Bringing Faith to Life
John W Rilling
Use it or Lose It, It’s Biblical!
09 years
Use it or lose it! We didn’t invent the phrase. It’s been around for generations, maybe for millenia.
My Grandfather, though I never knew him to lift a weight or go for a jog, applies the adage to a quite familiar, but hard to swallow, parable which concludes…
I tell you, to all those who have, more will be given; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away. But as for these enemies of mine who did not want me to be king over them—bring them here and slaughter them in my presence. (Luke 19:26-27)
This is Luke’s version of the parable of the talents. A nobleman (who is disliked) has gone away to gain a Kingship, leaving his slaves to trade with the ten pounds he’s provided during his absence. Upon his return he finds that some have made more with their pound. To them, he gives more. Some have made a bit less, so they get less. But at least one poor timid soul has hidden the pound away. He gets his reward, and it’s ugly.
“Struggle with it as we will,” Dr. Rilling offers, “Jesus here states a law of life that is as unbreakable as the law of gravity: “Use it or lose it!” There is no third possibility.”
I’m even hearing echos of Yoda: ‘Do or don’t do. There is no try.’
But wait a minute! Let’s not be so hasty and rush to the what we’ll get if we squander a bit here and there part. Surely, at the end of the day, all will be forgiven and the Master will relent and pay everyone the same. But no. Use it or lose it, apparently, applied even back then.
And this, I’ll admit, rings very true with my experience now. We use our muscles or they atrophy; we use our brain cells or they self-select away; we use our gifts or they rust. The human condition itself speaks ‘use it or lose it.’
Thus, for our good, the Father says, “This that I press into the palm of your hand is meant to be used. No need to compare with others because what I have given them is meant for them. This is for you. Go and be fruitful with it.
When I come back, you can tell me all about your exploits. Just you and me, a little Daddy-daughter time. Okay?”
So shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.
(Isaiah 55:11)
One little thing stands in your way
09 years
Really, again?
When Peter asked Jesus, “Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?” what Peter really wanted to know was not how long he ought to keep forgiving, but how soon he could stop forgiving!*
Jesus, of course, knowing what Peter is up to, comes in with the high bid: seventy times seven. In other words, keep at it until I tell you to stop.
What if the one we’re tired of forgiving is ourselves? We try and we fail. We up our efforts and still fall short. We rededicate ourselves, plan for success, rearrange our schedules, purchase all the ingredients, engage all the helpers, invest in the best equipment and still…we fall flat on our faces. What then?
Jesus says, “Forgive yourself, again, just as I have forgiven you, again and again.”
Because He knows something we don’t know; the road we’re on is the one he’s paving. It’s not about making the right turn, following the map, or allowing for traffic. It’s not even about where the road leads. It’s about making forward progress. And nothing halts progress faster than looking around to see if anyone just saw that.
We didn’t. And if you still do, Jesus says, forgive yourself that. And while you’re at it, forgive others theirs. Expand the circumference of your forgiveness and see how far that takes you. But start with your own. And stop counting how many you’re up to. God’s not. Seventy times seven means always and forever.
Clean slate. Nothing holding you back. You got this.
I’m there if you need me
19 years
Even the least of us must do our part…
How often do you run into an Einstein, Beethoven or Karl Barth? Someone has said such people are like four-leaf clovers, but what really keeps the pastures green, the cows fed, and the bees happy is the vastly more numerous ordinary, run-of-the-mill, three-leaf variety.*
I’ve got my “skill set,” but no one would tell me I’m gonna be one of the greats. Not gonna cure cancer, not gonna save the children, not gonna win the Nobel prize, walk the red carpet, or sit at the head table. No, I’m more of a background color, the beige to your bronze, the pale pink to your magenta, the salmon to your cherry red.
I’m what makes you stand out, what fills you up, what grounds your lift off. I’m there if you need me. That’s what I was made for.
I’m nothing by myself, but together, we’re everything.
It’s a Wonder We Ever Forgive
09 years
Why are we not more grateful? That’s the million dollar question, or actually the $140 million question (adjusted for inflation) posed to us in the parable of the Unforgiving Servant, who, once he’s been forgiven his huge debt, refuses to extend the same kindness to his own debtor.
Why does this central message of the New Testament not evoke a greater response in our hearts? When we’ve been forgiven such a great debt, why are we so stingy in releasing our debtors? Dr. Rilling wonders, “Can it be that we treat forgiveness so lightly because we fail to see that forgiveness is costly – even for God Himself?”
