Meditation 12: Your Opus

"[M]y dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain."

(1 Corinthians 15:58) (NIV).

Following Jesus Christ is not for the faint of heart! It is the highest calling, to be sure. But it also is the most challenging, largely because when we make the decision to dedicate our lives to advancing God's Kingdom and serving our fellow man, we choose to live by spiritual laws and principles that are completely antithetical to the mores of man. What is normative in God's economy often is foreign to this world. Hence, the Apostle Peter's description of believers as foreigners in this world. Or, as St. Augustine might have said, "We are citizens of the transcendent City of God, who strive to walk in faith according to its patterns and principles. But we also live and reside in the immanent City of Man, and are subject to its laws and realities." It is a veritable struggle, which is why Paul encourages us to "persevere" (1 Tim. 4:16), to finish the "race" (1 Cor. 9:24; Gal. 5:7), and to "stand firm" (1 Cor. 15:58).

One of the most intractable and distressful recurring challenges with which I struggle is doubting that my life of faith is yielding any fruit. I know the laws that govern God's economy are different from those that govern the world's. I know, for example, that the Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed that starts out so small it is easily missed and practically invisible. If, however, we sow that seed in our lives -- if we choose to live as citizens of that glorious Kingdom -- it will, in time, grow until it not only becomes visible to the natural eye but also begins to receive multitudes of immigrants who seek the shelter, security, and salvation that lie within its gates alone. (Cf. Luke 13:17-19).

I understand all of that. And I believe it! But the realities of the "City" in which I reside often reflect a different picture. Once I have "sown" a Kingdom seed, I have no idea what is happening beneath the surface. Have I watered it enough? Is it growing? Is it still alive, or am I just spinning my proverbial wheels? My labors for God's Kingdom, my efforts and sacrifices for Him and for the flock I serve, often do not appear as though they will yield a mustard tree, much less a harvest of any kind. Recently, I crossed my five-year mark as a church planting pastor. And those questions began to assail me with a feral force that drove me once again to wonder if my labor was in vain. In the midst of that struggle, I happened to watch a movie I had not seen in about 15 years but is one of my favorites, Mr. Holland's Opus.

If you have not seen the movie, I highly recommend it.* It is the story of a talented musician, Glenn Holland, whose great dream is to compose a musical masterpiece, an opus that will touch and inspire his generation, and that will make him famous! Shortly after getting married, however, he realizes that he will not be able to support a family by working full-time on his opus, while doing an occasional gig at a bar. So, he decides to become a high-school music teacher, thinking that it will provide him with a stable salary and with plenty of time after school and during the summer to work on his opus.

It does not take more than a few days for Mr. Holland to realize, however, that teaching will consume most of his life. At first, he is resentful of this unforeseen reality, particularly because the school's music band is absolutely terrible. But in time, Mr. Holland develops a passion for teaching. He not only finds great joy in helping his students improve as musicians, but also in using the medium of music to develop their character and to help them on their individual journeys of self discovery. On the side, he continues to work on his opus whenever he can (although it becomes even more difficult to do so after he and his wife give birth to a deaf child).

The movie follows Mr. Holland's life over the course of 30 years. Toward the end of the movie, after pouring into the lives of thousands of students, most of whom he never heard from again, Mr. Holland is informed that budget cuts have compelled the principal to close down the school's music program. Mr. Holland appeals the decision to the school board, on which one of his former students sits. But his passionate philippic proves unsuccessful, and his appeal is denied.

On the last day of the school year, Mr. Holland quietly collects his belongings in his now empty classroom, the solitude and significance of the moment clearly weighing heavy on his shoulders. In his mind, his whole life has been a waste. He has completed an opus that no one has ever heard. And after decades of pouring his life and love into so many young minds and hearts, he is being dumped (rather unceremoniously) by the school district. He thought he would reap a harvest one day, that there would come a time when he would see and enjoy the fruit of his many years of labor. But it appears that he has sown in vain, and that the fields of his dreams and greatest efforts remain fallow.

As he prepares to leave his classroom, Mr. Holland is joined by his wife and son. While they walk down the deserted school halls, you can almost hear Mr. Holland's thoughts: "This is how little my life's work has meant? This is how little it has produced?" . . . And that is when Mr. Holland hears a lot of noise coming from the school auditorium. Curious, he decides to poke his head into the auditorium to determine the reason for the raucous. As he walks in, he is greeted by a room packed with current and former students, as well as faculty and family, all of whom are there to thank him and to celebrate his life as a teacher, mentor, and musician.

Mr. Holland is led to the front row, and one of his former students -- now a state governor -- steps to the podium. What she shares is one of the most moving and compelling living eulogies I have ever heard. And as she speaks, Mr. Holland begins to weep:

"Mr. Holland had a profound influence on my life, on a lot of lives I know. . . . And yet I get the feeling he considers a great part of his own life misspent. Rumor had it he was always working on this symphony of his. And this was going to make him famous, rich -- probably both. But Mr. Holland isn’t rich and he isn’t famous -- at least not outside our little town. So it might be easy for him to think himself a failure. And he would be wrong! Because I think he’s achieved a success far beyond riches and fame. Look around you, [Mr. Holland]! There is not a life in this room that you have not touched. And each one of us is a better person because of you. We are your symphony, Mr. Holland. We are the melodies and the notes of your opus. And we are the music of your life!" (emphasis added).

