Three Gifts from Me to You

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Anybody do their Christmas shopping early this year?   240 days before Christmas. Never too early to start.

       It was just before Christmas and the magistrate was in a happy mood. He asked the prisoner who was in the dock, ‘What are you charged with?’
The prisoner replied, ‘Doing my Christmas shopping too early.’
‘That’s no crime’, said the magistrate. ‘Just how early were you doing this shopping?’
‘Before the shop opened’, answered the prisoner.

                       Well, I shopped early for all of you and it was a tough assignment. I mean, what do you get a church for Christmas? But after giving it some thought and sifting through all the sales I finally settled on three gifts from me to you.

  1. My first gift to you my congregation is one that is hard to wrap but I managed to stuff it down in this little box. Paul often offered this gift to his congregations. Here it is. (present the box). Doesn’t look like much. But my first gift to you is PEACE.   I want each of you to have this.   It is an elusive gift. Few people today seem to have it. It wasn’t on the Walmart shelves. I had to look elsewhere for it. Its value is immeasurable. —-*Liz Taylor’s recent auction of her jewels brought in $115 million dollars. (By the way, I didn’t see any of you there. You don’t like jewelry)? But the gift in this little box is beyond the value of trinkets and glitter. This gift can make your life worthwhile and give your life meaning and value. It’s priceless.

If you possess this gift you will adjust better to all of life’s challenges. When life is up you can rely on this gift to help you appreciate your good fortune. When life is down you can turn to this gift for sustenance and stability.

With this gift, you will sleep better at night. (and what would Michael Jackson have paid for that)? With this gift, the anxiousness that tightens your chest at night will lessen.    *I read in a magazine yesterday that nearly half of all Americans lie awake at night worrying.   This gift will greatly help with this burden. With this gift, your priorities will be adjusted and the less important things of life will flutter to the floor.

*In one of my former churches I used to visit Mrs. Beulah every Thursday. She was 99. She had this gift. If I walked into her home feeling rushed and worried about matters, it left me when I pulled up a chair and sat beside her. Life for Mrs. Beulah was now condensed to the essentials. She was at peace with the world and with herself.

The little things meant everything to her: A new bouquet of roses on the table beside her bed—a picture of her family taken decades earlier—a simple meal, a friend to talk to—the well-worn Bible that she read before she turned off the light each night. With this gift—PEACE—she had mastered the meaning of life.

So, I want to give you PEACE this morning. I want to . . . but I am afraid I can’t. It’s not mine to give. Only Jesus can give this gift. Let me read his words from John 14:27:———

So if you want this gift, you’ll have to see Jesus after the service. But be assured He will be happy to give it to you.

II.  Joy

The second gift I want to give you as a congregation appears nowhere on the periodic table of chemical elements. There are 118 elements in the chart. I’ve searched from the number 1 element Hydrogen to the 45th element Rhodium to the 81st element Thallium to the final element # 118 Ununoctium. (Say that five times) My second gift is nowhere on this list. And yet this is so essential to a happy life and a closer walk with God. And so I want to give you this gift—JOY.

With this gift, you can face any of life’s hardships and persecutions. Without this gift, you will find yourself dreading each day. The sunshine won’t cheer you and the singing of morning birds will only depress you. You must have this gift to enjoy life and to soar above the negativity of this world.

*I read a Dear Abbey column the other day. It was all about a teen-ager who had to move to a new school last in her high school years. She said, “Dear Abbey, I am a miserable child. I hated leaving my boyfriend and all the pals I’d had since first grade. I’m in my junior year and should be thinking about the prom and SAT scores. Instead, I’m crying my eyes out. This new school is awful. The kids are creeps. They treat an outsider like a leper. I’ am miserable in this rotten place. I hate you, Mom and Dad, for doing this to me. I will never forgive you as long as I live.” Signed—Boston heartache.

The Dear Abby response was pretty brutal. It’s your crummy attitude that is the problem. Lighten up a little. . . .

What does she lack? This little gift. Joy transcends the gritty issues of life.   I love James’ approach to life. He said, Count it all joy when you fall into various trials.”   James had this gift.

And Paul sums it up best when he says in Romans 15:13 May the God of hope fill you with all joy. Paul had this gift too.

And so I want each of you, my congregation, to have this gift. However, this is not my gift to give. Only God can give this gift. I have no choice but withdraw it. I do so with profound regrets. However, if you see the Lord after the service, He will be pleased to bestow it upon you freely.

III. Love

The final gift I would like to offer you this morning is etched permanently in one of the greatest texts in all the Bible. “But now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love” (1 Cor. 13:13).

So I offer this gift of LOVE to you this morning with sincere wishes that you take it and find in it the secret to life.—(present gift).

When you possess this gift the world brightens for you. You begin to see the good in people. You hasten to cheer people on rather than cripple them or add to their misery. You love yourself, you love your neighbor, you love your wife or husband, your children, your dog. You love because you have this gift—love. If you have this gift you become a lot easier to live with. You become patient and kind. You prefer not to brag. You are not arrogant. You are not jealous.

This one gift can revolutionize a home, a marriage, a church and a nation.

This gift was demonstrated by Jesus so we would know what it looks like, feels, like acts. Like. So there would be no confusion.

When Jesus saw a woman taken in adultery about to be stoned, He offered her LOVE.

  1. When Jesus met a scholar by night he offered him this gift.
  2. When Jesus hung dying on the cross and the world mocked him and spit upon him and laughed at him he offered the world this gift. “Father forgive them, for they just don’t know what they are doing.” That’s love in action.

