What you see is what you get!  Or is it?  If WYSIWYG were true, if we could trust that appearances would not deceive, then our senses would be an infallible guide to what is good and true.  So long as we could see, hear, taste, smell and touch, we could have absolute certainty in every choice.  But we don’t live too long till we learn that what you see is rarely what you get.

The burger in the bag bears only the faintest resemblance to the picture on the marquee.  The size of the chip bag has little to do with the actual volume of chips.  The fine print in the packing materials walks back the remarkable claims boldly and brightly printed on the packaging.   Assuring guarantees are diluted by asterisks and double daggers.  A flatterer’s sweet words quickly sour into abuse.  And lover’s undying promises often die.  Many of our greatest sorrows arise from the disconnect between what we saw and what we got.

As a young couple, Melanie and I decided to invest in a crockpot. We researched features and read consumer reports.  Satisfied with our choice, we went to a local retailer and secured our grail.  We unboxed it, eager to press it into service.   But much to our surprise the box contained something quite unexpected.  A single concrete block wrapped in newspapers!  We were shocked.  But the customer service clerk at the store was not.  “We see this all the time,” he shrugged. Utterly unphased, he exchanged it without question.

More common and distressing, however, are those we encounter whose surface is radically different from their substance.  We call them hypocrites.  A word taken from two Greek words meaning, “beneath the mask.”  Originally the word referred to the masked players in the Greek theater.  And no hypocrite is more despised than the religious hypocrite.  We have all encountered professing Christians who refuse to go to church, because “every church is full of hypocrites.”  And while this is a common excuse, it is by no means an unfounded one.

The religious hypocrite destroys everything good.  Grace is not enough.  Holiness becomes an exercise in “set construction.”  Appearance is everything.  The religious hypocrite shelters in legalism and self-righteousness, and is usually a fugitive from faithful, biblical authority.  The gospel becomes the “law according to me.”   The religious hypocrite’s self-defined piety is all that matters.  Sin is manageable.  And grace redefined as God’s grudging approval of religious “box checking.”

The Pharisees of Jesus’ day are paradigmatic of this type of hypocrisy.  Jesus’ condemnation of them was stunning.  Matthew 23 is especially pointed as Jesus unmasked mask-wearers with seven woes.

…they preach but do not practice.  They do all their deeds to be seen by others.  [But] they shut the kingdom of heaven in people’s faces.  For [they] neither enter [themselves] nor allow those who would enter to go in.   [They] travel across the sea and land to make a single proselyte, and … make him twice as much a child of hell.  [They] clean the outside of the cup and the plate, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence… [They] are like whitewashed tombs, which outwardly appear beautiful, but within are full of dead people’s bones and all uncleanness.  [They] outwardly appear righteous to others, but within are full of hypocrisy and lawlessness. 

Mark 7 marks a new phase of Jesus’ ministry.  Acclaim becomes controversy.  On his way to the cross, Jesus reaches out to “unclean Gentile dogs” and conflict with the scribes and Pharisees is part of every story.  This opening account marks the trajectory of what follows as the Pharisees accuse Jesus of lawlessness because his disciples failed to walk the fence of tradition they erected around God’s gracious law.

Jesus wastes no time in calling them out for their hypocrisy.  They care only for outward appearances, locate the source of defilement in external circumstances.  And shelter in an external, self-righteousness that never reaches the heart.  They have utterly failed to believe the creed they professed at every synagogue gathering. “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might.” (Deuteronomy 6:4)

Jesus notes that they exemplify what Isaiah prophesied.

This people honors me with their lips,
    but their heart is far from me;
in vain do they worship me,
    teaching as doctrines the commandments of men. – Mark 7:6-7

Grace always works from the inside out, not the outside in.  It begins with the work of God to give us a new heart, a new love, and as one old Scottish preacher noted, “the expulsive power of a new affection.”  The spiritual-but-not-religious crowd cries, “organized religion is full of hypocrites!” Are they more right than we like to admit? Is our religion a mask? A role? Do we honor God with our lips while our hearts are elsewhere? Do we know and demonstrate the expulsive power of a new affection?