As the audience cheers, Mr. Holland is invited to join her on stage where she, and a large group of his former students, prepare for him to direct them one last time as they present to the public, for the first time ever, Mr. Holland's opus!

What a profound insight that former student offered Mr. Holland! His dreams had not been wasted, and his labor had not been in vain. He simply had failed to realize that he had achieved something far greater than a musical masterpiece -- Mr. Holland's life was his opus! And all the students he had taught, mentored, and (dare I say) discipled over the years were the "melodies and the notes" that together formed a mellifluous symphony far more beautiful than the one he had composed on paper.

And that is what the Apostle Paul is trying to communicate to each of us. The message is as simple as it is true: Your life is your opus! Every day, the things we do in the name of Jesus Christ are musical notes that are being strung together to form an opus, a magnum opus that God Himself is composing through each of us. Every once in a while, we may have the opportunity to hear a small portion of the grand symphony He is composing. But we will not experience it in its fullness until, like Mr. Holland, our work is completed . . . until we have finished our race.

To my fellow pastors and laborers in the faith: Our God is true to His Word! We do not labor in vain. Today, we sow with faith; tomorrow we will reap with joy! One day, I look forward to hearing the magnificent opus our Heavenly Father is composing through each of you. I know that mine will be one of the many lives you have touched, one of the many notes in your sublime symphony!

One day, all of us who follow Jesus Christ will experience a reward that will far surpass Mr. Holland's. We will see and reap the harvest our faith has sown; we will hear and dance to the magnificent opus our hope has composed.

Your life is your opus!

. . . . . . Shhh!!!

. . . . . . Can you hear it?

* Spoiler Alert: If you have not seen the movie and intend to do so, you may want to stop reading this post until you have.

Meditation 5: The Trial of Dismas and Gestas: An Easter Parable

(See Generally, Matthew 25:31-46 and Luke 23:32-43, 24:1-8, 36-49) [Explanatory Note: I chose the names Dismas and Gestas for the two defendants in this parable, because those are the names (or variations thereof) that Church tradition has most often used in reference to the two thieves who were crucified with Jesus. The apparent source of this tradition is the apocryphal text entitled, The Gospel of Nicodemus.]

***********************************

The guards hurried Dismas and Gestas into the cavernous courtroom. And, as they entered, the two criminal defendants were immediately struck by how brightly lit the room was. In fact, the courtroom lights shone so brightly, and from so many different angles, that there wasn’t a single shadow in the room. The entire chamber was saturated in a warm light that swallowed up every possible shadow an object might cast. It was a subtle but clear message to every defendant who entered the courtroom that the criminal acts he’d committed, under the cover of darkness, would now be unveiled. (1 Corinthians 4:5; 1 John 1:5).

As they shuffled their shackled feet to their designated seats, both defendants glanced about the room uneasily, uncomfortable with how vulnerable and exposed the light made them feel.

A few minutes later, the prosecuting attorney entered the chamber. He was dressed in a charcoal-black suit. It was such a stark contrast to the courtroom’s light that he almost looked like a human shadow. As he settled into his chair and organized his notes, he looked up and sneered at Dismas and Gestas. And at that moment, their discomfort unraveled into sheer terror. . . . They recognized him! He went by many names. But he was most well-known as The Accuser, because the word on the street was that he never rested from his work--he prosecuted people day and night. And despite the incredibly busy schedule he kept, he’d never lost a case. Any defendant who faced The Accuser already knew what the final verdict would be: GUILTY, AS CHARGED! (Revelation 12:10).

Dismas and Gestas looked knowingly at each other, as they both came to the same realization: They would not receive any legal representation. There wasn’t a defense attorney in the world who would expose himself to a certain professional loss, by opposing The Accuser in open court--especially where, as here, the defendants were such utterly depraved and distasteful characters, and the evidence against them was simply insurmountable.

As they turned away from each other, Dismas bowed his head, and began preparing himself to surrender to the fate he knew he deserved. He hadn’t yet been found guilty, but he already felt convicted. Terror was ceding control over his heart to an emotion he’d never felt before: Shame. And, for the first time, he actually began to feel sorry for the evil he’d done. Gestas’ reaction, however, was completely different. His own terror was hardening into a calcified, stubborn arrogance, and the primal instinct to survive at all costs seized control of his will. He would never admit his guilt.  Never!

“ALL RISE! The Honorable White-Robed Judge will now preside over this proceeding.” The bailiff’s thunderous voice shattered Dismas’ and Gestas’ silent meditations. As they rose to their feet, The White-Robed Judge entered the room. His dress and demeanor noticeably clashed with The Accuser’s. Instead of wearing a black robe, like most other judges, his robe was a pure and spotless white. And while The Accuser’s suit tried to absorb the surrounding light, The White-Robed Judge’s garments seemed to reflect it. Dismas had heard about the White-Robed Judge before. He was known by that name not only because of what he wore, but also because every judgment he’d ever rendered, and every sentence he’d ever pronounced, had been completely just. No one had ever appealed any of his rulings! (Mark 9:2-3; Isaiah 30:18; Revelation 16:7).

