Bottom Line, Up Front (BLUF): Simple & Simultaneously Profound

Slice of Life: In our Christian discipleship and fellowship class at church, my wife and I are blessed to be part of a group of people who turn out week after week, month after month, year after year, to love the saints, to read the Scriptures, to submit ourselves to the authority of the Bible, and to herald it to all who will hear. We are blessed to practice the biblical paradigm: “And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers” (Acts 2:42). Why do I share this? To sound holier-than-thou? To appear super-spiritual? To shame others who are likewise fellow believers but who practice biblical faith differently? No, to all three. Trust me: I am quite aware of my sin, and God is supremely aware of it, too. I share it because of its simplicity. God’s means of grace are simple and simultaneously profound. 

We read the Scriptures together because where Scripture speaks, God has spoken, and God’s people need to hear. We aim to submit to the authority of the Scriptures because they are the means by which the saints learn the revealed will of God. We herald the Scriptures because “faith comes through hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ” (Romans 10:17). We break bread together over the table, over the campfire, next to one another, beside one another, etc. because there is something about sharing meals together that is of course physiological, biological, chemical, and visceral, but it is also spiritual. This is why the Lord’s Supper is crucial as a means of grace in the Christian worldview. We are feeding upon the bread of life who came down from heaven, God the Son, the Word made flesh. Looking to him, feeding upon him. As one of Christianity’s great confessions phrases it, we “do then also, inwardly by faith, really and indeed, yet not carnally and corporally, but spiritually, receive, and feed upon, Christ crucified, and all benefits of his death: the body and blood of Christ being then, not corporally or carnally, in, with, or under the bread and wine; yet, as really, but spiritually, present to the faith of believers in that ordinance, as the elements themselves are to their outward senses.” 

This morning as the Table was before us in the congregation, I could not go forward. I held my head in my hands and wept. A woman seated behind me tapped me on the shoulder. “It’s time to go forward for the elements,” she intimated. But I sat still, head in hands, sobbing. I did not look up. But there was no use in pretending. A child on the row in front of me could tell I was crying, and she looked at me. I know she was watching me because I could feel it. I raised my blurry eyes to see her, a precious little blond girl in a yellow dress and white sandals, her hair in pigtails. I’m sure I appeared a sad weepy old man, a strange and ostensibly scary sight to a young girl in pigtails and who is still learning the English alphabet. But I was broken. I understood once again that Christ came into his world to save sinners, and I am chief among them.

I grew up in the Baptist tradition and we don’t (this is just my opinion) teach upon the crucial nature of the Lord’s Supper as I think Scripture commends, but I don’t wish to start theological skirmishes with brothers and sisters who are genuine believers. I could be wrong, but I think it’s quite important. And so the natural question might be, “Then why did you not partake?” Short answer: Because I examined myself in light of God’s holiness and I was ashamed. 

Very often when I read through Scripture, what I see over and over again is that God crushes those he uses. That is, he brings them low so that they might love him rather than themselves, that we sinners might learn to put others before ourselves, that we might endure sufferings in order to get a taste of what the Son endured as he despised the shame and became sin for us. And it brings me to my spiritual knees because I know that God is perfectly just to damn me, a sinner in word and deed. Perfectly just. 

 I listened to the song’s lyrics being played and labored to dry my tears without attracting attention:

Were creation suddenly articulate
With a thousand tongues to lift one cry
Then from north to south and east to west
We’d hear Christ be magnified

Were the whole earth echoing His eminence
His name would burst from sea and sky
From rivers to the mountain tops
We’d hear Christ be magnified

O! Christ be magnified
Let His praise arise
Christ be magnified in me
O! Christ be magnified
From the altar of my life
Christ be magnified in me

When every creature finds its inmost melody/And every human heart its native cry/Oh then in one enraptured hymn of praise/We’ll sing Christ be magnified

O! Christ be magnified
Let His praise arise
Christ be magnified in me
O! Christ be magnified
From the altar of my life
Christ be magnified in me

