My mom was a die-hard fan.  And a woman of great faith.  Rooting for the Atlanta Braves in the Seventies demanded both.   Chief Nocahoma rarely roused from his tent.   Good students earned tickets to Braves’ games.   You could buy ‘knot-hole’ seats in the dizzying heights of Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium for a twenty-five cents.  The exploits of Hammerin’ Hank Aaron were the only bright spots.   My mother would listen to Pete Van Wieren and Skip Caray call all the games on her transistor radio before Ted Turner and the SuperStation made the Braves ‘America’s Team.’ 

Emma Lou Wheeler was a true fan.  She understood all the subtleties.  All the complicated dynamics.  And yes, all the rules.  Even the ground rules.   I was probably the only of my friends who learned about baseball from his mother.  But all that secret knowledge went out the door when Don, Alan, Norman, and I along with whatever available neighborhood girls would hit ‘The Circle’ (our cul-de-sac) for 3-on-3 sandlot baseball. 

Our games were more ground-rules than anything.   Hitting Mr. Bradley’s Bronco was an automatic out.   Hitting rooftops between the telephone poles constituting our foul poles were ground-rule homeruns.   Balls driven into the oak grove between our house and the Boyd’s were considered doubles.   Bean-balls for baserunners constituted an ‘out.’   And we took turns spelunking into ‘the drain’ to retrieve wild pitches.   Any questionable play not defined in our evolving canon of ground-rules was determined by the mother of all sandlot procedures – ‘the do-over.’

After a few moments of healthy dissent and debate over where the ball actually disappeared and whether there was an applicable ground-rule some irenic soul would invoke in a loud-voice, ‘do-over!’  Baserunners were reset.  The pitch count, when we actually used it, was restored.  And all that had happened, including any hard feelings over the rectitude of the call, was set aside, annulled, wiped from the record.  And play resumed without prejudice.  In the absence of umpires or a level and unobstructed playing field, baseball becomes a game of second chances, of ‘do-overs.’

Life needs second chances as well.  The desire for redemption is an instinct planted deeply in our fallen nature. We are always seeking what was lost.  And we often hear that God is a God of second chances.  So, we think of his mercy as simply a divine do-over, a reset and restart in making better life choices.  But God’s mercy and forgiveness are not ‘do-overs.’ Or simply second chances.  Redemption means much more.  It is costly.  And transformational.  It changes more than the outcome of a decision.  It is a death and rebirth.  Hardly a ‘do-over.’

After the Golden Calf, Moses pleads for the redemption of the people.  Their sin is so shocking that he shatters the Tablets of the Testimony.  But God is not finished with his people.  His plan to redeem them is unchanged. He instructs Moses to chisel out two new tablets and to come back to the summit of Sinai to hear good news.  

The Lord, the Lord, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, keeping steadfast love for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin but who will by no means clear the guilty.

Exodus 34:6-7

This passage is often called the Gospel of the Old Testament.  Here we see the covenant love of a holy God for an unholy people.  But the last phrase is significant.  Unlike a second chance or a do-over, God’s mercy comes at a price.  Someone must pay.  Isaiah would later write of the Messiah, Jesus.

But he was pierced for our transgressions;
    he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
    and with his wounds we are healed.
All we like sheep have gone astray;
    we have turned—every one—to his own way;
and the Lord has laid on him
    the iniquity of us all.

Isaiah 53:5-6

And Paul made this more explicit.

For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith. This was to show God’s righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over former sins. It was to show his righteousness at the present time, so that he might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus. 

Romans 3:23-26

God is much more than a God of second chances.  And our regeneration is no mere do-over.  Join us as we examine Exodus 34 and consider ‘the how, the what, and the why’ of redemption.   We meet on the square in Pottsville, right next to historic Potts’ Inn at 10:30 am for worship. Get directions here or contact us for more info.  Or join us on Facebook Live @PottsvilleARP or YouTube. 

