Family of God

I’m a big fan of Russell Moore and his writings for Christianity Today. I highly recommend you read his article about how war forms us. All war is hell, in every case. And even though Midland, Texas is over 7,400 miles away from Tehran, Iran, this war between the U.S. and Israel and Iran is going to shape us. Moore cautions us to check our attitudes when it comes to the current conflict in the Middle East.

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When John the Baptist was baptizing people in the Jordan River, there were some standing on the shores who were not jumping in. It appears that they were just observing from the side. They were just watching. And John says, “That’s fine; that’s your call. What God is doing is not going to be slowed down one bit by whether you decided to jump in or not. I tell you that out of these stones God can raise up children! (Luke 3:8)

Our God’s greatest desire is to create a family to live in perfect relationship with him and one another forever. God is so committed to this goal that, if nobody wants to jump in to this eternal family, he will raise up sons and daughters from the rocks along the banks of the Jordan River! That’s how determined for this he is!

Our God is so determined to create this family that he gave up his only biological Son to make it happen. That’s how committed to this he is. He sacrificed his only Son to build a forever family that’s not based on genetics or DNA or last names, but on the gift of love and grace from God and the blood of the Son that completely washes clean all of God’s dearly loved children. Romans 9 says it’s not the natural children who are God’s children, it’s the children of the promise. The promise is that God will create this eternal family, where everybody belongs together, everybody’s related, no barriers, no restrictions, no distinctions; where everybody is equally loved and nurtured and cared for. That’s the promise. That’s the goal. And that’s what our Lord Jesus did on the cross.

From the cross, Jesus is literally creating this family of God. He looks down from the cross and sees his mom and one of his dearest followers and he says, “Dear woman, here is your son. Son, this is your mom.”

Jesus isn’t saying, “Hey, do me a solid and take care of my mom while I’m away.” He’s saying, “Mother, I’m giving you a new family. Friend, I am giving you a new family.” Jesus is creating God’s family on the cross. The One who never married and never had kids is now giving birth to a new family that stretches the earth from end to end and has turned the whole world upside down. The Church. You and me. Us. The family of God. The children of God’s promise.

When you become a Christian, when you give your whole life over to God through Jesus, you are joined into that family. An eternal people born of water and Spirit, a family bigger and better than your biological family, a world-wide barrier-breaking family of God where we eat and drink and share and accept and carry each other’s burdens together. Where we rejoice and mourn together. Where we support and encourage and grow and work and bless and love together. If you’ll say ‘Yes’ to being adopted, if you’ll give yourself to it and really embrace the Church as the family of God, it’ll be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

Peace,
Allan

To the God of Peace

To the God of Peace, in the name of the Prince of Peace,
We ask you to bring your peace to this world.
We pray for your peace in Iran, in Israel, and for us in the United States.

We pray in the name of the Prince of Peace,
who came to this earth to obliterate everything that separates us from you
and from one another,
to bring your peace to this world.

We pray for protection for the soldiers
and their families
in Iran, in Israel, and in the United States.
We pray for safety,
for comfort,
and for calm.

We pray for those who are disproportionately affected by war:
the innocent children,
the abandoned women,
the defenseless elderly,
the immigrants without a home,
and the poor.
These dwell in the center of your heart, Father;
these are the ones you command we protect and love.
We pray for them, O God of Peace.
Protect them.
Provide for them.

We pray that those in charge in Iran, in Israel, and in the United States
would cease their wars.
We pray for armies to put down their weapons.
We pray for the killing to stop.
We pray for an end to greed, anger, and the lust for power and control.
And we pray that your Holy Spirit would bring all things and all people
in heaven and on earth
together,
as is the stated mission and will of you, our God, and your everlasting Kingdom.

To the God of Peace, in the name of the Prince of Peace.
To his eternal glory and praise.

Peace.

 

Twinning in Midland

How did we get so lucky? We’ve got the boys for ten days at our house in Midland!

Our son-in-law David is taking the bar exam tomorrow and Wednesday in OKC and it seemed like the perfect opportunity to bring Valerie and our twin grandsons to Texas for a week-and-a-half to give him space and quiet to cram. And it’s giving Carrie-Anne and me a refresher on what it’s like to have little infants around. Little rugrats. And, watch where you step! There’s two of them!

