was dying, and didn’t have long to live. I think she only lasted another week, at most. It broke her heart to leave you.”
“And my father?” “Your father died in the war, fighting for his country. He only saw you once, when he came home on furlough. He cried for joy when he held you. He loved you, too.”
In a whisper she continued, “I was loved. I never knew. I was loved.” To the quilt she said, “Why didn’t they tell me? Why didn’t the orphanage tell me about my mother?”
“They did, but you were still so young, and the adjustments were very difficult. You just didn’t understand.”
She sat there, stunned with the revelation of what had transpired so many years ago. “But, what about the rest of my life? No one else cared for me, did they?”
The quilt was silent.
“Quilt? Are you there? Say something,” cried Edda.
The quilt whispered, “Do you really want to see the loves in your life? To see the loves that you ignored and chased away?”
“Yes, tell me I was loved. Show me, please.”
“Very well,” said the quilt, “Touch the light yellow square, yes, that one right there.”
“Why, it looks like, no, it can’t be. Quilt, there must be some mistake. This looks like the dress I wore, or was going to wear, to the prom.” She reached for the square, but stopped. “This is not right, that night was terrible. It has to be a mistake. No one showed love to me that night.”
“Touch the square and see if there I am in error.”
Edda reached out with her finger and gingerly stroked the yellow square. Again, warmth spread through her body, from her finger to her heart.
Young Edda was standing at the top of the stairs near the door, her heart pounding with anticipation. Her bright yellow dress hung smartly from her lean body, the color allowing her face to glow. She kept looking out the window, waiting for Walter to show. Finally, someone had shown some interest in her. All through school, all those many years, she mostly sat alone, both in class and in the cafeteria. It was as if there was an aura about her that kept people away. Now, though, someone had broken through that atmosphere of loneliness. Walter had asked her to the prom. Mrs. Vegal, her foster mother, had helped her select the right dress for such an occasion. Now, standing by the window, she felt emotions that had been suppressed all these years. A trace of hope, of yearning, of … could it be… love? She thought about Walter, wondering what it was that drew her to him. His looks were acceptable; his eyes, if not dreamy, were at least clear and bright; and he had a strong chin, didn’t he? She knew, instinctively that, although Walter was still a boy, he would grow into a steady, strong, manly type of man.
“What is keeping him?” she muttered. She continued to peer out the window, hoping for a glimpse of him as he came out of his parent’s house. Walter lived down and across the street from the house she lived in with Mrs. Vegal, who took her in when the orphanage closed down. “He is almost a half hour late.”
Then she saw him, in his dark blue suit. He was, no, it couldn’t be. He was standing on the front porch of his parents house, holding another woman. How could he? She looked out the window, just to make sure. It was him, with his arms around another woman, ushering her into his parent’s car. This was uncalled for. How could he do such a thing. She had looked forward to this day for two months, and he was going to… at this point her eyes misted over. Her heart broke in two and her blood ran cold. Edda made a vow that no matter how much he tried, he could never, ever, make up for what he had done to her this night.
Edda slowly made her way upstairs, took off her dress, leaving it in a crumpled mess on the floor, and fell on the bed sobbing for love lost and hope gone away. Mrs. Vegal tried to comfort her, to no avail. The next day young Walter came knocking on the door, but Edda would have nothing to do with him. She shut him out of her life and would not even allow his name to be spoken in her presence. She didn’t let him speak to her, even though he tried. His letters would be tossed, unopened, his phone calls hung up on, and when he tried to approach her on the street or at school, she turned the other way and ran. She never spoke to him ever again.
Edda’s eyes flashed open with anger burning. “See, I told you there was no love there. Nothing at all. Quilt, you are a fraud.”
“Edda, what you did not see was Walter escorting his sister to the hospital, where she lost the child she was carrying. It was an emergency, and he was the only one who could respond at that time. His desire was to be with you, but he also had a responsibility to his sister and her needs. He tried to tell you so many times but you had shut him out. His love for you, and your rejection of him, broke him in his spirit, and he was never the happy fellow he was when you knew him. You broke his spirit, and his heart.”
“But he never, I didn’t hear, how could he… oh quilt, what have I done? Could I have been so callous that I never allowed him to explain himself? I took for granted that he had left me, jilted me, broke my heart, and I never allowed him to explain. It’s my fault, it’s all my fault.”
“Edda,” the quilt said, “you have been loved by many, many people, but you have rejected them all. No one could break through the wall of anger and fear you have built up around you.”
“But, what about Walter? Is it too late to see him, talk to him, make amends? Quilt? Can I do that?”
The quilt responded, “I’m sorry, Edda, but Walter passed three years ago. He went in his sleep, alone, as he spent all his years. You see, Edda, Walter never go over you. His desire was to be with you, and he never formed another attachment. He died with your name on his lips.”
“Quilt, what have I done?”
“You have lived your life as you saw fit, and ignored the love all around you.”
“You mean there’s more?” she asked?
“Yes, much more. Are you ready to see the love that was with you your entire life?”
“Yes, quilt, yes, I am ready. Show me, please?”
That night was spent with Edda touching pieces of the quilt, living and reliving parts of her life that represented the many loves that she had spurned and shut off. There were times of joy, times of repenting, times of refusal and acceptance. The quilt patiently described, explained, and demonstrated the things in her life that she didn’t know, or had refused to see.
When the morning sun kissed the window of her room, it glistened off of her face. Edda had breathed her last that night, clutching the quilt to her body, a smile for once on her face, knowing she had been loved.
The end.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Thursday, July 10, 2008
This is the final sermon in the series.