I want to give you this dynamic gift this morning. But I have a problem I can’t do it. It is not my gift to give. I wish I could. But I can’t. All I can do is ask you to see Jesus after the service. It is His gift to give.

Conclusion:
I came with three gifts to give to you as my congregation. I came with Peace, Joy, and Love. I regret to say I can, in reality, give you none of these. But I rejoice in this one fact. I know where to send you. I can send you to Jesus. He has them and will gladly bestow upon you this Christmas if you will but turn to Him in faith.

Conversation

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Observation #15

From the Schoolhouse

Kaja tucked the bear into a small student desk right next to me.  She whispered a few strange instructions to him and then waddled off on urgent business.  It was still early and the morning students had not yet entered the building.  The room was quiet except for my radio playing softly.  The bear didn’t seem to mind.

It was a little awkward at first.  The bear wasn’t a skilled conversationalist.  I tried not to stare.  He was huge, his paunch puckering up against the rim of the desk.  He seemed uncomfortable, but I figured Kaja knew what she doing when she stuck him there.

I could tell right off he wasn’t interested in Civics.  The class textbook was right there in front of him and he wasn’t showing any compulsion to dissect the intricacies of the Judicial Branch.

After about ten minutes, I was more and more impressed.  I could tell he was a deep thinker, a trait woefully absent among so many modern students.  He had an uncanny ability to focus, locking his stare upon the unseen possibilities of whatever issue he was currently dealing with.  He never once asked to use the bathroom, and he didn’t seem to require earphones or endless streams of rockabilly lyrics.

I had just decided to parcel out a little praise when Kaja came barreling back into the room.  She plopped her books on the desk beside the bear, swooped him into her arms and waltzed off into the hall.

I felt guilty that I had not at least tried to speak to him earlier while I had the chance.  I guess there’s a valuable lesson there somewhere.

 

From the Pulpit

We visited our last church Sunday.  Laodicea was a wealthy ancient city about 100 miles east of Ephesus where our journey began, and I suspect some of that wealth had seeped into the fabric of the church.  The Lord seems to chide them for depending too much on their money and gold and too little upon Him  “Buy some gold tested by fire,” He told them.  This city was so rich that after a devastating earthquake in the year 69, the leaders of the city merely dug into their rainy day fund and rebuilt the city with cash.

The Lord loved them (Rev. 3:19), but still castigated the church for being “lukewarm” an epithet that seemed to categorize their religious apathy and dependence upon the luxuries of life in Laodicea. He went on to say, using a rare Greek word, that He was going to “spit” or better “vomit” them from His mouth. That’s a pretty vivid and drastic measure that none us would want to experience.

 

From the Pew

I was so surprised Sunday when several ladies approached me with bags of home-cooked meals prepared to help Alice with her cooking duties.   There were stews and soups and a variety of delicious breads.  I can assure all of the good Samaritans that every morsel and drop was consumed with delight and thankfulness.  It meant so much to both of us that so many cared enough to anticipate this need.  It just reaffirms our belief that the Drummondtown Baptist Church is a wonderful place to serve.

Blackboard Greek

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From the Schoolhouse

The SOL test was over and the kids were just chatting quietly waiting for lunch.  I was tired and a little bored.  Without saying a word, I just went to the blackboard and wrote three words in Greek.  Then I sat down.  The kids were whispering. I could hear them.  They couldn’t figure it out.  Finally, someone asked, “What language is that?”

“Greek,” I said.

A few kids came closer to the board, studying the swirls of the mysterious language. I was amazed that after three hours of writing on an English prompt they had any inquisitiveness left at all.  Still, they persisted.

“What does it mean?” asked one boy scratching his head.  The others gathered around closely, huddling like I was about to announce the final play in a hard-fought football game.

I hesitated.  I hadn’t predicted this outcome, and now I stood on the brink.  I glanced at the clock thinking it might yelp that lunch was ready.  But it didn’t.  It was just me and the boys in a tight huddle waiting breathlessly for the play.

The words were weighted with a religious message I had never intended to disclose.  It was just a random act in a moment of ennui.  I wrote three Greek words that had meaning to me.  But they were silent and secret.

Until now.  Now, they waited.  Now I hesitated.

I was like the ancient Fangshi Chinese masters who knew where the secret mushrooms grew on Mt.Penglai, the ones that bestowed eternal life to the initiated.   I had written Greek.  I knew the secret.

So, I bent low in the huddle and whispered the secret words scribbled in Greek high on the chalkboard;

God is love.

From the Pulpit

We traversed a lot of territory Sunday stopping first at the Trevi Fountain in Rome and then ambling over to Herod’s Temple.  It took 32 years to complete the Trevi Fountain which was conceived and started in 1730 by Nicola Salvi.  But it took 80 years to complete the exquisite temple complex in Jerusalem.  Neither Salvi nor Herod lived to see their prized projects.  Our text this Sunday (Mark 14) introduced us to an impoverished little widow who stood meekly in line within the Court of the Women in the temple to give her contribution to God.  The wealthy donors put their money in the trumpet shaped treasury boxes listening to the coins sing as they traveled down the chute to the box.  The little widow only had two coins, the two smallest coins in the Roman world called prutahs.  They were worthless coins, but they were all she had.  And it was her contribution that an observing Jesus took note of, summoning his disciples over to hear Him sing her praise.