I won’t bow to idols
I’ll stand strong and worship You
If it puts me in the fire
I’ll rejoice ’cause You’re there too

I won’t be formed by feelings
I’ll hold fast to what is true
If the Cross brings transformation
Then I’ll be crucified with You

‘Cause death is just the doorway
Into resurrection life
And If I join You in Your suffering
Then I’ll join You when You rise

And when You return in glory
With all the angels and the saints
My heart will still be singing
My song will be the same

I won’t bow to idols
I’ll stand strong and worship You
If it puts me in the fire
I’ll rejoice ’cause You’re there too

I won’t be formed by feelings
I’ll hold fast to what is true
If the Cross brings transformation
Then I’ll be crucified with You

‘Cause death is just the doorway
Into resurrection life
And If I join You in Your suffering
Then I’ll join You when You rise

And when You return in glory
With all the angels and the saints
My heart will still be singing
My song will be the same

O! Christ be magnified
Let His praise arise
Christ be magnified in me
O! Christ be magnified
From the altar of my life
Christ be magnified in me
O! Christ be magnified
Let His praise arise
Christ be magnified in me
O! Christ be magnified
From the altar of my life
Christ be magnified in me

But with each thunder of the chords on the piano, with each cymbalic resonance through the sanctuary, there I was–reduced to tears and in awe of the God who came to save sinners.

This may come across as a preachy missive, or as an anecdote of a self-obsessed navel-gazing pietist. But it is not. I assure you that is not my intention. My intention is simple–to teach myself (before anyone else) that God’s means of grace are both simple and profound: prayer, fellowship, Scripture, the Lord’s Supper (breaking of bread), and teaching of the Scriptures. These ostensibly simple means are more than sufficient to grip sinners’ souls, call them to the One who loved them with the everlasting love, and present them faultless before the throne. 

This week ’twas able to cover down on some of my fellow soldiers in America’s heartland again. The more time I spend here, the more I feel at home. The land appears to stretch indefinitely into the horizon. Tractor companies dot the roads. Transportation industries boom via the roads and rails.

It grieves me to see so much of nature gobbled up via massive yellow, red, and green mechanized predators. I do not think the evidence indicates man is, generally speaking, a good or wise steward of creation.

Most folks desire comfort rather than sagacious stewardship. This is not a political screed, but only one man’s observation of this creation that I think we should steward well; it is a microcosm of a much more signficant issue.

I remain so grateful for the opportunities I have to pour into fellow soldiers, to listen to their stories, and to speak without speaking the themes of brotherhood and service.

BLUF (Bottom Line, Up Front): Where there is no transcendent anchor, power/ruthlessness becomes the transcendent. 

Since my high school days, I have been a voracious reader, especially of the classics of literature, history, and theology. One of the most-referenced quotes in the best of literature comes from one of Dostoyevsky’s masterpieces, The Brothers Karamazov: “If there is no God, all is permissible.”

There is more wisdom in that sentence than in many entire volumes of theology and philosophy. True to Dostoyevsky’s nature, he saw to the heart of the matter. If the God of the Bible is not the way, truth, and the life, then there is no transcendent holy eternal anchor, and all things are permissible. 

Connection: This is why you see a world that is fascinated with the behavior of Sean ‘Diddy’ Combs, and his ilk. The curtains are being pulled back on depravity, and the train of wickedness is long, long, long. People begin looking at one another with doubt. “Are you going to talk? If so, then I will, too.” And so it goes. Non-disclosure agreements, hush money, racketeering, trafficking, etc. The list goes on and on. Why? It goes right back to what I penned above: Where there is no transcendent anchor, power/ruthlessness becomes the transcendent. If the one true and living God and his law are jettisoned, then don’t be surprised when wickedness reigns. 

Takeaway: Theology is unavoidable, folks. Every person is a theologian, whether he is aware of it or not. We all have a “God of the system.” The “god of the system” for Combs and his ilk is self. If people do not worship the only true and living God, then you have idolatry. And paganism or any ism is insufficient to deal with man’s sin. Only Christianity conquers man’s sin. The question is: What will it take for that truth to break through to the hard hearts of men? You are witnessing the results of rejecting the true and living God moment by moment. There has to be an anchor, something that roots morality. And when you have a person and culture suppress, reject, and deny the one and only true and living anchor (Christ), you have chaos, and what you see is pagans worshiping their god. 

