A Question.  Last weekend — Easter Weekend — we decided to meet Sarah for Easter Dinner.  We picked a town about halfway between Pittsburgh and State College, Ebensburg.  If you ever find yourself in Ebensburg on Easter Sunday looking for a place to eat, let me give you a heads up.  Other than the McDonald’s and the Sheetz, only one place will be open, “Off the Rak.”  We got to Ebensburg about 15 minutes before Sarah did, so we tried to call her to let her know that everything was closed and to meet us in the McDonald’s parking lot.  No answer.  We called multiple times, maybe a hundred times in the next 15 minutes no answer.  Here’s my question, “Why did I immediately consider the possibility that Sarah had been in a terrible car accident and start asking God to spare her life?”  By the way, her phone had died but she didn’t.

I sat with a couple a few weeks ago, because the wife wanted to plan her memorial service with me.  A week after that I was doing a funeral for a man I had never met.

A few weeks ago, I received an email asking me to pray for a little girl in Altoona, bad infection in the hospital, coma.  I prayed.  About a week later I asked for an update, the little girl died the day before I sent the email.

Watched a movie from Redbox last night Hereafter.  It’s always interesting to gain some insight into how the world — without Christ — views death and life after death.

David Wilkerson, the author of The Cross and the Switchblade died yesterday — car accident.  I read that account before I went to bed and woke up to the accounts of 200+ dead from tornadoes in the south.

One of my best friends has cancer.  He’s a pastor and told his congregation last week that he has wrestled with this beast so long that he is starting to long for heaven — sad to leave family, but longing for heaven.

There is a scene in Jesus life, just before he dies on a cross.  He is at the tomb of his friend Lazarus.  Lazarus has been dead for four days.  Surrounded by grieving sisters and mourning friends, pain and suffering washing over Jesus.  The text says that an intense fury from the depths of his soul stirred up within him, and he shuddered.  He is outraged at the abnormality of death.  He is filled with fury at the brokenness of the world.  He feels compassion for his friends and their grief but he is outraged at the hand behind death.   First he lifts his eyes to his father, then he stares into the face of sin, death and Satan, and with the command of life, he calls Lazarus forth.

Lazarus comes out of his tomb.

We do not fear death, because Jesus walked out of the tomb.  We do not grieve as those who have no hope, for death is defeated.  We live for Christ, but we know that to die is to gain.

Yet for all that we cannot, must not forget that Jesus rages at death.  We take part with him in a battle against the hand behind death.  And one day, there will be no more death.

Last weekend — Easter — we celebrated The Resurrection by immersing ourselves in the story of Lazarus. The story of Lazarus one of my favorite Easter stories.  It’s not the actual Easter story, it happens more than a week before Easter — but it’s Easter Applied. Jesus intersection with Lazarus gives us a peek into the chapters after Easter, as if to say, “This is what life will be like when resurrection power is let loose in the world.

The image of Jesus standing in front of the tomb of Lazarus, — fervently angry to the core of his being, raging at the abnormality of death and sin and sickness and sorrow and grief, an abnormality that had become normal — is a portrait of our champion, the champion who came to give us life.  (Listen to

or view Our Champion for the full portrait.)

The question is, do we really want, are we ready for LIFE.

A few years back, a guy named John served a network of churches in Minnesota. One of his jobs was to travel to little rural communities to do funerals where they didn’t have churches. He would go out with an undertaker, and they would drive together in the undertaker’s hearse. One time, they were on their way back from a funeral, and John, was feeling quite tired. He decided he would take a nap. Since they were in a hearse, he thought, Well, I’ll just lie down in the back of the hearse. Sounds a bit creepy, but trust me, true story.

The guy who was driving the hearse pulled into a service station, because he was running low on gas. The service station attendant was filling up the tank and he was kind of freaked out, because there was a body stretched out in the back. While he was filling the tank, John woke up, opened his eyes, knocked on the window and waved at the attendant. John said he never saw anybody run so fast in his whole life.

