I’ve been reading Religious Affections. Edwards has a way of redefining spirituality in such a way that it tastes (that seems like a good word to describe it) radically God-centered. Here’s a quote that I like:

And as it is with the love of the saints, so it is with their joy, and spiritual delight and pleasure: the first foundation of it is not any consideration or conception of their interest in divine things; but it primarily consists in the sweet entertainment their minds have in the view of contemplation of the divine and holy beauty of these things, as they are in themselves. And this is indeed the very main difference between the joy of the hypocrite, and the joy of the true saint. The former rejoices in himself; self is the first foundation of his joy: the latter rejoices in God. The hypocrite has his mind pleased and delighted, in the first place, with his own privilege, and the happiness which he supposes he has attained to, or shall attain to. True saints have their minds, in the first place, inexpressibly pleased and delighted with the sweet ideas of the glorious and amiable nature of the things of God. And this is the spring of all their delights, and the cream of all their pleasures: it is the joy of their joy. This sweet and ravishing entertainment they have in the view of the beautiful and delightful nature of divine things, is the foundation of the joy that they have afterwards, in the consideration of their being theirs. But the dependence of the affections of hypocrites is in a contrary order: they first rejoice and are elevated with it, that they are made so much of by God; and then on that ground he seems, in a sort, lovely to them.

Comments…

I've appreciated this Easter more than previous because in this last year I've come to appreciate the significance of the ressurrection in a much more personal way. I think often times evangelicals use the resurrection as merely proof for the fact that Christ's death really did work. However, if we understand the significance of union with Christ, then we know that we have no new life in Christ, unless, in fact, Christ has new life in His resurrection.

I did the sunrise service for my church. Here's a copy of the very brief message.

Sunrise Service

Something struck me as I thought about going to the sun rise service. Our plan was to get in our cars, more or less follow each other here, get out, huddle together in the cold, and I would do a brief service, and then we would follow each other back. What struck me was the similarity between that and the last time we followed each other in our cars, huddled together in the cold, and I did a brief service. That was for Calude’s grave side service, which, as you know, followed on the heals of Steve’s memorial service. How ironic that the sunrise service on Easter to celebrate the resurrection brought my mind to the grave side service where we committed the body of a loved one to the ground.

I thought about that week in February, and I remember a song that God used to sustain me and communicate the emotions I was feeling. It is called “In the Valley.” The words go like this:

When You lead me to the valley of vision

I can see You in the heights.

And though my humbling wouldn't be my decision

It's here Your glory shines so bright.

So let me learn that the cross precedes the crown

To be low is to be high

That the valley's where You make me more like Christ

Let me find Your grace in the valley
Let me find Your life in my death
Let me find Your joy in my sorrow
Your wealth in my need

The second verse says,

In the daytime there are stars in the heavens
But they only shine at night
And the deeper that I go into darkness
The more I see their radiant light
So let me learn that my losses are my gain
To be broken is to heal
That the valley's where Your power is revealed

If we think about it, a grave side service isn’t a bad way to think about the resurrection. That’s when we need it the most. Or as the song says, “It is there God’s glory shines so bright.” We are here waiting for the sun to come up. And that’s not because we don’t have a perfectly good church building to meet in, or we think shivering will burn the extra calories we plan to eat today. But there something symbolic that we are cold and it’s dark. Then the sun comes up, and the darkness flees, the fog melts, and it begins to get warmer. We are here longing for the sun to come up. And we know for sure it will.

If we think about it, the sun is really an incredible thing. Thousands of miles away, it is this ball of nuclear energy, that doesn’t hurt us, but sustains us, warms us, provides light of us to see. But during the night it appears to leave. Yet then in the morning returns. It is really a tremendous display of power and glory. No wonder the ancients worshiped it. And they even thought of sunset and sunrise in terms of death and resurrection.

But that son isn’t the premier display of power. It only points to something far greater, more powerful than nuclear energy. That is the resurrection of the crucified Lord. And it is such a power because on the cross Christ killed our old nature, our old identity with Adam, and Christ wrought a new nature, resurrected nature. All was dark, all was night. And then boom, Christ arose. Life was breathed into Him. And He created new life, not only for Himself, but all who would follow. A new race of Jew and gentile, slave and free, men and woman—all who will trust Christ and repent of their sin. The resurrection is about the sublime power of God. And this power shines brightest when we are at our darkest.

I remember the message I did that morning between the funerals we looked at why it is that in both 2 Corinthians 4 and Philippians 3, Paul actually says that suffering is the result of the resurrection life. And the answer is quite startling: it is that only when we are weak, when this body is beaten down that resurrection life of Christ shine through. When we are week, then He is strong. During our night, when we long for the resurrect life to come, then we life shines through us.