“Well,” Dismas thought, “at least I know we’ll have a fair trial.”

As he settled into the judgment seat, The Judge looked up and motioned for the defendants to sit down as well. He then turned to The Accuser and asked, “Is the prosecution prepared to present its case?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” The Accuser answered. “And, by the way, the facts of this case are as damning as they are incontrovertible. So, I’d like to get through it as quickly as possible. I have billions more cases on my docket, all of which require my immediate and undivided attention.” The Accuser’s serpentine voice betrayed an arrogance that Gestas and Dismas found both sinister and unsettling. And, apparently, The Judge wasn’t amused either!

“Counsel, I don’t care how many other people you’re hoping to prosecute. My only concern is that we give the two defendants in this room a fair trial, and that justice is served in this court. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Ok. Please proceed with your case, Counsel.”

“Your Honor, Defendants Dismas and Gestas are two of the worst criminals ever to walk the streets of our fair city. Working together, they’ve literally broken every single one of our legal code’s ten simple laws . . .”

“Much like you, as I understand it, have broken every provision in the Prosecutor’s Code of Professional Ethics, Counsel,” The Judge quipped.

The Accuser was not amused. He stared intently at The Judge. And, for a moment, his dark, lifeless eyes seemed frozen in a silent glare. “Your Honor,” he continued, “they’re each guilty of first-degree murder, three counts of aggravated robbery, two counts of perjury in a previous case before this very court . . .”

Dismas and Gestas listened quietly as The Accuser announced every single criminal act they’d ever committed. His fastidiousness and attention to detail were extraordinary. He hadn’t missed a single one of their crimes!

When The Accuser finally finished his recitation of the criminal charges against Dismas and Gestas, The Judge turned to them and asked: “Do you understand the charges against you?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” they replied.

“And how do you plead?” He asked.

Dismas answered first: “Your Honor, I plead guilty to every charge The Accuser has brought against me. I have no defense. I have no excuse. I throw myself upon the mercy of this court.”

Gestas looked at Dismas with disgust and whispered: “You’re a pathetic coward.” Then he turned to The Judge and said, “Your Honor, I plead not guilty.”

“Ok,” said The Judge, “Your pleas have been entered into the record. But Defendant Dismas, your plea notwithstanding, considering the gravity of the charges against you and that you have no legal representation, I think it’s important that I take the time to properly assess the nature, the adequacy, and the weight of the evidence against you, before I render final judgment in this case. So, Counsel, please present your case against the defendants.”

The Accuser eagerly jumped from his chair, and seemed to slither his way to a podium that had been set up in front of the judgment seat. And over the next forty days, he presented irrefutable evidence of the defendants’ guilt. There was video footage from surveillance cameras that had recorded the defendants committing a number of crimes; there was DNA evidence linking the defendants to various crime scenes; there was physical evidence demonstrating that the defendants had perjured themselves, when they’d served as witnesses for the prosecution in a previous case; there were various witnesses to the defendants’ criminal activities; and much, much more.

At times, The Judge would interrupt The Accuser to ask the kinds of questions that an attorney for the defendants would have asked had they had one. But The Accuser’s case was rock-solid, ironclad. There was simply no doubt as to the defendants’ guilt.

Finally, The Accuser transitioned into his closing argument, prompting sighs of relief from Gestas and Dismas: “Your Honor, based on the multitude of crimes that Defendants Gestas and Dismas have committed. I recommend they both receive the maximum sentence, which is required by law. . . . They’re guilty, Your Honor. . . . They’re guilty as s-s-s-s-s-in,” he hissed.

With those final words, The Accuser rested his case. And as he took his seat, he leaned back and smiled--apparently, very impressed with himself.

The Judge then turned to Gestas and Dismas. His pursed lips reflected a righteous indignation at the crimes they’d committed. But Dismas also saw something else, something he never expected: Sorrow. A sorrow more intense than any other sorrow he’d ever witnessed, or had experienced himself. Somehow, blood and water had pooled together in The Judge’s eyes, forming crimson cascades that flowed down his cheeks and began to stain his once spotless judicial robe. It was a curious thing: Even as The Judge’s stern face communicated His anger at Gestas’ and Dismas’ misdeeds, his crimson tears showed a genuine grief over the judgment and sentence he must now pronounce.

“Do the defendants have any last words before I render judgment in this case?” The Judge asked.

Gestas rose to his feet. “I have some final words, Your Honor.”

“Proceed,” said The Judge.

“Well, I’d just like to say that I know what your ruling will be. And, frankly, I don’t care. I don’t care about what I did, and I don’t care about what you think about what I did. And, by the way, Your Honor, about that white robe: . . . A little pretentious, don’t you think? And, hey, how about all the good things I’ve done in my life. They should count for something, shouldn’t they? I’m not all evil. I mean, there were even times I let Dismas have over half the loot we’d stolen together, because he needed it more than I did. That should count for something! I gave sacrificially,” he sneered.

