Nov. 21, 2007

Some Thoughts on Prayer and the World Situation

I've been praying about this giant tornado that hit Bangladesh. It seems to me those people have had so much pain and agony over the years. Some Christians I know bring up the thought that God might be punishing them for their idolatrous religion (I don't know what most of them are-Hindus?). But I really have a hard time believing that God uses the weather to punish people because of their lack of belief. I could see it if a major missions push had been made there and they summarily rejected it. But if we're to start speaking about weather-judgments on people, then what about Hurricane Katrina, the tornado that hit Greensburg, Kansas, the tsunami in the Pacific rim nations, various earthquakes and famines, and so on? I don't think God would do this arbitrarily. Either all weather catastrophes would indicate judgment, or specific prophets would speak about the situation as a judgment (like in the Book of Job when Satan attacked Job, or when God sent various plagues on Israel as judgments for specific sins), or they're just the result of living in a fallen world utterly given over to evil. 

Anyway, I think the answer is to pray for these people, not condemn them in any way. What for? 

1. Rehabilitation of the living. 

2. Mission help agencies get moving there.

3. God use Christians to show his love. 

Joke of the week from my son, Gardner, age 10:

What kind of cookies do monkeys eat? 

Chocolate chimp cookies. 

From a hopeful book, Daddyhood: 

Tonight, Gardner found me in the living room. He had dressed himself in a black winter cloak that belonged to my wife, and he gripped a stick, which was the handle of an ancient snow shovel that had broken apart. His face poked out of the hood. "What's this all about?" I asked. 

"I'm the Grim Reeker," he replied.  "Like in Halloween." 

"Halloween's over, Gardner." 

"I'm just pretending, Dad. You know, make believe? Didn't you ever do make believe?"

"Most of my life is make believe." 

"For real?" 

"Yeah. So you're the Grim Reaper?" 

"No, I'm the Grim Reeker." 

Had I heard him wrongly? "You do mean the Grim Reaper, the angel of death?"

"He's an angel?" 

"A mythical angel, I guess."

Gardner nodded. "He's the guy who kills people." 

"What -- by making them smell him?" 

Gardner stared at me, his face twisted into s frown. "No, with this stick." 

I asked him to demonstrate. He grabbed our dog Patches, the deaf Dalmatian, and pretended to whack her over the head with his stick. Then he grabbed her tail to pretend to pull her out into the Grim Reekness. 

"So what else does the Grim Reeker do, Gardner? Does he stink things up?" 

Gardner still didn't get it. "No, he just kills people. He takes them to the devil or to God, whichever one they're supposed to go to." 

"So how does he decide the difference?" 

"What?" He gazed at me with his eyebrows clinched. 

"How does the Grim Reeker know which one to take the person to? By their smell?" 

"Why is everything about smell, Dad?" 

"Because it's the Grim Reeker - the guy in the hood with the stick who takes you to the garbage dump." 

"No, Dad, he takes you to heaven or to hell, whichever one you decide to go to." 

"Oh, so we decide?" 

"Yeah."  He turned away to smack another imaginary person with his stick. "Or maybe it's God who decides. I don't know. I'll have to ask my Sunday School teacher." 

"Why don't you just ask me?" 

"My Sunday School teacher is very smart, Dad. She knows the WHOLE Bible."

"Well, so do I." 

"For real?" 

"Yeah."

"I never knew that." 

"What - that I know the WHOLE Bible, or that I'm really smart?" 

"Either."   

I rolled my eyes and lay back down. "Just go and do your Grim Reeking. Thanks for the compliment." 

"What compliment?" 

"Precisely." 

"What?" 

I knew this conversation had problems the moment I learned about the Grim Reeker. "Gardner?" I snapped my fingers. I decided I didn't want him going to school and talking about the Grim Reeker. He might be sent home to take a bath. 

"Yeah?"

"It's the Grim Reaper, Gardner, Reaper, not Reeker. Like when you reap wheat in a field. A Reeker is a person who smells really bad." 

"For real?" 

"Yeah."  I sighed and closed my eyes.

Gardner continued, "So I said the Grim Reeker and that means he really has a bad smell? And he kills people by smelling on them?" 

I opened my eyes just so I could roll them. "Right." 

"I didn't know that about the Grim Reeker. Thanks, Dad. You're really smart, maybe as smart as my Sunday School teacher."

"Once again, thanks for the compliment." 

"Glad to be of service." He bowed slightly, then walked away. Should I try again, or should I just let him go through life worried that one day the Grim Reeker would come for him and stink up his room really bad? 