“I don’t know how you do it.  Isn’t it depressing?  That job takes a special type of person.  I could never do that.”  This is a small sampling of responses when I say I am a Hospice Chaplain.  Each statement has merit.  Walking with others into and through the Valley of the Shadow of Death is weighty.  All healthcare providers, whether nurses, CNAs, social workers, or chaplains are wired to be fixers.   But none of us has what it takes to ‘fix’ death.   And we all carry the grief of the grieving people we care for and about.

But walking in the Valley of the Shadow is as much a part of life as being born, entering adulthood, pursing vocation, getting married and starting a family.   Dying has physical, emotional, and spiritual complexities; pain, comfort, joy, sorrow, regret, thanks, repentance, forgiveness, restoration, and generational blessing.   Dying is sometimes a season of stories never heard, of words never voiced, of torches being passed, of children taking their place as patriarchs and matriarchs.   And yes, dying is sometimes the season of heartbreak, bitterness, hardened hearts and deep family division.   And all these things need a pastor.

As a Hospice Chaplain I have an opportunity to emulate the Good Shepherd, who draws close and draws comfort for sheep passing through the Valley of Deepest Darkness, sometimes with a rod and sometimes with a staff.   I am called to point the dying and their loved ones to Christ of whom it was written.

Because of the tender mercy of our God,
    … the sunrise shall visit us from on high
to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
    to guide our feet into the way of peace.

Luke 1:78-79

In my visits with those sitting in darkness and in the shadow of death, I have the remarkable privilege of hearing lost tales.  Tales of wars long since fought, of hard living in the ‘hills and hollers,’ of recipes for squirrel dumplings and the proper way to prepare poke salad. And, yes, of spiritual struggles, of growing and tested faith, of ancient griefs, and of struggles to extend and find forgiveness.  In the Valley of the Shadow, prayers are never mere formalism, and the gravity of every well-known scripture is increased tenfold.  Often, I am asked, “how can I know I have done enough? How can I know I am right with God?  I have done so many things wrong and I need to make peace with God, to get right with Him.”

And in that moment the beauty of the gospel shines forth.   The glorious truths of God’s grace, steadfast love, and mercy toward us in Christ replace all other stories.  And in God’s kindness, often become the newest story in a life full of old stories.   All of us ask these same questions. But the pressing logistics of life often crowd them out of our thoughts.   It is easy to push them to the back burner.  But in the Valley of the Shadow there is no back burner.   In the Valley we feel the weight of the words of the Psalmist, “For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me.” 

The word ‘sin’ is rare in the Book of Exodus.   The law unfolds a picture of righteousness, but we hear little of sin until we get to the Golden Calf.   Then we find this word ten times in a single chapter.   And just as many times the people are described as ‘stiff-necked.’  How can such a people ever get right with God?  The Lord even says to Moses, “Say to the people of Israel, ‘You are a stiff-necked people; if for a single moment I should go up among you, I would consume you.’” 

Getting right with God is no easy thing.  No works of our hands can effect it. Our best offerings, unaided by the Spirit, are but ‘filthy rags.’  Neither works, nor regrets, nor shame, nor tears are sufficient.  Only God’s grace is sufficient.  Only the kindness of God to provide a mediator sufficient to bear the weight of our judgement in our nature while incurring no judgement himself through perfect active obedience will do.   The sin of the Golden Calf seems almost irrecoverable.   Perhaps Moses thought it so when he smashed the tablets.   Yet God was not finished.  His steadfast love endures forever.

In his kindness, He leads the people to repentance.  Not a penance of works, or pilgrimages, or bloody rituals.   But an evangelical repentance that begins and continues with God’s grace. The Westminster Shorter Catechism puts it this way. 

Repentance unto life is a saving grace, whereby a sinner out of a true sense of his sin, and apprehension of the mercy of God in Christ, doth, with grief and hatred of his sin, turn from it unto God, with full purpose of, and endeavor after, new obedience.

Westminster Shorter Catechism, Question 87

Have you gotten right with God?  Are you trusting in your own incomplete, insufficient works? Your tears?  Your efforts?  Or in Christ’s finished and sufficient work?  There was nothing the people in the wilderness could do to undo what they had done.   Getting right with God had to begin with God’s kindness and mercy.  Only then could they move forward with Him.   What about you?  Have you gotten right with God? 