Both Elliott and Samuel have just recently learned how to hold their own bottles and feed themselves. That’s great. It would be really something if they could change their own diapers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yes, I took Valerie and the boys to Blue Sky as soon as I could. You think there’s a cheeseburger like this in Oklahoma? Even if they can’t eat the burger, even if they can only be strapped to the table with a couple of prop Styrofoam cups for a cheesy photo op, I know they could smell the Blue Sky burger. I know they were thrilled. The burgers at the original Blue Sky on Western Street in Amarillo were a life-changer for Valerie, so it was nostalgic for her. And a great joy for me.

Elliott is crawling all over the place. He can get anything he wants, as long as it’s on the floor. And he’s surprisingly quick. The coolest thing in the world is when I walk into the house after work and he crawls to me, stops right at my feet, and holds his arm up. Samuel, on the other hand, hasn’t figured it out yet. He can only go backwards. We don’t know why, but he only pushes himself backwards, he can’t get his booty up and his legs bent to go forward. So two or three times a day he winds up under a chair or a couch. And he doesn’t like it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They’re both eating baby food now like ravenous wolves. I’m not able to get the spoon from their mouths, back into the jar, and back to their mouths fast enough without them screaming at me. They love it, all of it–it doesn’t matter what vegetable, what flavor, what color.

Elliott likes to play rough, so I’m throwing him up in the air and slinging him around every which way, holding him upside down and rolling him on the floor. Sam is a lot more chill. He acts like he’s above everything, like he’s just observing the silliness around him and it amuses him. He giggles and laughs. A lot.

On Thursday, in only two and a half more days, I’m taking Val and the boys to Wichita Falls, the halfway point between here and Tulsa, where David will meet us for lunch and we’ll part ways to our respective states. Almost eight hours away from each other.

You people who live in the same city as your grandkids have got it made.

Peace,
Allan

 

Together 4 Midland

I’m still in awe of the grace of God that he would allow us to experience together what we experienced at the “4 Midland” Ash Wednesday service at First Baptist. Our Christian brothers and sisters from all four churches–First Baptist, First Methodist, First Presbyterian, and GCR CofC–worshiped together, sang and prayed together, confessed our sins and repented together, administered and received ashes together, and entered the Christian season of Lent. Together.

How beautiful. How powerful. What a blessing. An honor. What a generous gift of God’s grace.

 

 

 

 

 

The sanctuary was packed with what seemed to be a fairly equal number of us from each of our four congregations. I always joke to GCR that “it’s not a competition; but we want to win.” No, we were all pretty evenly represented Wednesday. And while my brother Darin, the pastor at First Baptist, worries that they just don’t have the chops when it comes to traditional Christian liturgy, they definitely have the music covered. My goodness, the orchestra! And the 85-member choir made up of the choirs and worship teams from all four churches!

It’s a glorious thing when God’s children can put aside their denominational differences to worship and serve together as the one Body of Christ. It’s an undeniable testimony to our community and a tremendous blessing for us. And it’s one way to physically answer the prayer of our Lord.

 

 

 

 

 

I always offer to take our GCR youth group out for ice cream after the 4 Midland Ash Wednesday service. I don’t know how appropriate it is to eat ice cream immediately after entering a season of prayer and fasting, but it gets our kids to the service and it gives me an opportunity to hang out with the coolest youth group on the planet. And, yeah, they are the best.

Over the past dozen years or so, Ash Wednesday has become a vital part of my walk with Christ, an indispensable move in the rhythms that guide my discipleship. I hope it’s that way for you, too. We’re following our Lord now to the cross, to the tomb, and then out of that empty grave. But the journey begins with this season of confession and repentance, reflection and transformation, fasting and prayer. What a gift from God that, for us, it begins with four Midland churches. Together.

Peace,

Allan

Leaning into Liturgy

The 4Midland churches are gathering at First Baptist this evening for our annual Ash Wednesday service. This marks the fifth Ash Wednesday service we at GCR have shared with a local congregation of another denomination, and the fourth we’ve co-led as 4Midland. For some of us, this 1,400-year-old Christian tradition is still new. According to Lifeway research, only 25% of Americans observe the season of Lent–that number has stayed the same for over a decade. The Barna Group reports that Churches of Christ are among the “least aware” of traditional Christian liturgical practices.

For me, personally, by God’s grace, tonight’s will be my 13th Ash Wednesday service. Ash Wednesday and this season of Lent have become a vital part of my walk with Christ, an indispensable move in the rhythms that guide my Christian discipleship. If you live in the Permian Basin, I invite you to join us at 6:30pm at First Baptist in Midland. If you live outside the Basin, I urge you to find an Ash Wednesday service today and lean into it.

Ash Wednesday meets us in our desperate need for repentance. It reminds us of the Gospel need to mourn sin and grieve its terrible consequences. Ash Wednesday takes our sin and suffering seriously. It’s a sober kickoff to 40-days of fasting and prayer, confession and repentance, reflection and transformation.

