Category: Reflections Blog

“Following in His Footsteps” Advent Reflections 2016

Barbara Markham

1st  Sunday of Advent 

“The Glory of God”

As we begin this advent season, we’re going to spend a few minutes each week focusing on one aspect of Jesus, and how we can follow in His footsteps. Today we’re looking at Hebrews 1:3, which tells us that Jesus is “the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of His nature.”

We first see God’s glory mentioned in Exodus, when the people of Israel were complaining. Moses called the whole congregation to come before the Lord. And as Aaron spoke to them, the glory of the Lord suddenly appeared in a cloud. At the sight, all the grumbling came to an abrupt halt. They saw it again a few chapters later, when Mount Sinai was “ablaze” with God’s glory, like a “consuming fire”. The sight was so terrifying, the people asked Moses to speak to God for them, so they wouldn’t have to come near Him themselves.

In the New Testament, John wrote about Jesus: “We saw His glory—the glory of the One and only, full of grace and truth, who came from the Father.”

Rather than a blazing mountain or a burst of light from behind a cloud, did you catch how John described Jesus’ glory? Full of grace and truth.

Jesus displayed the glory of God, but it was a glory that did not inspire men to keep their distance. Instead, this time, His glory beckoned men, women, and children to draw near to Him. He offered grace. He spoke the truth. And people followed Him.

As we walk in His footsteps, we, too, will reflect God’s glory. We were created to do just that! Like Jesus, our reflection should draw others to Him. When we act in love, offer grace rather than judgment, or forgive freely when we are offended, His reflection shines brightly to a world living in darkness.

So as we light the first candle of advent, remember the light of Jesus’ glory. And resolve to reflect Christ in you, with a glory that will draw people to God. It’s one way we can walk in His footsteps.

 

Written by a NHC teaching leader, author and speaker, Julie Coleman

 

Je Suis en Christ

Justin Hibbard

Last week was a terrible week for France… and really for the whole world. Muslim radicals stormed the office of the satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo and executed twelve. A few days later, another group of radical Muslims killed four Jewish men in a supermarket.

While over a million, including world leaders, marched in Paris in protest of terrorism, Charlie Hebdo, in their spirit of defiance, began publishing their new article. Despite the offense it caused the Muslim community, the cover featured a cartoon drawing of Muhammad crying with the phrase “All is forgiven” above his head. Inside the issue, Islam was not the only religion they targeted. “For the past week, Charlie, an atheist newspaper, has achieved more miracles than all the saints and prophets combined,” the editorial read. It even bragged that the turnout of a million people at a march in Paris to condemn terrorism was larger “than for mass.”

Meanwhile the phrase “Je suis Charlie” has become the world’s new anthem – a sign of solidarity behind the notion of freedom of speech and press. “Je suis Charlie” has a sweet ring to it; it smoothly rolls off the tongue. French is such a beautiful language, and just saying those three simple words makes you even sound like a Parisian and one who is cultured in the ways of freedom.

But I must ask the hard question: Am I really Charlie? Do I really identify with an atheist magazine who pokes fun of religions, including my own – Christianity? Do I identify with people who just had their whole world blown up and instead of introspection, they turn to satire and making fun?

I can’t really say I do. I can’t really say, “Je suis Charlie.”

Sometime ago, I watched a video of one of those awful Westboro Baptist protests where they attended a funeral parade for a fallen soldier, protesting how God hates America and loves dead soldiers. On the other side of the street, people began hurling insults at them, threatening all sorts of violence. In my disgust of those Westboro folks, I got caught up in the moment. I could feel my blood pumping, salivating at the thought that one of those patriots was going to cross the street and give the “so-called Christians” a good pounding.

Suddenly, I heard this slithering inner voice say, “Choose your side.”

Have you ever played the game – “would you rather?” It goes something like this: You are presented with two options, and you have to choose one. But in order to make the game fun, the choices are hypothetical extreme, repulsive, and really something you would never want to choose. But because you’re presented with two choices, you must choose one. “Would you rather be half your height or double your weight?”

One of Satan’s craftiest tricks is that he gets us to choose between two false choices. In Eden, it was, “Eat and be like God, or don’t eat and don’t be like God.” When tempting Jesus, it was “turn stones into bread, or starve.” In that video, it was choose violence or Westboro. In Paris, it’s choose the atheist Charlie or radical Islam.

Satan is always assaulting our identity. He is always trying to strip away our identity in Christ, and he does this by offering choices as though they’re the only two choices we have. “Would you rather…?” is one of Satan’s favorite games. “Are you an atheist who makes fun of Christianity or a radical Muslim who kills atheists.”

Jesus offers us permission to politely say “neither.” He offers us the freedom to step outside the game and false choices and say, “Je suis en Christ – I am in Christ.” I am everything that Jesus stands for. I am with Him, I have His identity, and I claim His choices above all.