From the Pews

I’m still pondering the Visitor who waltzed into the sanctuary Sunday morning.

It went something like this:  I had just started the sermon waxing eloquently about the Trevi Fountain and the ritual of tossing a few coins over the shoulder to win a romantic gift from the heavens when the Visitor strolled in.  It was a majestic entrance.  She paused for effect at the center aisle adjusting her tiara and royal multicolored scarf.  She was a squat, thick-boned African American woman whom I can only assume was a bit disoriented.  She scanned the audience looking for safe ground. Still unsure, she waddled forth with a measure of uncertainty and sat down heavily in the center right section of the sanctuary.

At this point I was confused, nonplussed over this apparent heavenly response to the coin toss I had just made at the Trevi Fountain. I had hoped for a rejuvenation of my already established romance, but now I wondered if my coins got scrambled in the mists of the Fountain and sent to the wrong celestial address–5 Golden Street ℅ New Romances instead of 7 Golden Street ℅ Continuing Romances.  As I was trying to sort this out while maintaining my pulpit composure I noticed from the corner of my eye that she was getting restless.  This, in turn, made me restless and just as I was about to have a final prayer, dismiss early and run for the hills, she rose like an ocean swell her cape fluttering in the breeze and glanced my way.  We made eye contact for one memorable second, a second forever seared into my memory, a moment in time pregnant with possibilities and then she turned and galloped toward the exit disappearing into the mists of time, forever a mystery.

The Apology

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From the Schoolhouse

She approached me nervously in the middle of class, and I expected a new round of fireworks. She had tried to embarrass me in front of all the kids a few weeks ago.  Her charges were unfounded but nonetheless unleashed with a fury that belied her small stature.   Her public vitriol came out of nowhere like a bolt from the angry hand of Zeus.  I had no quarrel with her at all.  None.  And yet she had erupted and the air still seemed darkly clouded these few weeks later.  She had stopped coming to my class since the barrage, and frankly, I was happy for the respite.

And now she suddenly appeared out of the mist curling her little finger, summoning me to the hall outside the door–away from the others. I agreed and followed still befuddled about the whole incident unable to find the cause for the effect.

She was alone.  Before, the day she flung the bolt, she had gathered a small cadre of supporters who had backed her up, who had fueled the warrior within her.  Now she stood a little forlorn–alone.

Before I could say anything, she looked up at me, lips quivering, searching for some verbal key that would unlock the prison doors. And then the apology came with a sweet simplicity.  The words had a measured cadence laden with sincerity, but nonetheless difficult to release. She struggled, but she did it.  She apologized.

I immediately stuck out my hand.  We shook.  I told her I was proud of her for the courage to come and say these words.  And then with such ease, she shed the mantle of Zeus, discarded her quiver of bolts, and skipped off down the hall happy again.

From the Pulpit

I was impressed Sunday morning to learn that everyone still remembered their multiplication tables.  My sermon had quite a bit of math and I was just testing everyone’s core knowledge on the subject.  Pretty sharp group!  I still haven’t figured out how the math of the text worked itself out.  We had two fish and five loaves and 200 denarii (the cost of the meal if the disciple’s purchased it) and 5000 men standing by the lake hungry and 12 baskets of leftovers.  Now that’s some math.  I guess that’s where we’re just going to have the use the word ‘miracle’.  (Do; you believe in miracles)?

It had been quite a day for Jesus and the disciples.  They had just heard the news of John the Baptist’s beheading by Herod.  And so the Master urged them all to join Him at a “lonely place” on the other side of the Sea of Galilee to recover and grieve.  But the masses heard about it and rushed to meet them there.  So much for rest.  And then the math started.

From the Pew

As I was shaking hands before the service started I noticed Diane Sterling had a couple of grandkids sitting in little bundles beside her. (My eyes aren’t that good).  Are those kids?  I paused and tried to focus because the bundles were a bit lumpy and formless.  That’s when I was glad I had not asked her to introduce me.  Sitting snuggled up next to her were several netted bags of plastic Easter eggs.  Huge bags.  Scores of eggs.  That’s when I put it all together.  Diane had invited everyone over to her place in April for the annual Easter egg hunt and these were the eggs she had purchased for the occasion.  Special thanks to the Sterling family for hosting this event.  (You just never know what you might see in a church pew).

 

Thanks, Linda Nyborg for your delicious chicken dish.  It was perfect on a cold night.

The Dennys

 

See all of you soon.

Dr. Denny

Memories

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From the Schoolhouse

Each day the ceiling drops a little, and the walls constrict incrementally.

Each day the search for meaning becomes more frantic and chaotic.

Each day, when the kids have left, and the classroom spindrift calms, I remember.

And the memories are sweet with a bitter aftertaste.  For I know, now they will never come again, and all that is left for a harried teacher is the stale crust of data, hard to chew, harder to digest.

Sometimes I let the lights flicker off, the room only lit by a distant incandescent glow from a cheap Wallmart lamp in the corner, and in that soft halo I see their faces from my early days of teaching:  Mary, James, the twins, Marco.   Their laughter, like warm hands clasped on a saunter around a summer lake, leads me into the world they claim.  The world they need.  And I go willingly for it is a place that summons me as well.  And when I arrive I am able to dream again and smell the honeysuckle that dribbles down a sultry tree trunk.

I search daily for a key.  I cannot find it.  I see the closed door, but I cannot locate the key.  And so I resign myself to huddle in the room where the ceiling drops a little, and the walls constrict incrementally.

