As we move into Veterans Day on Monday Nov 11, Here is a document of particular historic interest and a historic prophecy of universal interest.

First the “Witness Echoes” publication of the Norwegian Evangelical Free Church (now First EFC) of 649 66th Street, Brooklyn, NY around March 1945.  These notes and letters from World War II service men, chaplains, and church folks provides an interesting look into the faith and experience at the time.  Enjoy:

1945 05 Witness Echos Publication 66th Street Church

Second, our hope lays in a savior that will one day render war obsolete.  This passage reminds us of his Kingdom Coming: Isaiah 2:1-5

This is what Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem:
In the last days the mountain of the Lord’s temple will be established as the highest of the mountains; it will be exalted above the hills, and all nations will stream to it. Many peoples will come and say, “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the temple of the God of Jacob. He will teach us his ways, so that we may walk in his paths.” The law will go out from Zion, the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.  He will judge between the nations and will settle disputes for many peoples. They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks.  Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore. Come, descendants of Jacob, let us walk in the light of the Lord.

An old soul isn’t born or bred, but rather recovered.

Its path is rarely soft and its journey oft seems perilous. That said, an old soul is held loosely with an effortless grasp. Almost a common possession more than a part of one’s self. A favored shirt or a worn bill fold.

An old soul is not displayed but only discovered. Almost a treasure unearthed in early friendship. It is no wonder that an old soul is oft found guarded by loved-ones as if a sacred flower or secret spring.

An old soul may be quick but is not fast. An old soul is at times youthful but never trite.

An old soul is faithful and trusting, holds joy with a grieving hand, giving praise with gentle caution.

Finally. An old soul is always someone else’s never our own. Unearthed in the search for the kindred never in the search for self.

I wonder at times what part of God’s triune life together, the finding of an old soul reflects. Perhaps the gift of an enduring friendship that spans longer than time has actually afforded. Perhaps a glimpse at an abiding fellowship that will certainly endure.

Originally written July 2015 and published in a Service Bulletin I believe.  Moderately revised October 2019.

Below is an email response to a question that some of our congregation had brought to them by a friend of theirs who was inquiring about Christianity and its claim that Jesus is the Son of God.  In prior conversation or emails, they were already very knowledgable about the difficulty followers of Islam have with the language of “father” and “son” and the implication they see regarding a sexual relationship required for the incarnation, something Christians obvious deny.  But the further explanation of the possible importance of the Father-Son language for the Christian may prove helpful for others, so I’m posting it here.  Notice that I’m hardly writing as much as I’m quoting in it.  Here it is for your enjoyment:

We are a culture obsessed with identity. We struggle to find our place, our titles, our preferences, and our personality types. Renee was not immune to this struggle and we’ve reflected on her struggle to make space. But early in Renee’s life she settled on the short letter a tearful prophet Jeremiah scripted to the exiles in Babylon. They also longed to find themselves in a place that “truly understood them”. They also felt misunderstood, underrepresented, cast aside. But Renee took these words as her life verse.  Let me read us a small selection: (Jeremiah 29:4-7)

4 This is what the Lord Almighty, the God of Israel, says to all those I carried into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: 5 “Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce. 6 Marry and have sons and daughters; find wives for your sons and give your daughters in marriage, so that they too may have sons and daughters. Increase in number there; do not decrease.

And this was the verse that Renee had inscribed in a ring which she cherished:

 7 Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper.” 

Seek the peace and prosperity, the shalom, of the city. Renee loved the cities she lived in. Some of them she was even fond of. But all of them received her dedicated service: her prayer walks (often with some of us in tow), her food-bank, block-party, movie-night, immigrant-support, Bible-study shalom-seeking. Her Babylons were Minneapolis, Denver, Washington DC, and Brooklyn, NY. Indeed she sought out peace for many people, many people that religious people like me at times overlook. Renee sometime stirred up us religious folk. She didn’t always let me off the hook when it seemed polite or discreet. But when it came to an active seeking of actual peace for situations easier to step over than to address: She never let me look away.

There was another prophet who stirred up religious folk. Jesus of course told us not to seek what the world seeks. He also refused to just step over those who were inconvenient, those hard to love, those with little to offer.  His words were, “if you seek life (as the world does), you will loose it.” (Matt 10:39, 16:5). Jesus asked us to, “seek first his kingdom,” (Matt 6:33) the place where his peace rests and replaces our restless selfishness. This only costs you everything you’ve been chasing after. One early follower of Jesus exclaimed, “I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ and be found in him,” (Phil 3:8)

Can you imagine the shalom, the peace of Jesus resting in you and granting you a peace and a fullness that quenches your soul’s thirst? Perhaps you, like Renee can imagine it. Imagine God’s peace working it’s way through your body and your soul, working it’s way out to your neighbor, your grocer, your fellow passenger, your student, your boss, your parent. That’s what seeking the shalom can become. And our cities, our Babylon, becomes pocketed by small kingdoms of God’s peace and mercy.

That is what Renee asked me to share with you.  She asked me to ask you this specifically:  Who will take on this calling, this mission: to seek the peace and wellness of the city, to pray for it, to serve it?  So I suppose there are two questions before you.  Two inconvenient truths that Renee and I won’t let you look away from just yet. First: Will you give up your search for your self and relinquish your life to God? Second: Will you seek Jesus and his peace for the city that surrounds you?  If you would, after the service concludes, I would like to speak with you and commission you in Jesus’ name, for the sake of our cities, with Renee’s blessing, and for the glory of God.

