That Sinking Feeling

A few weeks ago I shared my experience when I grounded my sailboat while navigating Lake Okeechobee. It is currently in long-term storage at a marina while I wait for God to provide the resources needed to repair the rudder. It excites me to see God at work in my life and relationship with him through this experience. I shared on social media the work God has done in my life in my understanding of stewardship versus ownership. It is truly a place of rest when I keep my focus where it should stay.

If you read only those blogs, you might think I always respond the way I should. Nothing is further from the truth. In the following days I found myself struggling to keep my focus on God and not on my circumstances. Most of the time I kept my focus on him. But there were quiet moments when I was alone, far from the spotlight of ministry, and I wrestled with my lack of faith.

One of my favorite verses is Psalm 103:14, “For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust.” This deeply ministers to me in the moments when I feel all too human. God created me from dust, and to dust someday I will return. In the moments between, I am dusty. I am of this world. I am human. My heart does not always respond the way my head knows it should. It is okay. God knows how he made me. He remembers I am dust.

Throughout Scripture we meet many interesting characters who carried the dust of the world on their journey. Peter is one of my favorites. He is bold, outspoken, quick to action, and undeniably human.

Following the miraculous feeding of the five thousand, Jesus sent the disciples on ahead of him to the other side of the Sea of Galilee. Jesus stayed behind to dismiss the crowds, and when all had departed, he found a place where he could pray in solitude. In the coolness of the evening he was alone. By this time the disciples were far from shore. A storm had risen, and they labored against the wind and the waves.

After many hours, the disciples had only managed to traverse two-thirds of the way across the lake. Darkness consumed the vessel. The tempest beat upon them. They were weary. Their arms ached from rowing. In the waning darkness, the disciples saw the figure of a man walking on the sea. Terror gripped their hearts. “It is a ghost!” they cried.

But it was Jesus! He came to them in the midst of their trial, walking on the water. “Take heart,” he shouted above the wind, “it is I. Do not be afraid.”

Here is where my brash friend Peter makes me smile. He blurted out, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” Be careful what you ask! For Jesus says to him, “Come.” And, in one of the most understated moments in Scripture, it says, “So Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water and came to Jesus” (Matthew 14:28, ESV).

Now we could stop our story right here, and Peter’s actions would impress all of us. Just as you might think more highly of me than you ought after reading the blog of my response to the grounding of the vessel. But let us continue our tale, for this is where it gets interesting.

Peter leapt from the vessel and strutted across the water. He was almost to Jesus. For a second, a flash of lighting illuminated the boiling sea. He glanced to his left and saw the frothy waves kicked up by the fierce wind. In a terrifying moment, he realized he was in the middle of the lake, and the boat was far behind. Fear pierced his heart. He was no longer walking on water. His feet sank beneath the surface, and he felt the cold water engulfing his legs. In a panic he cried, “Lord, save me!”

Jesus reached for him, lifting him above the waves, and with compassion said, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?”

Peter and Jesus walked back to the boat and joined the other disciples. The wind and waves ceased their roiling. The trial was ended. (Read Matthew 14:22-33 for the full account of this story.)

I relate to Peter. I want to step out of the boat in the midst of the storm to walk closer to Jesus. I want to focus on him so deeply that logic dissolves, and I find the water firm beneath my feet as I step toward him. But I also know what it means to take my eyes off of Jesus and to focus instead on the wind and the waves. I know that sinking feeling. I know the sensation of cold water engulfing my feet. I know the moments of fear in the midst of trying to trust him fully. I know how the hands of Jesus feel when he reaches down to lift me up. I know his voice when he says to me, “Tim, oh you of little faith, why did you doubt?”

Yet his voice is not condemning. In my mind, I see his eyes looking down at my dusty clothes. Then he looks back to my eyes, smiles and with a wink says, “Yep, you’re dusty. You’re still human. And I’m still God.”

My friend, we are all human. We are dusty. We do not always respond the way we know we should. Sometimes the wind and waves overwhelm us. In those moments, even though we fail to trust him fully, God understands. He still rescues. He still leads us to a place of rest. He still loves.

When Peter and Jesus return to the other disciples in the boat, the seas stopped churning. The wind died down. Rest settled upon the weary. And everyone in the boat, including Peter, worshiped Jesus saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.” Their focus returned to Jesus. They worshiped. They understood a little more who he was. Our trials illuminate our need of Jesus. In the process we find he truly is the Son of God.

Our God is a God of grace. May we use each trial to trust him more fully. May God increase our faith. May we grow in our relationship with him. May the moments of doubt and confusion decrease, and our moments of trust increase.