Philippians 4:10-23
God’s provision to Paul
The entire epistle to the Philippians is one of JOY. Repeated throughout the epistle is the reminder to rejoice, exclamations of rejoicing, and reasons to rejoice. One of those reasons is given here when Paul tells the Philippians that he rejoices in their financial support. They have finally been able to once again send gifts to aid in the support of Paul and his mission. For a while they had no opportunity. If you turn back to chapter 2, in verses 25 and on, you will see that Paul is sending back Epaphroditus to the Philippian church. Epaphroditus had brought messages and provisions to Paul from the Philippians, along the way he apparently became ill and nearly dead, and the Philippians were concerned about him. Epaphroditus was the messenger between Paul and the Philippians. The love and concern for Epaphroditus by both the Philippians and Paul is very evident. The fact of his recovery from a great illness was cause for much rejoicing.
Paul does rejoice in their provision, more so for their spiritual need than for his own physical needs. Matthew 6:19-21 states, “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be, also.” Where is your treasure? The act of giving by the Philippians is actually a form of worship pleasing to God. In Hebrews 13, verse 16 it says, “ Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.” The importance of sharing cannot be ignored. The tendency of natural man is to hoard, to keep, to hide their treasures from others, to make sure they have what they need. To “look out for number one”, as it were.
This desire to hoard, to keep and not share, is a direct result of not believing in God. When you are confident in God, when you know he is there for you, when your faith is strong, then it is easy to share. In fact, most Christians do not even have to think about it, they share naturally, as part of their lifestyle. Think back for a minute to some times you were presented with an opportunity to share your abundance with another. It may have been inviting someone to lunch at your home, tithing to your church, a missionary appeal, the bell ringer at the store during Christmas, helping the person in front of you in the line who needs an extra dollar to purchase his food, the list goes on. What is your motivation? What causes you to give of yourself without looking for something in return? Anyone?
Some could say Christian Charity, others might say a demonstration of love, but I say that it is a demonstration of your belief in God. You know that God is there for you, God provides for you, God will see to all your needs. This belief counteracts the natural desire to hoard it and keep it for yourself. You are in God’s hands and he will provide.
Matthew 6 says “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?” God will provide.
Verse 19 of our text says that God will provide every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus. In other words, God has a storehouse already provisioned, filled to the brim, waiting for you. It is all provided free of charge, though the grace of his Son, Jesus.
In Matthew 7 God says “Ask and it shall be given you, seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be open. Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish will give him a snake? If you, then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him?” God has good thing prepared for you, God will supply all your needs. Share your life and your goods with others.
Now, back to the beginning of our text. Paul says in verse 11 that he isn’t in need, but that he has learned to be content whatever the circumstances. Whatever God will provide to him, he is content to have. He rejoices in the provision of God.
How many of us can say that we are content? How many of us go through life without complaint? How many of us can’t go an hour without complaining? It’s too cold, it’s too hot, I don’t have a thing to wear, there’s nothing on TV, this food is terrible, I wish I had a better car, my lawn is more weeds than grass, I wish I made more money, how come I can’t win the Lotto, and so on and so on. Are we content? Should we be content? Should we be rejoicing and praising God for what he has provided for us, or should we be dissatisfied and complaining about what we don’t have? Should we sing “Praise God from whom all blessings flow.” Or “How come he has more stuff than me?”
Paul says that he knows hunger and plenty, abundance and need, and has learned to be content. He says “I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” Earlier, in chapter one, he said “For me to live is Christ…” Both are saying the same thing. Live in Christ, be content, God will give you strength for whatever your needs are.
I love action words, those words that tell a story. The one that I see here is the word “learn”. See how the word Learn is used in verses 11 and 12. I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I have learned… It isn’t something that comes easy, it isn’t something you can read in a book. It is something to experience, trial and error. To learn how to be content while in want is not an easy thing to do. Our nature is to complain when things aren’t right. Complaining is easy, contentment is not. Yet God calls for us to be content in whatever situation we are in.
However, that doesn’t mean that we just kick back and enjoy life with nothing to do. You know, “Don’t Worry, Be Happy”. No, to be truly content, we need to do the work that God has set out for us to do. As Paul puts it in verse 17, that he was not necessarily seeking the gift from the Philippians, but was seeking the fruit that increased to their credit. He was thankful that they would receive joy from their work, from their sacrifice, and that they would receive their reward in heaven from their good works.
Because of their sacrifice, Paul says that the Lord will supply all their needs according to God’s riches in glory.
From the beginning of this epistle to the very end, Paul has been praising God for the work, effort, and sacrifice of the Philippians’ church. Paul is content even though he is in prison. And while he is in prison, is he sitting there complaining about the conditions? Is he grumbling about the cold, the damp, the food, the water? No, he is busy praising God in spite of his conditions. He is content. And in his contentment, he is demonstrating his faith to others. Turn to chapter 1, verses 12 and 13. Who is he reaching out to? Those who are keeping him captive, the Imperial Guard. Turn back to our text and you will see in verse 22, the household of Caesar, even those who attend to Caesar himself, have been changed because of Paul’s attitude and demeanor. They have become believers due to in part to Paul’s witness, and most likely, his contentment, also.
Have you ever had some one ask you why you are the way you are? Have you been able to witness to others because of your demeanor, you attitude, the contentment you demonstrate? Let me give you a couple of examples. In one case, my wife and I asked a neighboring family to come to church with us. They said that they weren’t interested right now. What we didn’t know is that they were watching us, seeing how we interacted with each other, and how we were treating and bringing up our daughter. When they saw that we were not always yelling at each other, that we treated each other with respect, that we took time for our daughter and did family things together, when they saw that we were for the most part content, they started coming to church with us. Anybody have an example like that?