Join us as we examine Mark 7:1-23 and consider what Jesus says about what does and does not make us unclean and clean.  We meet Sundays at 10:30 am on the square in Pottsville, Arkansas right next to historic Potts’ Inn for worship.  Get directions here or contact us for more info.  Or join our livestream on YouTube. 

Unlike Costa Rica’s famous “Jesus Christ lizard,” the Basilisk, or our own beloved Water Striders, human beings have buoyancy issues.  We are not floaters.   Sure, if we lie still in the water and hold our breath just right and make no sudden movements, we may do something akin to ‘floating.’  But a ripple quickly sinks us with sputtering and gasping.

Humans are just too dense.  Though composed mostly of water, we are sinkers.  Even with its remarkable ‘sticky’ polarity and surface tension, water, in its liquid form just cannot sustain the dense mass of a living human body.   Yet we love the water and have devised all kinds of means to be on it and in it.  But alas, all these are ultimately vulnerable.  Boats may break.  Floaties inevitably develop undiscoverable leaks.  And despite their boasting, every generation of ship builders have learned that there are no “unsinkable ships.”

We struggle to stay afloat. Our inventions offer no assurance that we won’t sink into the depths.  Our own works are never enough.  They cannot reliably hold us up.  Perhaps this is why Scripture often compares sinking in the depths to our need for a faith rooted in God’s grace not our own works, observations, or reasoning.

When the “Old Salts” throw Jonah into the raging sea and is rescued by the “ordained great fish,” he prays.

The waters closed in over me to take my life;
    the deep surrounded me;
weeds were wrapped about my head
    at the roots of the mountains.
I went down to the land
    whose bars closed upon me forever;
yet you brought up my life from the pit,
    O Lord my God.
When my life was fainting away,
    I remembered the Lord,
and my prayer came to you,
    into your holy temple. Jonah 2:4-7

And in Mark some of the greatest challenges to the faith of the Twelve come in three ‘boat episodes.’  These men who lived with Jesus, day in and day out, for three years and saw “many other things that Jesus did.”  And as John notes, “were every one of them to be written, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written.”  If any men could have had faith simply from observing the signs, hearing the words and putting it all together, it would have been the Twelve. 

Yet the further we travel in the gospel of Mark, the duller they seem to become.  Indeed, in Luke 17:20, Jesus declares. “The kingdom of God is not coming in ways that can be observed, nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There!’ for behold, the kingdom of God is in the midst of you.”

The feeding of the five thousand had a tremendous impact.  John writes “when the people saw the sign that he had done, they said, ‘This is indeed the Prophet who is come into the world!’ Perceiving then that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, Jesus withdrew again to the mountain by himself.’”   The next day Jesus would confront the crowds and many of his disciples with their false expectations and their true need. Sadly, we read “many of his disciples heard it, they said, ‘This is a hard saying; who can listen to it?’  After this many of his disciples turned back and no longer walked with him.”

To shield the Twelve from the crowd’s messianic fervor, Jesus hurries them into the boat and sends them away.  While Jesus prays on the mountainside, the disciples struggle against a storm on the lake.  Around 3:00 am, Jesus sees them struggling and comes to them, walking on the water.  In a story that shows clearly the human and divine natures of Jesus, united in one person, the disciples are terrified, not comforted by his coming.  And Mark comments that their fear is because they had not understood about the loaves.

Faith is reasonable, but it is not reasoned.  It does not grow merely out of our observations, our actions, or our reflections.  The scripture teaches that “by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works.”  Faith is a gift.  If anyone should have had a growing faith, it would have been the Twelve.  Yet faith does not grow by assessing our experience or weighing the evidence, but as Jesus reveals himself to us as our savior, redeemer, mediator, shepherd, sovereign Lord.  Only the faith that Jesus gives can keep us afloat in a sea of doubt and fear and sin. 

Join us as we examine Mark 6:45-52 and consider how Jesus guards and grows the faith of his struggling disciples as he comes to them by walking on the water. We meet Sundays at 10:30 am on the square in Pottsville, Arkansas right next to historic Potts’ Inn for worship.  Get directions here or contact us for more info.  Or join our livestream on YouTube. 