Sometimes we walk on water. Sometimes we sink beneath it. May each moment draw us closer to him.

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May 03

2017

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By Timothy Mark

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Tags Corinthians Heaven Home Hope John

Longing For Home

As I write this, I’m at my parent’s home in North Adams, Michigan. The town is a small farming community of about five hundred people in the southern part of the state. I was in the region for ministry, so I planned to spend a few extra days with my parents. They still live in the home where I grew up. It is an 1800’s, double-brick, two-story home with a sprawling front porch supported by grand white columns. The house is on Main Street, and yet we had a cornfield in our back yard. A vast amount of my youth was spent exploring the woods adjacent to our property.

When I was a child, my brother and sister and I split a paper route for the Jackson Citizen Patriot. My section of town was the closest to home since I was the youngest of the three. Seven days a week I climbed aboard my bicycle, slung a bag of newspapers over one shoulder, and rode the sidewalks to deliver the news to homes scattered across the eastern side of town.

Now, forty years later, a bit has changed. The sidewalks have crumbled a little more. A few of the homes have fallen into disrepair, and the local park down the street from my home now has a shelter built where a tall maple tree once shaded us as children. In all, much of the charm I remember from my childhood is still there, but there is also a sense that the community is slowly fading into the fog like Brigadoon.

I went for a walk to stretch my legs and retrace some of the route from my paper delivery days. As I walked, I thought about home. I thought about my childhood home and all it represents, both good and bad. I thought about the home in which I now live in Florida. Finally I settled onto a bench at the park down the street, and my mind turned to my real home, as in my final heavenly home.

I am looking forward to the day I finally get to go home. Not Florida. Not Michigan. Home. I am not discouraged or depressed. I am not on suicide watch. I am quite blessed actually. It is just that I want to be with the one I love the most. These earthly homes were never meant to satisfy. Even with all the material blessings I’ve enjoyed, on a clear starry night I still find myself looking into the heavens, longing to be with God.

Do you long to be home? Perhaps you understand how that feels.

I am reminded of the words Paul wrote to the church in Corinth. This is what he said: “So we do not lose heart. Though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal” (2 Corinthians 4:16-18, ESV).

If you haven’t noticed by now, everything in this world is slowly decaying. Like the sidewalks on my paper route gradually returning to dust, everything we see is eventually going to dwindle away. It is the things we cannot see that really matter, because they are the things that are eternal.

Jesus said, “Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also” (John 14:1-3, ESV).

When we read those words, we tend to focus on what the place will be like, but the whole point of Jesus’ preparing a place is so that where he is, we can be also. It is about being with him. It is that place where we are finally restored in perfect relationship with him. The God who created us to be in relationship with him is preparing a place for us so that we can spend eternity with him.

Sadly, we’ve created a heaven that is all about us. We think we will have a nicer house in heaven, and we will be so wealthy we will use gold to pave the streets. Won’t it be grand! Just imagine! But it is a version of the health and wealth prosperity gospel couched in conservative Christian theology. In the end, it is humanism. Humanism is the belief that the end of all being is the happiness of man. The Christian version is that you can be saved so you can be happy after you die. But the gospel declares that the end of all being is the happiness of God. It is God who longs for restoration with his creation. He is the one who made a way through his Son so that he could be reconciled with us. He is the one preparing a place for you and me so that we can be with him, so that he can be happy. It is all about God.

My friend, the things that seem so important to you today will likely not matter after a thousand tomorrows. What is it that is weighing on you? Have you forgotten that this world is not really your home? Perhaps your challenge is only a reminder of what really matters – the things we cannot see.

When I eventually die, I think it would be nice to have “Finally Home” etched onto my headstone. But even that headstone will slowly crumble and return to dust. Of course, by then it won’t really matter.

I will finally be home.

This article was originally published in the October 2016 Newsletter.

May 03

2017

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By Timothy Mark

In Uncategorized

Tags John Love Ministry Service

What Is Your “Why”?

I have an odd question for you. It is one that has been haunting me lately. It can be summed up in one tiny little word, but the ramifications are huge. My question is, “Why?” It affects every aspect of following Christ. For example, why do you share your faith? Why do you give? Why do you attend church? Why do you teach Sunday School? Why do you lead worship? Why do you sin? What is your “Why”?