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! -1 Corinthians 5:17

The Other Side of the Wardrobe

Justin Hibbard3 Comments

A few weeks ago, my devastated and ailing grandmother left her home for the first time in over a year to attend her son’s graveside funeral.  He was my Uncle Roger, swept away rather suddenly from this earth at too young an age.  Having bought a number of cemetery plots, my grandmother recognized that the very place where she sat to mourn my uncle was the place reserved for her.  It was a plot between her late husband (who had been gone for nearly forty years) and her other son (my Uncle Bobby) who died suddenly five years before.

Less than a week later, my grandmother took her final breath, and one week later, she was laid to rest on that very spot in the earth.

The image of that cemetery the day we buried my grandmother will forever be engrained in my mind:  seeing my grandmother’s casket next to her only two sons, the fresh soil over my Uncle Roger’s grave, the thought of two funerals in the span of a week for a little family named Slaton.  It was too much death to bear at once.

I came home that weekend from saying goodbye to two family members, and a couple of days later, I stood in the hospital alongside many friends, saying goodbye to a good friend named Terry Suttles.  A dear saint who made the matters of heaven a priority in her life, she took residence in her heavenly home about a week ago.

If I had to sum up 2014 for you, it would sound like a eulogy – a year where too many people (both little ones and older ones) have passed away.

Some months ago, I sat in the living room of a couple who had just experienced the devastation of a miscarriage.  Having lost our fourth child in-utero three years ago, ministering to those who have also suffered a miscarriage has become a familiar ministry for myself and my wife Karlene.  I offered to pray with this couple, and when I closed my eyes, I got this incredible yet brief vision.

There in a beautiful meadow, I saw our children standing together.  This was the second vision I had of our daughter Hope, and she looked the same as the first vision I saw of her – a perfect little girl, appearing to be no more than nine-years-old, long, straight dark hair, and stoic yet lively eyes.  It’s hard to explain, but when I think about her face, it looks like the face of a child but with the wisdom and knowledge of someone who has lived a long, long time.

“I got this glimpse of our children playing together,” I told this couple.  “I can only imagine what heaven will be like – this amazing reunion with our lost children who have been living for eternity.”

Eternity is an impossible concept to grasp.  We often think of this life ending and eternal life beginning, but I like something that Dr. Bill Smith said, “Eternity is not something screwed on to the end of this life; it’s entering into a world with no time.”  In fact, Jesus didn’t say, “Eternal life begins when you die.”  No, He said, “This is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent” (John 17:3).

I’ve begun to think of eternity by comparing it with a familiar story – The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.  The story begins with four children fleeing to the English countryside when Nazi Germany bombs their hometown of London.  Their world is suddenly turned upside down – no family, no friends, no familiar landscapes.  Yet in that foreign land, in a professor’s estate that they temporarily made as their home, they discovered a wardrobe – a magical portal to a land called Narnia.

No matter how much time they spent in Narnia, no time passed on earth.  They became part of a an epic, they learned to fight, they defeated the White Witch, and they became kings and queens.  So much happened in their adventure that they forgot about their lives in the English countryside back on earth.   As they pushed their way through the fir trees at a vaguely familiar place, they found themselves back in a wardrobe full of fur coats.  In a moment, they transformed from young adults back to little children.  Years of adventure had taken place in Narnia, but on the other side of the wardrobe, not a minute had passed.

While the story ends there, I often wonder what their lives would have been like.  They may have appeared to be four little children, but the reality that they shared was a lifetime of adventures on the other side of the wardrobe.

In those visions, when I stare into the eyes of a little girl I never got to know here on earth, I realize that the Kingdom of God is now.  It may not have taken over this earth yet, but it doesn’t mean it’s something only relegated to the future.  When I think about July 9, 2011, and what I was doing here on earth, I think about holding a tiny lifeless human being.  I think about the tears and the overwhelming pain.  I think about the loss, and the grief, and wondering if the heartache would ever go away.  But when I stare at her across the wardrobe, I see a little girl who seems to have lived for an eternity.

When I think about those who have passed away, I think particularly about those who fought long, hard battles with illnesses, and I imagine them slowly stepping through the wardrobe.  Individuals like my grandmother and Terry both lived with a mission of caring for others.  I think their resolve to care for others added many days to their lives.  But I also think that the closer they got to heaven, the more they stepped through the wardrobe and experienced Narnia, the more the fears of leaving this earth subsided.  Death can invoke great fear and uncertainty, particularly of leaving behind our loved ones and our responsibilities.  I think heaven has a way of putting those fears to rest.

