My youngest son has taken an interest in sign-making.  He’s got the downstairs pretty much covered.  He has labeled most of the rooms and closets so that guests in our home can know that when they walk in the kitchen, they are indeed in the “Kitchen”.  And if you happen to need tooth supplies, just look for the door with the sign “tooth supplies”.

As I watched him this morning making his next sign (which happened to be the “kitchen” sign to the left), I noticed that when he would have to go back and correct a mistake on one of his letters, he’d whisper the word “Band-Aid”.  I can only guess that his mind has made a connection between making a mistake and actually calling it a mistake.

In our culture, it’s becoming harder and harder to be wrong.  After all, if everyone is right and has a right to be right, then what happens to the whole concept of wrong?  We may have speed limits and jaywalking laws to keep us safe, but what about the boundaries that keep us civilized and dare I say it– moral?  As we move forward as a society, I fear that we’re truly moving toward a precipice that is going to be irreparable to us as a people.

Now, if you know me then you know I’m no wound-up fuddy-duddy who doesn’t know how to relax.  Some might say I’m the definition of relaxed.  But what I’m witnessing is our collective abandonment of objectivity in exchange for the more comfortable subjectivity when it comes to what’s right and what’s wrong.

Is it wrong for a husband to abandon his wife?  Yes it is.  Is it wrong for parent to verbally abuse their child?  Yes it is.  Is it wrong for me to steal from you?  Yes it is.  Is it wrong for an adult to have any sexual contact whatsoever with a minor–even a consenting minor?  Yes it is.  Is it wrong to smoke marijuana?  It used to be in most places.  Is it wrong to keep incorrect change the cashier gives you?  Yes it is.  Is it wrong  for a wife to chat online with another man that does for her what her husband does not?  Yes it is.

Through all of those examples, there are some (and many others) where we might be tempted to say, “Well…it depends.”  And this is the slope of ice that we find ourselves currently on.  Instead, we need to know what’s wrong, why it’s wrong and turn away from it.  Its the concept of repentance, and it is to feel sorrow for one’s actions to the point of changing one’s behavior.

2 Chronicles 7:14 says it this way:  “If my people who are called by my name will humble themselves, pray, seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, forgive their sins, and heal their land.”

Knowing that something is wrong is one thing.  But we need to go beyond simply knowing and start calling “Band-Aid” and then go to acting upon, with God’s enabling help, the changes that need to be brought so that we can stop doing the wrong thing we are doing.

This isn’t a tie-it-up-with-a-nice-bow kind of blog.  So, I’ll just invite your thoughts.   Go ahead, give them.

I was talking recently with a small group of adults that I hold dear.  We gather weekly to (in order of prominence): 1. Laugh, 2. Eat, 3. Share life, 4. Study God’s Word, & 5. Laugh some more.

We were recently talking about contentment and gratitude.  We all know that Thanksgiving is fast approaching and we also all know that as Christians, Thanksgiving should be a non-event.  A day to give thanks?  Seriously?  Do we really need to set aside a day when we shut everything down in order to give thanks?  It’s a ridiculous notion that I’m all for.  Why?  Well…in a word: turkey.  But that’s another blog.

What giving thanks does, as we discussed is…

1. It precludes & fights selfishness. Thankfulness cuts selfishness off at the knees.  When I’m thankful for what I have and who I know and where I am, I’ve taken my attention off of reaching for the self-serving things that quite honestly turn me into a jerk.  Greed takes my eyes off of what I already have and puts it on what I don’t.  It bathes me in discontent, bitterness, and resentment toward those who have what I don’t.

2. It cultivates humility. Keeping our eyes on being grateful begs the question: “Where did that come from?”  Understanding that ultimately what I have and enjoy is a gift from God puts me in the correct position of someone who is humble, not prideful.

3. It protects me from comparing myself to you. When I compare myself to others, I will end up with one of two conclusions: pride (because I decide I’m better than you, or pity (because I decide I’m not as good as you).  Neither of those are things God says about me–so I ought not dare say it about myself.

4. It cheers God on.  Simply put, thankfulness is our message to God to keep it coming.  It recognizes His provision, His protection, and His power to give and take whatever He chooses for our lives.

 

In just under 2 weeks, I’m going to be sharing a message called “Thanksliving” to a large group of students.  Pray for me as I convey the truth of what a thankful heart can do!

It’s Monday morning, and I’m still basking in the amazing events I had the chance to witness this past Saturday.  A friend of mine, David Lacy had learned about a woman named Mrs. Woods who had such a heartbreaking story including losing her husband 4 years ago in an accident, being unable to work due to her own injuries, and trying to care for not only her own children, but also those of her siblings while they work.  To help out, her mother moved in their small home in Kilmarnock, VA where Mrs. Woods sleeps in a chair each night, having given up her own bed for her mother to sleep in.