Do I really believe that? What does it cost God to forgive me? I mean, He’s God. God’s loaded, right? What’s a few million? I’m worth it. He’ll never miss it.
But wait. This isn’t just a business write-off. When God forgives, he doesn’t just take up his heavenly pen and X-out that obligation. He can’t. He’s God. There are rules, checks and balances. He’s full of Mercy AND Justice. Keeping the books straight demands that He assume the debt Himself. Whoa. I’m not sure I ever fully considered this.
Redeemed is redeemed. I may be debt free but not exactly scot free. God doesn’t want to leave me with an obligation I can’t possibly re-pay, so He has assumed my debt. How great is that?! He doesn’t hold it against me, doesn’t bring it up on the balance sheet, doesn’t wave it in my face and say, “You know, since I …” Nope. None of that.
And pretty soon, that big old debt is teency weency in my rear view mirror as I speed away. Not a care in the world out on the open road. And that’s exactly the way God wants it, so I am free to pay it forward. And there’s the rub. Because, while doing something nice for someone – when it’s convenient and I think of it and I have the resources and spare time – is pretty darn easy, forgiving someone for a BIG wrong can be nearly impossible. How can God possibly expect that from little old me?
BIG wrongs set aright makes me think of Eva. She and I became writing friends several years ago, meeting at a local coffee shop where we traded stories about life and kids and work and worries. Over time I learned that Eva was in the midst of a terrible, true story. For years she had suffered domestic abuse as I had never heard it described. Beatings and things thrown at her, emotional lashings and mental attacks. Immobilized by fear, she had endured the torment for years. Until one day, she took the kids and ran for dear life. Here, with new names in a new state many miles from her torment, she prayed he wouldn’t find them.
Oh, how she had suffered. How God must have suffered with her. If anyone ever had the right to withhold forgiveness, it was Eva. She should demand that he acknowledge the pain he had caused, admit his fault, and make amends before she even considered an ounce of forgiveness. Yet, over time, she extended it to him without condition. Not because he deserved it, but because she did. Insisting he do the first forgiving left her at his mercy. She couldn’t have life that way. Once she released him, she was completely free to navigate her whole world differently.*
I am so thankful for Eva’s example. Today, she and her boys have moved back to her hometown and found a healthy life amid family and friends. She is living the grateful life, but it nearly cost her everything.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts,
as we also have forgiven our debtors.
And do not bring us to the time of trial,
but rescue us from the evil one.
While forgiveness-received is a blessing, forgiveness-delivered is freedom. It allows us to step into our God-designed future. Apparently, that’s worth everything to God.
*Eva and her children returned to their home town of Anchorage, Alaska where she established the Eva Foundation whose mission it is “to help survivors of abuse regain their self-confidence and independence and… to secure an abuse-free future for themselves and their loved ones.” Visit her website to read more.
**Author’s note of thanks. This post was approved, sight-unseen, by Eva Welch, who says “you can use my name anytime.” Ah, the sweet, sweet sound of Freedom. Thanks be to God.
Who’s Stealing Your Good Day?
09 years
“We must be prepared to have certain things done to us.”
Well, you don’t have to tell me that twice. Have you seen the way people drive around here? Cutting you off, swerving in and out of your lane, passing you on the right… And don’t get me started on the pushing and shoving at the mall. Christmas is coming, you know?
Oh, but the worst is that person who comes after you in the self check-out line and sends his purchases along the conveyor belt before you have packed your things up. And his stuff starts bump, bumping into your stuff. And you look up at said person, incredulous that he doesn’t notice what he’s doing, and he’s happily scanning away.
‘Put your bananas on the belt’…and so he does. Really? Can anyone be more annoying? But, it’s to be expected, right?
And for just such an occasion, Peter advises, “Do not return evil for evil or reviling for reviling; but, on the contrary, bless, for to this you have been called, that you may obtain (inherit) a blessing.” (I Peter 3:9)
Be prepared … so that what I do next does not disqualify me from the family inheritance. It’s not that I don’t have a right to be annoyed by self-checker, or drive-and-texter, or Humbug-hurrier, it’s that Love must look different from the rest of the world. On all these occasions.
Honestly, most Christians I know are generous. They volunteer their time, donate their money, serve the needy, feed the poor and hungry. Some even travel to far away places where poverty is great and resources are few to build churches and schools. These people are amazing.
