A Crying Shame

...this people draw near me with their mouth and honor me with their lips, while their hearts are far from me....-Isaiah 29:13


The tenth chapter of Ezra presents a remarkable scene. Those Israelites returned from Babylonian exile are standing in the open square in front of the rebuilt temple.

They are not listening to a sermon from Ezra, the man God has sent to minister to them. He is inside, clothes torn in mourning, praying for forgiveness for his people.

And they are outside, men, women and children, in the cold December air on the temple mount in the rain. They are shivering, the Bible says, because it is cold and wet but also out of fear because they have disobeyed the Lord their God.

And they were weeping.

How strange.

And yet I was strangely convicted as Brother Billy preached through this text this past Wednesday night.

Yes, I have felt sorrow and conviction over the sins I commit. How could it be otherwise for the person renewed and indwelt by the Holy Spirit?

But to weep in that sorrow and conviction?

Could it be, as our pastor commented, that we have lost our ability for Godly sorrow?

Scripture's call to personal holiness is clear and unmistakable.

I was struck as well by the thought that many of these Israelites had not committed the sin of intermarriage with their pagan neighbors (the cause of their weeping and repenting). They mourned for the sins of their nation.

When I think of the Pilgrim father's commitment to make their new world settlement "a city on a hill," a shining light for their apostate homeland, and look at the America we live in today, I feel despair, anger and disgust.

I shake my head in wonder that Christian bookstores are filled with works on how to have my best life now while our faith is increasingly on the defensive. If you were to look for J.I. Packer's book, Rediscovering Holiness, you might not find it.

Church attendance seems to be optional. Many who do attend are entertained by bands and flashing lights and are lifted to an emotional high but hear nothing of substance from the pulpit.

It seems the vertical has vanished from worship and it's all about the horizontal; what can we do to make you feel good about yourself.

No wonder we have lost our ability to weep.

But our God is able to save to the uttermost, and we know that what seems impossible to man is imminently do-able for our Sovereign LORD.

It would seem that earnest heartfelt prayer is what is needed at this time.

Yes we must pray for our nation and her leaders. But much more than that, our prayers for the Church must be fervent and heartfelt.

The returned Israelites wept, perhaps in part, because the memory of an exile imposed by an angry God was fresh in their memories.

May we never have to recall such a memory.

Turn the Page

He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, He has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. -Ecclesiastes 3:11

I once heard someone say that our life, in the midst of living it, seems like a series of random events, all chaos and confusion, but when looked back at, takes the form of a well-crafted novel complete with plot twists, blind alleys and surprise revealings.

So what did we (by "we," I mostly mean me) learn in 2015?

That the author and finisher of my faith is still writing, still finishing.

That the ending of one chapter in life leads to the beginning of another.

That, surprisingly, eating excess amounts of chocolate (and yes, you can eat an excess amount of chocolate!) inspires the strangest dreams ever. Which dreams could be the subject of another blog entirely.

I learned (am learning) that no matter how well I think I know myself, my heart still hides amazing, unthought of secrets which are ever being revealed (and often repented of).

I think I also learned that time and death are means whereby God works to make us more heavenly minded.

That He has indeed made all things beautiful, and as their time unfolds and they are revealed, we are drawn ever deeper into the mystery and beauty of that which is to come.

And. like Mrs. Cratchit, we ask, "What next, I wonder?"

Tradition

...but the gift of God is eternal life, through Jesus Christ our Lord.  -Romans 6:23b


You've got 'em. I have 'em. Even Hank Jr. has family traditions.

Had a large time on my birthday. Got the tree up. Watched Scrooge.  Had a sumptuous birthday feast prepared by Chef April (don't know what that chocolate stuff with the Tiffany[?] cream was called, but Lord have mercy!)

Worked on several of the new songs. Sandy learned to sing the phrase (four notes) "debt" from one of them. Got tons of well-wishes from family and friends via FaceBook.

Got up early this morning to sit in the dark and look at the tree. It's lovely but I can't help wondering, "How did we get from Jesus to this?"

Never having been much of a Christmas guy, I'm focusing really hard this year on trying to meditate on the significance of Christ's entry into our world.

I mean it is truly mind-boggling to think that the God who made everything would come and live in the world He made as a real live human being.

And because He did, this life, which at times seems so unreal (a dream within a dream, as Poe called it) is not all there is.

The Spirit of Christmas Present uttered a line in the movie we watched last night that is not contained in Dickens' book. He said that the Spirit of Christmas does not live in men's hearts only one day a year, and neither does the child born in Bethlehem, but lives all 365 days of the year.

And that, my loves, my dearies, is more than a tradition.

It is the faith we embrace, the precious gift of God

Merry Christmas and God bless us, everyone.