The response of about 60 people from our church was to take on the challenge of building an additional bedroom for the Woods family….in one day.  What a phenomenal blessing to watch God’s people do God’s work for God’s glory!

 

I was overwhelmed as I walked through row after narrow row of shack after tin shack.  Most of them no bigger than a jail cell. And for all I knew, that’s exactly what the inhabitants of the shacks felt like–prisoners in their own homes, in this abjectly empoverished part of the Dominican Republic.  I was walking through the community of tin and sticks after having spent the week with them.  Now, the only question in my mind as I walked with the local pastor there was a simple question and yet one that put my heart into such a vise of anguish; anguish I have not felt since.

The question:  Which one?

It was my responsibility as the leader of our group to choose one family from a sea of people.  That one family would receive a new home, just across the river bed.  A home that our group had sponsored and had built.  A home with block walls, a solid roof, and even a concrete floor.  A home in a community called “Villa de Ascencion”, just a short distance away and yet lightyears away from where they were now.

My heart pounded as the pastor gave me a description of each family we walked past, how many children, their ages, what the parents did for money to feed them, and other details.  I walked through several shacks as children moved from one shack to another, and adult would pull children who weren’t theirs close to them so as to appear to be a larger family, and perhaps garnish the favor of the foreigner who’s task it was to choose one family to receive a new home.  I don’t think my heart could have taken any more weight than what I felt on that day.

After meandering through the entire village, I returned to the home of Marcelles.  Marcelles was a single father with 4 children.  His wife had left him soon after the twins were born.  He was doing the best he could do raising those 4 children, while trying to scrape out a living doing clothes repair.  His antique looking sewing machine set neatly on a wobbly wooden table in a corner of his home; a home of mostly thick straight branches framing the house and sheets of tin attached to them.  A thin fabric curtain was his front door.  The pastor pulled the curtain back and I ducked my head as we went inside.  The darkness of the interior in midday give me a glimpse of the sense of darkness that contrasted what Marcelles and his kids were about to receive.

I greeted Marcelles with a handshake while his kids were standing in the doorway of their shack, looking on.  Through the pastor’s interpretation, I told Marcelles that our group was choosing him and his children to receive the new home we had built for them.  Before the news could get all the way past the interpreter’s lips, Marcelles lunged at me, buried his head in my chest and sobbed.  His arms wrapped around my ribs, his hands clasped tightly on my back.  I’ll never forget the feeling of handing someone a new home, a new hope, and a new life.  After letting go of me, Marcelles gathered his children all around himself and somehow seemed to be hugging all 4 at once.

The celebration was interrupted by our urgent request:  Please put on your best clothes and meet us at your new house 40 minutes from now.  We’ll welcome you to your home, give you a few gifts, and dedicate your house to the Lord.  The entire family immediately burst into activity, speaking feverishly with each other instructions on who would do what.  After all, not only were they moving, but all they possessed must come with them.  No doubt what would happen as soon as they left their shack is that another family would move right in and anything left there would become the property of whoever took their place.

We left them their joyous work and walked across the riverbed to Villa de Ascencion, a community being built by God through CrossRoads Ministry, our partners on that trip.  The difference between the two villages was more than what can be described. 

So 40 minutes later, sure enough Marcelles and his 4 children were dressed in their best clothes, smiles beaming as we stood at the front door of their new home.  With tears in his eyes, Marcelles listened as we prayed a prayer of dedication over the house and blessing over his family.  I simply will never forget the powerful privilege of giving to this family a new beginning, nor will I ever forget the heartfelt, sincere, and incredible gratitude with which they accepted our gift.

I think of that day often and whenever I do I cannot help but place that story alongside of God’s grace, love, and compassion which He lavishes upon us.  There we were in our spiritual darkness, our soul empoverished, without hope for an escape.  And then He came along, pulled back the curtain, stepped inside and said “I have a new life for you, if you’ll take it.”  And when I think of that gift of God’s grace shown through Jesus death on the cross and his resurrection from the grave that makes my new home a living reality, I can’t help but respond as Marcelles did, to throw my head into his chest, my arms wrapped around his scarred ribcage, and my hands clasping his once-scourged back.  In gratitude I’ve accepted a new home, a new hope, and a new life.

I hope to return to the Dominican Republic in the summer of 2012, but I doubt I will ever know again the overwhelming power of what happened just “40 minutes from now.”

Jesus came to earth because of hell.  Maybe you never thought of it that way.

We’d rather say that He came for you and for me and for us and for all.  Maybe its more comfy to say He came for the redemption of man and the reconciliation of the creation to its Creator.  Or that He came to “seek and save that which was lost.”  After all, that’s in the Bible (Lk 19:10).  So, we should say that.  And we do.