That day (captured in John 11:1-46) when Lazarus walked out of the tomb — the crowd divided into two groups in John 11:45-46, it reports that many believed in Jesus, but others went away.  You know where they went?  They went to the religious leaders to tell them that they needed to take care of Jesus — because dead people just can’t be doing that!  They were scared…scared of the life Jesus represented and scared of the life Jesus offered.

Sometimes God’s offer of life, scares us. We want it, but we’re afraid to give ourselves to it.  So what will you do?  Believe?  Or go away?

It’s been one of those weeks.  Aren’t they all?  From wrestling with some questions I have for God to helping my daughter with a college paper on the exegesis of Ephesians; from a report of cancer to an invitation to a wedding, from a lacrosse game to working on an outline for an Easter sermon, from decisions about fostering children to decisions about capital campaigns — just one of those weeks.

The closest I’ve come to letting the truths of Easter touch my soul have been in the writing of a blog post and in the pondering of John 11 for this weekend’s sermon.  But on the other hand those were just assignments, not deep dives into the grace of Easter.

Then last night it hit me, or at least it started.  We (Calvary) have a tradition of celebrating Maundy Thursday during Easter Week — it’s an evening focusing on communion and the night Jesus redefined the Passover as a celebration of God’s — not just past but — future grace.  I had a very minor role in the evening, no leadership, so I could simply participate.

We got there a bit late — Jake’s lacrosse game in Lewisburg — so it was taking me awhile to be present, you know be in the moment.  From yelling on the sidelines, to speeding on 192, to a worship service, I wasn’t really in the moment.

Then it hit me.  We started singing a song I’ve sung a thousand times.  Amazing Grace how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.  I once was lost but now I’m found was blind but now I see. The words came out my mouth and grace came crashing in.  Wonderful Amazing Grace.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I like to think I can earn my way in life.  Sometimes I’m so focused on what I believe I need to do, to measure up, to have success, to be loved.  Then grace comes crashing in.  Don’t need to earn it.  Couldn’t live up to it.  Don’t deserve it.  Yet it comes.  Lavish, Abundant, Delightful, Wonderful, Holy Amazing Grace comes crashing in.

Easter weekend at Calvary, we are pondering together the story of Lazarus.  Lazarus died.  Jesus came.  Jesus called Lazarus out of the tomb.  Lazarus lived.  Grace came crashing into a tomb and Lazarus lived.  You know what I know?  If you ever run into someone who has experienced a resurrection — it’s a pretty good bet that they didn’t have much to do with it.

Grace came crashing in.  I have a feeling there will be a moment for many of us in the coming days, where God’s grace comes crashing in.  When it does and you hear Jesus call your name… it’s time to come out of the tomb.

Christ is risen!”…“He is risen indeed!” For thousands of years the Christian church has used this phrase as a customary greeting of joy at Easter and throughout the Easter season. Instead of “hello” or “good morning,” a person greets another with “Christ is risen!” and the appropriate response is “He is risen indeed!”

This is our hope. As we face local layoffs in the education system, as we wrestle with cancer in the life of someone we care about, as we wonder if our child’s life will be forever marked by a messed up decision, as we struggle through our days as a single parent, as we wish, or wait, or pray, this is our hope.

The Easter story, the Easter reality can breathe life into the human spirit. He is risen indeed. Maybe at this moment you find yourself living in a season you never saw coming. You regret a decision you made, an action you took, an opportunity you let pass. Nobody ever wants a season of hard times to come, but when they do, they have a way of helping us discover the source of our hope, and our help.

What is your hope? What are you counting on for help?

I love John Ortberg’s words a few Easters past,

People have not gathered for the past 2,000 years to say, “The stock market has risen. It has risen indeed.” They have not gathered to say, “The dollar has risen. It has risen indeed.” Or, “the employment rate has risen.” Or, “the gross domestic product has risen.” Or, “General Motors has risen.” Or, “The value of your 401(k) has risen.” Here’s the one hope that has held up human beings across every continent and culture for two millennia of difficult times of poverty, disease, pain, hardship, death itself: “Christ is risen. He is risen indeed.”