And I am happy because I have the memories.

And I am happy because I feel their hands in mine and see the lake trail where joyous moments await.

And I am defeated because all that is left is data.

David R. Denny  Ph.D.

 

From the Pulpit

We gathered at the river last Sunday.  The Jordan begins as a humble stream in the far North beneath the shoulders of the Anti-Lebanon Mountains.  From there it trickles down to the Dead Sea, gaining momentum and power, the descent dramatic until it hits its nadir at 400 feet below sea level–the level of the great Dead Sea.

It was here on the banks of the little river that we witnessed history fold in upon itself–Before the river–After the river.  Jesus announced Himself to the world formally here at this time.  After cajoling John to baptize Him (John didn’t want to do it feeling inadequate for such a task), John surrendered, and when the sacrament was complete, the world trembled and was never the same.  As we proceed through the Lenten season, let’s remember this moment in time when Jesus publically announced His presence and purpose.

 

From the Pew

 

As the worship hour faded quietly into a Sunday afternoon, I noticed there were quite a few folks gathered around the piano in the front of the sanctuary.  Dale Parks was playing the piano as the choir sang “What Can I Give to Jesus?”  It was a pleasant reverie following the morning service, and I stopped gathering my possessions, preparing for my long drive home.  The arrangement called for the choir to sing the song ‘softly, as a prayer’.  I stood in a sweet trance, not disturbing the seance, letting the melody and the mood carry me.  When the choir paused for further instruction from the maestro, they saw me.

“It sounds so beautiful,” I said complimenting them.  That was all it took.  Within seconds I was snared and compelled to join.  A book surfaced from the creases of the pews, and before I could surreptitiously retreat, I was sitting in the front row singing, “Oh,–what can I give to Jesus, Who gave Himself for me? …”

I didn’t mind.  In fact, it was the perfect ending to the gathering at the river.

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Board of Education

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From the Schoolhouse

I went to the principal’s office on Thursday!

It brought back memories of the one time in high school I was summoned by Mr. Travis for misbehaving in Chemistry class.  He stood 5 feet four inches tall.  I was six feet six.  He weighed in at 147 and I was a lean 190.  He wasn’t much into conversation.  He let Betsy do the talking.

Betsy was the two-foot paddle hanging ceremoniously like an Indian scalp on his office wall.  This threesome–Travis, Denny, and Betsy was an unholy trinity rising from the black mist like a tragic scene from Beowulf.

“Did you call her that?” he asked bluntly, getting to the point with ultimate efficiency.

“Yes sir,” I replied.  I  had thought of lying, but that might have angered Betsy even more.

He sauntered over to Betsy and took her off the wall.  She was lacquered to perfection with a few faint blood streaks barely visible in the cracks of the board.  “Bend over.”  He said it matter of factly like he was ordering a Whopper.

I bent over and tried to think of pleasant things like ice cream and swimming on a hot day.

Wham!  Whack!  Whizzle!

I saw stars and then I saw the light. And then it was over before I could say H2O or any other chemistry formula.

(My trip to my current principal’s office was more pleasant.  I merely asked for a week off to lay tile in the bathroom.  She agreed. No Betsy).  

 

From the Pulpit

I was never so glad to be leaving a place as I was the day I walked away from Sardis.  It was a place of death and repugnance.  The best God could utter about them was “You are dead!”  But as often happens, dark days lead on to brighter ones and such was the case here.  The storm clouds of Sardis yielded to the pleasant vistas of Philadelphia about 26 miles to the East.  This church thrived in midst of chaos.  Living on a fault line line prone to endless earthquakes, tremors, and destruction, they nevertheless found a joy and purpose in serving God and remaining faithful.  It was here that the Lord extolled the open door that exemplified this congregation.  Endless possibilities and bright tomorrows lay just beyond the door.  This was the church of dreams, and so I can declare this is the church I most admire.  The Lord had only praise for this congregation.  This will be our church here at Drummondtown.  Each day we will step up the open door and marvel at the vistas before us.

 

From the Pew

They gave me their heart.  I was so touched.

It was the last one,-creme-filled with a white jacket of fairy dust that stuck to my fingers when I touched it.  I had come in late this Sunday morning so they stared at me for a second wondering where I had been. All of the Sunday school classes were gathered for this donut and coffee delight.  I sat right down and caught up on all the talk.  I didn’t eat the heart then.  They boxed it for me.  I took it home.

I wrapped the pastry heart up in a special valentine box and handed it to Alice when I got home later that day.  She hadn’t gone with me to church this Sunday.  Not feeling well.  So naturally, I took advantage of this fact and handed her the “gift.”

“Oh, is that for me?” she asked coughing gently.

“Yes.  I got you something special.”  (I blushed.  She blushed).  It was a sweet moment.

“What is it?” she asked.  (Women are so curious).

“Oh, just a little something I picked up for you at the Onley Pastry Shop.”

She gave me a hug.  (It was going so well).

I unloosed my tie.  She unloosed the ribbon about the box.  I waited for the look.

“Oh,  David,” she gushed,  “a heart pastry.  How sweet.”  I liked the unintended pun.

“I should save it for dinner.” she sighed.  “This was so thoughtful I’m going to fix you anything you want.  Just name it.”

The catfish was seasoned perfectly with a unique Creole concoction and the freshly mashed potatoes made for a wonderful meal.

*Special request of all who attended the morning donut and coffee hour at church–Please forgive me–(Please).