In another instance, a guy came up to me at work and asked my why I was always smiling. He wanted to know if I was on drugs or something, because my demeanor was not normal to him. I had a chance to explain my trust in Jesus, and how God loved me so much that he sent his Son to die for my sins. I told him that since God loved me that much and my eternal life was assured by the blood of Jesus, how could I not smile?
What is your attitude at work? What example do you show to your neighbors and friends who do not know Christ? Is your life really that much different than your neighbors? How about your family? Do you complain about the meal your wife cooked you? Do you grumble about the lawn needing mowing, the doors needing paint, and the leaves in the gutters? Do you rant and yell when your child doesn’t live up to your expectations? Do you take out your frustrations on your wife, your husband, your kids, or the dog? Are you content, are you happy?
Our attitude is a direct result of our level of contentment. Paul’s statement in Verse 27 of chapter one says, “ Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that whether I come and see you or am absent, I may hear of you that you are standing firm in one spirit, with one mind, striving side by side for the faith of the gospel.” Is your manner of life worthy of Christ, or is it worthy of man? Do you seek the things that glorify God, or do you seek those things that will make you happy for the moment? Are you a light to the world, or do you have a dark cloud following wherever you go? Do you rejoice always and in every circumstance, or does your life involve much grumbling and complaining? Are you a worrywart? Or do you make your requests be known to God and let him take care of things? Has the peace of God come upon you recently, or do you let the worries of the world direct your mind? Do you think on those things that are honorable, pure, just, lovely, commendable, excellent, and praiseworthy, or do you dwell in the dungeon of sinful thoughts?
Look to the promises found in these scriptures…
Chapter 1:6 … he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus.
Chapter 2:13… it is God who works in you, both to will and work for his good pleasure.
Chapter 3:20… our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself.
Chapter 4:7 …the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Chapter 4:9… What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me- practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you.
Chapter 4:13… I can do all things through him who strengthens me.
Chapter 4:19… my God will supply every need of your according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.
How can you NOT rejoice? How can you NOT rejoice always?
The grace of the Lord Jesus be with your spirit. Amen
Philippians 4:10-23
God’s provision to Paul
The entire epistle to the Philippians is one of JOY. Repeated throughout the epistle is the reminder to rejoice, exclamations of rejoicing, and reasons to rejoice. One of those reasons is given here when Paul tells the Philippians that he rejoices in their financial support. They have finally been able to once again send gifts to aid in the support of Paul and his mission. For a while they had no opportunity. If you turn back to chapter 2, in verses 25 and on, you will see that Paul is sending back Epaphroditus to the Philippian church. Epaphroditus had brought messages and provisions to Paul from the Philippians, along the way he apparently became ill and nearly dead, and the Philippians were concerned about him. Epaphroditus was the messenger between Paul and the Philippians. The love and concern for Epaphroditus by both the Philippians and Paul is very evident. The fact of his recovery from a great illness was cause for much rejoicing.
Paul does rejoice in their provision, more so for their spiritual need than for his own physical needs. Matthew 6:19-21 states, “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be, also.” Where is your treasure? The act of giving by the Philippians is actually a form of worship pleasing to God. In Hebrews 13, verse 16 it says, “ Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.” The importance of sharing cannot be ignored. The tendency of natural man is to hoard, to keep, to hide their treasures from others, to make sure they have what they need. To “look out for number one”, as it were.
This desire to hoard, to keep and not share, is a direct result of not believing in God. When you are confident in God, when you know he is there for you, when your faith is strong, then it is easy to share. In fact, most Christians do not even have to think about it, they share naturally, as part of their lifestyle. Think back for a minute to some times you were presented with an opportunity to share your abundance with another. It may have been inviting someone to lunch at your home, tithing to your church, a missionary appeal, the bell ringer at the store during Christmas, helping the person in front of you in the line who needs an extra dollar to purchase his food, the list goes on. What is your motivation? What causes you to give of yourself without looking for something in return? Anyone?
Some could say Christian Charity, others might say a demonstration of love, but I say that it is a demonstration of your belief in God. You know that God is there for you, God provides for you, God will see to all your needs. This belief counteracts the natural desire to hoard it and keep it for yourself. You are in God’s hands and he will provide.
Matthew 6 says “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?” God will provide.
Verse 19 of our text says that God will provide every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus. In other words, God has a storehouse already provisioned, filled to the brim, waiting for you. It is all provided free of charge, though the grace of his Son, Jesus.
In Matthew 7 God says “Ask and it shall be given you, seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be open. Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish will give him a snake? If you, then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him?” God has good thing prepared for you, God will supply all your needs. Share your life and your goods with others.
Now, back to the beginning of our text. Paul says in verse 11 that he isn’t in need, but that he has learned to be content whatever the circumstances. Whatever God will provide to him, he is content to have. He rejoices in the provision of God.
How many of us can say that we are content? How many of us go through life without complaint? How many of us can’t go an hour without complaining? It’s too cold, it’s too hot, I don’t have a thing to wear, there’s nothing on TV, this food is terrible, I wish I had a better car, my lawn is more weeds than grass, I wish I made more money, how come I can’t win the Lotto, and so on and so on. Are we content? Should we be content? Should we be rejoicing and praising God for what he has provided for us, or should we be dissatisfied and complaining about what we don’t have? Should we sing “Praise God from whom all blessings flow.” Or “How come he has more stuff than me?”
Paul says that he knows hunger and plenty, abundance and need, and has learned to be content. He says “I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” Earlier, in chapter one, he said “For me to live is Christ…” Both are saying the same thing. Live in Christ, be content, God will give you strength for whatever your needs are.
I love action words, those words that tell a story. The one that I see here is the word “learn”. See how the word Learn is used in verses 11 and 12. I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I have learned… It isn’t something that comes easy, it isn’t something you can read in a book. It is something to experience, trial and error. To learn how to be content while in want is not an easy thing to do. Our nature is to complain when things aren’t right. Complaining is easy, contentment is not. Yet God calls for us to be content in whatever situation we are in.