Dismas looked at Gestas in horror, expecting to hear the pounding of the Judge’s gavel and a contempt-of-court charge being added to Gestas’ laundry list of crimes. Instead, The Judge looked at Gestas with kindness. “Defendant Gestas,” he answered, “you are not on trial for the good things you claim to have done. You are on trial for the evil that you’ve committed. Your guilt isn’t affected by any of the good you may have done. It’s determined simply by the crimes in which you’ve engaged.”

Stunned by The Judge’s gracious and measured reaction, Gestas returned to his seat. “No sense in delaying the inevitable,” he muttered.

The Judge then addressed Dismas: “Defendant Dismas, do you have anything you’d like to 

say?”

His knees trembling, Dismas rose to his feet, but kept his head bowed: “Your Honor, I can only repeat what I said when this trial began. I am guilty of every count of every charge that’s been brought against me. And I am sorry for what I did! I beg the forgiveness of this court, and of the many people I’ve wronged. That’s all!”

“Thank you,” said The Judge. “I’m ready to render my verdict and pronounce my sentence. Would Counsel, and the defendants, please rise?”

The Accuser shot to his feet, certain he’d secured another victory, and itching to commence his next prosecution. Dismas and Gestas, on the other hand, slowly rose. Their bodies felt unbearably heavy, as they already began to feel the weight of their impending sentence.

“Defendants Dismas and Gestas: I find you both guilty of the crimes with which you’ve been charged.” The Judge’s voice was firm and sure, but Dismas thought he detected a hint of sadness in it. “Justice demands that I issue the maximum sentence for your crimes. I therefore sentence both of you to life in prison.”

Upon hearing the sentence, Dismas fell to his knees. And Gestas crumpled into his chair, momentarily drained of any lingering defiance. The Judge’s sentence was just. But they both knew what it meant--and it terrified them.  It meant they’d both be assigned to the federal penitentiary that the prison system had dubbed ‘The Gridiron Graveyard.’ It was the prison to which all criminals with life sentences were sent. And its name reflected the harsh reality that the only way out of the prison was in a body bag. Every prisoner who entered the Gridiron Graveyard eventually would be bused straight from the gridiron to the graveyard.

As Dismas and Gestas struggled to process their fate, The Accuser began packing his briefcase, and addressed them directly for the first time since the trial had begun. “Gotcha,” he snickered.

But The Judge interrupted his celebration. “Counsel,” he said, “this court has not yet adjourned.”

“Uh . . . Ok, Your Honor. I . . . I . . .” Dismas and Gestas were shocked. The Accuser had been caught off guard, and was uncharacteristically speechless. And he remained dumbfounded as The Judge began to make his way from the judgment seat to the courtroom floor.

The bailiff also was startled by this apparent breach of protocol, and tried to intervene. “Your Honor, what are you . . .?” But The Judge raised his hand, motioning for the bailiff to take his seat. Then, he walked over to the defendants.

“Defendant Gestas: You and I both know that you’re guilty, and that you deserve your sentence. I wish there were something I could do to help you. But your callous indifference to your crimes has sealed your fate. You loved the cover that darkness provided you to carry out the evil that was in your heart. So, you will now be joined to what you love. You will live out your days in the darkness of the so-called Gridiron Graveyard. And you will hear the weeping and gnashing of teeth that echo throughout the chilling darkness of despair that permeates that place. My heart grieves for you! . . . My heart grieves for you!” (Matthew 8:12).

Gestas was momentarily overcome by The Judge’s compassion and sincerity. But it was too late for him. “Guards,” said The Judge, “please escort this convict to his cell.”

As they answered The Judge’s order, Gestas began to scream and curse, clawing at the guards and spitting in their faces. He did everything he could to frustrate the imposition of his sentence. Even now, as he faced the consequences of his lawlessness, he still refused to honor the law--defying its authority with his screams, but attesting to its justice by his curses.

When Gestas had finally been escorted from the chamber, The Judge addressed Dismas. “Dismas,” he began.

“Uh. Your Honor! I don’t mean to interrupt,” said The Accuser. “But I think you mean Defendant Dismas.”

“No, Counsel. I mean Dismas. And you’re out of order!”

The Accuser snarled, but held his tongue.

“Dismas: Like Defendant Gestas, you too are guilty of every crime you’ve committed. And also like Defendant Gestas, you deserve the sentence I gave you. But I have heard your admission of guilt, and I have considered your plea for forgiveness. And I can see that you are genuinely repentant. I know the evil heart that inspired your criminal activity has been broken. You, Dismas, are the first defendant in my courtroom to have the humility and courage to acknowledge his guilt and repent of his misdeeds. So, I’m going to do something that’s never been done before. I’m going to live out your sentence myself. I’m going to take your life. And, in exchange, I offer you mine.”

“Wait a minute, Your Honor!” The Accuser was in a panic. “You can’t do that!”

“Counsel, I’m sure you’re aware that while our legal code demands punishment for a crime, it also provides that a sacrifice can be made to exonerate the guilty party. And that sacrifice is for The Judge who renders judgment to suffer himself the sentence he’s pronounced.” (Leviticus 4:35; Numbers 6:14; John 1:29; Romans 3:23-26, 5:9-18).