Recently I was at a fast food restaurant getting an evening meal. Earlier in the day I had been working on clearing out the garage, and I was worn out. I slid into a seat in the corner of the dining room and set my tray of food on the table. As I ate, I quietly looked around the room. The restaurant was empty except for one other customer. One of the employees was wiping down the tables. As she wiped the table next to me, I told her how much I appreciated her service to me that evening. It was a simple thing to do, and her face lit up when I spoke to her. She thanked me for noticing. I did notice her. I had been watching her as she worked. Her face looked tired, and her gray hair suggested she was old enough to be my mother. I wondered what had happened in her world that had led her to get this job at this time in her life. As I watched her work, I felt something stir inside me, a longing I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

I looked over at the other customer a few tables across from me. From the corner of my eye, I watched him as he ate, and again, something stirred inside me. I felt compassion for him, even though I didn’t know him. I wondered if he had any relationship with God. I wondered if he knew that God loved him.

I watched the workers at the counter going about their jobs, and again, a melancholy emotion stirred inside me. By this point I was starting to wonder what was going on with me. Why was I feeling these emotions when I looked at these folks? I took a sip of my drink and pondered the question for a moment.

For some reason, I loved these people even though I didn’t even know them. I cared about their situations. I cared about the events in their lives that led them to this moment.

Those feelings were still bothering me as I left the restaurant and turned left onto the road back to my home. As I drove in the darkness, I couldn’t shake the feelings I had felt in that dining room. It occurred to me that for some reason, I just loved those people. I wondered if they had any relationship with God. I wondered if they knew that God created them so that they could know him personally. I realized that I saw them differently because I loved them.

Then I thought about my life and ministry, and this is where the simple question began to mess with my mind. Why do I preach? Do I preach because I like the way it feels to be in the flow of the Holy Spirit? Or do I preach because I love people so much that I have to preach, because if I don’t preach they may not understand that God loves them and wants to have a relationship with them? Can you see the subtle difference between the two answers? One response is motivated by how it makes me feel, the other is motivated by how I already feel toward others.

I am reminded of a verse in the Bible. It is likely the first verse you ever learned as a child. It says this, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16, ESV). Tucked away in this short verse is the answer to the “Why” question. The reason God gave his son for us was because he loves us. God’s love for his creation was so great that he was willing to give up the life of his own son for our benefit. The “Why” was love, and it changed everything.

Now think back to the questions I posed in the opening paragraph.

Why do you share your faith? Do you do it because you think that is what a good Christian is supposed to do? Do you share your faith only as part of a visitation program at your church? Or do you share your faith because you love people so much, and you realize that if you don’t share with them, they may never know that God loves them and wants a relationship with them?

Why do you give? Do you give because you think that is what a good Christian is supposed to do? Do you hope people will notice your generosity? Or do you give because you love people so much that you want to share with them all that God has given to you?

Why do you attend church? Do you attend church because you think that is what a good Christian is supposed to do? Or do you attend church because you love the body of Christ, and you can’t wait to be able to spend time with those you love?

Why do you teach Sunday School? Do you teach Sunday School because no one else would volunteer, and you felt obligated to do it? Or do you teach because you love those kids so much, and you want them to understand how much God loves them as well?

Why do you lead worship? Do you lead worship because you like to be seen or heard? Do you want people to hear how great you can sing? Or do you lead worship because you love God with all your heart, and you want others to experience his presence in their lives as well?

Why do you sin? Is it because you love your sin more than you love God?

The reason the “why” matters is that it checks our motives. Our service should be motivated by our love. Whenever we serve, but we do not love, we are not really very godly after all. To be godly is to be like God. Remember, God loved the world, and then he gave his son.

I’m considering those around me in a new way now. I’m seeing people differently. I’m looking at them through a lens of love. I see past their imperfections, and I see a man or woman whom God created and loved. I love them too, and I’ll do whatever it takes for them to know God. Why? Because I love them.

This morning I did a little grocery shopping. As the cashier rang up my items, I said to him, “Thank you for your service to me this morning, I really appreciate it.” Suddenly he stopped everything and froze still, his gaze staring off into space. Then he turned his head and looked at me. For an awkward moment we just looked at each other, and then he said, “No one has ever thanked me before.” Again he paused, and then finally he finished, “I didn’t know how to respond.”

I smiled. That simple act of love had stopped him in his tracks. For me, it was a simple act of gratitude born out of love. I genuinely appreciated his service to me, and because I loved him, I wanted him to know it. I’ve said it before, and I will say it again: everything changes when you love someone.

So, my friend, what is your “Why”?

This article was originally published in the June 2015 Newsletter.

May 02

2017

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By Timothy Mark

In Uncategorized

Tags 1 John Enduring Hebrews John Joy Romans Trials

For the Joy Set Before You

The following was originally published in the March 2013 newsletter.