I imagine that the brave new world of heaven doesn’t seem like an unfamiliar landscape when we first enter it.  I tend to believe that we’ll feel more at home than in the world we called home.  Ecclesiastes 3:11 says, “You have written eternity on our hearts.”  St. Augustine prayed, “God, you have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless till they find their rest in you.”  John Eldredge comments that when we find God, we actually find our hearts.  We feel more like ourselves.  Why wouldn’t heaven carry the same familiarity that we find when we find God?

The truth is that eternity is now, and when we experience God, we experience a heightened sense of reality.  Something you’re doing now is affecting a world without time and space – a world that you will not only experience one day but are actually more familiar with than you realize.  One extraordinary aspect about Jesus was that He had an eternal perspective in this temporal world.  It was as though He could see both sides of the wardrobe simultaneously in a way that we cannot.  In Luke 10, when the disciples reported to Jesus that even the demons had submitted to them in His Name, Jesus replied, “I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven” (Luke 10:18).  He could see that one side of the wardrobe was affecting the other.

For us standing on this side, we have loss, grief, and incredible wounds.  But right now, beyond a doorway we can neither see nor touch, there is a world filled with the laughter we once heard or never got the chance to hear.  On this side, we see a world where life begins and ends.  On the other side, there is a world where adventures go on and on while not an earthly minute passes.  We think of death as Satan’s greatest triumph.  In reality, Jesus has redeemed death, fashioning it into a wardrobe – an avenue through which we enter the greatest part of life.

“My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever” (Psalm 73:26).

The Great Exchange

Justin Hibbard

Over the past few weeks, our Nation has once again experienced the tragedy of mass shootings.  From the strip of Las Vegas to a Christian college campus to another high school, it seems like no place is sanctuary for this epidemic of bloodshed.

Once again these stories have thrusted a renewed effort to solve the problem.  Talking heads and politicians flood the airwaves proposing legislation and renewing their passion for seeking an end to this horrific violence.  Some quickly point the finger, blaming guns, the NRA, the movie industry, violent video games, and mental illness.  While one group vows to strip America of its gun culture, another group will make it easier for people to carry guns on the street and into the classroom.

While I am not a gun owner, I know that guns are not the root issue to this frightening violent America.  It seems prudent to institute measures that would keep guns out of the wrong hands, but in these shootings, most of the perpetrators did not legally own the guns they possessed and used them in gun free zones.  Guns have made it easier to escalate carnage, but there is something much deeper that is ailing us: the wicked and hurting heart that would want to inflict pain on another.

At Church, we recently finished studying the Book of Hosea.  Having been assigned Hosea chapter 4, I was particularly struck with how God takes note of Israel’s bloodshed and corruption.  Canaan looked more like Compton than Zion.  God describes His promised land, saying, “There is only cursing, lying and murder, stealing and adultery; they break all bounds, and bloodshed follows bloodshed.  Because of this the land dries up, and all who live in it waste away” (Hosea 4:2-3).

In other words, God appeals to them by evaluating the results of their godless quest.  “You wanted a society where you dictated how God fit in, and now you have it.  How’s it working out for you?”

The problem in Israel was never that they totally abandoned the One True God.  The problem was that they tried to fit Him in with everything else, stuffing Him into their idolatry and immorality-crammed society.  The heresy of the golden calf wasn’t that they invented a new god.  It was that they claimed that a man-made statue carried the name, acts, and attributes of Elohim.  In other words, they tried to redefine God by limiting Him to their invention.  Paul was spot on when he said, “[they] exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images made to look like a mortal human being and birds and animals and reptiles…  They exchanged the truth about God for a lie, and worshiped and served created things rather than the Creator” (Romans 1:23, 25).

I would venture to say that the overwhelming majority of our nation does not want a godless society.  However, what they do want is, like Israel, to dictate and direct where God fits.  Society wants God’s blessing, but they also want their separate space.  Like a director filming a movie, society picks and chooses where to place God.  “Stand here while we sing together and ask you to bless America.  Let’s make a statue depicting you as a baby meek and mild because we like infant Jesus.  But politics, the public square, and public schools?  Sorry God, you don’t belong there.  And by the way, we’re not interested in your ideas of holiness.  Like your idea of salvation, they’re too exclusive for our tolerant society.”

This is the great exchange.  It should be familiar to us.  The story of Eden is about the great exchange.  Adam and Eve had one life and traded it for another.  They chose to ignore one truth in exchange for a lie.  Every time we sin, we do the same.  Everytime we believe that a moral, peaceful world can be obtained through legislation, or programs, or other manmade ideas, and preach a gospel of secularization, we make a trade.  It’s a trade that has consequences.  As history has always proven, we will reap what we sow.

The question isn’t should America be legislated by Christian principles?  The question is does the great exchange – the one where we trade God for something else – ever work in the end?  Does secularism ever pay off?  How is it working out so far?