“I’m aware of that legal provision, Your Honor. But it’s never been applied by any judge . . . EVER! You should follow legal precedent, in this case. You’ve found Defendant Dismas guilty of the crimes with which he’s been charged, and the law therefore requires that he be punished. So, you’re breaking the law, Your Honor. By lifting his sentence, you’re declaring him “not guilty.” And that not only does violence to this criminal’s many victims, it also does violence to the law--the law you are sworn to uphold. You’re breaking the law, Your Honor. You’re breaking the law!”

“No, Counsel. I’m fulfilling the law! I’m applying the law in its fullness--something no judge has ever done. Your argument is duly noted, and duly rejected. Dismas no longer is guilty of his crimes. I AM! So, his sentence is now mine.” (Exodus 3:14; Matthew 5:17).

The Judge then turned to Dismas once again: “Dismas, do you accept my offer? I can only take your sentence, if you agree to it.”

Dismas was astounded. “Your Honor, I don’t deserve your sacrifice.”

“I know, Dismas. But that’s not the issue. The question I’m asking is this: Will you accept my sacrifice?”

“Y-Yes, Your Honor. I accept. I accept. A thousand times, I accept. I don’t know what else to say.”

The Judge smiled at him. “Then say nothing else,” he replied. Returning to his judgment seat, he pounded his gavel three times, declaring that the court was now adjourned. And with that final, authoritative act, The Judge turned his seat of judgment into an altar of sacrifice.

As he laid down his gavel, much to the amazement of everyone left in the courtroom, The Judge began to disrobe. He removed his white, judicial garment and walked over to Dismas. “Trade ya,” he said, with a twinkle in his eyes.

Dismas solemnly began to remove his prison clothes, while the guards removed his chains. And as the Judge put on those prison clothes, the guards placed on him the chains that had once bound Dismas. “Dismas,” he said. “When I offered to take your life, if you would take mine, it meant more than giving you your freedom. You now have my life, which means you now have my authority. You are now a Judge.” (1 Corinthians 6:2-3; Matthew 28:17-19; 2 Timothy 2:11-13).

Dismas looked down at the tear-stained garment he now wore, its crimson streaks reminding him of how unworthy he was to wear it: “Your Honor, I’m a wretched man,” he whispered. “There’s nothing good in me.” (Romans 7:18, 24).

“Your repentance has opened the way for the transformation of your heart. And you now have my life, Dismas, which means that my righteousness, my innocence, my reputation is now yours. And not only that, my inheritance (all that is mine) is also yours. Now, go!”

“But I have no place to go, Your Honor. I’ve always lived on the streets.”

The Judge smiled. “Dismas, in my Father’s house, there are many rooms. Go there! A place will be prepared for you.” (John 14:2).

“But, Your Honor, what if I go back to my old life? What if I exploit the freedom you’ve given me, and dishonor the judicial robe you’ve placed on me?”

“Don’t be afraid, Dismas! I’ll send you my very own Counselor. He’ll encourage you, and lead you. And he will keep you on the right path.” (John 15:26; John 16:7, 13-16; Psalms 23:3).

Dismas fell to his knees again. And he began to weep as he kissed The Judge’s shackled feet. When he finally looked up, The Judge said, “Go in peace, Dismas! You are now innocent of all charges.” The Judge’s face was somber. Dismas could tell that he’d already begun reflecting on the punishment he was about to endure.

As the guards led him out, The Judge turned to Dismas one last time. And with a twinkle in his eyes, and triumph in his voice, he shouted, “My life for yours, Dismas. Trade ya!” And with those final words, he was gone.

Meanwhile, The Accuser was seething with anger, as he finally accepted that he’d lost his first case, and realized that with the new precedent The Judge had set, it probably wouldn’t be the last case he’d lose. He would have to redouble his efforts in the future!

As he exited the courtroom, he turned and glared at Dismas. “Don’t think this is over, Defendant. I’ll be watching you. I don’t give up easily!” (1 Peter 5:8).

But Dismas ignored The Accuser. He’d heard enough from the prosecution over the last forty days. Instead, he reflected on some of The Judge’s final words to him: “Go in peace, Dismas! You are now innocent of all charges.”

With those chain-shattering words on his heart, and clothed in his new, white judicial robe, Dismas left the courtroom, filled with joy and a renewed hope. He’d never have to suffer the sting of the Gridiron Graveyard! (Revelation 3:4-5,18; 1 Corinthians 15:55; Isaiah 61:10).

Sprinting down the courthouse steps, Dismas immediately proceeded to meet The Judge’s Father at his home. As promised, a beautiful room was prepared for him there. And over a period of many years, he went through substantial rehabilitation, under the tutelage of The Judge’s Counselor. He became a completely different man--a man of honor, a man of integrity, a man of love, a man of grace. And he resisted the temptations he sometimes had to return to his former life. But he often wondered about The Judge, because people couldn’t communicate with the inmates of the Gridiron Graveyard--the prison took no mail, and didn’t accept any visitors.

One day, though, there was a knock on the front door to the house. And when Dismas opened the door, he was shocked to find The Judge standing before him, wearing another spotless, white robe. The White-Robed Judge had returned!

“Your Honor, how . . . how did you make it out of the Graveyard?”

“I escaped,” The Judge said, with that familiar twinkle in his eyes. “Seriously, Dismas. Don’t worry! . . . Tetelestai!”