But, I also know people who would not call themselves Christians but are exceedingly generous just the same. They donate their money. They volunteer time and resources. They give to the less fortunate and they may even travel long distances to do it. I am amazed by these people, perhaps even more amazed than I am by the Christians, because Christians have marching orders; these folks are just doing what’s right.
So what’s the difference, if good is getting done? Perhaps it is this very self checkout thing. Christ calls us to act differently from the world, especially when we are wronged. When we have something done to us, an injury or ailment befalls us, or we are the victim of unfairness or prejudice, we are prepared. We don’t return evil for evil.
But wait. No one in their right mind would just let that guy’s groceries barrel into hers without giving him a piece of her mind! I mean, he needs to know better so that he doesn’t do it to someone else. Or maybe I’ll teach him a lesson and put his granola bars into MY bag. Or casually smash the incoming eggs with my hefty orange juice. Ah, this could get ugly.
And that’s the thing. When we are unprepared, ugly wins. And I don’t mean his ugly: I mean my ugly. I can defeat that foe only when I recognize it before it’s unleashed and send it away. If I want to have a good day, I need to be prepared, for people and occasions like this.
Not just grin and bear it so it has a happy ending. Not just grit my teeth so I can “earn” that blessing I “deserve” because I showed amazing restraint. No, I can adopt a frame of mind that will address the problem calmly and satisfactorily, solely because I haven’t let ugly take it from me.
Hey – did you know that there is a plastic bar folded to the side of the conveyor belt that you can extend in order to separate your order from that guy’s behind you? Me neither, until, after grinning and gritting, I got so irritated I went to complain to the manager.
It’s not my job to teach that guy a lesson, but I don’t need to let him steal my good day today. Tomorrow, of course, is another day.
When Words Undo Us, Silence Speaks
19 years
“To have a good day, one must be willing not only to do things, but to let other things go undone.”
During our ramp up to the holidays that’s an oft used expression. Don’t DO so much. When opportunities become obligations, our energy is sapped and the glow goes right out of the season. Simplify, we say. Moderate, we admonish. Let it go, we advise.
Usually we are talking about keeping the house clean or decorating every last inch, making another batch of cookies or planning that over-the-top celebration for the kindergarten party.
But Dr. Rilling is not talking decorating or cookies. In fact, I am pretty sure he never had a hand in either. He’s talking silence. Let him keep his tongue from evil and his lips from speaking guile. “God’s greatest works are done in silence. So, often, are man’s.”
Why do I feel the need to speak, email, emote, evoke, criticize, chastise and rebuke what’s going on around me? Could I do more in silence? If I withheld my comment and sat with my thoughts for a moment, could I be better? If I took a deep breath and counted the 10 commandments, would the importance of what I was waiting to say have been said? If, in the silence, I prayed that prayer that Jesus taught us, ‘lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil’, would I have answered my own prayer?
Today, as I write, I am nothing. I have nothing to show for a lifetime of study, several degrees, accolades, certificates and even a published book. But I am something. The something I am is a source of encouragement, the voice of hope, the means to move forward, and the place of connection. What I am is the sum total of all I have been, and then some. The ‘then some’ is more than I’ll ever be, and yet it is somehow there. Completely invisible and yet surely completed along the way.
Silence is golden, they used to say. Today, thanks to inflation (and the whole supply and demand thing) it might have gone platinum.
If I had a CD that played nothing but silence, would I listen?
If I did, what would I hear?
Two forces are at work in the world
09 years
“If we are to have a good day, there are certain things that we must do as Christians, and certain things that we must be content to leave undone. Further, there are certain things that we must be prepared to have done to us just because we are Christians.
Our text opens with a kind of five-pronged reminder of things we must do if we are to have a good day, and the five fingers grow out of the hand of constructiveness. Listen to Peter, “…have unity of spirit, sympathy, love of brethren, a tender heart and a humble mind.” (I Peter 3:8)
Two forces are at work in the world; the centrifugal, which tends to alienate, to separate, to drive apart; and the centripetal, that which binds together, creates fellowship. Is there any doubt which is the Christian force?
Listen to our Lord in his high-priestly prayer praying, “…that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us… I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one.” (John 17: 21, 23)
It is the will of God that there be perfect unity on Earth. There is no better time than the present to work for it.”
JWR’s text, pg 2-3.
