Easter, April 12

Do you remember being afraid of death? I used to run away from thinking about it--I'd do anything to avoid letting my mind wander to the topic. And then I gave my life to Jesus, and the fear just melted away. How amazing!

I was reminded of that old, gnawing fear today at our Easter service. We were singing the third verse of "Because He Lives," which goes like this: "And then one day I'll cross that river, I'll fight life's final war with pain. And then as death gives way to victory, I'll see the lights of glory and I'll know he lives."

And suddenly, I remembered. The nights lying alone in bed, distractions and defenses of the day reduced to nothing, desperately trying to avoid the thoughts--the times, in broad daylight, when something random would remind me of death and I'd struggle to find a different topic, to change the course of my mental ramblings. And never being able, ultimately, to escape.

From June 10, 1970 to this day I've never had another thought like those. I've thought of death, of course, particularly with the two brain tumors, and what it would do to my family, and I've even thought some long thoughts about what I might have to offer Christ, but not once have I ever worried about my own destiny. In fact, in the couple of years preceding my surgery in 1987, I had not one, but two dreams about death. And in both, with death a split-second away, I felt like a baby in a mother's arms. Again--amazing.

And as we sang, I started to cry.

Sometimes it's good to remember from where you've come.

April 5

Here's a devotional I wrote for an accountability group a few years ago.

THAT RASCAL IS HEAVY

Matthew 7:5--You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye.

Bless God, Jesus was not afraid to say what needed to be said.

Entirely apart from the comedic value of this statement, which still elicits a few chuckles, Jeus is saying three things we need to hear.

The first thing is simply this: we are sinners.

The second item is worse news yet: even if we admit to a few peccadillos, our sense of scale is badly distorted. We don't consider our sin any large matter. Now that other guy--his sin reeks!

Pardon me, says Jesus, but you've got that backwards. You're the hypocrite, pal. Not the other guy.

These two problems, grievous sin and our inability to name it as such, lead inevitably to a third problem: we're no earthly good to anyone else who struggles with sin.

Now see here, you might be thinking, I can help that other guy. With a two-by-four, I'll help him.

Actually, friend, the two-by-four is stuck in your eye.

And here I've got to get personal. Because, truth be told, it's not just stuck in your eye, it's stuck in mine too. And the one in my eye is the one I need to worry about.

You see, I've never been commissioned as someone else's personal Holy Spirit. That's hard for me to comprehend, but it's true.

Once I quit obsessing about someone else's sin, however, I'm free to start dealing with my own. And that's exactly what Jesus wants me to do; has, in fact, promised to help me do.

It is true that when I really engage my sin God's way, i.e., with a group of similar sinners, there may be a few times when God calls me to confront another person. But I must always do this in humility, and once the Holy Spirit has accomplished his task through me, I need to let the matter rest.

Because my own sin is still the big-ticket item.

But praise God, he's helping me to get a grip on that two by four.

Man, that rascal is heavy!