Join us as we examine the people’s response to God’s judgement in Exodus 33 and consider what it means to get right with God. We meet on the square in Pottsville, right next to historic Potts’ Inn at 10:30 am for worship.  Get directions here or contact us for more info.  Or join us on Facebook Live @PottsvilleARP or YouTube. 

“Wait for It!”  Video clips tease us to “wait for it,” assuring us it will be worth it.  Most times it’s not.  But even if it were, we do not wait.  We are so impatient.  If the cat in the video takes more than 5 seconds to notice the cucumber, boredom kicks in and we move on.  Nowhere is the impatience of modern people more evident than our viewing habits.   We stream because we can binge whole seasons in an evening.  The thought of waiting a week for the next episode is incomprehensible, so 1970s. And if the tell-tale, tail-chasing buffering icon appears we move on to other entertainments.

The only thing moving to the next thing faster than a man with the remote, is that same man scrolling social media.  Our attention span and our patience is moving asymptotically close to zero.  We hate to wait.  Online, at traffic lights, in the checkout line, we want what we want when we want it.  And the ‘when’ is always ‘now.’  When we are forced to wait, impatience possesses us.  We become unhinged, pitch a fit, and rage.   Like the Apostle Paul we, “desire to do what is right, but cannot carry it out. For [we] do not do the good we want, but the evil we do not want is what we keep on doing.”

We say patience is a virtue. And good things come to those who wait.  We know that patience is a fruit of the Spirit and growing self-control indicative of sanctification, yet we struggle to exercise either.   This is part of the war Paul talks about between our sinful and holy desires.  The Psalmists exhort us repeatedly to ‘wait upon the Lord.’  But we rarely pray for patience to do so.  And impatience and self-control reap disastrous consequences.  Especially when our impatience is with who God.  Who he is and what He is doing, or perhaps not doing. 

The story of the golden calf in Exodus 32 is a shocking story of impatience and apostasy.   God has finished giving Moses instructions about the design, ministry, and provision of the Tabernacle.  God’s glorious tent was to be the great visible sign of his abiding presence and redemptive promises among the people.  But while Moses is receiving instructions for ordaining Aaron as a High Priest, Aaron is at the foot of the mountain leading the people into the most unbelievable apostasy imaginable.  An apostasy fueled by the people’s impatience with God, with God’s chosen leaders, with God’s timing, with God’s promises and with God’s way of being seen.

In a stunning failure of obedience, the people demand an idol.  And in an even more stunning failure of pastoral care and leadership, Aaron gives the people what they demand not what they need.   What should have been Moses’ glorious return with tablets in hand, written by the finger of God, becomes a moment of fear, anger, wrath, and judgement.   Yet unlike Aaron, Moses addresses the apostasy of the people with remarkable love and faith, interceding for them with the Lord, intervening in their idolatry, and interposing for them in God’s judgement.   God hears Moses’ prayer and relents from his fierce anger and in his response to the stunning sin of the people and its future priest, Moses points us to the even more amazing grace of Christ as our true High Priest and only Mediator.

Are you impatient with God? With his actions or inaction? With his timing? With his word or his silence? Has impatience caused you to move on seeking direction, provision, satisfaction somewhere else?  Have you become jaded to spiritual authority?  Or uncertain of God’s goodness? Have you given up ‘waiting on the Lord?’  Join us as we examine Exodus 32 and consider the dangers of failing to wait upon the Lord.   We meet on the square in Pottsville, right next to historic Potts’ Inn at 10:30 am for worship.  Get directions here or contact us for more info.  Or join us on Facebook Live @PottsvilleARP or YouTube. 

Church splits are the most prolific, yet painful catalysts for church planting.  And while the Lord sometimes graciously brings good out of division, Jesus taught that our witness is most powerfully declared by our love for one another.   Join us as Rev. Shannon Stokes leads us to examine Philippians 4:1-9 and consider what it teaches us about “Keeping the Peace.”