***
As I live in a world increasingly divided, with voices and actions increasingly divisive, and with candidates for president of the United States sniping at each other via Twitter and Instagram, I find my Grandfather’s words prophetic.
There are two forces at work: centrifugal and centripetal. Can there be any doubt which is the Christian force?
photo credit to www.livescience.com
Seeking to See – Glimmer or Grand Illumination?
09 years
Jesus entered Jericho and was passing through. A man was there by the name of Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and rich. He sought to see who Jesus was, but could not on account of the crowd. ~ Luke 19:1-3
“The thing that Zacchaeus wanted to do more than anything else that day was to see Jesus. He failed, partly because he was small of stature but mainly because the people around Jesus prevented his coming near.” (JWRilling)
***
I am walking through the darkening streets of Williamsburg, VA which is swimming with thousands of people who’ve come to celebrate the season’s Grand Illumination. The periphery of the street is punctuated by torches set ablaze, and each has people gathered around to warm their hands and faces as the temperatures drop. A friend and I make our way down the middle of DOG (Duke of Gloucester) street. We are strolling down memory lane, having been roommates here at the college some years back, and have agreed to watch for horse droppings that were liberally distributed earlier in the day which are becoming increasingly hard to avoid in the dim light.
But one thing people do avoid are the “street preachers.” These, as did those in colonial days, stand elevated above the crowd by stools or steps, proclaiming scripture verses and Bible teaching. Not offensive. Not, you’re gonna rot in hell. Not, repent or die. Compared to John the Baptist at the Jordan, these guys are tame! They just speak words of the truth as they know it. And all the people give them wide berth.
Who, on this festive night, amid the splendid decorations and colonial costumes and fabulous fireworks, wants to listen to all that?!
My companion and I take note of this. In a sea of people crowding the street, there is a broad empty space left for these voices to have their say without ringing in the ears. She and I, both of short stature, did not have any difficulty seeing or hearing. We sped on by.
Full of hot cider and good cheer and with the booms of fireworks ringing in our ears, we retrace our steps along DOG street, retreating to the car parked several blocks away. Most of the other visitors are doing the same, some pushing wheelchairs, some holding the hands, some wheeling wagons, some are very, very merry. Many, it seems to me, are likely students at the college, taking a break from their studies before final exams.
As the crowd starts to thin we see a lone figure ahead, clad in long sleeve t-shirt and loose fitting, lightweight pants. “He looks cold,” says my friend. And that does make us both take notice. A very tall, lean, young man is standing, still and silent in the center of the road at the barricade to street traffic. He stares straight ahead. Is he looking for someone? waiting to meet a companion? Is he stationed there as security? None of these guesses seems quite right.
We draw closer, but his expression doesn’t change. The look on his face is neither bored nor amused. He doesn’t smile or frown. He does not pull out a cell phone. That, in itself, distinguishes him from nearly every other pedestrian. When I get close enough, I see that his t-shirt has handwritten letters across the front.
“SEEK
HIM”
is scrawled in all caps on the front of his plain white t-shirt. He, as a silent sentry has drawn my attention and piqued my curiosity. How, on a very cold nearly winter’s night, could he be standing there like that? Stock still. Expressionless. I can’t help glancing back in mute amazement at the figure as we pass. On the back, in the same handwriting, the shirt reads:
“AND
LIVE.”
What do we do, in the name of Jesus, that prevents others’ coming near?
What might we do, in His name, to draw them near so they might truly live?
Grand Illumination, indeed.
Are You Making that Up?
09 years
A visitor to an Austrian refugee camp felt sorry for a little wisp of a girl, carrying a bucket of water along a muddy path. He asked her, “How long have you been without a home?” Surprised, the nine-year-old looked up at him and replied, “Our family has a loving home. We just don’t have a house to put it in.”
This vignette begins a newsletter edited by Dr. Rilling which was meant to offer commentary and sermon ideas for pastors set to preach during the upcoming season. Story took first place. Ah, the power and poignancy of a few lines of dialogue to bring one into a space and to set the stage. At once, we’re the visitor set on our heels by the child, who has shown us ourselves.
Story has the power to do this, and to accomplish it across generations and distances of miles, cultures and times.
Unless, we press for the facts of the case.
Was there really such a camp? such a visitor? such a girl? And would she have replied so? Is this a true story or just a fabrication? Did it really happen or are you just making this up? I’m not easily tricked, you know!