However, that doesn’t mean that we just kick back and enjoy life with nothing to do. You know, “Don’t Worry, Be Happy”. No, to be truly content, we need to do the work that God has set out for us to do. As Paul puts it in verse 17, that he was not necessarily seeking the gift from the Philippians, but was seeking the fruit that increased to their credit. He was thankful that they would receive joy from their work, from their sacrifice, and that they would receive their reward in heaven from their good works.
Because of their sacrifice, Paul says that the Lord will supply all their needs according to God’s riches in glory.
From the beginning of this epistle to the very end, Paul has been praising God for the work, effort, and sacrifice of the Philippians’ church. Paul is content even though he is in prison. And while he is in prison, is he sitting there complaining about the conditions? Is he grumbling about the cold, the damp, the food, the water? No, he is busy praising God in spite of his conditions. He is content. And in his contentment, he is demonstrating his faith to others. Turn to chapter 1, verses 12 and 13. Who is he reaching out to? Those who are keeping him captive, the Imperial Guard. Turn back to our text and you will see in verse 22, the household of Caesar, even those who attend to Caesar himself, have been changed because of Paul’s attitude and demeanor. They have become believers due to in part to Paul’s witness, and most likely, his contentment, also.
Have you ever had some one ask you why you are the way you are? Have you been able to witness to others because of your demeanor, you attitude, the contentment you demonstrate? Let me give you a couple of examples. In one case, my wife and I asked a neighboring family to come to church with us. They said that they weren’t interested right now. What we didn’t know is that they were watching us, seeing how we interacted with each other, and how we were treating and bringing up our daughter. When they saw that we were not always yelling at each other, that we treated each other with respect, that we took time for our daughter and did family things together, when they saw that we were for the most part content, they started coming to church with us. Anybody have an example like that?
In another instance, a guy came up to me at work and asked my why I was always smiling. He wanted to know if I was on drugs or something, because my demeanor was not normal to him. I had a chance to explain my trust in Jesus, and how God loved me so much that he sent his Son to die for my sins. I told him that since God loved me that much and my eternal life was assured by the blood of Jesus, how could I not smile?
What is your attitude at work? What example do you show to your neighbors and friends who do not know Christ? Is your life really that much different than your neighbors? How about your family? Do you complain about the meal your wife cooked you? Do you grumble about the lawn needing mowing, the doors needing paint, and the leaves in the gutters? Do you rant and yell when your child doesn’t live up to your expectations? Do you take out your frustrations on your wife, your husband, your kids, or the dog? Are you content, are you happy?
Our attitude is a direct result of our level of contentment. Paul’s statement in Verse 27 of chapter one says, “ Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that whether I come and see you or am absent, I may hear of you that you are standing firm in one spirit, with one mind, striving side by side for the faith of the gospel.” Is your manner of life worthy of Christ, or is it worthy of man? Do you seek the things that glorify God, or do you seek those things that will make you happy for the moment? Are you a light to the world, or do you have a dark cloud following wherever you go? Do you rejoice always and in every circumstance, or does your life involve much grumbling and complaining? Are you a worrywart? Or do you make your requests be known to God and let him take care of things? Has the peace of God come upon you recently, or do you let the worries of the world direct your mind? Do you think on those things that are honorable, pure, just, lovely, commendable, excellent, and praiseworthy, or do you dwell in the dungeon of sinful thoughts?
Look to the promises found in these scriptures…
Chapter 1:6 … he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus.
Chapter 2:13… it is God who works in you, both to will and work for his good pleasure.
Chapter 3:20… our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself.
Chapter 4:7 …the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Chapter 4:9… What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me- practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you.
Chapter 4:13… I can do all things through him who strengthens me.
Chapter 4:19… my God will supply every need of your according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.
How can you NOT rejoice? How can you NOT rejoice always?
The grace of the Lord Jesus be with your spirit. Amen
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
It's almost time for one of my favorite holidays, the 4th of July. The family gets together at the park in Carnation where we set up for the big fireworks show. And I really mean set up for it. My brother-in-law and I are licensed pyrotechnicians and we put on the display that the town of Carnation sponsors. There is nothing like a 3" mortar launching next to you... unless it is a 4" mortar going off next to you :>) The family sets up the shelters in the best spot for viewing the fireworks while Thayne and myself, and a few others, unload the truck at the launch site. While we unload the boxes of fireworks we visualize the show we want to do, and select a few shells for special effects. After setting up the boxes, we load the shells into the tubes and start wiring the mid-show volleys and the grand finale. This constitutes about 200 or so shells in several set pieces that are ready to launch as soon as we light them. The finale is my favorite part of the show. After the show we have to spend an hour or so cleaning up, then the hour long drive back home, smelling of cordite and smoke. Ah, love that smell :>)
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Philippians 3: - 4:1
December 30, 2007
Paul again says to rejoice in the Lord. The refrain reverberates throughout the epistle. In the first two chapters alone, Paul refers to joy or rejoicing at least nine times. So, again, he says to rejoice. He says it is no trouble for him to write it, and it is a safe thing to say. That means that it is a worthy saying that brings comfort to those who remember it.
3:2 – Look out for the dogs, look out for the evil doers, look out for those who mutilate the flesh…
In verse 2 and on, Paul is telling the readers to watch out for the “dogs” who do evil among the followers. Personally, I do not feel that dogs are objects of fear, of evil, in fact, I like dogs. So, who are the dogs Paul is talking about? Paul uses this visual to give the image of vicious packs of dogs that roam through the cities and cause havoc among the people. He isn’t talking about Rover. Dogs, in that part of the world, would roam the cities, looking for easy food to take, whether it was scraps on the ground, refuse in the garbage dumps, a quick bite at the market, or, sometimes, grabbing a baby left alone. Those dogs, those kinds of dogs, are not domesticated, but have reverted back to their wild side. They are vicious, self serving, capable of much terror and destruction. Those are the type of dogs Paul is referring to. Not Fido.