On Saturday night, I had been unable to sleep. So when I laid down Sunday night after a long day, I slept hard. I woke early Monday morning feeling refreshed. My mind is at its clearest in the early mornings, so that is when I do my most productive studying, reading, and writing. As I sipped my coffee, I perused the headlines on my computer. There was news of yet another shooting spree. This one was still closer to my footprint. This one was in Birmingham, AL. Four people have already been killed and dozens more are injured, some with life-threatening injuries. The reports I read said the incident appeared like a targeted attack. “Hit” was the word the law enforcement spokesman used.

Of course, the event is politicized. The big government people call it ‘gun violence.’ They say they’re concerned about ‘gun violence,’ as if guns just jumped up on their own, with invisible magic legs, loaded themselves, got into cars and trucks, drove down to the party disctrict of Birmingham, sought out targets for assassination, pulled their own triggers, then sped off into the night. Don’t your guns do that? Isn’t that the way those inanimate things work? Huh?

It’s remarkable how entire demographics are pimped by talking points about ‘gun violence,’ as if guns had wills. But critical thinking skills have taken leave of so many people. People just emote instead.

If you pay attention, you will recognize that shooting sprees rise right before political elections. The dinosaur media cover the events with lockstep canned bromides and talking points. And the sheeple go right along with the script and somehow assume (not think!) that guns–not criminals–are to blame.

Folks, guns are not our problem. Human sin is the problem. People without self-discipline, who are unrestrained by God’s moral law, are the problem.

But that does not fit big government’s leftist agenda, so the talking points just keep washing over the masses of unthinking sponges, and the violent take more by force, completely missing the underlying issues.

Most people simply refuse to admit reality until it comes to their doorstep. But it is coming, and quickly. Then you will understand at last, but it will be too late. Folks, this is why discernment and courage are vital.

My country is being overrun by those whose consciences are seared. As Yeats penned, “The best lack all conviction, while the worst/Are full of passionate intensity.”

https://www.wbrc.com/2024/09/22/birmingham-police-believe-someone-was-paid-kill-targeted-victim-mass-shooting-that-killed-4-injured-17/

Carrie Jane and I were on the way to our favorite steak place in a nearby town. When we topped the hill and were rolling down the other side, our attention was arrested by the ‘decor’ of some folks who appear to relish Halloweenishness. Yikes!

During lunch this week, I had just one day where I was able to walk one of the tracks. The sun was out; the breeze blew lightly; and I was listening to my favorite music. It was just about perfect.

Then some girls came out to enjoy some grasses. For a moment, I thought they were going to walk with me.

Principle: It Is Easy to Fall

Illustration: Recently a well-respected preacher/writer/professor in Christianity was removed from ministry at Trinity Bible Church in Dallas, TX due to confessing to inappropriate relationships with a woman other than his wife. Let me restate that: It was not his confession that was the sin; it was his sin with a woman not his wife. His confession of his sin to fellow elders at his church is one of the few good things about this revelation.

It is an old story, and one which the world system devours. “Aha!” the world system says. “See? You so-called Christians are no different. Hypocrites!” 

First, let us admit that we are all sinners. That should be blatantly obvious. Second, however, let us commend the church for removing Steve from ministry. Judgment is to begin with the household of God. “For it is time for judgment to begin at the household of God; and if it begins with us, what will be the outcome for those who do not obey the gospel of God?” (1 Peter 4:17 ESV). Third, let believers pray for Steve and his family. Fourth, let us learn how easy it is for us to fall. Excellence–longstanding, enduring excellence–is hard. Very hard. This is not a time to rejoice. 