As soon as you ask all these things, you feel differently about the story. You erect walls of protection against, rather than opening windows to, the message and meaning in your midst.
While in our modern day rush to know exactly what happened and when, who said it and how, we may have honed our delivery so it is defensible and fact-checkable, but we also may distract ourselves from the truth at its core. That one could have a loving home without a ‘house to put it in’ is a truth we could all rally around. And, in fact, that may be just the truth we need to embrace to ignite our concern for those who, even without houses, have hearts capable of loving just as ours are.
Stories which inspire us with truth need not be factual, annotated or attributed. Oddly, they may have the power to teach us more about truth than ‘true’ stories do.
In Dr. Rilling’s day, it was not customary to attribute all quotes or verify all sources. He regularly uses poetry, lines from hymns, and conversations where “a famous preacher once said.” Only occasionally does he mark these with an end note. Perhaps if he had had the internet, many administrative assistants, and a schedule he could clear for several weeks, he might have included a few more clues as to his sources.
As it stands, I’m left to guess which words are his alone and which he borrowed from acquaintances in conversation, dinner guests (I understand that Billy Graham was one), fellow pastors, or the volumes in his study. At first, I found this uncomfortable, as it is so unlike the documents I read and the world I live in, but I’m getting accustomed to it. It makes for fewer stops in the reading and more flow to the story.
And the story, after all, sets the stage. All that’s left is to give myself over to the possibility that these words have something to teach me, and then I’m home free.
Why Would Anyone Write a Book?
39 years
Grandfather wrote his own Preface, so let’s begin there.
“The spectacle of sermons in print has been compared to a visit to a mortuary for the purpose of viewing a departed friend. What we cherished — the smile, the personality, even the mannerisms are all gone, leaving only the cold and lifeless remains.”
Ah, preaching is a spoken art. It’s all about delivery and eye contact and intonation. There’s more to it than the words. How can that possibly convey when all we have left is printed type? I wonder if the Biblical writers ever had this foreboding. Just words, what will they have to say, what possible pleasure could they give, to someone who never knew me, never saw me, never heard me?
Yet, Grandfather did have them typed out thanks to “Mrs. Orlando Berg for the suggestion that his manuscripts be turned ‘into printer’s copy.'” That despite her overcrowded secretarial schedule she found time to prepare the typescript and enlisted three others (mentioned by name) in the “arduous task.” To them Dr. Rilling offers his “warmest gratitude” for “our book.”
And it’s in the “our” that I suspect he took comfort and drew confidence. What Dr. Rilling knew, and what wisdom and knowledge he drew from, were due to others – many others. He writes, “Every author draws upon the stored up wisdom of the past in others’ books and finds his better thoughts coming from the living encounter of mind with mind.”
We are what we read, as in many ways we are what we eat, provided we don’t spit it out, but manage to chew it a bit and subject it to our powers of digestion. Dr. Rilling sought to lend the product of his preaching to the nutritional climate of his day, that the good of it might nourish others and provide sustenance for their days.
But he didn’t come to this conclusion on his own. It grew out of the “thrilling encounter of weekly worship in a congregation whose hunger for the Word of God is a constant challenge and encouragement.”
Wow. Would I say that my weekly worship is thrilling?
(Personal aside: I love his word choice here, as I used to introduce myself saying, “Hi, I’m Wendy Rilling, that’s thrilling without the ‘th.'” Not to influence your opinion of me, but hey, at least you may remember me.)
But back to thrilling worship… would I say that my hunger for the Word of God challenges and encourages my pastor? Have I even considered that we are partners in this endeavor, he/she and I? That I have a responsibility to come with my questions, respond with my doubts, and take my enthusiasm to the study the Word of God on my own?
Well, this congregation apparently did, and so Grandfather, in his gratitude, said this is not “my” book, this is “our” book. Rather, it is the story of the group of us finding meaning and purpose in The Book. It is not a spoon feeding to helpless infants, but a meal set before discriminating patrons. Dr. Rilling is around the table with these, and even perhaps sees himself at the head of this table with the responsibility to pay the bill — which he most certainly knew he didn’t have in cash.
This book is his payment in full. In story, in prayer, in wisdom, in lesson, and in the telling of it all, laid out in cold type, it is anything but dead. It is as alive for me today, as I can only imagine it was to its original hearers.
To him and to them I express my warmest gratitude.