I love Easter.  As a pastor, we live for Easter.  Every other Sunday is practice for Easter.  We come out of the betrayal of Thursday night, the gloom and despair of Friday, through the doubts of Saturday into the hope of Easter Sunday.  This weekend we will sing resurrection songs.  We will celebrate the resurrection of Christ and we will listen to His call… to come out of our tombs.

Christ is risen.  He is risen indeed.

One day an expert in religious law stood up to test Jesus by asking him this question: “Teacher, what must I do to receive eternal life?” Jesus replied, “What does the law of Moses say? How do you read it?” The man answered, “You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your strength, and all your mind. And, love your neighbor as yourself.” “Right!” Jesus told him. “Do this and you will live!” Luke 10:25-28 (NLT)

What Jesus is saying is that our mission is to love our neighbors. Love Your Neighbor. I can’t imagine a better motivation for sharing the good news about the grace of God… than the simple reality that I love my neighbor. Do you love your neighbor?

A recent study came out from the Institute of Church Growth. It’s a survey of 14,000 Jesus followers. One of the questions that they were asked was, “How did you come to Christ? How did you come to church?” 1-2% just walked in, saw the church, figured it looked kind of cool, something in that first visit attracted them and they kept coming. 5% came because they heard something about church that they thought would meet a need, the pastor, a program, something. But what’s interesting is if you go down to the option, “I was invited by a friend or relative,” Over 75% checked that box.

So… if someone comes to church on Easter for the very first time — or even the first few times — chances are pretty good that there is a relationship in their life that brought them. A good news person lived out grace in front of their eyes. A neighbor prayed for them. A friend invited them.

One of my favorite scriptures is Ephesians 2:10, Paul writes, “You are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which He prepared in advance for you to do.”

Do you hear that? You’re God’s workmanship, God’s masterpiece. He is fashioning you into a person of good news and as he shapes you to be a person of good news he’s preparing good works for you to do. This is not just general. It’s specific. God is shaping you to do specific good deeds for specific people so that they will hear, really hear the good news of the grace of God, the good news of Easter. God is uniquely shaping you so that you can have a part in his mission for unique people whom he loves. Your neighbors.

He has already planned ways to use your personality, your journey, your experiences — good and hard — your sorrows, your gender, your strengths, all these things shaped by God to reach out…because there are some people that only you can hug, some hands that only you can hold, some ears that will only hear your invitation, some people only you can reach.

Your neighbors.

I love this video. Watch it. Laugh. Then ask yourself do I care enough to invite?

It’s Easter.  Not sure what glorious thoughts you ponder at Easter, but I think we should.  Ponder glorious thoughts at Easter, that is.  Can you imagine your first glimpse of Jesus on Easter?  My guess is that no one was expecting to see him.  Sometimes a glimpse of glory brings a cross-eyed look of confusion.  I’m fairly certain I would not have expected to see him — in fact sometimes I don’t even expect to see him on this side of Easter.

One of the glorious thoughts we should ponder at Easter is that we can expect to SEE him…today.  We can expect to SEE him in the midst of our disappointments.  We can expect to SEE him in the midst of cancer.  We can expect to SEE him in the midst of confusion.  In fact it is always to early to give up looking for Jesus, when we can expect to SEE him.

Where are you looking for Jesus?  Where are you expecting to SEE him.

Let me pass on two excellent blogposts for you to ponder today — one is specifically Easter oriented, one is not.  The one that is not specifically Easter oriented is specifically “SEE him” oriented.  Both have given me glorious thoughts to ponder this Easter.

Oh yeah by the way — they are both great, but I’m kind of partial to the one by my daughter — you understand Steve.  :)

Expecting to SEE Him

Jesus Vs. Death

That’s right — multiple studies, neurological studies, sociological studies and even theological studies suggest that serving others leads to personal happiness and fulfillment.

Neurological Studies — Brain scans by neuroscientists indicate that generosity — serving through giving — carries its own rewards. Dr. Jorge Moll’s team, doing research at the National Institutes of Health found that when a person was encouraged to ponder an act of generosity, parts of the brain lit up that are normally associated with personal pleasures like eating or sex. God has hard-wired us to be generous.