Paul is singling out those who intend to do evil to the followers of Christ. They come in the guise of Leaders of the church who seek, not the good of Christ, but their own wealth, glory, and adulation. They are self seeking, not selfless. They are those who try to insert their own ideas, beliefs and actions into the life of the church to the detriment of the church, itself. They use extra-biblical methods and beliefs to sway people to their side. They will mistranslate scripture to make it appear that their belief is the correct one. They make you feel that, because you don’t do it the way they do, if you do not believe the way they do, you are somehow inferior, un-Holy, or even lost to Christ. Has anyone come across people like this? Can you give an example? Those are the dogs Paul is talking about. That is why Paul praised the Berians for their diligent searching of scripture. They didn’t blindly follow what Paul wrote and said, but searched out the scripture to make sure it was truth.
It is the same in our church. None of the elders expect you to blindly follow us if we teach or preach on something. Search the scriptures to see if what we say is true. Keep your Bible open, checking to make sure we are not spreading untruths. We encourage you to search the scriptures as often as you can. If you have a question about something we said, come ask us for an explanation. We can search the Bible together.
One of the phrases Paul uses is “mutilator of the flesh”. What he is talking about are those who insisted that the followers had to become circumcised before being allowed to worship. How is this wrong, you may ask? Didn’t God command the Israelites to do this? Turn to Romans 2: 25-29. The outward sign of circumcision should be a reflection of what is inside your heart. The people of Israel were counting on circumcision as a means of salvation, a works righteousness. In other words, if they were circumcised, they had a step up on everybody else. What Romans is saying is that circumcision of the heart (Spiritual rebirth) is of great value, but circumcision of the flesh is of no value to God. The Israelites were counting on mutilated flesh, not a changed heart, to aid them in gaining heaven. People mutilate themselves; God changes the heart without mutilation.
(Read Deut. 30:6) The outward signs were worthless, as Paul found out. It was what was inside that mattered.
Paul says in verse 3 that they, the followers of Christ, were the real circumcision, who worship God by the Spirit, who glory in Christ Jesus, who put no confidence in the flesh. Again, this is talking about a difference between faith and works, trusting in God verses doing it yourself.
In verse 4, Paul gives a rundown of his credentials. A man who writes might give a list of publications; a lawyer or doctor would have letters behind their name, signifying their education; religious leaders are sometimes called Pastor, Preacher, Priest, Reverend, Bishop, or Pope to signify their position in the hierarchy. Their title establishes their level of attainment, their standing among the learned. Credentials establish authority, knowledge, ability. A highly credentialed person is one who should be listened to, who should have the wisdom and understanding to make a difference when you seek their help. Credentials are important, to a point. If you are going to have surgery, you want to make sure the doctor has the ability to fix you. You want to have confidence that he has sufficient knowledge to perform the task. You look for his credentials. Say you have a choice between a surgeon who has written books on the subject; asked to talk at symposiums; a graduate of Johns Hopkins, or a general practitioner who received his degree from ITT Peterson School of Doctoring? Who would you choose? Paul’s credentials are impressive. Let’s look at what Paul had achieved. He was born a Jew, circumcised on the eighth day, meaning his family was also Jewish and observant, followers of the Law; of the tribe of Benjamin, meaning he was living close to Jerusalem, able to attend Temple worship; a Pharisee, meaning he was very legalistic in following the Mosaic Law and the traditions imposed by the leaders; zealous in persecuting those who followed “The Way”, Christians; as for following the Law, spotless, perfect, blameless.
Paul was well on his way to becoming a member of the Sanhedrin, the Jewish religious leadership. Paul studied under some of the greatest and most respected teachers of his time. He zealously defended his religion from those he thought were destroying it. Paul was on the ladder to success and climbing fast. He was on his way to heaven, or so he thought. In the book of Acts, in chapter 7 we find the stoning of Stephen. Stephen was preaching the good news to those in attendance at the Sanhedrin, and got stoned for his words. The first verse of Chapter 8 says that not only was Paul (then called Saul) there during the stoning, he was giving his approval. In Chapter 9, Saul asked approval from the high priest to go to Damascus, hoping to go to the temples there and seek out any followers of Christ, in order to take them as prisoners. He was zealous in his defense of his church. It was on the road to Damascus where Paul found out the worth of his credentials.
Paul writes, “whatever gain I had, I counted it as loss for the sake of Christ.” Everything Paul achieved, everything Paul had worked for, everything he strived to attain, were now counted as loss. Worth nothing. His whole reason for living, totally gone.
All his knowledge, respect from his peers, admiration from those lower than him, all the glory he received from his zealousness were now counted as rubbish, garbage. He could take the plaques off the walls, erase the letters behind his name, and turn in his badge of authority. They were worthless to him, now. God had changed him. All he had worked for, the striving, the gaining of the glory of God, he now attained, without his effort, without his work.
He now had Christ, gained Christ, not of his own righteousness, but the righteousness from God that depends on faith, not works. He now knew the love of his savior, given freely to him, not earned for his own great works.
Paul realized that God doesn’t want righteousness through our works, he wants faith in his Son and the works He did. If anybody could have attained heaven from their own works, it most likely would have been Paul. And yet he counted it as rubbish. It is not works that save, it is faith in the Son of God, Jesus, who died for our sins, who washes away the sins of the flesh so that our soul is right with God.
