IBC Blog

Every seven years IBC sends each member of the pastoral staff on a 3-month sabbatical for a time of refreshment and reflection. Starting May 14 Pastor Andy will be on sabbatical. While he will not be preaching or doing church business, he will be engaged in intentional study, prayer and writing. With that in mind, please join us in praying for Andy and Alice this summer. 

Even though I was still a bit bleary-eyed when I read Luke 5 for our family devotions this morning, verse 8 still managed to burst through my sleepy fog: “Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!”

That’s Peter speaking in the aftermath of Jesus’ miracle of the great catch of fish when it first dawns on him that Jesus is more than a carpenter. In the unexpected presence of a holy and almighty God, people do radical things. It’s actually fitting that one of them be to grow quickly self-conscious and embarrassed for one’s sin. (I get a kick out of Peter pulling another well-intentioned faux pas here as he literally invites Jesus to go jump in the lake. Have you ever noticed that when he asks Jesus to leave the boat, they’re still out on the water?!)

What struck me about this passage is not what Peter said. He is actually perfectly correct both in his self-evaluation and in his request of Christ. He was indeed a sinful man. And Jesus, the perfect miracle-working Son of God, need not stain himself by hobnobbing with imperfection. Nothing here is news; it’s strictly dog-bites-man stuff. 

“Prone to wander, Lord I feel it, prone to leave the God I love.”

Can you relate to these words from the old hymn? I know I can! How easy I find it to to fall back into old selfish, undisciplined patterns, convenient sins, times of prayer less self-sufficiency and pride and foolish independence. I’m not going to tell you what that looks like specifically! But I bet you can imagine very well if you are honest about your own occasional wanderings. As Christians we’re forgiven but imperfect and therefore prone to leave the God we love.

I was playing in a golf fundraiser for Dallas Theological Seminary on Monday when Alice texted me the news about the Boston Marathon bombings. Heavy on my heart already was the Newtown shootings as well as the ongoing (and criminally underreported) Philadelphia trial of abortion “doctor” Kermit Gosnell.  Now in came news of yet more bloodshed and death. I’m pretty sure you were just as heart-broken as I was and maybe even wondered with me, “O Lord God, how long must such atrocities continue on this earth?”

I was stunned, but sadly not surprised by this latest mass-murder attempt in Boston. Death is the stock and trade of evil and darkness. It is the ultimate expression of Satan’s hatred toward the human race, creatures made in the image of the One he hates most.

Because we remind Satan so much of God, he does to us what he can’t do to God but would like to. If the Devil can’t kill God (and even he knows he can’t do that), then he will settle for killing God’s creatures. Our world’s sordid history of murder and genocide proves that. The Devil’s ultimate intention for the children of God is not good, but evil; not life, but death; not mercy, but murder.

Early last Sunday I stopped by Starbucks for a coffee and headlines before I headed to IBC to preach. My mouth dropped open and eyes misted over when I read that Pastor Rick Warren’s 27-year-old son had ended a lifetime of struggle with mental illness by taking his own life.

Then I got to church and preached a sermon from Luke 24 about Jesus’ appearance to two of His downcast disciples as they walked from Jerusalem to Emmaus.

One was named Cleopus. He and his friend still believed that Jesus was dead and therefore mourned not only the loss of their Master, but of their hope for Israel’s redemption. What beautiful irony for the risen Christ Himself to explain the bigger story God was writing through the cross and resurrection!

I am such a baby. Alice flew out to Pasadena to be with our daughter Elizabeth for Easter and I found myself pretty much alone for the holiday weekend. Did I revel in the quiet time, use it for deep meditation upon the meaning of the resurrection, or mobilize it for extra ministry during Holy Week?

No. I found myself oddly disoriented and singularly unproductive. When I finished my days and got home, I looked around discombobulated, wondering what to do next.  When Alice leaves, apparently, I revert to infantile levels of life responsibility. As I said, such a baby I am.

One good thing came out of my lonely Easter. I felt Jesus’ resurrection accounts in the gospels more deeply than I have in years. Specifically, I related to the disciples’ predicament after Jesus’ death and burial more personally. Granted, their despair  when Jesus was taken from them is far more profound than my missing my wife for a few days (a baby such that I am). But still, my blue mood helped me understand why two of Jesus’ disciples were so blue in the following account by Dr. Luke:

The question that most Christians are intent upon answering at Easter each year is, “Did Jesus really and truly rise again from the dead?” The answer to that question is obviously most important because the validity of the Christian faith rides on it.

And so we Christ-followers take joy each year in raising this question and answering it with a resounding “YES” and celebrating the magnificence and mystery of it all. At IBC this weekend, we will do just that yet once again and deliriously glad to do so!

But this year I’ve become aware of another most important Easter question that needs to be asked and answered on Easter. An angel actually raises the question in Luke 24. But the significance of it didn’t strike me until now because it occurs early in the Gospel resurrection narratives and I tend to forget it in the glorious distraction of the empty tomb! Let me give you the narrative, then circle back to the question. . .

During this Lenten season at IBC we’ve been exploring the meaning of Christ’s sacrifice for us on the cross. For me, this study has been simultaneously both painfully convicting and joyfully enlightening. We cannot contemplate the cross without facing our sin which made the cross necessary. But we also cannot contemplate the cross without marveling at God’s grace which makes the cross beautiful.

Yes, I was a hopeless case when far from God, mired in my sins, without hope and a future. But on the cross, Jesus took my place. On the cross, Jesus won my life. On the cross, Jesus showed me how. On the cross, Jesus bought my freedom. On the cross, Jesus made my peace. And as we’ll see this weekend, on the cross, Jesus washed me clean.