Sociological Studies — Dr. Jonathan Haidt, — psychology professor at the University of Virginia and author of the book, “The Happiness Hypothesis” — notes that sociological studies suggest that nobility can lead to happiness. One thing that can make a lasting difference to your contentment is to work with others on a cause larger than yourself.

I see that all the time. I talk to people at church who were busy, and almost reluctantly got involved in a good cause — maybe just because it was the right thing to do — and sooner or later they found that their sacrifice had become a source of joy and satisfaction.

Theological Studies — Bill Leslie had a remarkable ministry at LaSalle Street Church in Chicago. He told of a time when he nearly had a breakdown, physical, emotional, spiritual. A spiritual mentor directed him to Isaiah 58. He said it was vs 10-11 that turned his life around.

And if you give yourself to the hungry, and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then your light will rise in darkness, and your gloom will become like midday. And the Lord will continually guide you, and satisfy your desire in scorched places [like urban Chicago], and give strength to your bones; and you will be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water whose waters do not fail.

What struck Pastor Leslie so powerfully was the fact that if we pour ourselves out for others, God promises to make us like a watered garden that is, we will receive the water we need for refreshment. But even more: we will thus be a spring of water that does not fail for others no matter how demanding or draining. This gave him a pattern of divine life that got him through his crisis and kept him going for years more.

You see there is something very close to the heart of Jesus in Isaiah 58. Jesus announced his own calling with similar words, the Spirit of God has anointed me to preach good news to the poor, to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim deliverance to the captives.

Sometimes people think there is a great divide between worship and service. Between the spiritual and the practical. In Isaiah 58 they are intimately connected.  This weekend — Saturday and Sunday — hundreds of us will be asking  God to make Isaiah 58 come true in our community.  Rather than a worship service, we are going to do service worship.

I don’t usually do this, I’m asking God for a sunny weekend, but regardless of the weather, we will worship.  See you around town.

I love this story in Acts 3, in fact it is the story that names my blog – Dancing Cripples.  We looked at this story last week at Calvary and here is a synopsis of the point that I’m pondering today.

It’s 3 in the afternoon. Peter and John are on their way to a prayer meeting. They loved to pray. It was one of the hallmarks of the original church. And in the last year or so, they have embraced prayer, more and more. Life isn’t necessarily easy, there are so many needs… they still face moments of persecution. And yet, daily they are seeing God add to the movement of Jesus-followers. Daily, their faith grows, lives are being changed, generosity is flowing, courage is growing, character is forming… and so there is a bounce to their steps.  They love to pray.

On the way to the prayer meeting, as they come to the Gate called Beautiful, a man is being carried in. A crippled man — he wears his cripple on the outside, some of us are crippled on the inside – crippled since birth, sits with his hand out.

In fact in his mother’s womb he was already a cripple. For 40 years, he’s been crippled. For 14,480 days, someone has had to bring him food. For 14,480 days someone has had to carry him to the bathroom. Who knows, maybe for 14,480, someone has prayed that his legs would be healed. But I kind of doubt it, it would taken extra-ordinary hope to make a request that has gone unanswered for 14,480 days. But this day would be different.

On this day he is going to get something more than money. He’s going to get a miracle.

Here’s my question. Why this day? if God is going to heal him anyway, why not day 4764? Why not day 1? I don’t know. I really don’t.  God’s plans are often mysterious to me.  All I know is that one day was different and it is always too early too quit hoping. It is always to early too quit asking God.

Peter and John fixed their gaze on him and they even asked him to look at them. So there is a meeting of the eyes. You know this man is thinking, this could be a good one. When I can get them to look me in the eye just before they go into church…I might even get silver or gold. But here’s the thing, money isn’t the best we have to offer. Our resources are never the best we have to offer.

Peter and John, say, “Silver and gold we have none, but what we have we give you, in the name of Jesus rise and walk.” As they pull him to his feet, God restores his legs…and he dances. And when cripples dance – the gospel comes alive, and people run to God.