Long before we had a name for it, it existed.  Everyone who cares for others feels it keenly.  It grows in proportion to growing responsibilities, especially responsibilities for others.  No one is immune.  ‘Burnout’ describes a fire that burns itself out as it consumes all its fuel. 

While not a medical condition, it often leads to medical complications.  According to the APA Dictionary of Psychology, burnout is defined as “physical, emotional or mental exhaustion, accompanied by decreased motivation, lowered performance and negative attitudes towards oneself and others.”  Burnout often manifests as overwhelming physical, emotional, and spiritual exhaustion as well as compassion fatigue, a creeping callousness toward suffering due to an overload of caregiving.  Those suffering compassion fatigue may struggle to care about those they care for.

The Bible reveals that the great heroes of the faith struggled with it.  Moses struggled in the wilderness as the people relentlessly complained.  He cried out to the Lord,

“Why have you dealt ill with your servant? And why have I not found favor in your sight, that you lay the burden of all this people on me? Did I conceive all this people? Did I give them birth, that you should say to me, ‘Carry them in your bosom, as a nurse carries a nursing child,’ to the land that you swore to give their fathers? Where am I to get meat to give to all this people? For they weep before me and say, ‘Give us meat, that we may eat.’ I am not able to carry all this people alone; the burden is too heavy for me. If you will treat me like this, kill me at once, if I find favor in your sight, that I may not see my wretchedness.”  Numbers 11:11-15

Elijah struggled with it following the contest on Mount Carmel with the prophets of Baal.  Jezebel puts a price on his head.  And he runs for his life, crying out to God.

“It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life, for I am no better than my fathers… I have been very jealous for the Lord, the God of hosts. For the people of Israel have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword, and I, even I only, am left, and they seek my life, to take it away.” 1 Kings 19:4, 9-11

And the list continues.  Jeremiah wept.  Isaiah’s preaching only made Israel’s hearts more callous.  And John the Baptist, who once declared “behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world,” asks from Herod’s prison, “Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?”

Christians are not exempt from burnout.  Calvin and Spurgeon experienced deep depression.  Luther was accused of being neurotic.  And even today over 1,700 American pastors leave the ministry every year.  70% report suffering chronic depression and 80% believe that pastoral ministry has adversely affected their families.  Burnout is epidemic and extreme loneliness often characteristic.

But burnout is not an unexpected temptation. In the midst of controversy with the religious leaders, Jesus quoted Isaiah, “a bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not quench.”  Jesus was tempted in every way as we are, “touched with the feeling of our infirmities,” and yet without sin.  No doubt he was tempted with compassion fatigue and burnout.  Especially when he attempted to find time for quiet rest and respite with his disciples from a hectic season of ministry.  And to grieve the death of John the Baptist.  Yet even in what should have been a remote, lonely place of rest, the crowds pressed upon him and his disciples with their endless afflictions, demon possessions, and spiritual ignorance.

Mark 6:30-34 records this picture for us.

The apostles returned to Jesus and told him all that they had done and taught. And he said to them, “Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while.” For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. And they went away in the boat to a desolate place by themselves. Now many saw them going and recognized them, and they ran there on foot from all the towns and got there ahead of them. When he went ashore he saw a great crowd, and he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd. And he began to teach them many things.

Jesus had brought the Twelve apostles into the wilderness for rest.  But perhaps it was not the rest they had expected.  For what we read next is shocking.

And when it grew late, his disciples came to him and said, “This is a desolate place, and the hour is now late. Send them away to go into the surrounding countryside and villages and buy themselves something to eat.” But he answered them, “You give them something to eat.”  Mark 6:35-36

Jesus’ compassion for his disciples is no less than for the crowds.  And here we see him offer a deeper rest than the absence of labor.  A rest that no privation or pressure can deprive.  In the older translations, the language of Jesus call to the disciples here is, “Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest a while.”  An old preacher once quipped, “if you don’t come apart, you’ll come apart.”  But how do we find rest when “many are coming and going and we have no leisure to even eat” or rest or recharge?  Just what does it mean to come apart with Jesus?  For indeed, if we do not learn to come apart, we will come apart.