 

From the Construction Zone

Just an update.  I’ve managed to completely obliterate my bathroom, bedroom complex.  I hauled away my old vanity and sink and now I am up to my knees in dust and destruction.  As soon as I learn how to operate my new spray painter that came with a 20-page booklet with small blotchy pictures of how to set the primer to the down position, etc, I will be rolling, (well, actually spraying).

 

From the Emergency Room

Alice broke her foot yesterday.  She needs two months of healing time and almost no walking about.  (I should have saved some of that catfish for later).

Pirouet

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From the Schoolhouse5077107-model-dancing-a-pirouette-in-a-graceful-manner-with-hands-up-and-feet-straight-stock-photo

Josh pirouetted across the floor just after I began talking about the judicial branch.  Nobody paid him any mind.

That didn’t deter him from executing two mid-air leaps and a magnanimous leg kick that would have made Mikhail Baryshnikov blush with pride.  He finally fluttered to a graceful conclusion settling into a desk and clicking on his computer.

“Now, class, the judicial branch plays an important role in our government,” I said.  “As you know…”

Josh stuck two ear buds into his head and turned on some Broadway musical.

I kept going.  “We’re going to begin today by discussing just what courts really do.”

Josh rose like a slow summer squall and began the dramatic finale to Romeo and Juliet.  Tears welled in his eyes as he held his lover one last time and then drank the poison.

No one paid him any mind.

And I explained the difference between the state and federal courts.

Photo by: Dreamstime.com

From the Pulpit

We left Thyatira with high spirits.  The Lord was pleased with this congregation and gave them high marks for improvement in all aspects of their spiritual journey.

But it didn’t take long after arriving in Sardis before we were mired in the slough of despair.  The Lord spared any pleasantries with this church and instead slammed them with three devastating words, three words that still seem to echo off the lonely remaining two pillars of the Temple of Artemis that once dominated this wealthy city.   What did He say to them in a moment of heated discourse?  He said, “You are dead!” (Rev. 3:2).  (Insert Greek text here).  This chilling sentence, brief but potent, gives us all pause as we reflect upon our own lives.   Melito, the ancient church father who belonged to the Church at Sardis, came along several decades after this critical period.  He dedicated his life to restoring the church’s name.  Let’s all take inspiration from Melito and strive to live to the fullest

From the Pewdaydreams.jpg

Shelley and I compared middle school report cards after church.  We must have had the same teacher.  Her little teacher note at the bottom of the card said the same thing mine said:  squirms a lot–daydreams.

My sixth-grade teacher in Jacksonville Arkansas, Mr. Cochran, was a bona fide cowboy who tolerated daydreaming.  He seemed to understand me.  He raised and raced quarterhorses.  He gave me all kinds of valuable advice.  One day he said to the class,  “Gentlemen, always change your shoes at least once a day.  It’s good for your feet.”

I’m sure Shelley’s teacher gave equally inciteful aphorisms to guide her through the restless school afternoons.  I miss those days when squirming and dreaming kept interrupting the memorization of the times tables.

It’s comforting to know I wasn’t the only daydreamer sitting behind a wooden desk.  And by the way,  just what exactly did your teacher write about you?  Let me know.  I won’t laugh.  (LOL).

Artwork by: https://www.neonmob.com

Lullabies and Reveille

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Seven Churches Series
Revelation 3:1-6
Dr. David R. Dennytemple_of_artemis_sardis_turkey4

The Temple of Artemis outside Sart (ancient Sardis), Turkey  https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Temple_of_Artemis_Sardis_Turkey4.jpg

Today we leave Thyatira heading inland further to the ancient city of Sardis, the former capital of Lydia. As we walk along the dusty Turkish roads in search of the new city, all of us on this journey should be feeling pretty good. For when we departed from Thyatira, that blue class working town, the Lord gave us all the Morningstar. Do you have your star in your pocket? It is a personal gift from the Lord given to all overcomers who sojourn through life resisting the evil of the world, holding fast to the teaching of the Lord.

As we depart Thyatira with the Morningstar in our pocket, which is God’s pledge of love and encouragement and faithfulness to us, we can still hear that echo of encouragement given to them and to us—“Your deeds of late are greater than at first.” Remember that? The faithful saints at Thyatira were getting better, gaining strength, growing in spiritual confidence. They were aging like old wine, their faith gaining subtle textures and nuances that only time can give.

It was so uplifting to visit a church where the fruits of the Spirit were so evident. Everyone was pulling together in spite of the tests and difficulties. Everyone was excelling in love and faith and service and perseverance. So let me just remind you if you ever find yourself a little down in your Christian journey, if the blues ever hit you and you feel a bit like giving up sometime—then go back and visit your Christian brothers and sisters in Thyatira.

 

As we head another 30-40 miles further inland, walking with the Lord toward Sardis, it is reassuring to know that He cares enough about the churches to make this journey. This circuit through the churches was a personal mission of the Lord. He cares about us and He just wants to make sure we’re all on track.

The Bible begins with a personal journey. The Lord each day would walk in the garden, enjoying the fragrances of the early morning or the cool winds of the evening. It was here that He supped with Adam and enjoyed his company. —And it was on the road to Emmaus that the Lord once again walked with some grieving disciples, men lost in depths of despair. And as the Lord walked he listened, he encouraged, his challenged the men just as He does to you when you walk with Him daily. —

 

**When I used to live on the Easter Shore, I pastored the Cheriton Baptist Church for 6 years. It was a beautiful church built in 1920. It had a second level balcony that wrapped around the sanctuary. It had hand-made stained glass windows with the names of the early members etched into the base. And on the top of the church there rested a massive dome that gave the building architectural stature. I loved that sanctuary.