So I’m not sure what “day” you find yourself on, all I can tell you is that God loves to see cripples dance and it’s always too early to quit asking for a miracle.

You can listen to the message at “

.”

A good friend of mine is dying.

Yep I know.  Technically we are all dying.

Last time I did the research — you can google it — the mortality rate is right around 100%. Only one guy I know in the last few millennium who messed up the rate, but I’m not sure what the percentage would be for 1 out of billions.

A few weeks ago, I preached on the Apostle Paul’s life-changing, death defying motto — for me to live is Christ and to die is gain — the

.  His motto means that the Christ-follower actually looks forward to death. I’m not looking forward to my friend’s — even though it would be great gain for him. It would be great loss for me…for many.  Paul said it was hard for him to choose, — live for Christ or die for gain — but at the moment, he was confident that it was necessary for him to stay. Too many lives to touch for Christ. I can’t even begin to tell you how true I think that is now.

There are few people who have impacted my ministry more over the course of the last dozen years or so. Few people who have meant more to the Kingdom of God in the Centre Region. Few people whose leadership I respect more. Few people whose friendship I value more.   I’ve been telling God, all the reasons why it is of great value for him to life for Christ.  The gain can wait.

But here’s the deal. I misspoke. My friend isn’t dying, anymore than I am. My friend is living. That’s one of the things that I admire about him. He’s a liver — I know that’s an organ, but it’s the right word. He’s a liver. Always has been. Always looking for a spiritual battle to fight, always reaching for one more victory for Christ, always willing to take one more risk to gain the tipping point of revival.   Full of faith and hope. Living for Jesus. Living for his family. Living for our community.

In many ways we are as different as we can be… I preach in jeans. When he wears jeans, it still looks like a suit. Even without a clock he would be on time, even with a clock I’m usually not. He loves excellence and organizational structure, I like words like organic and “it’s pretty okay.” But with all our differences, I want the same heart. He’s a liver.

I’m not sure he would want me to put this on my blog — so if you read it don’t tell him — on the other hand his love language is affirmation, so maybe this public affirmation will make it okay. But even more important than the public affirmation, I would simply ask you to join me in praying that God would grant him many, many more years… as a liver.

Yeah. That’s what I’m praying.

If you read I Corinthians 3:5-9, you find these words,

⁵ What, after all, is Apollos? And what is Paul? Only servants, through whom you came to believe—as the Lord has assigned to each his task. ⁶ I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow. ⁷ So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. ⁸ The one who plants and the one who waters have one purpose, and they will each be rewarded according to their own labor. ⁹ For we are co-workers in God’s service; you are God’s field, God’s building.

Those are great movement words!  When I am part of a movement, I start to realize that it’s not all about me.  It’s not my movement, I’m just a part.  It’s not about building up Calvary.  We are just a part. In fact, with humble boldness, can I make it really clear — because I’m certain they would agree — it’s not all about Mark Driscoll, John Piper, Francis Chan, Rob Bell, or Beth Moore.  In fact when we start proclaiming that we are of John, or we are of Bell, or we are of Francis — we start to institutionalize the movement.

Every movement has a founder who is a charismatic leader.  Most movements die with the leader.  Ours didn’t because ours didn’t.  Our leader lives and our leader still directs the movement.  So we are all still of Jesus and as long as we are all of Jesus, the movement moves.  Or perhaps better said, we move with the movement.

All of us have a part, but it’s not my movement.  It’s not all dependent upon me.  God brings the growth.  I have a part, but I don’t have the only part.  In fact if I don’t play my part, God often has someone else waiting on the sidelines.

In fact I think a great illustration of that is this story — Cheryle Touchton is an evangelist.  Sometimes she is planting seeds that someone else will water.  Sometimes she is watering seeds that someone else will plant.  Sometimes she is harvesting a life that someone else planted and watered.  She is part of a team.  It’s not all about her, but she has a part.

Sometimes God will take her long distances so that she can join another team.  She has a Great-God-Story about Anthony.  God brought her to Mardi Gras to move the movement into the heart of Anthony.  Read her story and ask God to show you who the “Anthony’s” in your life might be.

Anthony.