November brings a time change.  Not just the lamented ritual of ‘falling back,’ but the festive ritual of rushing headlong toward Christmas. The holidays accelerate time.  In less than a month we will give thanks, erect greenery, string lights, and work hard to fulfill all seasonal righteousness.   Parties, concerts, family gatherings, travel – planning the calendar is like playing Tetris.  And before the tryptophan rush of a Thanksgiving turkey wears off, the stopwatch of Christmas gift-giving will begin in the predawn darkness of Black Friday.

Perhaps gift-giving is the most stressful dimension of the season.  The ladies we love seek the most apt gifts.   And the calculus of aptness is complex.   But for men, gift-giving can be remarkably uncomplicated.   Ever oriented to the task, men naturally assume the best gifts are either equipment for the daily grind or the capacity to acquire equipment for the daily grind.  

Tools and gift-cards make perfect sense.   Whatever the vocation – books, tools, tech, armaments, clothing or a Duluth Trading card are right in the wheelhouse.  No calculus needed.   Such is the simplicity of mans-giving.  Sure, we love our creature comforts: pipe-smoke candles, manly coffee, compact flashlights and those little scented balls we drop in our gym bags.  But for men, the best gifts are often those that equip and advance our vocation.

We take our cue from the gift-giving strategy of our Heavenly Father.  The Bible describes God as the ultimate gift-giver.  We read in James, “[e]very good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.” And in Romans, “He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?”

But what are these good and perfect gifts?  The ‘all things’ He gives?   Of course, this speaks of provision, care, mercy, and eternal life.  But the agency of all these gifts is the gift of His Son, mediated to us through the indwelling presence and empowering work of the Holy Spirit.   Jesus promised his disciples that his Father would pour out on them the Spirit of life and power.  Of all the gifts he gives, the Holy Spirit is the first and best.  Jesus emphasized this while teaching his disciples about prayer.

What father among you, if his son asks for a fish, will instead of a fish give him a serpent; or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!”

Luke 11:11-13

God’s call to life in Christ begins with the work of the Spirit. The Spirit gives us the faith to hear God’s call and then everything else we need to believe, follow, grow, and serve.   The Spirit equips us to take our place in the body of Christ.  And every believer is an indispensable part.   There are no spare parts, no ‘bench-riders.’   Our gifts and graces are given to be used, not placed in a display case or saved for a rainy day.

Exodus 31 illustrates this beautifully.  As God concludes the giving of the Law to Moses on Mount Sinai, all the artistry required for the Tabernacle has been explained.  Moses may have been overwhelmed.  But graciously, God appoints Spirit-filled artists to bring his design into being.   Every person in the community has a role.  Some provide the materials, contributing either what they possess or produce.   Yarns are spun, oil is refined, flour is beaten.  Gold, silver, bronze, linen, acacia wood, and dugong hides are stockpiled.  But God provided spirit-filled artists to complete the work.

For this, God

called by name Bezalel the son of Uri, son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah, and I have filled him with the Spirit of God, with ability and intelligence, with knowledge and all craftsmanship, to devise artistic designs, to work in gold, silver, and bronze, in cutting stones for setting, and in carving wood, to work in every craft. And behold, I have appointed with him Oholiab, the son of Ahisamach, of the tribe of Dan. And I have given to all able men ability, that they may make all that I have commanded you. 

Exodus 31:2-6

God could have provided the Tabernacle without assistance.  But God delights to involve his people in his work and his worship.  And he gives the Holy Spirit to ensure everything can and will be done according to all he commanded.   Exodus 31 pictures this truth beautifully, a truth still operative in the Church.   God calls us and equips us to know him, love him, and serve him.  He gives gifts and graces.  And we are expected to exercise them for his glory of God and the Church’s good.  God called Bezalel by name.  He had no stunt-double or stand-in.  Bezalel was indispensable.  The exercise of his gifts was indispensable.

What are your spiritual gifts and graces?   Are you exercising them for God’s glory and the Church’s good?  Do you believe you are indispensable?  And act like it?   Join us as we examine Exodus 31 and consider the gifts and graces God gives as he calls us to live life together in Christ. We meet on the square in Pottsville, right next to historic Potts’ Inn at 10:30 am for worship.  Get directions here or contact us for more info.  Or join us on Facebook Live @PottsvilleARP or YouTube. 