One day it will come. One day the dead in Christ will rise, and we will have a body like Him. And it is not just about the body, but about the complete removal of our flesh, that our relationship with God will be so much closer than it is now. Until that day, we suffer so that the anticipation of that day will shine through.

Let this Easter not be filled merely with thoughts of Easter bunny, or candy, But Let us this Easter have a sober joy about it. Let the reminder of death draw our minds to consider new life. Consider the new life for those who have passed and the new life for us now, knowing that the resurrection life that God has for us is real and will come, and of such staggering proportions that can not even be imagined.

Today we celebrate that hope. That’s a good thing. But let us remember that one of the ways hope in the resurrection is expressed is in our darkness, as we wait for the Son, the son of God, to come, causing our darkness to flee, and the consummate resurrection life will immediately bring us warmth of new life—far exceeding anything this earthly sun could do.

Walking...

Matthew's new favorite way to locomote is starting off by standing, taking several haphazard steps, and then falling (diving?) into the waiting Mommy or Daddy's arms. Here are some cute pics of the action:

Someone asked, “As you think about moving to a completely new & different place, what are some of the worries (irrational ones would be more interesting :)) that pop into your thoughts and leave you with the funny feeling in the abdomen somewhere?”

Here are some things that came to our mind (Some are more rational than others:)

We are worried …

…how we will handle new foods (never drank yogurt before =).

… about being stuck in the house, not able to go anywhere with the kids (Becky).

…Mike won’t fit in with his co-workers (Becky).

… we’ll get there and we won’t have something that we could only get in the states, but didn’t think to bring (Becky).

…we will offend someone by saying the wrong thing.

…about not knowing how to budget for living in foreign country.

…about what will happen when we have different levels of concern about various trials that come up. It will be much more intense because it is just us.

…about falling into the toilet.

...the kids won’t remember who their relatives are.

…we’ll have more kids too quickly.

…we’re not doing the right thing.

…people won’t understand if we go over there and nothing happens.

…our family won’t grow spiritually (Mike).

Isn't it great we can "Cast our anxiety on Him because He cares for us."

Here's a poem I've appreciated. Enjoy...

The Incomprehensible

By Isaac Watts (1674–1748)

FAR in the Heavens my God retires:
My God, the mark of my desires,
And hides his lovely face;
When he descends within my view,
He charms my reason to pursue,
But leaves it tir’d and fainting in th’ unequal chase.
Or if I reach unusual height
Till near his presence brought,
There floods of glory check my flight,
Cramp the bold pinions of my wit,
And all untune my thought;
Plunged in a sea of light I roll,
Where wisdom, justice, mercy, shines;
Infinite rays in crossing lines
Beat thick confusion on my sight, and overwhelm my soul.…
Great God! behold my reason lies
Adoring: yet my love would rise
On pinions not her own:
Faith shall direct her humble flight,
Through all the trackless seas of light,
To Thee, th’ Eternal Fair, the infinite Unknown.

Prayer and the Computer

(I wrote this a few months ago, but it is just as relevant.)

It could look like computer worship. There I am, head bowed in front of my laptop, occasionally glancing up to scroll down, and then bowing again.

But it is not idolatry. It is my pathetic attempt to regularly pray through the church roster. I have an electric roster in which I type in the prayer requests people give me and the requests I suspect people need even if they don’t tell me. It’s all stored on my hard drive, awaiting retrieval.

But I don’t retrieve it—at least not as often as I should. Today was an anomaly, because things were particularly slow. Usually when I have a free minute to spare, I open Microsoft Outlook and send emails to encourage folks and follow up on prayer requests. Or, I open up a blank Word document and begin working on the next sermon to encourage and challenge us. The prayer requests I’m given are significant. A wayward child to be saved, cancer to be healed, godliness to be developed, and the pursuit of holiness weigh heavy on my mind. I strive to do what I can to see these requests answered.

Why, then, do I so often miss the obvious application of praying for those prayer requests to be answered? Why does regularly start out as once a day, then drop to once a week, and then even less—mirroring my commitment to change the oil in my car (was it every 3,000 or 30,000 miles?)? Why is prayer not the first response in addressing the burdens God has put on my heart and those I care about?

Maybe because computer worship is the case after all. The computer is very predictable, isn’t it? I double-click “prayer roster” and it opens; I click send and receive, and I send email; I—as a curious fool once did years ago—type ”format c:” and I lose all my documents, my dad’s documents, and the entire operating system—whoops. I think I’m searching for the same predictability in prayer that I get with my computer.

I want godliness in my life and the congregation, but prayer finds no “godliness” file that I can open and run. I want to see people in the community trust Christ, but I cannot, through prayer, export “trust Christ express” and send it to them in an email. I want us to grow in our knowledge of God, but I cannot, through prayer, download that knowledge into our minds and hearts. I cannot, through prayer, run a “pride scanner” which will search and destroy the pride that hampers everything I do. Prayer is stuck in antiquity where hoping and waiting were the norm, and it has not been brought into the computer age where we can get instant results with simple commands.