The all-too-familiar scenario where a troubled kid walks into a school and starts shooting isn’t a gun problem.  It’s a sin problem.  That child is a product of a fallen world.  In some cases, he has been deeply wounded by someone in his life.  In some cases, he has a serious mental illness.  In many cases, it’s a combination of both.  He too will make an exchange.  He will trade the miraculous healing power of the Prince of Peace for the notion that he can solve his pain and deep wounds by wounding others.  Thousands of people will believe the lie that they can end pain by ending their life.  The only difference between them and these murderers are how many they take down with them.

Every piece of gun control legislation and safety policy that could possibly be conjured up in the aftermath of these massacres will only be a band-aid.  Every code red drill that will take place in schools will help mitigate the loss of life, but it will not solve the problem.  There is only One who promises to cure the root cause of all of this evil.  He is the One who healed the deep wounds of unforgiveness and the serious mental illnesses that plagued the outcast in His society.

As people who have been changed by Jesus, we know this.  We know what Jesus is capable of doing.  When Peter addressed the crowd at Pentecost, he said, “Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins. And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. The promise is for you and your children and for all who are far off—for all whom the Lord our God will call… Save yourselves from this corrupt generation” (Acts 2:38-40).

Church, may our eyes be open.  May we see that right now around us Satan is waging war.  His cause is to steal our peace, kill our children, and destroy our world.  He wants people to buy into the lie that the only thing we need is guns or more gun control, more government oversight of mental illness, and more security in the public square.  He wants us to believe that the band-aids dismiss the need for the Healer.  The band-aids may help, but they will not heal.  The church is called to preach the necessity of God’s salvation, no matter what our government may or may not do.  May we, the church, have the courage to stand up and preach the Gospel of Truth as Peter did.  Man’s solutions cannot be exchanged for God’s.  True shalom – the peace, healing, and love our souls crave – can only be found in Jesus.

The Light at the End of the Holocaust

Justin Hibbard1 Comment

Posted from Christianity is Jewish.  This message also available on podcast. 

Some years ago, at a Christian school where I taught, we had the privilege of hearing a Holocaust survivor come and speak to us. His stories, as you can imagine, were horrific. It was though a time capsule had been opened, transporting one of the most surreal and evil moments of all of history into my very presence.

But while this man was sharing his story, talking about his struggle to survive and to forgive, something was going on outside of the auditorium. One of the students at school was walking around, drawing swastikas and other hate messages around the grounds and on the side of the buildings.

If you’re like me, you probably find it difficult to understand how someone could be so void of compassion, that he would write hate messages on the day a Holocaust survivor – an elderly man – came to visit. I mean, hasn’t this man been through enough? How could someone dare do such a thing?

Something else happened just today. Someone, apparently a Holocaust denier, posted a couple of messages on our Christianity is Jewish Facebook page. He said some things about the Holocaust being a hoax, and how we’ve all been duped. I ended up deleting the messages and banning him, but I’m just astounded. How can someone deny the Holocaust?

When I think of the Holocaust…. when I think of the 6 million Jews that were annihilated along with 5 million others… when I think of the men, the women, the little boys and girls, and babies that were sent to death chambers… that’s the question I always seem to begin with. “How could someone…?”

The answer is evil. Absolute, sick evil.

Not too long ago, I went to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum down the road in Washington D.C. If you’ve never been, I can’t tell you how graphic it is. Seeing the piles of shoes that once belonged to real people. Articles that were removed from prisoners before they were cremated. Videos of bulldozers pulling up mass graves. Images of men reduced to nothing but skin and bones. Videos of people shamed for being Jewish – shaved, stripped naked, and forced to walk the streets. Testimonials of people whose neighbors lined their doorway as the Nazi’s pushed them out of their home. They weren’t there to say goodbye. They were there to loot their belongings.

It’s a glimpse at evil. Absolute, sick evil.

If there is any doubt that evil – that Satan himself exists in our world. We need not look far. The Holocaust is not so distant that it is left to history books. There are still some that walk the earth today who lived through such hell. How could such terrible things happen in the mid 20th century?

The answer is evil. Absolute, sick evil.

But I think today, this Holocaust Remembrance Day, is not just a day to remember evil but to remember good. I admit, it seems difficult to think of good thoughts in the midst of such horrific genocide. But if all we remember is evil, then evil has won a legacy. After all, those that do evil don’t care for what they’re remembered but only that they are remembered.

At the end of the Holocaust Memorial Museum is a section dedicated to all those who helped the Jewish people. Oscar Schindler, Corrie Ten Boom, the list goes on and on. Some lived to tell the tale. Some were discovered and faced the same fate as those they tried to help. But it serves as a reminder that in the midst of evil, good still existed. And in the end, good prevailed over evil.