It was the final day of installation of the new flooring in my home. I had already covered about a thousand square feet and only a small bedroom remained. I would be finished in a matter of hours. I could count the time in hours instead of days. The end was finally in sight. For the past two weeks I had worked on the floors nearly ten hours a day, six days a week, and my body was nearly broken. My feet hurt badly. Kneeling for hours at a time meant my toes were bent in a painful position. My legs hurt from countless times of squatting to work on the floor and then standing to get supplies, cut a board, or reach for more glue. My legs hurt, my feet hurt, my back hurt, my hands hurt. My body was broken. After several weeks of work, I could hardly walk when I got out of bed in the morning.

But this day was different. It was the final day of installation. I held a cup of hot coffee in my hand as the rising sun illuminated the room. The thought that in about four hours I would be finished sent a ripple down my arm. The work was nearly complete. The end was within sight.

I gathered supplies and set to work, and then a strange thing happened. A sense of joy settled on me. I celebrated each board as it was glued to the next. My body still hurt deeply, but as I rose to take another board to the chop saw, pure joy flooded my heart. It was one of the most vivid experiences of joy I have ever known. Although all the pain was still there, it was smothered by the joy that had overtaken me.

In that moment, a Scripture verse came to my mind and I paused in the middle of the floor to contemplate the thought. A passage in Hebrews describing Jesus on the cross says a very remarkable thing. “…who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross…” (Hebrews 12:2, ESV). Is it possible that in the midst of the crucifixion Christ experienced joy?

As I continued laying the flooring, this thought kept haunting my mind, until finally the last board was in place. I was ecstatic! My body still hurt deeply but I danced around the room in celebration of the completion of what I had set out to do. I lifted my arms and spun around the smooth floors shouting for joy. I sent a text to several friends of mine. “It is fiiiiiiiiiiinnniiiiiissshed!!!!!!!!!! :)” I wrote. The joy was overwhelming.

I had finished the work. I had completed what I had set out to do. It was finished. I sat down and took off the knee pads one final time. I took off my shoes and rubbed my weary feet. I cannot describe how good that moment felt. I was reminded once again of the verse that had come to my mind earlier. So I looked up the passage to see exactly what it said.

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted” (Hebrews 12:1-3, ESV).

In the past I have read this and assumed that when it spoke of “the joy that was set before him” it was referring to something in the future, as if Christ endured the cross because he knew the joy he would experience after the crucifixion and he was reunited with his Father. But that is not all this passage is saying. When it speaks of the joy being set before him, it includes the idea of a gift being laid at his feet. The object is set before you; it is given to you in that moment, for that moment. So another way to look at the phrase “for the joy that was set before him” would be to say “because of the joy that was given to him”.

I asked myself, did Christ experience pure joy in the midst of the crucifixion? Was he given joy for that moment? Did he understand he was completing the work he was placed on the earth to do? Did joy flood his heart as the hammer drove the nails into his hands? His body was beaten beyond recognition and he was weary beyond words. But in that moment, did God the Father set before him a gift of joy? When he shouted, “It is finished”, was it a moment of celebration? Was he dancing on the inside even as he was dying on the outside? I believe so.

The question then remains, does God do the same for us? Does he set before us a gift of joy in the midst of our trials? I believe he does. Consider these passages:

“Truly, truly, I say to you, whatever you ask of the Father in my name, he will give it to you. Until now you have asked nothing in my name. Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full” (John 16:23b-24, ESV).

“And this is the confidence that we have toward him, that if we ask anything according to his will he hears us. And if we know that he hears us in whatever we ask, we know that we have the requests that we have asked of him” (1 John 5:14-15, ESV).

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope” (Romans 15:13, ESV).

My friend, are you in the midst of a trial today? Perhaps you are weary from the fight. You are broken and hurting. The idea of joy in the midst of your pain seems impossible. I understand, but God longs to meet you in the midst of your trial and to set before you joy, to give you the gift of joy. He gives us his presence during our difficult days. As David wrote, “In your presence there is fullness of joy” (Psalm 16:11, ESV). In the middle of our circumstances, he meets us with his overwhelming presence and we find joy. In spite of the pain, in spite of the trial, joy. Pure joy.

Perhaps today you simply need to ask God to give you joy in the midst of your trial “so that by the power of the Holy Spirit, you may abound in hope”. I pray that you will. What if God is waiting for you to ask?

I’m grateful to have the floors finished. But I am even more grateful for the way the Holy Spirit ministered to me. I’m grateful for his presence. I’m grateful for his kindness to me. I’m grateful for the way he whispers his love to me throughout the day. I’m grateful for his presence in the midst of difficult times.

I’m grateful for the joy that was set before me.

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