Join us as we examine Mark 6:30-44 and consider the invitation of Jesus to find a rest that heals bruised reeds and fans smoldering wicks. We meet Sundays at 10:30 am on the square in Pottsville, Arkansas right next to historic Potts’ Inn for worship.  Get directions here or contact us for more info.  Or join our livestream on YouTube. 

There are no shortcuts to mushrooms.  While amateur mycology is a blooming hobby, it carries severe penalties for a mistaken identity.  Consult twice, sauté once, lest wretched illness or even death lurk in the pot.

Foraging for mushrooms in the Ozarks has the same intrigue and reward as truffle hunting in France.  Itinerant mycologists are secretive about their finds.  They love to share their harvest but never their source.  They are a tight-lipped crowd. 

The addition of foraged wild mushrooms to our cuisine adds zest.  But it also adds adrenaline.  They are tasty to be sure, but are they toxic?   Only time will tell.   According to a recent study, approximately 7,500 Americans are poisoned by mushrooms each year.  Of those, on average 39 experienced major harm.  And 3 people die each year in the US from ingesting poison mushrooms.  The report concludes, “Misidentification of edible mushroom species appears to be the most common cause and may be preventable through education.”

Arkansas has a robust ecology of edible mushrooms, but it also includes some silent killers posing as edibles.   Some of our poison mushrooms such as Yellow Patches, Violet-toothed Polypore, and Lilac Bonnet have distinctive colors and odors that warn novice foragers.  But the highly toxic Jack-O’-Lanterns are often misidentified as edible Chanterelles.  While the non-descript, but extremely poisonous, Destroying Angel resembles common edible Meadow Mushrooms.   A mistaken identification is at best sickening, at worst fatal

But more deadly than serving Jack-O’-Lanterns in a soup or putting the Destroying Angel on your pizza is failing to grasp the truth of Jesus’ identity.   A mistaken identity where he is concerned has consequences that last forever.   But the struggle is real.  While the Gospel of Mark paints a dramatic picture of Jesus, the King, the Son of God, the only redeemer of God’s elect, fully God and fully man, we see his family, his childhood acquaintances, his admirers, his enemies, and even his disciples struggle with the question, “Who is this?”

In story after story, Mark shows us the consequences of a mistaken identity where Jesus is concerned.  Herod Antipas made this fatal mistake.  Of all the tragic mistakes made by this son of Herod the Great none was more damning.  The sad history of Herod’s public and private life as revealed in the Gospels and in the writings of the ancient Jewish historian, Josephus, form a litany of one mistake after another. 

His marriage was both incestuous and adulterous.  He made rash vows and caved into the social pressure, ignoring the voice of conscience.  He imprisoned and murdered the only righteous man he respected, John the Baptist.  And was compliant in the unjust murder of Jesus.  He was a weak, petty, scheming, cruel man, ultimately exiled by the Roman Emperor Caligula to France. 

But of all Herod’s mistakes, none proved more tragic or deadly, than mistakenly identifying Jesus as an avenging apparition sent from the dead to punish his murderous guilt rather than the Savior of guilty sinners, able to provide forgiveness and mercy.  Later, Jesus would become for Herod, no longer an object of fear, but of entertainment and then ridicule.  Sadly, the Bible traces for us the hardening of this man’s heart who repeatedly rejected Christ and the gospel.

Who is Jesus to you?  Is he merely a teller of iconic stories?  Is he a constant reminder of your failure? A vengeful agent of God’s displeasure and implacability?  A well-meaning, but failed revolutionary? An idealistic laughingstock?  Or perhaps a respected, moral example?  But is he your King?  Your only Redeemer?  The eternal Son of God and great High Priest?  The Savior of Sinners?  Who is this?  No question is more important.  And no mistaken identity more fatal.

Join us as we examine Mark 6:14-29 to consider the tragic consequences of unbelief regarding who Jesus is and why he has come.  We meet Sundays at 10:30 am on the square in Pottsville, Arkansas right next to historic Potts’ Inn for worship.  Get directions here or contact us for more info.  Or join our livestream on YouTube.