Every morning I would rise at sunrise, take my elegant Irish Setter named Reverend and off we would go bounding across Route 13 toward the Chesapeake Bay. The fields were silent early in the morning, and often the bay mists would roll in over the soybeans fields. We would tromp across the wet fields trying to get to the Bay before the watermen left. Then we would sit on the wharf and watch the little oyster boats drift off to sea their motors slowly revving up as they approached the deeper water.

 

Well, for some reason walking down this Turkish road to Sardis made me think about those Eastern Shore jaunts. Sardis lies about 60 miles inland from Ephesus where our journey started. It was at one time one of the world’s great cities, being the capital of Lydia. But time has certainly ravaged this place. Sardis was the home of a famous church father named Melito who lived there in the middle of the second century, just a generation from the writing of this letter.

As you approach the ruins of the city you can see in the distance two huge pillars standing watch over the silent remains of the dead city. These two pillars are very ancient going back hundreds of years before Christ. They area the only two complete pillars of the temple of Cybele (Artemis) that dominated the city of Sardis. This temple was so massive it is twice the size of the Parthenon in Athens. I’ve been to the Parthenon which takes your breath away it is so magnificent. But this temple in Sardis is twice the size of the Parthenon. Its ruins are still there today spread out beneath the shadow of the two remaining solitary pillars.

 

Just below the temple, there is a 5-acre gymnasium built in the early 2nd century, just aa few years after our text. It is still there today almost fully intact. The gymnasium complex and the massive temple of Artemis give us hints at the lifestyle of the citizens of this old city. Cybelean worshippers were known for orgies and sexual mutilation and extreme fertility rituals. Priests were routinely castrated and then dressed up in women’s clothes to satisfy Cybele.

Sardis was a city given to pleasure and it made it difficult to be a serious and devoted Christian. And so as we sit and rest beneath the two remaining pillars of the temple it is easy to hear the scathing rebuke given to this church echoing among the broken stones and scattered pillars.

In every other church, the Lord always began with something good, something positive about the church. To the Ephesians, he began by complimenting them on not growing weary in their work for the Lord. To the Smyrnans He sympathized with their poverty and offered no condemnation at all. To the saints at Pergamum, he smiled with pride that they had not denied the faith. And to the Thyatiran church, he boasted about their progress and growing faith. But when the Lord strolls into the city of Sardis and gazes at the great temple where immorality reigned he merely shook his head and then with brutal honesty and disgust, he said three little words that still haunt the place to this very day. Three words that no church ever hear. Three words filled with the dark realities that can beset any church at any time in history. He looked around and said, YOU ARE DEAD. (Nekros ei).

There is no small talk here. There are no greetings here, no pleasantries, no hand shaking or back slapping. Things are beyond that. The Lord is looking at these saints and dialing 911. He’s put the stethoscope on their chests and nothing is registering.   He hasn’t given up hope entirely because the next words out of his mouth are a command to wake up! I can see the Lord there slapping the face of the corpse, shouting at them, giving CPR. Doing all He can to bring them back. But it’s a sad picture. Let’s all make a vow right now that this will never happen to us here at DBC. Let’s don’t ever be the one church that he declares to be dead.

 

* I watched a strange old Irish movie last night about a little boy whose father was the town drunk. He idolized his father who in his earlier days was a brilliant trumpet player. He still carried his trumpet around and would play a few random notes in between drinking, but his life was over. One day the boy came home, and his father was sitting motionless in the chair in the middle of the living room. The boy acted as if nothing was terribly wrong. But the father wasn’t moving, and the flies were landing on his face. So the little boy was swinging the fly swatter wildly over the father and chattering aimlessly about this and that. Just chattering and swinging his fly swatter at the flies. Then the doorbell rings and the town doctor asks to see the father. “Oh sir, he’s off on a long journey to Dublin. “ When will he be back?” asked the doctor suspiciously. Oh not for days sir. Not for days.” The doctor leaves, and the boy keeps striking the air with the swatter.—A few days later, the town policeman and the doctor return and haul the corpse out of the house.

“You are dead, says the Lord to the church in Sardis. “For I have not found your deeds completed in the sight of My God.”

How does a church get to this point? How does a Christian drift so far from home? It’s nothing major usually. It’s like a marriage. First, it’s the clothes left lying around, then the long work hours late at night, then the suspicion, then the fights and nasty words shouted across the living room, then the stopping off at the bars after work and before long a couple just doesn’t love each other anymore. It might take years, it might come more swiftly. But love can spoil, and faithfulness can warp with time and fracture with neglect.

Churches have to renew their calling every Sunday to avoid this pitfall.   Churches have to visit the early days often like we did last Sunday. Churches have to renew their vows often and rise early and stroll with the Lord through the wet fields to the Bay watching the sunrise and finding that mystical connection to the heart of heaven where it all begins.

 

Melito, the revered and famous church father who lived and died in Sardis, came along a generation after this scathing rebuke from the Lord. Tradition says he worked tirelessly to win the favor of the Lord again at his church. He made tireless journeys to Palestine to connect with the spirit of the Gospel. Melito took these words seriously. He labored to find the first love for Sardis.