There are those who say we must work toward our righteousness. They believe that we cannot come to God until we are holy and blameless first. We must go through rituals and purifications before we even think of praying to God. These are the “dogs” Paul is warning about. These are the ones who put barriers blocking the way to God, adding extra-biblical works to those who are seeking God.
There are some, maybe even in this church, who feel that they are not worthy to come and worship God, because they are not yet blameless, pure. They strive to become better people, trying to be nicer, to work harder, to show themselves as good people. The problem with that is, they will never feel as if they are worthy, because they are counting on their own actions, their own efforts, their own works to be acceptable to God. Paul realized all his efforts were worthless, and so are the efforts of those who try to attain God through their own effort.
Next week will be communion. A time to commune with, to be with, the God most high. To sit and feast with God. Who should take communion? The one who says, I am ready, I am worthy, I have made myself worthy of sitting with God? Or rather, the one who says, Father, thank you for including me, thank you for loving me, thank you for accepting me as one of your own even though I am a sinner? Which one? On our own effort, we will never be worthy, never be acceptable, never dare to sit with God on high.
So, what are you to do, if you have this feeling, this desire to work towards God’s acceptance? Nothing. There is nothing you can do, except believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and his love for you. You are not perfect, and you will never be perfect, as long as you are on this earth. Listen to this… you cannot make Christ your own, because he has already made you his own. You are already God’s child, if you believe in his Son. Paul say to forget what lies behind and strain forward to what lies ahead. Forget that you were lost to God, that you sinned against God. Forget what you were, you are now a new creation, changed forever from what you were to a child of God. Take off the old, take on the new. REJOICE. That is the message of Philippians, rejoice in God, rejoice in the Lord. Do not take on the countenance of one who is lost, be joyful, for you are found.
This time of year is when people take stock of their lives and make vows to change. They may decide to lose weight, they may vow to be happier, they may decide to change their spending habits, whatever. The fact is that people desire to change, they are not happy with the way they are. For the most part, these things fail. Why? Because we are still sinners; and sin controls the flesh.
Instead of trying to do it yourself, look to God for help. Seek out God, and you will be better able to defeat the desires of the flesh. Let the Holy Spirit, who dwells in you, help you with your desires. Want to lose weight? Save money? Practice self control. Want to feel loved? Practice love, kindness. Tired of being angry, bitter, anxious? Practice patience, gentleness. Want more happiness? Practice joy, goodness. Want more of God and less of you? Practice faithfulness in reading his word and praying to him. Want less anxiety? Let the peace of God come upon you. Are you dissatisfied with your life? Seek his kingdom, and these things will be added to you. (Luke 12:31)
I want to lose a lot of weight, I need to lose a lot of weight. I need to control my blood sugar. Instead of worrying about it, instead of grumbling and complaining about the foods I can or cannot eat, I am going to seek God. He can help me say no to bad food and yes to good food. I will pray that he helps me exercise. I will be more diligent in my prayers, seeking the will of God, not the will of Jeff. As Paul said, “ I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” Less of me, more of God. More of God, less of me.
We are to imitate those who follow Jesus, those who do the right things. Paul says to imitate him, to follow his example and of those who walk in the same way. Do not follow those who walk as enemies of Christ. They act according to their own wishes, their own desires, their own pleasures. Destruction will be their end, regardless of how much they seem to prosper. They glory in things of the flesh, they worship the body. They revel in the things that are unnatural, shameful. Their mind is set on those things that are earthly. We see it all the time. It is almost a source of pride how open and free we are. On the TV and in the movies, Christians are found to be the ones who are stupid, bigoted, arrogant, crazy, or the worst of the sinners. The name of the Lord is no longer reverent, it is a swear word. Sexuality runs rampant is commercials, movies, books, and in fashion. A girl recently petitioned Nordstom’s to start selling more modest clothing. Why? Because modesty wasn’t the “in” fashion, and all they were selling were bare midriff, low cleavage, short short fashions, and these were for the 13 year olds. Do you remember reading about that? Homosexuality is being slammed in our faces. Unless a TV show has a homosexual on it being depicted in a favorable light, it probably won’t even get on the air. Advertising goes out of its way to make you feel that you are lacking in whatever they are selling. You are made to feel as if you will be a social outcast if you do not use their product. Everyone is encouraged to be dissatisfied with their life. If you don’t have the latest new thing, if you don’t go buy it NOW, NOW, NOW, you are somehow deficient. How many of you feel we are of the world too much?
We are to be in the world, but not of the world. Praise God that our citizenship is in heaven, not on earth. Seek those that are following God, not man. Imitate them, not sinful man. Do not look to those who appear to be wealthy in material things, instead, seek out those who are wealthy in Spiritual things and imitate them.
While we are in the world, we wait. We wait for the Savior, the one who will transform our lowly bodies into heavenly, imperishable bodies. By the power of Jesus, we will be transformed. Therefore, stand firm in the Lord, knowing that he has the power that enables him to change our bodies as he has changed our hearts.
How can we not rejoice? How can we not give thanks to the Lord our God? He has changed our hearts, and he will change our bodies to everlasting bodies that will see no impurity, no disease, no death. Rejoice. Our citizenship is in heaven, not on earth. Rejoice. It is not by our works, but by the power of the Holy God, that we are saved. Rejoice. We are not yet holy; we are still a work in transition, being transformed by God every day. Rejoice.
December 30, 2007
Paul again says to rejoice in the Lord. The refrain reverberates throughout the epistle. In the first two chapters alone, Paul refers to joy or rejoicing at least nine times. So, again, he says to rejoice. He says it is no trouble for him to write it, and it is a safe thing to say. That means that it is a worthy saying that brings comfort to those who remember it.