• in the world
• In the kingdom / believer
• In salvation and sanctification

• Culture areas of strength:
• • People before Programs. Slow together is better than fast and alone.
• Culture areas of growth:
• • If I own it, I finish the job, I report on the job

• Introduce or Re-Introduce the idea of Ministry Team and Building Team

Paradox.  A paradox sounds absurd at first but echos with profound sensibility as it settles in. A paradox forces us to see the truth held in tension. And of course a good paradox fills us with a sense of wonder and awe.  You are a bit of a paradox.  As we grow older, time feels both longer and quicker. We say the days feel longer and the weeks feel shorter. As we mature and grow in wisdom, we realize how much we do not know and can not comprehend.

  When we consider our current situation our paradox’s multiply. We have access to more information all about any subject every known to mind, but we know less about our neighbors than ever in human history.  Most of us have the ability to call any country in the world for free or very cheaply, but most people around us are lonely.  Most of us have seen amazingly detailed images of galaxies far in the distance taken by a telescope that orbits far above the earth, but most of us can’t see the stars in our sky anymore.  

Psalm 19 says, The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge. They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them. Yet their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world.

God created the silence of the night sky to scream his wondrous power through infinite vacuum and terrifying cold. He hurled the galaxies, stars and planets into precise and measured paths.  The Psalmist thinks they speak.  That their dance reveals truth and knowledge.  That their message goes out to the ends of the earth, to every person who has ever walked the earth.  And for most of us, we don’t care to look up. Have we lost the wonder? The awe? 

I recall walking in a Redwood forest as a small child, the trees wider than several cars, taller than twenty-story buildings.  I experience deeper awe returning with my children.  I had grown twice my childhood height, but my neck still drew back and my mouth swung open. But when I look into the sky, I don’t see what the ancients saw.  I don’t see the evidence of God’s goodness like the wisemen of Persia did.  I don’t rely on it consistent story to mark seasons, planting and harvest, years of births and deaths, constellations, shooting stars, comets and blood moons.  I suspect you don’t either.  We use calendars, cell phones, watches, and atomic clocks to pass time. It’s a paradox though.  We’ve gained precision on each second, but we’ve lost the context of the infinite vast creation.  We can measure our lives duration but we’ve lost track of our life’s value. But this is the great aspect of Advent.  This season where we revisit the Christmas paradox.

Christmas is a great pile of paradox. A group of wise guys from out East see a star.  They hear the heavens declare the glory of God while Levites, Pharisees, Sadducees, Essenes and Zealots see only another nights sky.  The silence of God, 400 years without prophetic interruption, is broken by the voice of planets. The word planet means wandering star.  These celestial messengers proclaimed a King of Kings.  The greatest king who was hidden in a feeding trough.  The royal birth promised to bless all nations proclaimed through the entire cosmos but attended to by a few poor shepherd and perhaps some resting livestock.  By the time the foreign magicians, maybe distant disciples of Daniel, maybe leftovers from a Jewish captivity, the child at age two still played among the sheep being raised as temple sacrifices.  A king who would be tortured.  A gift from almighty God, overlooked by a nation waiting for him.

But here is where we glimpse with awe, a thrill of hope, the psalmist says more precious than gold and sweeter than honey. “For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders.  And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” He is Immanuel, God with us. Not just around us or at our meetings or hovering within earshot.  He created galaxies humans will never see, but he promised to dwell with you.  He said he stands at the door and knocks. If anyone hears his voice and opens the door, he will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.  He told his disciples that he would be with them, even to the end of the age.

And that’s the last paradox worth our wonder. Jesus said the heavens will again scream God’s glory to all the nations.  He says, “There will be signs in the sun, moon and stars. On the earth, nations will be in anguish and perplexity at the roaring and tossing of the sea. People will faint from terror, apprehensive of what is coming on the world, for the heavenly bodies will be shaken. At that time they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory.”

This is also the paradox of Advent, the wonder of our waiting.  A trembling world will receive God’s glory.  A cosmic creator will declare his kingdom over a lone planet of humiliated usurpers.  Jesus said, “At that time they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. When these things begin to take place, stand up and lift up your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”

He told them this parable: “Look at the fig tree and all the trees. When they sprout leaves, you can see for yourselves and know that summer is near. Even so, when you see these things happening, you know that the kingdom of God is near.”

This advent season we wait, not for a holiday on a calendar, parties, pastries, presents, or programs.  This advent we wait for celestial proclamations, messages blazing across the heavens.  This advent our paradox is not absurd, but filled with hope and wonder and awe.  That Jesus has brought us near to God, and God’s kingdom is drawing near.  That the day of our redemption, our hope, our final peace with God is held firm, prepared before time, as sure to come as tomorrow’s sun rise, it’s light overcoming every evil, every darkness, every fear.

Let’s pray.

Written: Feb 14, 2019  Ideas are my own and are not approved by anyone. 

Christ didn’t come to identify with Christians, Protestant or Catholic, Orthodox or Coptic.

Jesus didn’t come to identify with heterosexuals, married, monogamous, homosexual, or bisexual.

Jesus didn’t come to identify with Jews, or North Americans, with Asians or Europeans, with Africans or South Americans. Jesus came to identify with humans.

He took on humanity. He took on the ecclesiastic meaninglessness of human life: birth, growth, siblings, learning, work, play, love, hurt, rejection, failure, sickness, brutality, etc. All of it. Humanity. He experienced it all. He did no evil. (Faith required). But he experienced every kind of sin against him, and every kind of temptation. He identified as human.

This is the miracle of God with us. Not merely God for us from a distance. But God with us, one of us, in step with us.