“Te . . . Te . . . what?”

The Judge chuckled. “Tetelestai! It is finished, Dismas. It is finished. The price for your freedom has been paid in full.” (John 19:30; Romans 6:23; Colossians 2:13-14 (NASB); Isaiah 53:5).

Dismas was speechless. He just continued to stare at The Judge, convinced that his eyes were deceiving him.

“Do you mind if I come in, Dismas?” The Judge teased. Dismas smiled sheepishly, a little embarrassed by his awkward behavior. He finally greeted The Judge with a warm embrace, and then stepped aside so The Judge’s Father could welcome his Son home as well. But while The Judge and his Father embraced, Dismas couldn’t help but wonder what would become of him now.

Sensing his concern, The Judge placed his hand on Dismas’ shoulder, and squeezed it reassuringly. “By the way, Dismas” he said, “you’re not going anywhere. You and I . . . we’re co-heirs. You are a permanent part of this family.” (Romans 8:16-17).

“Indeed,” said The Judge’s Father. “You are no less my son today than you were the day you walked into my home, Dismas. And I will not revoke your sonship!” (John 6:37,39; John 10:27-28; 1 John 2:19).

Dismas’ eyes filled with tears. Just as he’d done so many years ago, he fell to his knees, clung to The Judge’s shackle-scarred feet, and wept. And, finally, with joy in his heart, and a twinkle in his eyes, he looked up at The Judge and whispered, “My life is yours!”

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Loved Ones: Jesus is our White-Robed Judge. He chose to take on Himself our death sentences, so that we might live in the fullness of His life! He chose to give us His perfect life, in return for our broken one. And now it’s time for us to make our own choice: Will we accept His offer of eternal life, or will we reject it? Will we follow the path of Gestas to the Gridiron Graveyard, or will we follow the path of Dismas to freedom? Which of their two destinies will we share? The choice is ours!

Meditation 4: In Memoriam

Mary Frances Appling ("Bubby") 

October 28, 1919 - November 15, 2008

Just a few days ago--on Saturday, November 15, 2008--my dear friend, Mary Frances Appling ("Bubby"), passed away.  She was 89.  

Bubby and her daughter, Fran, opened a home daycare together in 1981. For 26 years, she labored alongside her daughter to care for and love the children in their daycare, as well as the children's families.  My own two children were among the many beneficiaries of Bubby's warmth and love, as were my wife and I.   

In August 2007, however, Bubby began to suffer from an illness that left her bedridden. Fortunately, Fran was able to provide her with in-home care.  So Bubby was able to continue doling out hugs and kisses to the daycare kids whenever they came to her bedside (which happened pretty frequently throughout the day--the kids always had something they wanted to share with or show Bubby).  

A few months after she became ill, I began visiting Bubby.  I wanted to encourage and minister to her.  I knew it wasn't easy for someone with so much life in her to be confined to a bed.  In the end, however, it was Bubby who often ended up ministering to me.  I would come to lift her spirits, but she would focus on trying to lift mine ("I don't want to talk about how I'm doin'," she'd say. "Let's talk about how you're doin'!").  I would come to help strengthen her faith, but she would build mine.  I would come to show her the love of Christ, but often would end up experiencing it myself at her bedside.  I would come to share Scripture with her, but she would often impart to me tremendous words of wisdom.  We had some wonderful, deep, and rich conversations.  In fact, my talks with Bubby were so enriching that, with her permission, I began taking notes on the precious pearls of wisdom she'd often share with me.  I eventually began to affectionately refer to them as "Bubby's Proverbs."  Here are some of my favorites . . . 

BUBBY'S PROVERBS

1.  God has a way of working things out one way or another.

2.  Kill 'em with kindness!

3.  Some of our smallest blessings end up being some of our biggest blessings.  And the funny thing about it is, you never know when they're coming.

4.  Let your conscience be your guide!

5.  It's a wonderful life, even with its ups and downs.

6.  There's some good in everyone, no matter how bad the person is.  You just have to look for it!

7.  Don't let any one person ever stop you from doing God's work.  Don't no one monkey stop the show!

8.  Be a good listener!

9.  Suck 'em in!  [Bubby's playful advice to me on how to grow a church]

10.  Don't start no rootin' and tootin', and there won't be no cuttin' and shootin'! [This was one of Bubby's favorites, a classic Bubbyism] . . . 

I am deeply thankful for the encouragement and the words of wisdom Bubby shared with me during my visits with her.  I will always cherish the times I had at her bedside.  But none will be as precious to me as the final moments we shared the day before she passed away.

When I walked into her room, she was incoherent, disoriented, and in a lot of pain.  I tried talking to her, but she didn't seem to be aware of my presence.  So, I began to pray:  I told the Lord that I knew Bubby's mind was disoriented, but that I also knew His Holy Spirit could minister directly to her spirit.  Then I began to read some passages of Scripture to Bubby, believing that even though her mind was not able to process what I was reading, her spirit could.  One of the Scriptures I read was Psalm 27:1:

The Lord is my light and my salvation--

whom shall I fear?

The Lord is the stronghold of my life--

of whom shall I be afraid?