For me, and this may seem odd to you, what the Holocaust reminds me of is a living and faithful God. I know (believe me I know) that many lost their faith in the midst of the concentration camps. I can’t say I blame them. But from my vantage point, and one of luxury in comparison to those who experienced such horror, I think about how much the holocaust proves that a good God exists.

Let me explain.

We have a word for darkness. Yet darkness is not a real thing… at least scientifically speaking. It is only the absence of light. Yet we identify it. We name it. It’s real to us.

There are many that deny God. Many that say, “He doesn’t exist. He isn’t real.” And yet, 99% of the world would look at what happened to the Jewish people during the Holocaust and say, “That’s evil. Absolute, sick evil.” While they may struggle to acknowledge God, there is an overwhelming consensus regarding His absence. It’s called evil. Absolute, sick evil.

The presence of evil demands the presence of God. Dare I say we know evil because we know good. We can identify darkness because we know what light looks like, and when it is gone, we call it something. Is it any wonder why the Scriptures use the word light to describe God? Corrie Ten Boom, a holocaust survivor wrote, “In darkness, God’s truth shines most clear.”

Now I’m not going to sit here and pretend that I know why God allows bad things to happen. Why God allowed the Holocaust – why He allowed evil to prevail (for a time) is a mystery to us. But the fact that it stopped… the fact that daylight came, even hours beyond its hopeful arrival, speaks of a God.
We have lots of words to describe Adolf Hitler. He was a maniacal, narcissistic, arrogant, destructive, racist, masochistic, monstrous dictator. He was the incarnate of absolute, sick evil. The fact that he is no more, demonstrates that even the most horrific evil comes to an end.

I hate to say this, but Hitler was not the first of his kind, and I’d be a fool to think he would be the last. Even today, there are those who deny the Holocaust and once again threaten to annihilate the Jewish people.

And in the midst of contemplating how many have tried to exterminate the Jewish people, I have to pause and ask, “How is it possible that these people still survive?” They were enslaved and their were babies systematically executed in Egypt, they were constantly at war, constantly threatened by neighboring nations. They were attacked by the Assyrians and Babylonians and carried off into exile. The story of Esther chronicles a man named Haman who just about carried out the plot to wipe them off the face of the earth. They were tortured by Antiochus and the Greeks. The Romans, after occupying their land, destroyed their capital and expelled them from their own country. They existed without a homeland for nearly 2,000 years, and most places they went, they were not welcomed.

Many people tried to carry out Satan’s plan to be the one who would wipe out God’s chosen people. Adolf Hitler was just one of the devil’s many pawns.

And yet evil, even in its most persistent and sophisticated form, did not prevail.

Perhaps the greatest evidence of the existence and power of God is the Jewish people. Think of all the nations that are listed in Scripture – the Philistines, the Amalekites, the Amorites… they no longer exist. And even the great empires – the Babylonians, the Assyrians, the Romans have all disappeared into the historic moonlight. Their kingdoms fell, their national identities faded away. Nazi Germany, as vast as it was, has come and gone. But the Jewish people? They still remain.

Those that oppose Israel now may seem fierce and problemsome. But if history continues to repeat itself, as it has for some 3500 years, they too will vanish.

Evil may be great. But God is greater. Light always overcomes darkness.

At the beginning of Hosea’s prophecy, God told the Northern Kingdom of Israel what would become of them because of their perverse idolatry and unfaithfulness. But even amidst the cry of judgment, God says, “Yet the Israelites will be like the sand on the seashore, which cannot be measured or counted. In the place where it was said to them, ‘You are not my people,’ they will be called ‘children of the living God’” (Hosea 1:10).

God’s faithfulness is so relentless that He would look at the adulterous sins of His most beloved and remember His promise to their father Abraham.

To me, the fact that the Jewish people still remain, the fact that they have retained an identity even while the rest of the world has faded into forgotten irrelevance, speaks of a living and faithful God. In remembering the darkness of the Holocaust, we see a God who will not let even the most horrific evil forever eclipse His luminous glory or His beloved children.

The Wilderness Experience

Justin Hibbard

Many of the great biblical heroes went through a period in the wilderness. After living his first forty years as a prince in Egypt, Moses fled to the wilderness for forty years before returning to lead his people on a forty-year journey through the wilderness towards the promised land. The Holy Spirit led Jesus to the wilderness where He fasted for forty days. It was during this time that He experienced Satan’s temptation. We could mention others whose spiritual journey included a stint in the wilderness – Noah, Elijah, David, Jonah, and John.

Today is Ash Wednesday and marks the first day of Lent. Perhaps you’ve only considered Lent to be a tradition of certain denominations – Catholic, Anglican, Lutheran, etc. I think of Lent – the forty-day period leading up to Easter – as an opportune time to journey with the Lord. After all, the Lord often used a time period of forty to change, test, grow, and challenge His people.