An idol is very much like Brer Rabbit’s Tar Baby.   It will not speak, or move, or act, but its refusal to speak, move, or act causes no end of trouble as it draws us in and catches us fast.  We engage it, we hate it, we strike out and it traps us.  It cannot give, but it can certainly take.  The Psalmist notes this poignantly.

But their idols are silver and gold,
    made by human hands.
They have mouths, but cannot speak,
    eyes, but cannot see.
They have ears, but cannot hear,
    noses, but cannot smell.
They have hands, but cannot feel,
    feet, but cannot walk,
    nor can they utter a sound with their throats.
Those who make them will be like them,
    and so will all who trust in them.

Psalm 115:4-9

And Isaiah mocks the futility of idolatry, writing,

To whom will you liken me and make me equal,
    and compare me, that we may be alike?
Those who lavish gold from the purse,
    and weigh out silver in the scales,
hire a goldsmith, and he makes it into a god;
    then they fall down and worship!
They lift it to their shoulders, they carry it,
    they set it in its place, and it stands there;
    it cannot move from its place.
If one cries to it, it does not answer
    or save him from his trouble.

Isaiah 46:4-7

The Tar Baby can’t act or interact, but it puts Brer Rabbit in mortal danger from his nemesis, Brer Fox.  An idol can’t save, but it will wear you out.  And wear you down.   It cannot stretch out its arm to save.  Its ears cannot hear your prayers.  And its nose cannot smell the aroma of your offerings.

And here is a great irony of idolatry.  The idol with a nose can’t smell, but the God without a nose, delights in the pleasing aroma of his people’s prayer and worship.  Worship is never just cerebral.  The worship of the Tabernacle was a complete sensory experience.   Every sense is engaged.  Tabernacle worship was visually stunning, audibly overwhelming, and a culinary feast for the priests.   And hanging in the air is the pleasing aroma of seasoned sacrifices, anointed priests, and offerings of incense.

In Exodus 30, the Lord concludes instructions for the furnishings and ministry of the Tabernacle.  Often this passage is viewed as an appendix of leftover instructions.   Yet these final instructions include aspects of Tabernacle ministry that produce a pleasing aroma to the Lord.   An aroma from the altar of incense that pictures the pleasure of God when his people pray.   Prayer that is dependent upon the sacrifices offered on the altar of burnt offering positioned in the courtyard.

We see this connection between the altar of incense and prayer through passages such as Psalm 141, Luke 1, and Revelation 5 and 8.   And just as the altar of sacrifice points to Christ’s work on the cross, the altar of incense anticipates Christ’s intercessory work at the right hand of the Father.   M. R. DeHaan, noted this powerfully when he wrote.

At the brazen altar Christ died for us, shed His blood, reconciled us to God, and made us forever secure in Him.  But at the golden altar He lives in heaven to intercede for those for whom He has already died, and who are already saved.  The brazen altar speaks of the death of Christ; the golden altar speaks of the living, resurrected, ascended Lord Jesus Christ.  The two altars, therefore, speak of the death and the resurrection, and constitute the full message of the Gospel.

The altar of incense is a sweet altar of prayer, offering up a pleasing aroma to our God.  God delights in the smell of prayer.  It is a pleasing aroma to Him and a great privilege to us.  In the Tabernacle only the priests could offer incense.   But as a priesthood of believers, through the intercessory work of our great High Priest, we have been granted immediate access to the throne room of Almighty God.  We can approach him at any time, day or night for any reason.  The unceasing prayer of God’s people is a pleasing aroma to the Lord.   Yet no privilege is more neglected than fervent, effectual prayer. As smoke rose perpetually from the altar of incense, so we should be equally constant in prayer. 

How does your prayer life smell to God?  Is your prayer as constant as the incense burning on the altar in the Tabernacle?  Are we tending to it morning and evening?   Join us as we examine Exodus 30 and consider what the altar of incense teaches us about prayer.  We meet on the square in Pottsville, right next to historic Potts’ Inn at 10:30 am for worship.  Get directions here or contact us for more info.  Or join us on Facebook Live @PottsvilleARP or YouTube.