 

A few minutes later, Bubby stopped mumbling incoherently and began praying in articulate sentences.  Her prayers were simple, but fervent: "Lord take me home," she said. "I'm ready! Oh Lord! Take me home."  Then, in the middle of her prayers, Bubby began to quote what I had read to her from Psalm 27: "The Lord is my light and my salvation," she declared. 

My heart filled with joy as I realized the Lord had answered my prayer. Bubby still didn't seem to know I was there. But the Holy Spirit was ministering to her spirit.  And that was all that mattered!  I knew the Lord had heard her, and was preparing to call her home.  And call her home He did!  Early Saturday morning, this wonderful woman of God walked through heaven's gate. 

Today, Thursday, I attended Bubby's burial.  As her casket was transported to the grave site, I reflected on our Savior's beautiful promise, the fulfillment of which Bubby had experienced just a few days earlier: "I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live[.]" (John 11:25). 

I grieve Bubby's passing, and will miss her very much.  But I am glad that she no longer is confined to a bed--she now walks the streets of gold, and has seen her Savior face-to-face! I also rejoice in the wonderful truth that Bubby has not merely gone from ashes to ashes and dust to dust.  She is, even now, being transformed from glory to glory! "O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?" (2 Corinthians 3:18; 1 Corinthians 15:55).

Here's to you, Bubby!  I won't bid you farewell, because I know we'll meet again some day. As you once told me,"Every goodbye ain't gone!"  So, for now, I'll just say, "Congratulations, my dear friend, on a life well-loved and a race well-run! I love you!"

 

Meditation 1: Finding A Dwelling Place

Dear Reader:

Thank you for stopping by to read the first of what I hope will be many entries to my blog entitled, Meditations. The Bible makes clear that in order for Christians to prosper and grow spiritually, and deepen their relationship with God, it is essential that they meditate on and obey God’s Word.

In Joshua 1:8, God says to Joshua:

“Do not let this Book of the Law depart from your mouth; meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do everything written in it. Then you will be prosperous and successful.”

And, in Psalm 1:1-3, King David echoes this truth in song. He writes:

1 Blessed is the man
who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked
or stand in the way of sinners
or sit in the seat of mockers.
2 But his delight is in the law of the LORD, 

and on his law he meditates day and night.
3 He is like a tree planted by streams of water, 

which yields its fruit in season 

and whose leaf does not wither. 

Whatever he does prospers.

My desire is to share with you thoughts and reflections--meditations--on my studies of Scripture, and on my life and walk with my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. I pray that these meditations will give you and me hope; that they will deepen our relationship with (and understanding of) God; and that they will inspire, encourage, challenge, and convict us to obey God’s Word, as we run the race that He has set before us.

So, let me just jump right in . . .

Recently my faith has been challenged (even shaken in some ways) by a major difficulty the church I pastor (Mount Vernon Foursquare Fellowship (“MVFF”)) is facing. We’re a young church (my wife, Kelly, and I planted MVFF a little over a year and a half ago.) We started the church in our home, but we’re now at a point where we need to find a larger space to meet. The problem is that the schools we’ve considered trying to use on Sundays won’t work well for us, none of the community centers in our area will allow us to use their available spaces on Sundays, and the commercial properties that are open for leasing are incredibly expensive (at least $6,000/month for a 3,000 sq. ft. space, and that’s not including build-out costs).

As difficult as it is for me to admit, my heart has sometimes grumbled against God, wondering if He’s brought me this far only to fail as a pastor. My reaction has been much like the Israelites’ when Pharaoh freed them from slavery, but then decided to pursue them. They all cried out to God, and complained to Moses saying, “Was it because there were no graves in Egypt that you brought us to the desert to die?” (Exodus 14:11). But Moses answered, “Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the LORD will bring you today. . . . The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still.” (Exodus 14:13-14).

I wish that had been my initial response to the challenge MVFF is facing right now. I wish I’d been able to simply “stand firm” in the knowledge that God will “fight for [us.]” Instead of standing firm, though, I’ve done a lot of whining, and a lot of waffling. The darkness of doubt and discouragement casts a long shadow, a shadow that we often easily allow to obscure the light of what we know to be true from God’s Word.

But God has been gracious and faithful, despite my doubt, discouragement, and grumbling. Instead of rebuking me, He has consistently reminded me of the promises in His Word, and that His hand is upon our nascent church. In the last few months, He has done things to remind me that He has not brought us to our own ‘Red Sea’ to drown; He’s brought us here to demonstrate to us His grace, love, and power by parting our ‘Red Sea, as He did for the Israelites thousands of years ago. He invites us simply to “stand firm” and “see the deliverance” He will bring us. (Exodus 14:13).

. . . Now I know that our need for a new building space is not as grave a matter as having thousands of armed and trained Egyptian soldiers barreling down on you. But it sure feels like it sometimes! . . .

Anyway, as I was saying, in the midst of all this, God has done some wonderful things to remind me that He is with us, and that He will provide for our needs. I’ll just share three of them:

First, about a month or so ago, a close friend of mine sent MVFF a very generous offering. I won’t state the amount. But suffice it to say that it was the largest single offering we’ve received from anyone thus far. And this friend has not even been to one of our church services yet! He simply gave his offering to MVFF, because he wanted to support what the Lord is doing in us and through us.