As a few of the teachers on Sunday morning have mentioned in our current sermon series – The Master, the Lord teaches us through process. The greatest lessons in life don’t happen in the classroom. They come through experience. Yet, we often don’t sense the lesson happening while we’re experiencing it. It’s usually only afterwards, after we have processed our experience, that we realize there was something God was teaching us through the journey.

Let me issue a challenge for you. Let these next forty days be one where you ask God to take you on a wilderness experience. What does that look like? Here are three characteristics of the wilderness experiences we see in Scripture.

First, wilderness journeys we see in the Bible are marked by solitude. While it’s probably impossible for you to get away and be alone for forty days, the lesson can be just as powerful. Making this time a time of spiritual growth alone is extremely effective because it is spurred by our own relationship with God, rather than something we’re doing because of someone else. Many have a spiritual life that only exists because of their spouse or their friends. In other words, it’s not their own. A wilderness experience can be the time where you develop your own faith and relationship with God, not just live someone else’s. Spiritual solitude builds character.

A second characteristic of these wilderness experiences is challenge. Elijah began his wilderness experience wallowing in fear and depression. He wanted to die. Israel grumbled and complained throughout their wilderness experience. They asked to go back to being slaves. Challenges and commitments are difficult. Jesus took on the difficult task of fasting for forty days in His wilderness journey. You may decide to do some sort of spiritual exercise for this journey such as a daily commitment of fasting and praying. You may not have anything in mind but find that God has given you a challenge. Whatever it is, you can be sure that the challenges you face build strength and stamina.

A third characteristic of these wilderness experiences is preparation. Jonah needed three days in the belly of a fish to get his heart right before prophesying to Ninevah. Moses needed forty years to separate himself from his Egyptian identity, embrace God, and return as Israel’s leader. Jesus’ forty days prepared Him for His battle with Satan and His intense ministry. God uses wilderness experiences to prepare us because preparation builds a confidence and readiness to pursue God’s mission for our lives.

Baseball Players of Advent: Joseph the Sacrifice Out

Justin Hibbard

AdventBaseball-JosephWhat young boy hasn’t stepped onto a baseball field, stood beside home plate, and pretended to swing for the fences?  We picture ourselves in the pressure of batting in the 9th inning, with two outs, the bases loaded, and then knocking the ball out of the park to win the game in clutch fashion.  We dream of living that moment depicted in the movie the Natural starring Robert Redford.  However, more often than those dramatic moments, baseball games are won through the small details – the sacrifice flies, the executed bunts, the hits and runs.  Instead of telling their player to swing for the fences, crafty managers will sometimes ask players to hit the ball in a way that will get the batter out while advancing the runner.  It’s a strategy known as small ball.

This year for Advent, we are focusing on the “baseball players” in the story of Jesus’ birth.  We’ve looked at Zechariah the Captain, John the Baptist the leadoff hitter, Simeon the Franchise Veteran, and this week, we’re taking a look at Jesus’ adopted father Joseph – the batter who was asked to sacrifice.

Imagine being engaged to a girl and finding out she’s pregnant.  Imagine for just a moment all the thoughts that would run through your head?  How could she do this to me?  Who is the father?  What if my church community thinks I did this?  What will they think of me?  How do I explain this to people?  You can imagine Joseph’s desperate dilemma.

We’re not told much about Joseph, but we’re told that he was a righteous man, and instead of publicly humiliating Mary (which he was entitled to do), he decided that he would break-up with her quietly.  However, just as he had made up his mind to divorce Mary, an angel of the Lord visited him in a dream and informs him that Mary’s child was conceived by the Holy Spirit, and this child would save his people from their sins.

In obedience and trust in God, Joseph married Mary.  It was a decision that required a lot of sacrifice.  Every husband dreams of a wedding night with his bride, yet, Joseph waited to consummate his marriage until after Jesus’ birth.  Every father looks at their child, mesmerized with the idea that they co-produced this human being.  Joseph would look on Mary’s first born knowing the baby was not biologically his.  One of man’s oldest traditions is to name their son, but Jesus’ name was chosen for him.  On a couple of occasions, Joseph would have to move his family and pick up his life in order to protect his adopted son.

Joseph is like the superstar power hitter that was asked to bunt.  You can imagine the important game.  There’s runners on base, the team is behind, only an inning or two remain.  This is the moment to be clutch.  However, instead of telling the all-star power hitter to swing for the fences, the coach says, “I want you to bunt the ball. I want you to advance the runners and in the process give yourself up.”  It might infuriate a big hitter.  Not only will they miss their opportunity to shine in the spotlight or make ESPN’s Top Ten, the decision won’t better their personal batting statistics.  You can imagine how much the home crowd would boo the manager if they saw their best hitter square up to bunt the ball in a clutch moment.  A decision like that would send many all-stars into the eye of the camera or the Twittersphere to vent their displeasure about their coach’s decision.  But the best team players understand that the game is much bigger than just one person.  They understand that more often than not in baseball it’s the sacrifice out that wins the game.

