Saturday

O Lord, how long shall I cry for help,

and you will not listen?

Or cry to you “Violence!”

and you will not save?

Why do you make me see wrongdoing

and look at trouble?

Destruction and violence are before me;

strife and contention arise.

So the law becomes slack,

and justice never prevails.

The wicked surround the righteous –

therefore judgment comes forth perverted.

  • Habakkuk 1:2-4

 

I ask this question of God all the time. Maybe not in those exact words, but the question remains.

When will good prevail?

I know it will eventually, but what about today?

We just celebrated the holiest week on the Christian calendar. Such wide-ranging events, such wild swings of emotion:

  • Jesus washing his disciples’ feet in a surprising act of servanthood. (Have you ever washed someone’s feet, or let someone wash your feet? It’s humbling, almost degrading.)
  • Jesus crying out in anguish to his father, asking for the unfolding scenario not to happen. “… yet not what I want but what you want.” (Matthew 26:39)
  • An unfair – and illegal – trial in the middle of the night. Jesus remained silent through most of it.
  • The horrible crucifixion on Friday.
  • Jesus’ life-altering resurrection on Sunday.

Wait a minute. There’s one day in that week where nothing seemingly happens. Only silence.

Saturday.

The day between the crucifixion and the resurrection.

Habakkuk wrote his essay about 600 years before Jesus lived, but he easily could have written it on that Saturday. Jesus promised that he would rise on the third day, but it hadn’t happened yet. There’s only the sorrow of death. Tomorrow hasn’t come yet. What about today? What do we do now?

In a very real sense, the year 2017 is taking place on Saturday. Yes, the resurrection has occurred, but the final victory hasn’t come yet. The Bible promises that it will. Eventually.

What do we do in the meantime?

In my personal journal, I concluded a Good Friday entry with this paragraph:

 

“It’s a nice day today, Father. I don’t feel it. Birds singing, flowers growing, window open, sun shining. A beautiful spring day. Where You die, and I sin. Sunday is coming. Eventually.”

 

When will good prevail? It already has, and still is. I often have a hard time seeing it, though.

It’s easy to focus on the negative, personally and globally, and live my life there. Sad. Frustrated. Disappointed. Angry, perhaps. Knowing that Sunday is coming, but not seeing it.

Our church gave us a Holy Week devotional that I found helpful. The Saturday entry includes this thought:

 

“The promise is clear: Jesus will rise. But the grief and pain are so overwhelming, nobody can hear the promise now. Nobody can remember the promise. Saturday is the day of such emotional pain, that it seems impossible to remember the promises of God. Isn’t it true that much of life is lived on “Saturday?” We’re so beleaguered by our circumstances that we forget what God has said … We doubt in the dark what God has said in the light … We cry out for help, but God does not listen.”

 

I get that. I put my head down when I’m jogging to watch for potholes and dog poop on the path, but I don’t see what’s ahead of me: a curve in the trail, deer in the woods, other walkers or joggers coming towards me. How far to the bridge over the river or to the overpass I’ll cross under? Am I paying attention?

My life expectancy and health give me another 30 or 40 years here on Earth. That’s a lot of Saturdays. Can I wait that long for Sunday?

The devotional continues this way:

 

Learning to live on Saturday is learning to exercise faith despite the pain, and clinging with all we’ve got to God and the promises he’s made. God will make good out of evil. God will bring joy out of mourning. God will bring light out of darkness. There will be a Sunday. Lord, I believe.

 

Habakkuk gets an answer from God to his plea:

 

“Look at the nations, and see!

Be astonished! Be astounded!

For a work is being done in your days

that you would not believe if you were told.”

  • Habakkuk 1:5

 

Wow. Is that message relevant in 2017? Why not?

Sunday is coming. Sooner or later.

That gives me hope. I don’t have to live with Saturday’s pain.

None of us do. Sunday is promised. The resurrection is proof, and Jesus’ second coming is undeniable. No one knows when that will happen.

Until then, it’s Saturday.

Good and evil co-exist. We need discernment to discover which is which. Sometimes it’s obvious, sometimes it isn’t. Searching for good when evil often reigns is the definition of Saturday.

It can be done, but it’s hard.

I’m ready for Sunday.

I’ll conclude this essay with the final thought of the Bible:

 

“The one who testifies to these things says, ‘Surely I am coming soon.’

Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!”

  • Revelation 22:20
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The other side of the story (and it’s always there)

Driving 65 mph on a 60 mph four-lane divided highway the other day, a SUV zoomed by me in the passing lane as if I was standing still.

That’s not unusual, unfortunately. But for once, I saw justice. Five minutes later, there the SUV was, parked on the side of the road with a police car, lights flashing, behind it. I twiddled on by, saying a silent prayer of thanks for the officer doing his job.

I think outside the box. I know what the rules are, and how to break them. I also know when not to break them.