But I also believe the amount and the timing of His gift were prompted by the Holy Spirit, because we received it at a time when Kelly and I were beginning to really feel the weight of what moving into a new building would mean for our body. One of my concerns was that I did not want the bulk of the financial resources God had provided to be applied toward building costs. I wanted as much money as possible to be applied directly toward ministry. I did not want us to become a church that was so burdened by the financial demands a building can impose that it lost sight of its larger ministry mission. Of course, that is not to suggest that a building is not important for ministry purposes. My concern was simply that it is easy for a building to become an end in itself, because of its financial demands, rather than function as a means to an end.

At any rate, my friend’s offering was a wonderful reminder from the Lord that He is our provider, and that He will provide us with what we need for a building, without compromising the mission and vision He has given us as a church (which is to launch people into the areas of ministry to which God has called them--including planting other churches--and to care for the poor, the orphaned, and the captive).

Not long after MVFF received my friend’s financial gift, though, the Lord further challenged my faith--not to dishearten me, but to embolden me. . . .

A few weeks ago, my supervisor asked my wife and I if MVFF would be willing to support another church plant that is just a little younger than our own. The pastor and his wife are experienced and faithful ministers of the gospel, but are encountering the significant difficulties of church planting in the Washington, D.C. metropolitan area. My first thought was: “We have some money in savings, but we too are facing incredible financial challenges. A lot of that money will be spent, if or when we move into another building. Plus, we’re a young church ourselves. Would this really be a wise use of the resources God has provided us?”

My gut instinct was to recoil from creating any additional financial obligations for our church. I also remembered, however, that MVFF also has a vision for church multiplication, and for helping other church plants. So, I gave my supervisor a nice, diplomatic answer that is almost always a safe response in Christian circles: I said, “We’ll pray about it!”

Later, my wife and I discussed the matter. I suggested we consider giving the pastor between $1,000 and $2,000, spread out over five or six months. I thought that might be an amount our church could reasonably afford. Still, I felt I needed to pray about it more, because all of our financial resources are the Lord’s. And I certainly did not want to make an off-the-cuff executive decision, without first seeking God’s guidance.

So, about a week and a half later, I spent some time in prayer about what to give this pastor in need (if anything). I basically said, “Lord, all that we have is Yours. I don’t want to be careless with it. So, please tell me what we should give, if anything.” I had barely finished the prayer when I felt a strong sense that MVFF was not supposed to send this pastor $1,000 or $2,000, but $5,000. That was a sizable chunk of our church savings, and seemed to me (from a human standpoint) to be a rather reckless amount to give! But I believed the Lord had spoken to me. Just to be sure, though, I asked that God confirm with Kelly what I believed He had told me. So, when Kelly got home that day, I asked her to pray about what we should give the pastor in need, and to let me know if the Lord laid anything on her heart (I did not tell her what I believed the Lord had called us to give). After that, I did not raise the matter with her again.

Several days later, though, I received an e-mail from Kelly about the issue. This is what she wrote: “The number that sticks in my head - for no logical reason or anything else - is $5000.”

This was another wonderful reminder to me that God is very aware of our church’s financial situation and needs, and that He has not forgotten us! He has not turned His face away from us! Despite our small size, He already is fulfilling the vision He has given us for church multiplication.

God’s clear direction in this situation was an encouragement for me to “stand firm,” knowing that He would bless our offering to this other pastor, and would continue to provide for MVFF:

“Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap.” (Luke 6:38).

The third, and final, story I’ll share is something that happened about a week or so ago. I was invited to share my testimony with a small group of people at a local restaurant. As I thought about what to share, and about how the Lord has continued to show me His faithfulness and love despite my doubt and grumbling, the passage Jeremiah 29:11 came to mind:

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

That is such an amazing promise! As I meditated on it, and thought about how faithful and merciful God has been, my spirit was strengthened. I felt a deeper appreciation for that promise, and I clung to it! When I later shared my testimony with that small group, I made sure to repeat that promise several times during my talk. I wanted it to take seed in the hearts of those who were gathered, just as it had taken seed in my own.

At the end of my talk, a lady approached me and asked if my wife and I would be willing to be guests on a web-based show she produces and anchors. She said she has an audience of about one million listeners. I, of course, was honored by the invitation, and told her I would get back to her.

After praying about it, I began doing some research on her show. As I read a brief summary of the show, one statement in particular seemed to leap from the page: “[God] has a plan for each and every person’s life…. and that plan is good!”

Wow! The show’s stated purpose was to remind people of God’s promise in Jeremiah 29:11, the very same passage on which I had based my testimony the night I had shared it with that woman and her colleagues.

This was yet another encouraging reminder that God’s hand continues to guide and direct me and MVFF.

Over the last few days, I have continued to struggle with some doubt and discouragement. But not nearly as much as before! The more I meditate on Jeremiah 29:11, and the more I reflect on these recent examples of God’s faithfulness, the more at peace and faith-filled I become. As I cling to the truth that God’s plan is to “prosper” me and MVFF, and to give us “hope and a future,” the darkness continues to recede. And I look forward to watching God part our Red Sea!