Joseph teaches us what humility and service to God looks like.  He had so much at stake – his career, his reputation, his own satisfaction, and instead of thinking about himself, he sacrificed everything for the Kingdom of God.  While Jesus, as the Son of God, didn’t need an earthly example to follow, He certainly received it in His biological father Joseph.  Joseph committed his life to serving his adopted son and Messiah.  He may not have realized it at first, but that became his life mission and his legacy.

Baseball Players of Advent: Simeon the Franchise Veteran

Justin Hibbard

AdventBaseball-SimeonWho doesn’t love winning the championship?  Who doesn’t tie their cleats in April dreaming of holding the trophy in October?  At the end of the season, when only one team celebrates, there’s a peculiarity that emerges.  The new players are excited, jumping up and down, showering each other with champagne.  They’ve completed quite the feat.   But the veterans, especially the ones that have waited their whole careers for that moment, they lift the trophy like a giant weight off their shoulder.  The way they cry over it, the way they kiss it, the way they cherish it – their long suffering produces an unmatched appreciation.  They haven’t just played the season for that moment.  They’ve played their entire careers for that moment.

This year for Advent, we are focusing on the “baseball players” in the story of Jesus’ birth.  We’ve looked at Zechariah the Captain, and John the Baptist he Leadoff Batter.  This week we’re focussing on Simeon – the Franchise Veteran.

In Luke 2, we’re told that Simeon was a righteous and devout man who had the Holy Spirit on him.  This old man was living for one promise – the Lord told him that he would not die until he had seen the Messiah.  Eight days after Jesus’ birth, the Lord led him to the Temple.  As he waited there, Joseph and Mary entered, carrying their newborn to the priest to be circumcised and dedicated.  Simeon didn’t hesitate.  Like a seasoned player waiting to get his hands on a trophy, Simeon grabbed Jesus and began singing praises.

We can imagine the fear and awkwardness that Joseph and Mary must have felt.  Knowing that they were charged with caring for the Messiah, they must have lived with a heightened sense of awareness.  This trip to the Temple was most likely their first public appearance, and right away a crazy old man snatched Jesus right from their arms.

As they soon found out, this man was more than a stranger.  He was a prophet.  They didn’t fully understand the weight of the baby in their arms, but Simeon knew.  He was finally holding the Messiah.

Joseph and Mary were thrown very quickly into the story of Advent.  The angelic visitations, the virgin birth, the challenges that came with parenting the Messiah, the things people said about their baby – it probably seemed like a giant whirlwind to them.  How many times they must have asked each other, “What just happened?”

But Simeon, he was a man waiting for this very moment.  Like the veteran who is handed the trophy and the microphone, years of longing and hoping poured forth from his heart like pure gold.  Lou Gherig’s words, “I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth,” were enshrined into baseball’s legacy. Simeon’s words would be enshrined into the Gospel forever.

“Sovereign Lord, as you have promised, you may dismiss your servant in peace.  For my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the sight of all nations: a light for revelation to the Gentiles and the glory of your people Israel.  This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed.  And a sword will pierce your own soul too.”

Simeon teaches us the beauty of waiting on the Lord.  Often times we pass off the Lord’s promises because we haven’t invested our heart into it.  Jesus aptly said, “Where your heart is, there your treasure is also.”  As Simeon demonstrates, when our hearts are fixated on God and His promises, we will wait, hope, and trust in Him.  And when the Lord decides to faithfully fulfill those promises, they will seem all the sweeter to us.  “Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus” is the hymn of veterans who appreciate the glory that comes through long suffering, waiting, and hoping.

Baseball Players of Advent – John the Baptist the Leadoff Batter

Justin Hibbard

AdventBaseball-John

There’s a certain strategy to a baseball batting lineup. The leadoff batter is typically someone who is consistent at getting on base. They’re generally fast and can generate stolen bases. But their purpose is not to hit homeruns. Their purpose is simply to get on base and stay on base for the cleanup hitter, because the cleanup hitter is typically the power hitter who can bring them home.

This year for Advent, we are focusing on the “baseball players” in the story of Jesus’ birth. Last week, we looked at Zechariah – the Captain. This week, we’re focusing on his son John the Baptist – the leadoff hitter.

John the Baptist had a tremendous ministry. He had a notable following and his own disciples. He could have easily hogged the spotlight. But instead this prophet understood his place in God’s ministry. Even though many asked him if he was the Messiah, he knew that he was the one of which Isaiah prophesied. “A voice calls out in the wilderness, prepare the way for the Lord.” So when John’s younger cousin Jesus came onto the scene, he pointed to Him and said, “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. I’m not worthy to even tie his sandal.” John the Baptist was like the leadoff batter. He knew what God called him to do and he did it faithfully.