3:2 – Look out for the dogs, look out for the evil doers, look out for those who mutilate the flesh…
In verse 2 and on, Paul is telling the readers to watch out for the “dogs” who do evil among the followers. Personally, I do not feel that dogs are objects of fear, of evil, in fact, I like dogs. So, who are the dogs Paul is talking about? Paul uses this visual to give the image of vicious packs of dogs that roam through the cities and cause havoc among the people. He isn’t talking about Rover. Dogs, in that part of the world, would roam the cities, looking for easy food to take, whether it was scraps on the ground, refuse in the garbage dumps, a quick bite at the market, or, sometimes, grabbing a baby left alone. Those dogs, those kinds of dogs, are not domesticated, but have reverted back to their wild side. They are vicious, self serving, capable of much terror and destruction. Those are the type of dogs Paul is referring to. Not Fido.
Paul is singling out those who intend to do evil to the followers of Christ. They come in the guise of Leaders of the church who seek, not the good of Christ, but their own wealth, glory, and adulation. They are self seeking, not selfless. They are those who try to insert their own ideas, beliefs and actions into the life of the church to the detriment of the church, itself. They use extra-biblical methods and beliefs to sway people to their side. They will mistranslate scripture to make it appear that their belief is the correct one. They make you feel that, because you don’t do it the way they do, if you do not believe the way they do, you are somehow inferior, un-Holy, or even lost to Christ. Has anyone come across people like this? Can you give an example? Those are the dogs Paul is talking about. That is why Paul praised the Berians for their diligent searching of scripture. They didn’t blindly follow what Paul wrote and said, but searched out the scripture to make sure it was truth.
It is the same in our church. None of the elders expect you to blindly follow us if we teach or preach on something. Search the scriptures to see if what we say is true. Keep your Bible open, checking to make sure we are not spreading untruths. We encourage you to search the scriptures as often as you can. If you have a question about something we said, come ask us for an explanation. We can search the Bible together.
One of the phrases Paul uses is “mutilator of the flesh”. What he is talking about are those who insisted that the followers had to become circumcised before being allowed to worship. How is this wrong, you may ask? Didn’t God command the Israelites to do this? Turn to Romans 2: 25-29. The outward sign of circumcision should be a reflection of what is inside your heart. The people of Israel were counting on circumcision as a means of salvation, a works righteousness. In other words, if they were circumcised, they had a step up on everybody else. What Romans is saying is that circumcision of the heart (Spiritual rebirth) is of great value, but circumcision of the flesh is of no value to God. The Israelites were counting on mutilated flesh, not a changed heart, to aid them in gaining heaven. People mutilate themselves; God changes the heart without mutilation.
(Read Deut. 30:6) The outward signs were worthless, as Paul found out. It was what was inside that mattered.
Paul says in verse 3 that they, the followers of Christ, were the real circumcision, who worship God by the Spirit, who glory in Christ Jesus, who put no confidence in the flesh. Again, this is talking about a difference between faith and works, trusting in God verses doing it yourself.
In verse 4, Paul gives a rundown of his credentials. A man who writes might give a list of publications; a lawyer or doctor would have letters behind their name, signifying their education; religious leaders are sometimes called Pastor, Preacher, Priest, Reverend, Bishop, or Pope to signify their position in the hierarchy. Their title establishes their level of attainment, their standing among the learned. Credentials establish authority, knowledge, ability. A highly credentialed person is one who should be listened to, who should have the wisdom and understanding to make a difference when you seek their help. Credentials are important, to a point. If you are going to have surgery, you want to make sure the doctor has the ability to fix you. You want to have confidence that he has sufficient knowledge to perform the task. You look for his credentials. Say you have a choice between a surgeon who has written books on the subject; asked to talk at symposiums; a graduate of Johns Hopkins, or a general practitioner who received his degree from ITT Peterson School of Doctoring? Who would you choose? Paul’s credentials are impressive. Let’s look at what Paul had achieved. He was born a Jew, circumcised on the eighth day, meaning his family was also Jewish and observant, followers of the Law; of the tribe of Benjamin, meaning he was living close to Jerusalem, able to attend Temple worship; a Pharisee, meaning he was very legalistic in following the Mosaic Law and the traditions imposed by the leaders; zealous in persecuting those who followed “The Way”, Christians; as for following the Law, spotless, perfect, blameless.
Paul was well on his way to becoming a member of the Sanhedrin, the Jewish religious leadership. Paul studied under some of the greatest and most respected teachers of his time. He zealously defended his religion from those he thought were destroying it. Paul was on the ladder to success and climbing fast. He was on his way to heaven, or so he thought. In the book of Acts, in chapter 7 we find the stoning of Stephen. Stephen was preaching the good news to those in attendance at the Sanhedrin, and got stoned for his words. The first verse of Chapter 8 says that not only was Paul (then called Saul) there during the stoning, he was giving his approval. In Chapter 9, Saul asked approval from the high priest to go to Damascus, hoping to go to the temples there and seek out any followers of Christ, in order to take them as prisoners. He was zealous in his defense of his church. It was on the road to Damascus where Paul found out the worth of his credentials.
Paul writes, “whatever gain I had, I counted it as loss for the sake of Christ.” Everything Paul achieved, everything Paul had worked for, everything he strived to attain, were now counted as loss. Worth nothing. His whole reason for living, totally gone.
All his knowledge, respect from his peers, admiration from those lower than him, all the glory he received from his zealousness were now counted as rubbish, garbage. He could take the plaques off the walls, erase the letters behind his name, and turn in his badge of authority. They were worthless to him, now. God had changed him. All he had worked for, the striving, the gaining of the glory of God, he now attained, without his effort, without his work.
He now had Christ, gained Christ, not of his own righteousness, but the righteousness from God that depends on faith, not works. He now knew the love of his savior, given freely to him, not earned for his own great works.