Such as speeding 20 mph over the posted limit. That’s putting his life in danger, and mine.

So, what rules do I break?

As a driver, I frequently roll through stop signs. I’m constantly checking traffic in all directions and obviously if the coast is not clear, I stop. But if no one else is around, why waste gasoline by stopping? I slow down, but I roll through.

My wife doesn’t like that. I frequently do it anyway.

As a journalist, I fudged deadlines. If a reporter was cranking out a crime story as deadline was approaching, I waited, my heart often pounding but silently. Or, just as often, the reporter turned the story in on time, then came to me as I was finishing laying out the page and said he had an update – perhaps a crime suspect was just arrested.

Write fast, I said. My fingers fly on the computer keyboard when they need to. I’d get the updated story in the paper, with a new headline if necessary.

Every so often my boss lectured me about missing the deadline. I never apologized because I knew there was a fudge factor in there. The pressroom liked to have that flex time, but occasionally I tapped into it.

My job was to get the latest news into the paper, whatever it took. This was pre-Internet days, when newspapers were the primary source of community information.

As a copy editor, I became an “expert” on a variety of subjects. We had to communicate knowledgeably and in everyday language about taxes, school budgets, road construction, why companies hired or fired people, politics at all levels, and every other issue that came up.

If a reporter wrote a story that I didn’t understand, I assumed our readers wouldn’t either, and I would either re-write the story in clearer language or ask the reporter for clarification. This was my job.

I’m not a college professor, researching one topic for years. I learn about new topics nearly every day. I can research a subject for a couple of hours and write knowledgeably about it.

As a journalist, I never claimed to write the final word on any subject. No newspaper writer or editor does. The purpose of the newspaper was – and still is (or should be) – to get people talking. Not to provide all the answers, or even the “right” answer. To get you to think about an issue, and maybe do something about it.

I’ve tried to write this blog that way. When I express a viewpoint, I never claim to have the final word. If you disagree with me, that’s fine. Let’s talk about it. Respectfully. With dignity.

That’s what America has lost with the decline of newspapers and the rise of social media. Respect and dignity.

United Airlines is taking it on the chin and many other places over the forced removal of a passenger from a flight on Sunday. But the only person who actually broke any laws in that unfortunate scenario was the bloodied passenger.

You’d never know that by reading social media.

For the other side of the story, from a pilot’s wife:

https://thepilotwifelife.wordpress.com/2017/04/11/i-know-youre-mad-at-united-but-thoughts-from-a-pilot-wife-about-flight-3411/

Read it before you comment on any story regarding that incident.

Journalists understand that there’s more than one side to every story. Our editor in Saginaw, Mich., would ask for another viewpoint in just about every story we wrote. He drove us crazy. When will he ever be satisfied with a story? He rarely was.

We grumbled behind his back all the time, but because he drove us so hard, we were good. Very good. The public did use our articles as talking points. Community leaders were held accountable.

I came across the following sentiment recently:

 

“I’ve said this a million times before … I’ll say it a million times again before I die and I’ll be right every time.”

~ a Facebook friend

 

A journalist would never say this. Neither will I.

People say and do things for a reason, even things you or I don’t agree with. Get inside their skin and ask why.

Like nearly all journalists, I’m skeptical about a lot of things. I ask a lot of questions. With an open mind.

Sure, I have a bias. Everyone does. I see life through a certain lens; perhaps you see life through a different lens. That’s fine. We’re different. Not better or worse, just different. We can complement each other, if we both want that.

Here’s another sentiment I found not too long ago:

 

“Humility is terribly elusive, because if focused on too much it will turn into pride, its very opposite. Humility is a virtue to be highly sought but never claimed, because once claimed it is forfeited.”

~ John MacArthur

 

Because journalists are constantly learning, asking questions, seeking answers, we have a humility that we never talk about.

Thanks for listening. I look forward to hearing from you, today and in the future.

I have social media friends who are politically left and others on the right, and everywhere in between. I like that. Sometimes, you make me uncomfortable. That’s a good thing. I’ll challenge your position, and you have the right to challenge mine.

But again, let’s do it with respect. Argue my viewpoint, not my right to have that viewpoint. Stick to the issue. Don’t make it personal.

There are at least two sides to every story. No exceptions.

That’s how we separate “fake news” from what’s real. By talking it out.

With respect.

We might actually teach each other something.

At Easter: Why Jesus?

Even if I could prove beyond doubt that Jesus Christ not only existed but was – and is – the Son of God who takes away the sins of the world, some of you, perhaps many of you, still would not accept that.

I heard a conference speaker say recently that the evils of smoking are well documented, but millions of people do it anyway – with the full knowledge that they are harming their bodies. Smokers have their reasons. I don’t judge them; it doesn’t bother me one way or another, as long as no one smokes in my car or house (where the effects will linger, proving that no one lives in a vacuum; every decision we make does affect others).