But do you see how disgustingly idolatrous and blasphemous this desire for computerized prayer is. If I want prayer to be an operating system , I want God to be a the computer. I reduce the God of the universe to a Pentium processor that will perform the tasks which I command.

I have missed something absolutely crucial. God is not the means to an end, like a computer that has no inherent value—at least not for me—beyond information it gives me. God is the goal. His character is the most valuable treasure in the universe. Prayer is designed to put me in the position of humble dependence. Waiting and hoping are beneficial means of orienting our lives to depend upon God.

If God is not the goal, I have no choice but to restart, and ask myself, what do I really want. If God is not my goal, (which honestly is often the case for me) my first prayer request must be that he would be, and I must repent of my desire to make other things—even good things—of a higher value than God.

An update on our leaving process--things are looking optimistic and we're planning on doing orientation the beginning of August and getting on a plane about 2.5 months after that. Better start packing!

Am I excited? Yes! It seems more and more real that we're actually going. I've been doing some reading and starting to clean out closets (we have collected so much stuff!). I'm looking forward to being there and getting to know real people there. But yes, it will be hard to leave, especially our family and church family, especially grandparents, so at this point feelings are definately mixed.

A Thanksgiving Thought

Something to be thankful for... Worship together. I've missed the last two Sundays in a row, first for labor and delivery and then to keep Anna at home while she gets used to the world. I was reminded of how much I enjoy singing together with other believers. God commands us to worship Him, to sing "Psalms, hymns and spiritual songs." But singing a good hymn or praise song with a sanctuary full of people is also a huge blessing to me, and something for which I am very thankful.

Anna Michelle is finally here! She was born 3:26 AM on Christmas Eve, right on time for Daddy's birthday and only 31/2 hours past her due date.











We brought her home on Christmas Day. So far her favorite thing to do is sleep, although I suspect that will change as we get past the first week. Her second favorite thing to do is eat, of course.

Matthew thinks she is interesting; he likes to come look at her and touch her head (with alot of supervision and help from mom) when he's not busy telling us (again) that there are "balls" on the Christmas tree.

I have to go to the dentist tomorrow. Yuck. It is my own fault. I hadn’t been in many years. Needless to say, he has had a lot of work to do. Tomorrow is my fourth visit in the last couple of months.

I don’t like the dentist because I don’t like pain. I say that we a sense of conviction, however, because it really isn’t that much pain. I visited people in the hospital today who would have gladly the exchanged their cancer meds for my dentist chair even without the Novocain.

Nevertheless, it is still one of those uncomfortable things that, had it not been for the fall, would not exist. As I lay back in the chair, my jaw cramping because it does not get any wider and needles being put in my mouth, God brought me to rest in part of redemptive history. I was so thankful for Christ condescending into this human sphere of existence. I know Christ never sat in a dentist chair. But it was probably far worse dealing with teeth without regular cleaning. He had all sorts of uncomfortable things happen to Him that he would not have experienced had he not condescended into this sphere of the flesh (All this before the Cross, which I think would be just blasphemous to compare to my dentist chair experience). This discomfort brought me to appreciate God’s active love of sending Christ who also experienced discomfort.

I’m also thankful for the saints who have gone before us who have reflected deeply upon biblical truth. I would not have come up with the insights in redemptive history of Ridderbos or Vos on my best day, let alone in the seat of a dentist chair. That’s why it was so good to read these insights ahead of time. They are rocks to land on when my mind is looking for solid ground.

By the way, tomorrow the dentist is going to fix a broken tooth. I cracked “tooth number 7” while playing around on my bike on the front yard—the only lasting injury of 5 years of competitive mounting biking—go figure. I’ve had it fixed before, but it never lasted. This time the dentist said he will make it shorter, but then cut away at the gum to, “give the illusion” of length. And with a satisfied grin on his face, he said, “I wonder why no one has thought of that before.” Answer: Because there are NERVES in those gums. In light of his brilliant idea of that I though to of a plan myself. My dentist (who I actually do really like, and I really hope is not reading this) could lose about 10 pounds. How about we cut off the excess around the belly to “give the illusion” of being slender? I wonder why no one has thought of that before!

Matthew's first birthday was a hit. I'm not sure which he liked better, new toys or ice cream and cake, but there's no doubt that he was loving the party!

Welcome to Our Blog

Greetings! You found us online. Hopefully this will be a useful spot to keep in touch with what's up with Mike and Becky -- how we're doing and how we're thinking. We aren't making any promises often we'll post this early in the game, but we plan to post regularly. We'll let you know whether "regularly" means monthly, weekly, or daily when we get a little more used to this blogging thing. Just a hint: more comments will inspire more posts!