Cut Me, Mick

For all I've learned, and memories kept; may I be forever in your debt. -Sandy Tolar


It's my birthday and there's this one song, Forever in Your Debt, with this really high part. About half the time I'm having trouble reaching the notes in falsetto even.

You'd think the guy who wrote the melody would have chosen notes within his vocal range, hmm?  Ah, but it's so purty and the lovely lyrics and tune combined make me want to weep.

Does music do you that way too?

Anyhoo, Chef April comes in with a large knife mock-threatening to cut Sandy for some snarky remark or other. And someone proposes that an appropriate cut might help me reach those high notes.

Then I'm reminded of the line from the first Rocky movie and I don't care who you are, that's just funny. And I decided a long time ago to try and have fun wherever I find myself.

So it's been that kind of day.

Happy Birthday to me.

And thanks for all the kind thoughts and well wishes.

Have a Biscuit

Give her of the fruit of her hands, and let her works praise her in the gates. -Proverbs 31:31


I made biscuits for breakfast this morning.

I have to say that I have just about got it down. Maybe it's that dash of sugar. Or maybe the amount of milk, making the moisture of the dough just right.

Still there is something lacking.

I have often said that one of the things I miss most about Ms. Joycie are her biscuits. The best in the known universe. And it's not just me. Anyone who has ever enjoyed one of those biscuits will tell you the same thing (can I get a witness up in hyere?).

I've also said that one of the reasons God called her home was so she could make biscuits for Him!

Hmmm. So I may have figured out two of the twelve manner of fruits found on the tree of life (Revelation 22:2). Chocolate, of course. And now, Ms. Joycies biscuits!

But the point of this is, I think I have also figured out what made her biscuits so awesome.

Love.

I know it's a cliché that the special ingredient in this, that, or the other thing is love. Hear me out.

The Song of Solomon speaks of the joys of the marriage bed, where a man and a woman bring a dedication, a desire, a love into the relationship.

Proverbs 31 also speaks of the love a godly woman brings to her home and all who live there or visit there. Each verse from v. 10 through v.31 speaks of this love in all its various aspects.

Love seems almost to emanate from the pores of such a woman. So that when she makes biscuits, for example, this love passes from her fingertips and into the texture and substance of the dough.

Oh my!

Uh, pass me a biscuit, will ya?

Why Are You Always Running in Place?

Your hair is in my face, and laughter's in your eyes
And as the memory fades, all that's left is to cry  -Sandy Tolar


I thought my job was to be the strong one. I thought I was pretty good at it, too.

Very strange to realize how much you depended on the one who depended so much on you.

When someone is such a huge part of your life, I guess the tendency is to focus on that. If you're not careful, to focus on that exclusively.

The thing is, there's a great deal of pleasure to be had in dwelling on the good stuff. It's more than gratitude, though there is that.

Maybe it's a forgetfulness of other things that call for your attention. Maybe some of them not so pleasant, but which must nonetheless be attended to.

So when the prop is knocked out from under you, so to speak, there is a necessary redirection or re-ordering of your priorities.

This is good in that (a) it fills the empty place left by loss and (b) it allows you to consider what may have been previously neglected.

To be granted a "re-do," sort of.

It is refreshing to observe the blessings in vocation, to set aside discontentment and see instead the good. Where in the past, I was so jealous of my time, to now have "all the time in the world."

How selfish it is to desire only the good things God has given us and not want to give of ourselves. That time I so zealously guarded to my own ends I may now share outside the walls of my home.

Aren't idols found in the strangest places in our hearts?

Isn't God so merciful to allow His children second (and third?) chances to get it right?

What next I wonder?

I Met Her in Church

She looked at me with eyes of love as the choir sang Hallelujah....
-The Box Tops


I lay in bed, on the near border of Sleepytown, and an image flashed in my mind.

I stood in the aisle at Grace Pres. next to my accustomed pew and glanced over to see my wife, sitting in her accustomed place. She was looking very beautiful in a long black dress, you know, the one with the flower print, and she looked up at me with that little smirky-smile that she had, you know, the one that said, "Come sit next to me and we'll share secrets and enjoy one another's company for a bit."

These brief glances of an image can be quite detailed, it seems.

What a wonderful God we know and love and serve, who can create minds able to store and recall (even at the oddest moments)
memories of amazing intricacy, intimacy and precision.

Who created us for relationships and sent to us people to fill our lives, to bless us and be blessed by us.

Who called us into the ultimate relationship, with Himself, and invites to see these others as He sees them, through eyes of love.

The fact of the matter is, I met my wife someplace other than in church. But I can never ever doubt that the Lord sent her to me just as surely as if we had met in Sunday School.

I thank God for bringing us to the point of cherishing and appreciating each other. And I can say to my Lord as I once said to her:

"Thanks for the dance."