What are you doing here to fan the flame of revival and evangelism and zealousness? Each of us has that responsibility. We don’t want the Lord to stroll in one Sunday, push me aside, take the mike and say the three words.

 

Camellia

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From the Schoolhouse
David R. Denny

She was spunky for a little 8th-grade girl.
She stood at my desk gripping the stolen artificial flower, shaking it before me in a blatant attempt at bribery.
I saw a glimmer of a smile, but she didn’t waiver in intensity.
“This flower is yours if you fix my grade.”  The words growled softly like a Cheshire cat warning a Pitt bull.

My Description

“Where did you get that Camellia?” I asked.

“Where did you get that Camellia?” I asked.
She didn’t like the question.  She pressed on. “It’s yours if you can fix that C+.”  She leaned forward a little extending the hostage in the space between her and me.
“Where did you get it?”  I could see this diversionary tactic was getting to her.
“I picked it out of the flowers in front of the school,” she said without guilt.  After a pause, she began marching again.  “It’s yours if you just…”         She didn’t bother finishing.  She knew I understood.
I took the flower and jammed it into a red plastic cup on my desk.
She smiled as if the victory was hers.  I let her have her moment.
Then I pointed to an empty REESE’S Peanut Butter Cup wrapper.
Photo at: http://www.thatwayhat.com/

From the Pulpit

report-cardWe passed out report cards Sunday as we visited the ancient congregation of Thyatira (Rev. 2:18-29).    This congregation was admired by the Lord who gave them high marks. They had no faults except for a minority that followed Jezebel.  She was an errant member who favored compromise with the unions and sacrificing meat to idols.  But other than that, they were in great shape.  There’s not much left of this old city today except a few shattered pillars and stones enclosed in a city park in the center of the modern town in western Turkey.  The gift God bestowed upon them for their excellent grades was the morning star.  So if you remember from last week, we’ve now got the white stone in our left pocket and the morning star in the right!

From the Pew

I want to thank Tommy Hines for his humorous rendition of the miracle of the loaves and fishes.  We were both chuckling as he told me of his “miracle” recently.  He had been designated as the BBQ man for an oyster and BBQ festival.    He found out when he got there that there were more folks in line than he figured on.  He just kept on dishing out the goods expecting to hear the hiss of disappointment from the unfortunate stragglers in the back of the line.  “But it seemed like the BBQ just kept multiplying,” he said.  “And I could barely believe that I actually had a little left over when the last person passed by.  It was a miracle,” he said smiling.

And who are we to think otherwise.  I’ll take a miracle anytime it comes.    “Good job, Tommy.  By the way,  could you pass the BBQ?”
Artwork by: http://sanjacintobaptist.com/bbqcowboy3c

Just Say No!

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thyatira_01

Ruins of ancient Thyatira:   http://padfield.com/turkey/sevenchurches/index.html

“Just Say No!”
Rev. 2:18-29
February 5, 2017

Today we continue on with our journey among the 7 churches of Revelation.   One thing is clear as we walk the streets of these ancient cities and meet the churches and Christians of yesteryear: one thing is clear—the Lord is vitally interested in what we are doing in our churches.

He isn’t just following the steps of your life individually. He certainly is doing that. The Lord plots every aspect of your sojourn on earth. He knows your every decision and thought. He counts the hairs on your head and takes careful notice of your aspirations in life, your hurts and disappointments, your sufferings and your accomplishments.

*My youngest son, Jon, who is 22 and lives just off the ODU campus, is in his final semester of engineering. He just got his first official job this week as an engineer with a firm in Greenbrier. He will work part time he while completes his degree. When he walks across the stage in a few months and gets his degree he will walk into a new world as an engineer. He is frantically out buying suits and shirts and ties—things college guys don’t usually worry about.

Surely God cares about the early days of our lives and the middle years and the senior years. But there is no question that God is highly aware and focused on what we do as a church. That much is certain as we watch from a great distance the Lord pinning badges on the heroes of the 7 churches and castigating others and warning and chiding and encouraging and rewarding the saints of these churches.

Bottom line—God is watching us here at Drummondtown too. He takes notes of our decisions, our foibles, our strengths, our hopes, and our plans for the future. Let’s learn all we can from how these 7 churches complied or failed to comply with God’s concerns.

As we stroll away from the city of Pergamum where we were last Sunday, the smoke of the boiling cauldron, shaped like a huge copper bull, haunts us. We heard the order to toss Antipas into the brazen bull for refusing to worship the Roman deities. We heard the pastor’s strained attempts to mouth a final hymn as he died a cruel death. We walk away toward Thyatira glancing over our shoulders every so often at the trailing smoke of the boiling bull with the somber realization that there is a price to pay sometimes for committing our lives to Christ.

Thyatira is 35 miles southeast from Pergamum. It lies 50 miles inland from the Mediterranean Sea. Only a few broken walls remain today of this blue collar working man’s town. Today if you visit the modern city of Akhisar in Turkey, you will see the ancient walls of Thyatira. The city has them enclosed behind a modest wrought iron fence in the center of the city. It almost looks like a park with benches just outside the fence. People takes their lunch breaks nestled up against the old walls of Thyatira.

If you step back in time with me and enter the bustling streets of the town you would immediately find your self swept up in the sounds and smells of a variety of trades and guilds all in full motion. Ancient inscriptions found at this site prove this town to have more trades than any other contemporary city in the Roman province of Asia. The inscriptions tells us there were wool-workers here, linen-workers, outer garment workers, leather-workers, potters, bakers, slave dealers, bronze-smiths, tent makers, and dyers to mention a few. So as we enter the main thoroughfare looking for our church we hear the pinging of hammers in the bronze shops, the shouts of the baker selling his bread, the screams of the linen merchant ordering us out of the road so his cart can pass.