But let’s not forget what we’re being saved FROM.  This is the underside of Christmas.  This is what we leave unsaid while we trim the tree and bake the cookies.  This is the message that doesn’t make it into our line-up of Christmas carols, Christmas movies, and Christmas messages.  But make no mistake about it–this truth is THE truth of why Jesus came to earth.

When He left heaven, His destination was hell.  His advent on earth was the conduit, the method, the way in which He chose to travel from the throne of God to the throne of Satan.  And let’s not be unclear.  His sole purpose was to take the keys of death and hell from the hands of Satan.  The manger, the star, the magi, the disciples, the miracles, the cross, and the tomb were all part of the unfolding story of exactly how Jesus was going to take those keys.

Consider the words of God the Father to the serpent in the Garden of Eden in Genesis 3:15:

“And I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; he will crush your head, and you will strike his heel.”

Three measly chapters into the Scriptures and the Messiah is revealed!  Not merely the Messiah, but the Messiah’s mission; to “crush the head” of the serpent, that is Satan our adversary!  Jesus Christ left heaven at the appointed time, made a 33 (or so) year stop through earth and achieved the objective of His mission when, through His death and resurrection, He stripped Satan of the last shred of power he had.  Satan continues to reek havoc in many lives, but be sure that he is nothing more than a fish flopping on a pier, gasping for air.

Read the words of Jesus the risen Messiah in Revelation 1:18:

“I am the Living One; I was dead, and now look, I am alive for ever and ever! And I hold the keys of death and Hades.”

What does Jesus display as proof of His accomplished mission?  He holds out “the keys of death and Hades”!  Yes, Jesus came for you, for me, for us, and for all.  Yes we’re right to celebrate the Advent season.  Yes, its good for us to decorate, sing, give gifts, eat cookies, and be with family.  But this Christmas season, even if  only in your own heart, would you be willing to celebrate Jesus our Messiah by declaring that it was for the defeat of death, hell, and the grave that Jesus came to the manger?

I was sitting at a red light this morning, my mind more focused on the “Chicken Mini’s” that would soon be doing the backstroke in my belly than on anything else.  To my left was a left turn lane and in that lane was a police cruiser; a Dodge Charger kind no-less.  Slick and sweet looking.  I had to stare.

So there I was in my manivan, next to Officer Hotshot in his Dodge Charger; both of us staring at red lights–his to go left, mine to go straight.  When out of nowhere, he turns on his police lights and pulls out of his left-turn lane and in front of me, driving across the intersection.  And yep, the light’s still red.

As soon as he cleared the intersection, he turned his police lights off and went on his merry way.  I thought to myself, “Hmph. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that Officer Hotshot used his lights to drive through a red light.  No emergency. No “hot pursuit”. No real need to do so.  Just didn’t feel like waiting I guess.  Oh well, when you’re a cop I suppose you’re allowed to do things like that.”  As soon as I thought those thoughts, my mind went back to my Chicken Mini’s.

Now, I don’t know what the legality is of what my friend in the Charger did.  I don’t know if its an “unspoken” kind of thing that cops just do, even though I can’t imagine its a sanctioned activity.  Basically, he was using the vehicle he was in to live “above the law”.  Let’s pretend that instead of him turning his police lights on and driving through the intersection, it was me turning my hazard lights on and driving through the intersection.  Would he have sat there and thought, “Well, I guess that just what guys in minivans are allowed to do”?    Doubtful.

The religious leaders in Jesus’ day thought HE lived above the law, too.  They viewed him as a young punk who hadn’t “paid his dues” yet, but seemed instead to use His position as so-called “Messiah” as some license to do crazy things that broke their law.  Things like healing on the Sabbath, dining with sinners, and talking to loose women.

But Jesus had a response to their accusations that He came to destroy the law or to make a mockery of it.  Take a look at what Jesus said in Matthew 5:17:

“Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them.”

You see, to those in religious power, Jesus was a scofflaw, a rebel on the loose, someone bent on destroying all they held dear and all they held over people’s heads.  But in reality, Jesus didn’t come to overturn the tables.  He Himself was the last piece of the puzzle.  And with His life, death and resurrection in place, the perfect picture of God’s atonement of mankind was complete!  The old covenant was fulfilled, not destroyed.  God’s promise spoken in Genesis 4 was being kept, not replaced!  Jesus wasn’t living above the Law, Jesus was concluding the Law!  And with that conclusion, Law is now grace, sacrifices are done, redemption is complete, judgment has fallen, condemnation is no more, and God’s wrath is satisfied.

Its been said that “Freedom isn’t having the ability to do what you want, but the power to do what you should.”  True freedom, the kind that comes from Christ alone because of all He has done on our behalf is ours for the taking!  “Whosoever will” may live above the law in the grace and mercy of the risen Jesus.