Right now, the American church is struggling with unity while we’re wrapped up in our country’s bitterly divided politics. American Christians are fighting for contentment and joy while we live in a culture obsessed with consumption. We’re wanting to point our minds to Christ while the world around us is drowning in social media and other digital distractions.

Our spiritual needs are tied directly to the unstable ways of the world.

Leaning into the ancient church calendar is a helpful way to anchor yourself and your church in Gospel rhythms that counter whatever might be happening in the world or in the news cycle; remembering that the story of God is bigger than the story of your state or your career or your nation or your church; orienting yourself toward the larger story of God and his people, God and his creation, God and his salvation mission through Christ Jesus–we participate in a stable pattern of faith and faithfulness in contrast to all the things right in front of us we can’t control. The natural disasters are real. So are the political problems and the racial injustice and our complicated relationships. The Church calendar reminds us of God’s providence in the chaos, of his calm and faithful presence in the raging storm.

And we do it together. Practicing these ancient liturgies is done in community with the global Church, it connects us to all Christians everywhere for all time. It helps to counter-program the uniquely American individualism that erodes our dependence on God and one another. It trains us to think and behave and relate in common unity with other followers.

Ash Wednesday reminds us that we need to repent, both individually and corporately, and it gives us the venue and the tools to do it together with other sinners turned saints by the life-giving blood of Jesus.

If you’ve never been to one, I encourage you to find an Ash Wednesday service today and give yourself to it. Ask God to speak to you, to show you something you need to see, to transform you. Then lean into it. Surrender to the service and the readings and the songs and the prayers. Participate fully, expecting that God will do something in you and through you for his glory.

It’s never too late to try a 1,400-year-old tradition.

Peace,
Allan

In the Face of Christ

I was looking last week at the results of a recent poll conducted by the American Psychological Association that says almost all of us are stressed out and anxious about things that are out of our control. Multiple things. According to the research, 30% of Americans say most days they are so stressed out they can’t function. Over things like inflation, violence, crime, the political climate, and the racial climate. Among those polled, 76% say the future of the nation is a significant source of stress, while 68% say we are living in the country’s lowest point of their lifetimes.

Well, of course we’re stressed out and anxious.

We’re doomscrolling our phones and our feeds, we’re being discipled by our digital devices that are designed to raise our blood pressure. So, we’re constantly taking in the bad news of local and global turmoil and chaos and conflict with an increasing lack of civility as the backdrop–people seem to be so mean. It feels like there’s so much hate. And the tyranny of the constant connection to the unprecedented exposure and pressure through the digital platforms that are intentionally designed to divide us and profit off our polarization has us so worked up we feel like we have to have an immediate and dug-in position on a 13-minute Super Bowl halftime show by a performer we hadn’t heard of three weeks ago!

In the face of so much, our salvation can seem like a smaller thing. The dawn of a new day feels a long way away in the suffocating darkness of right now.

And I don’t know a thing about your marriage. Or your relationship with your children. I don’t know about your situation at work. Or your finances. Or that sin in your life you can’t shake. Or that thing you did a long time ago that you can’t forget. I don’t know how chaotic your life feels or if the things happening around you or to you feel totally out of your control. I don’t know the personal pain or betrayal. I don’t know your wounds. I don’t know how dark it feels where you are. How far away from God you feel. How far away from love and joy and peace you feel.

But I do know this.

You can have faith in the middle of your fears. You can be calm and certain in the chaos of your circumstance. You can experience eternal life while walking through the valley of the shadow of death.

“God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ.” ~2 Corinthians 4:6

We see the light in the face of Christ. When we look at Jesus, we are given the perfect knowledge of the glory of our God. We see what God is up to when we look at our Lord. We realize, in Jesus, that our God does his best work in the dark.

Jesus was born at night.

The sun disappeared and the earth was plunged into darkness as he died.

God’s Holy Spirit raised him from the dead “while it was still dark.”

New life always starts in the dark. A seed in the ground. A baby in the womb. Jesus in the tomb. A church in a shift. A Christian in a crisis.

We know the darkness of death has been broken by the light of the power of God’s Holy Spirit. The silence of the night has been pierced by the trumpet blast of the dawning of a brand new day. Our God is the God who gives life to the dead and calls things that are not as though they are. And we know the very last words our Lord Jesus said to us as he ascended to the seat of all authority and power at the right hand of God: “I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”

Which, is closer than you think.

Peace,
Allan

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