Paul realized that God doesn’t want righteousness through our works, he wants faith in his Son and the works He did. If anybody could have attained heaven from their own works, it most likely would have been Paul. And yet he counted it as rubbish. It is not works that save, it is faith in the Son of God, Jesus, who died for our sins, who washes away the sins of the flesh so that our soul is right with God.
There are those who say we must work toward our righteousness. They believe that we cannot come to God until we are holy and blameless first. We must go through rituals and purifications before we even think of praying to God. These are the “dogs” Paul is warning about. These are the ones who put barriers blocking the way to God, adding extra-biblical works to those who are seeking God.
There are some, maybe even in this church, who feel that they are not worthy to come and worship God, because they are not yet blameless, pure. They strive to become better people, trying to be nicer, to work harder, to show themselves as good people. The problem with that is, they will never feel as if they are worthy, because they are counting on their own actions, their own efforts, their own works to be acceptable to God. Paul realized all his efforts were worthless, and so are the efforts of those who try to attain God through their own effort.
Next week will be communion. A time to commune with, to be with, the God most high. To sit and feast with God. Who should take communion? The one who says, I am ready, I am worthy, I have made myself worthy of sitting with God? Or rather, the one who says, Father, thank you for including me, thank you for loving me, thank you for accepting me as one of your own even though I am a sinner? Which one? On our own effort, we will never be worthy, never be acceptable, never dare to sit with God on high.
So, what are you to do, if you have this feeling, this desire to work towards God’s acceptance? Nothing. There is nothing you can do, except believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and his love for you. You are not perfect, and you will never be perfect, as long as you are on this earth. Listen to this… you cannot make Christ your own, because he has already made you his own. You are already God’s child, if you believe in his Son. Paul say to forget what lies behind and strain forward to what lies ahead. Forget that you were lost to God, that you sinned against God. Forget what you were, you are now a new creation, changed forever from what you were to a child of God. Take off the old, take on the new. REJOICE. That is the message of Philippians, rejoice in God, rejoice in the Lord. Do not take on the countenance of one who is lost, be joyful, for you are found.
This time of year is when people take stock of their lives and make vows to change. They may decide to lose weight, they may vow to be happier, they may decide to change their spending habits, whatever. The fact is that people desire to change, they are not happy with the way they are. For the most part, these things fail. Why? Because we are still sinners; and sin controls the flesh.
Instead of trying to do it yourself, look to God for help. Seek out God, and you will be better able to defeat the desires of the flesh. Let the Holy Spirit, who dwells in you, help you with your desires. Want to lose weight? Save money? Practice self control. Want to feel loved? Practice love, kindness. Tired of being angry, bitter, anxious? Practice patience, gentleness. Want more happiness? Practice joy, goodness. Want more of God and less of you? Practice faithfulness in reading his word and praying to him. Want less anxiety? Let the peace of God come upon you. Are you dissatisfied with your life? Seek his kingdom, and these things will be added to you. (Luke 12:31)
I want to lose a lot of weight, I need to lose a lot of weight. I need to control my blood sugar. Instead of worrying about it, instead of grumbling and complaining about the foods I can or cannot eat, I am going to seek God. He can help me say no to bad food and yes to good food. I will pray that he helps me exercise. I will be more diligent in my prayers, seeking the will of God, not the will of Jeff. As Paul said, “ I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” Less of me, more of God. More of God, less of me.
We are to imitate those who follow Jesus, those who do the right things. Paul says to imitate him, to follow his example and of those who walk in the same way. Do not follow those who walk as enemies of Christ. They act according to their own wishes, their own desires, their own pleasures. Destruction will be their end, regardless of how much they seem to prosper. They glory in things of the flesh, they worship the body. They revel in the things that are unnatural, shameful. Their mind is set on those things that are earthly. We see it all the time. It is almost a source of pride how open and free we are. On the TV and in the movies, Christians are found to be the ones who are stupid, bigoted, arrogant, crazy, or the worst of the sinners. The name of the Lord is no longer reverent, it is a swear word. Sexuality runs rampant is commercials, movies, books, and in fashion. A girl recently petitioned Nordstom’s to start selling more modest clothing. Why? Because modesty wasn’t the “in” fashion, and all they were selling were bare midriff, low cleavage, short short fashions, and these were for the 13 year olds. Do you remember reading about that? Homosexuality is being slammed in our faces. Unless a TV show has a homosexual on it being depicted in a favorable light, it probably won’t even get on the air. Advertising goes out of its way to make you feel that you are lacking in whatever they are selling. You are made to feel as if you will be a social outcast if you do not use their product. Everyone is encouraged to be dissatisfied with their life. If you don’t have the latest new thing, if you don’t go buy it NOW, NOW, NOW, you are somehow deficient. How many of you feel we are of the world too much?
We are to be in the world, but not of the world. Praise God that our citizenship is in heaven, not on earth. Seek those that are following God, not man. Imitate them, not sinful man. Do not look to those who appear to be wealthy in material things, instead, seek out those who are wealthy in Spiritual things and imitate them.
While we are in the world, we wait. We wait for the Savior, the one who will transform our lowly bodies into heavenly, imperishable bodies. By the power of Jesus, we will be transformed. Therefore, stand firm in the Lord, knowing that he has the power that enables him to change our bodies as he has changed our hearts.
How can we not rejoice? How can we not give thanks to the Lord our God? He has changed our hearts, and he will change our bodies to everlasting bodies that will see no impurity, no disease, no death. Rejoice. Our citizenship is in heaven, not on earth. Rejoice. It is not by our works, but by the power of the Holy God, that we are saved. Rejoice. We are not yet holy; we are still a work in transition, being transformed by God every day. Rejoice.
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