Mark's Comment: You think President Bush garbles words and sentences and things? You see my son.  I don't even try to correct him any more. In fact, I pray, "Please, God, I need a laugh. Please send Gardner with a garbled up word or two."  God always comes through. (Although, perhaps I shouldn't blame this on God.)

Gardner: Watch out, the Grim Reeker could be coming to your house tonight!

My Re-Comment: So keep some of that spray stuff that makes the bathroom smell like flowers, so when he leaves, you can eliminate the odor. 

From the book: 101 Amazing Truths About Jesus You Probably Didn't Know, Howard Books, 2007. 

Sometimes Jesus' Disciples Really Disappointed Him

Jesus's disciples witnessed miracles of power, heard words of incredible wisdom, and experienced a love of giant proportions; yet they still doubted, still questioned, still wondered. They were people just like us-skeptical, fearful, unsure.

When Jesus ordered his disciples to cross the Sea of Galilee in a fishing boat, they knew precisely what to do. They were fishermen. They had done this a million times. They pulled out the oars and began rowing for all they were worth.

Jesus, perhaps exhausted from teaching and healing all day, fell asleep in the stern of the boat. I imagine the rowers even working to keep the oars from squeaking too loudly, so as not to wake him. They knew what he'd been through-jostling crowds, insistent followers, hopeful but prodding supplicants, and shrewd and rumor-spreading critics. The disciples decided to let Jesus sleep till the cows came home or the boat reached shore, whichever came first.

But then something unexpected happened. A vicious storm whipped the waters into a cauldron of foam and fury (see Matthew 8:23-27). The Sea of Galilee, because of the steep mountains that surround it, often is lashed with sudden and powerful storms. The valleys in the mountains act as funnels for the wind, and the sea churns up quickly.

As the men oared with all their strength for land, menacing waves engulfed the boat. Water sloshed over the sides, and the fishermen bailed furiously. But the storm was too much for them. Picture the scene:

"We're going to sink!"

"We've got to do something."

"But what?"

Suddenly every eye fixed on Jesus, sleeping soundly (if wetly) in the back of the boat. How could he not have awoken? Could it be he was that tired?

"Should we wake him up?" one shouted over the howling wind.

"Maybe he can do something," another said.

"Like what?" others wanted to know.

"Maybe he can get us to land quickly," the first answered. "Or stop the boat from sinking."

"Yeah, right," one of the less confident disciples answered. "He'll probably just be mad we woke him up."

One of them finally corked up the courage to shake Jesus awake and ask for help. Can you see this disciple stumbling through the quickly filling boat to give Jesus a gentle tap? "Uh . . . Lord?"

Jesus just snored on.

"Master!" A little shove this time.

"Jesus, we're going to sink!" This time the guy fell into Jesus's lap as the boat lurched from the slap of an angry wave.

Jesus woke up, glanced around at things, quickly sized up the situation, then stood and commanded the wind: "Quiet! Be still."

Do you think it was a sigh, a whisper, or a bellow? We don't know. But immediately the wind died down, the waves stopped frothing, and the sea became smooth as glass.

Then Jesus said, "Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?"

The disciples probably paled, or maybe blushed-but among themselves they must have gaped with astonishment, whispering to each other and wondering what sort of man this was who could stop a storm.

Who wouldn't be amazed?

But do you know what I think is the most astonishing part? How long they waited to arouse Jesus. When Jesus asked them why they had so little faith, I wonder if he didn't mean their fear of the storm but rather their being afraid to wake him and get him involved. Did they think he'd be angry, or that he'd chew them out for waking him out of happy dreams when they should have simply bailed harder?

What was Jesus' point? Perhaps: why didn't you wake me sooner, when the problem didn't require a major miracle?

How often, for many of us, prayer is the last resort. We don't kneel before the throne of grace until our situation requires miraculous intervention. What we don't realize is that God wants us to come to him first, not last.

What encouragement there is in the approachable God of the Bible! He never chastises us for coming to him about a problem. He never shouts that he doesn't have the time or snaps, "Whaddaya want this time?" No, God is utterly and always accessible, whenever we need his help.

I find that amazing. Why would the God of the universe ever concern himself with my problems, my needs? And yet that is the essence of the gospel, isn't it? The God of all creation cares about you and me. No, more than that. He loves us so completely that he sent Jesus to pay the ultimate price to obtain our friendship and faith in him. Nothing-absolutely nothing-is too small for his attention, and nothing-absolutely nothing-is too big and complicated for him to take on.

Why is God like this? Because he was one of us, too. Jesus knows what it's like to be human. He understands our fears and our worries. And he wants us to know that his understanding leads not to contempt but to compassion. Even when we wait too long, he remains ready to take action.