I’m pretty amazed at what God does.  Especially when He does it in me….and through me.

For those who knew me as a young child, I might be remembered as the kid with the unusually large knees (I grew into them).  For those who knew me when I was a young elementary aged kid, I might be remembered as the kid who wet himself on second base during a t-ball game.  For those who knew me in middle school, I’d likely be remembered as “Farmer Varner”; the kid with the doofy “Shaggy-style” walk and the way-too-big duffle bag (I often forgot notebooks, textbooks, etc. at school,  so my parents bought me a school bag that fits everything–trumpet case included–into one bag).  For those who knew me in high school, I might be remembered as “What’s-his-name” until my junior year when I found utter joy onstage and actually graduated with a varsity letter in theater.  (Take that, quarterback Mike Zurowski!)  For those who knew me in college, I’d undoubtedly be remembered as the guy somehow dating the hottest girl on campus and actually getting away with it.

But as a 37-year-old student ministry pastor, I’ve got to admit that I’m often shushing a quiet voice whispering from the back of my mind.  A young voice that brings me back to a place of insecurity.  A place where I don’t really fit in anywhere, with anyone; a place where I’m a “little guy” tagging along, trying to keep up.

And I realize how unmanly that last paragraph makes me sound.  But if this blog is nothing else, its honest.

I wonder how many other humans, or men, or husbands, or dads, or pastors have a similar voice.  After all, when we’re not totally sure of who we are, the temptation is to be defined by what we do.  I especially struggle with this when interacting with other men who aren’t in fulltime ministry.  Men who are corporate and upward, men who are in a hands-on and rugged kind of work.  Men who are successful and lucrative.  Men who know the stats of their favorite players and are able to banter with other guys about who’s team is better.

I guess I’ve never felt quite like I fit in.  There, I said it.

I know who I am from where I am now, but there’s another me that seems to be wandering around inside who is still trying to catch up with me.  And I also know that therapists worldwide would have a hey-day with that last statement.  There’ s a couch and a prescription somewhere with my name on it, to be sure.

The implications of this to my life now are (in no particular order):

a.  I’m not great at parties.  When surrounded by more confident people, I typically clam up; at least at first.  Why?  I’m not sure.

b.  I’m tentative and cautious about emerging opportunities.  A good friend of mine (and extremely talented chap) named Kent Julian contacted me years ago to be on a team of authors he was building to write a book together.  I turned him down.  He contacted me a year or so later with a similar request/invitation for the next book.  Again, I turned him down; again for primarily financial reasons (there was an initial outset of money needed).  Did I miss a golden opportunity?  Maybe.  But I can’t tell you how many times soon after both of his invitations that I asked myself, “Should I have not missed that one?”

c.  The biggest changes I tend to make are to move the family couch from this side of the room to that one.  And while I do rearrange furniture more often than most people, I also (more or less) like to keep things tidy and familiar.  I like to have a plan, know the plan, and work the plan.  When that translates into ministry, I may (not sure if its true) tend to move slower than people would like.  I’m not dumb, I’m just moving at the pace that I process things.  I’m actually at peace with this one.  I’m totally okay with not being able to move at lightning fast speed like others seem to do.

d.  I’m still tempted to seek to please people.  I’ve gotten a lot better at this one as I’ve grown though.  I recently turned down a premarital counseling and wedding request.  Its not (just) that I didn’t want to do it, it was more that I didn’t really feel like my schedule would allow it.  If the same request had come in to a younger Jerry Varner just starting out in ministry, I would have bent over backwards to do whatever necessary to please this couple, or anyone else asking for my time and attention.  I simply put pleasing people really high on my priority list.  And every so often, I find myself wrestling with that old monkey.  One of the most freeing things I’ve learned is that if I dropped dead today, nobody in my life would.

Okay, so all that (and more) are on the psyche/intellect/emotional side of things.  I’d be remiss to not turn my attention to the spiritual facts of who I am:

God’s child (John 1:12), a disciple of Jesus (John 15:15), justified (Romans 5:1), united with the Lord and one in spirit with Him (1 Cor. 6:17), bought with a price (1 Cor. 6:19-20), a part of Christ’s body (1 Cor. 12:27), chosen by God (Ephesians 1:3-8), complete (Colossians 2:9-10), given direct access to the throne of God (Hebrews 4:14-16), free from condemnation (Romans 8:1-2), assured that God is working in my life (Romans 8:28), a citizen of heaven (Philippians 3:20), not fearful but powerful (2 Timothy 1:7), born of God and the evil one can’t even touch me (1 John 5:18)….to name just a few.

So, yeah.  Like I said, I’m pretty amazed at what God does.  Especially when He does it through me.