So, if proof isn’t enough, why follow Jesus?

Because it works.

Abundant life

Jesus wants the best for us.

“I have come that you might have life, and have it abundantly.” (John 10:10)

Why would we not want that?

Because having “abundant life” means giving up things that do not benefit us. We don’t like being told we can’t have something or can’t do something, even if it might hurt us.

“Thou shalt not commit adultery.” (Exodus 20:14)

How antiquated is that in American society? And yet God put that in the Ten Commandments for a reason. Marriage is supposed to be the highest form of relationship, when done right, when the husband and wife want the best for each other.

Many of us have screwed that up, so we look for validation in other places. But we’ll never find a deeper relationship on Earth than we will in “holy matrimony.” There are plenty of effects of relationships gone sour when we don’t want the best for each other.

We are inherently selfish. I want the best for me, even if that hurts you. But if I hurt you, I won’t ever find the best for me, because I’ll feel sadness when you are hurt. We are inherently that way too.

The Ten Commandments are a list of dos and mostly don’ts that we are to follow. All of them are for our own benefit. Our common laws are based on them (do not steal; do not commit murder; do not bear false witness against your neighbor; you shall not covet anything that belongs to your neighbor).

Whether the Ten Commandments are posted on the Courthouse lawn or outside a school doesn’t matter to me. They’re just words on paper, or stone. When they are written on our hearts, then they mean something.

The ACLU has no jurisdiction over my heart.

Head and heart

My heart. That’s where “faith” meets “prove it.”

I had a lonely, insecure childhood. My family moved around some in my elementary and junior high years, including out of state a couple of times. Getting uprooted meant I never formed deep friendships. I’ve never been more afraid than the first day of ninth grade, in a new town in a different state where I didn’t know a soul, except my seventh-grade sister in another part of the building.

The following summer, we attended a church camp in western Pennsylvania, again someplace I’d never been before. I was accepted immediately. The counselors and even other campers noticed me – not because I did anything, but just because I was there.

They made it clear they did that because Jesus loves them as much as He loves me. We don’t have to earn His love; He gives it away freely.

This was new to me.

I wanted what they had.

I didn’t ask for a theological discussion. I didn’t know the history of the Bible then. I didn’t know what the Bible said about marriage, money, pain and suffering, or the End Times. I just knew that Jesus loves me, because I saw it and felt it in the people around me.

That was my starting point.

As I’ve studied the Bible since, on my own and in groups and with Sunday morning sermons, I’ve learned more about Jesus’ love for me, and how to live that way. Mind and heart. Jesus connects in both places.

Good and evil

Why do bad things happen to good people? That’s a big stumbling block for many. If God wants the best for us, why do we all suffer?

My wife and I just attended the funeral of her cousin. She died a week ago of a heart attack at age 56. Left four children and 15 grandchildren. No warning. Totally unexpected. Why?

I can’t answer that.

But none of us is exempt from that kind of story, are we? Who do I think I am that I am above pain?

If we lived life happily ever after on Earth, where would we find meaning? Seriously.

We find meaning in helping others. We fundraise to fight cancer or world hunger. We provide clothes and other necessities to victims of fires, earthquakes or floods. We mentor in schools. We raise awareness for autism or diabetes. We do a myriad of things to serve those less fortunate than us.

Why?

If life is only about making me happy, why should I care about you?

God put a deeper purpose in our hearts than the “pursuit of happiness.” There’s nothing wrong with being happy, of course, but how do we do that? Really?

God: yay or nay

Here’s the kicker, the real reason most people don’t follow Jesus: He demands a response from every one of us. “Faith is fine for you, but not for me,” you might say. Or, “What makes you so certain that your faith is the right one?”

Because Jesus is the only “god” who wants the best for us. No other god can offer salvation from anything. There’s no bigger picture.

Jesus is inclusive and exclusive at the same time.

“I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” (John 14:6)

The invitation is open to every person, but not everyone will accept the invite. There are rewards and consequences either way. No exceptions.

Good Friday is the most horrific story ever told. What makes it so compelling is that Jesus died on that cross willingly, because He wants the best for us: relationship with His Father.

Jesus overcame even death on Easter.

We do not want the best for our own lives. I say and do things I know I shouldn’t, but I do them anyway.

I ask forgiveness, and Jesus forgives. Every time. He knows the human heart. He created it. I reach out to Him again. He smiles. I walk away, then return to Him. He smiles again.

This is relationship. This is the way life is meant to be.

It’s the way we should treat each other as well.

Think how much nicer America would be if we did.

If we let the God who wants the best for us lead us.

Take a deep breath. Could it happen?

Theoretically, yes. In practice, no.

Because we cannot know good without evil.

So, we live with both.

Which side will you choose?