In the game of baseball, one cannot talk about leadoff batters and leave out the name Rickey Henderson. This extremely fast leadoff batter made a name for himself getting on base and advancing to scoring position. His speed and prowess on the basepaths brought his team two world championships during his hall of fame career. Even though he was the twelve-time American League stolen base champion tallying a whopping 1,406 career stolen bases, his most valuable team achievement was scoring 2,295 runs. The game of baseball has many components, but at the end of the day, the only thing that matters is crossing home plate.

In a sense, we are all like leadoff hitters, like John the Baptist. Many of us have vibrant and intricate ministries. Many people make a name for themselves by their work in churches, books they write, and ministries they lead. However, no matter how simple or detailed, small or large our work for God’s Kingdom, the most important perspective we must have is that our ultimate goal is to point people to Jesus. As Paul said in 1 Corinthians 3:6, “I planted the church, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow.” Jesus is the power hitter. He takes our faithful efforts and makes them bear fruit.

Baseball Players of Advent – Zechariah the Captain

Justin Hibbard

AdventBaseball-ZechariahAs any sports team will tell you, there is a clubhouse leader.  Behind the scenes, these are the players that might not lead in home runs, but they lead the team by encouraging younger players, giving pep talks, and taking leadership roles on and off the field.  Sometimes management gives these seasoned players the title of Captain.   And sometimes, the captain doesn’t always see eye-to-eye with the coach.  Sometimes the clash between the coach’s way and the captain’s way becomes a very public spectacle.

This year for Advent, we are focusing on the “baseball players” in the story of Jesus’ birth, and for the first week of Advent, we’re looking at Zechariah – the Captain.

Every year the priests of the Temple would draw lots to see who would perform the duties prescribed for the festival of Yom Kippur – the Day of Atonement – Israel’s holiest and most solemn festival.  While one would consider it an honor to be chosen for such a task, it was a dangerous assignment.  The priest had to carefully perform the intricate details prescribed in the Torah without deviation, including entering the Most Holy Place in the Temple to make atonement for himself and all of Israel.  The High Priest was the mediator between Israel and God.  He was like the one chosen for the all-star game, or the captain chosen to mediate between the coaches and the umpires, or the spokesperson selected to speak to the media on behalf of the team.

One year, Zechariah, who was Mary’s brother-in-law (and Jesus’ uncle), was chosen to perform such duties.  As he stood in the Holy of Holies, the angel Gabriel appeared to him.  Seeing this, he assumed he had done something wrong and that the angel was there to kill him.  However, that was not the case.  Gabriel appeared to Zechariah to tell him that he would have a son, even though his wife was barren and they were very old.  Yet despite how many stories we read about God blessing someone considered infertile with a child, Zachariah had his doubts and was struck dumb because he didn’t believe God.

Imagine that.  Here Zechariah was in the most holy place, doing the most spiritual task, encountering a heavenly being, and he still had trouble believing God.  Here was a man who understood the stories of Sarai, Rachel, Hannah, and the many women who had children even though it was considered impossible.  He most likely taught these stories, but when it came to believing that God could do it through Him, He lacked faith.  He needed a coach to help him see the future game plan.

Sometimes even the team leaders have trouble seeing the big picture.  They can get bogged down with the batting slumps, the losing streaks, and the negative media pressure.  Sometimes they don’t understand what the front office is doing to build the team.  And like Zechariah, they can find themselves in a place of doubt.  That’s what happened to Zechariah, and he needed some time to adjust his attitude.

The great Dodger pitcher Orel Hershiser experienced this with his coach Tommy Lasorda.  One time he gave up so many runs, that Tommy Lasorda came out of the dugout in a tirade and yelled at his young pitcher for being too timid.  The verbal lashing was so loud that his teammates nicknamed it “the sermon on the mound.”  On another occasion, the coach told Hershiser, “Son, I wish I could give you a transplant, not an arm transplant.  You need a heart transplant.”

Before Zechariah could take part in the advent of the Messiah, he needed a heart transplant.  For nine months, Zechariah couldn’t say a word.  He couldn’t tell people what happened that day in the Holy of Holies when he encountered an angel.  Before he could lead others, before he could tell the stories of how God could do the impossible, before he could be a voice of encouragement, he needed to have his heart changed and experience God’s miraculous hand.

Sometimes coaches bench the captains.  They take them out of the public eye to help them focus again on what’s important.  This was the case with Zechariah.  And when God was done with him, he was ready to not only lead God’s people but also to lead his family and father and coach his son John the Baptist.