Thyatira was famous for dye making. The water from the local rivers and wells had just the right texture and clarity for perfect dye making. The master dye makers made a gorgeous scarlet dye that was the envy of the ancient world. They made it from the roots of the madder plant that grow to a meter in length. Who can tell me the famous woman from Thyatira mentioned in the Bible? Let’s turn to Acts 16:14.  And a certain woman named Lydia, from the city of Thyatira, a seller of purple fabrics . . . was listening.

So we are in Lydia’s town. This is where she started her business. Somehow she just happened to be in Philippi on a morning when Paul was there and heard the gospel. She is the first convert in this area and came back and helped start this church.

Thyatira was a difficult place to be a Christian. Everybody belonged to one of the trade unions. And every trade guild had pagan rituals and festivals you had to attend.

Here is what William Barclay, the famous British Bible scholar says about these local guilds: These guilds met frequently, and they met for a common meal. Such a meal was, at least in part, a religious ceremony. It would probably meet in a heathen temple, and it would certainly begin with a libation to the gods, and the meal itself would largely consist of meat offered to idols. The official position of the church meant that a Christian could not attend such a meal.

So the common position in the church was that you couldn’t be a member of a union or a trade group and be a good Christian. It caused the very problems mentioned in our text today. We’ll talk more about this in a moment. But first a basic question:How is the church here doing? What kind of report card does this church get from the Lord?report-card

 

 

*I passed out report cards Friday at school. There is nothing more compelling to an 8th grader than his or her report card. Report cards take precedent over any current romantic issues, over any facebook squabbles, over any pending date or weekend dance. So when I’m holding the report cards the kids swarm me like a flock of chickens at feeding time. I can play a few games here. This is my moment. I’m in charge here. So a slight frown at a certain report card can send terror through the flock.

So what’s the report card for Thyatira? Well it’s remarkable. In this pagan working man’s town where the unions rule everything the Lord smiles and hands out A – cards. Let’s paraphrase verse 19. Here the lord hands out the cards and says “Well everyone, you’ve been working hard. I am impressed. You get high marks for love and faith and service and perseverance..”

Now let’s pause here for a second. I want each of you reach out and take your report card from the Lord right now. Go ahead. Just take it. You’ve got one you know. Now look inside. What does it say? Does it say well done? Does it say A for love—A for faith—A for service—A for perseverance? How many absences are on your card? How many incompletes? How many “needs improvements” are there? Compare your card with the ones handed out here to these saints living in tough Thyatira. Can you do better? Can we do better as a church? That should be our goal always. To get the highest marks on our cards. We want to please the Lord.

But wait. There is a most remarkable comment at the bottom of these report cards handed out to the Thyatiran saints. Do you see the comment written in bold ink strokes at the bottom of the report card? It says: “Your deeds of late are greater than at first.”

Let’s put that in context. Compare what the comment was on the bottom of Ephesian report card. What did the Lord say there? Your early work was great but you’ve slipped recently. You’ve lost your first love. But just the opposite is said here. You were a little slow to start but I’ve been watching and you’re getting better. “Your deeds of late are greater than at first.”

* I remember when I first played cornet. I was in the sixth grade and I lived way out in the country in Jacksonville Arkansas. Across the dirt road in front of my house there was a huge pasture with long horned steer and a big pond. I had a few neighbors along the road but not many. Mostly just steers. And I would sit on my front porch after school, take out my shiny new cornet and play church hymns. At first I could only make a few loud honks, nothing that sounded like a hymn. And the steers didn’t approve. They would bellow back and move away toward the lake. That was discouraging. I figured if the cows didn’t like me I must be pretty bad. But I kept honking and blowing every night.

And then one night after all the neighbors had once again slammed their doors in disgust and the steers were walking away gossiping and rolling their eyes—I blew a clear string of notes. It was amazing. A few consecutive clear notes of Amazing Grace. And the steers turned around and stared at me. And I knew then that I was getting better.

And here as the Lord hands out the cards to the saints at Thyatira he tells them—You started slow but you’re doing much better. And that’s what we want to hear at our church. You’ve done well over the past 50 years but you’re getting better. Your ministry is growing stronger. You’re on the right track.

But there was one criticism to a tiny portion of the church. There was a group in the church that just couldn’t say no. The Jezebel faction was pushing for compromise with the unions. This Jezebel was some kind of prophetess or influential woman in the congregation who was urging everyone to join the unions, go to the temple parties, sacrifice to the union idols, and just get along and go along with the world around them.

But the Lord demanded that they stay pure, stay on task, keep the priorities of the ministry first. Just say no to Jezebel, just say no to compromise. But they couldn’t seem to do it.

However, once the Lord addressed the Jezebel faction he turned back to the rest of the congregation and said—but to all of you who aren’t in that group, I place no other burden on you.

Perhaps we can all learn from this criticism. There are times we should stop and say no in our pilgrimage of faith. There are times when we should turn away, when we should run from evil influences, when we should take a bold stand against the forces of evil that would tear us down and harm our witness.

Well as we leave Thyatira, the church in the union town, let’s glance once more time at their A- report card and vow that we too will stay true to the Lord where we live and work.

Report card image: http://www.bisd303.org/Domain/765