It grieves me on a personal level. I looked up to Steve. I have bought and read his books. I have purchased his books for others to read and pass on to others. I have supported his ministry. And so this is not just theological mind games; this is a man who has fallen and has disqualified himself from shepherding souls, but (and this is my conviction) he is still a sinner who needs what only the gospel provides. 

Encouragement: It is so easy to fall, so easy. Long obedience in the right direction is hard work. May we all be mindful of that. Steve, God delights to convict but also to redeem and restore. That is my prayer for you in all this. You have helped many through your ministry. I have benefited from your books on Edwards, Calvin, and others. May this not be the end of your story. Why? Because God delights in redeeming and restoring us sinners.

Introduction: Thanks to the teamwork from leadership and soldiers at Mission Training Complex of Ft. Indiantown Gap, PA (MTC-FTIG), I was able to be part of a Moral Leadership training/Staff Ride at Gettysburg, PA. From 1-3 July 1863, Gettysburg witnessed staggering amounts of heroism, strategy, victory, defeat, brotherhood, and gut-wrenching division unlike anything (in terms of scale) America has ever endured. No matter how many books I read about Gettysburg, or the film’s efforts to capture its endless complexities, it fascinates us still, and with good reason. My mind and emotions are still reeling from all the historical anecdotes our historian shared with us, and the “lessons learned” (hopefully) by Army leadership, and the fascinating stories of the complex relationships between Americans, their soil, and their values. 

Connection: When we stood atop Little Round Top and looked down into Devil’s Den, and when we looked at the field of Pickett’s Charge, and we listened to LTC (Ret.) Shick teach us about Culp’s Hill and the turning points that came from there, I could feel the soil speak. Not literally, of course, but there’s something about standing on the same ground where soldiers from North and South built campfires and drank coffee and bled, and packed their gear, and fought some more.

And we stood in the infamous Peach Orchard, and surveyed the Wheatfield, et al, it moved me in visceral ways–to think of 50,000+ bodies and souls of my fellow Americans slain on those grounds, and of the toll of countless more who were maimed, not to mention the devastation upon generations of America’s families of soldiers, it changed me.

Takeaway: One of my favorite proverbs from Scripture is Proverbs 22:28, “Do not remove the ancient landmark your fathers have set.” In other words, don’t erase history. Learn from it. Rather than tearing down statues, learn why they were erected. Rather than renaming schools, roads, installations, et al to appease political winds, why not educate rather than indoctrinate yourself? 

Again, my deep gratitude to the great team at MTC-FTIG for their efforts, and to PA Guardsman/historian, LTC (Ret.) Shick, for his expertise. As a mentor of mine in GA is wont to say, “Teamwork makes the dream work.” And this past few days will forever remain with me as a landmark my fathers have set. 

I have read Vonnegut for 40 years now. And I still learn from him. Like Twain, to whom his dark satirical pen is often favorably compared, Vonnegut is pretty dark stuff. This week I reread Slaughterhouse-Five. I am not sure how many times I have read it now. But I still learn from it. So it goes. The mark of excellent literature.

Billy, the divided protagonist–the war veteran, the kind-hearted, misanthropic, romantic, sad idealist, etc. is an Everyman. He’s John Lennon’s “Nowhere Man” and Camus’s Mersault and Sisyphus, and Faulkner’s Benjy from The Sound and the Fury, and Shakespeare’s sundry fools. Who isn’t Billy?

I was so struck tonight as I reread this passage from S-Five:

There are no telegrams on Tralfamadore. But you’re right: each clump of symbols is a brief, urgent message–describing a situation, a scene. We Tralfamadorians read them all at once, not one after the other. There isn’t any particular relationship between all the messages, except that the author has chosen them carefully, so that, when seen all at once, they produce an image of life that is beautiful and surprising and deep. There is no beginning, no middle, no end, no suspense, no moral, no causes, no effects. What we love in our books are the depths of many marvelous moments seen all at one time (215).

Well, here we go again. Warning: this is not a warm and fuzzy.

So, I returned my rental car to Hertz without issue. My receipt was emailed to me within moments. The same thing at the hotel. No issues. Receipt was emailed to me right away and I was good to go. So far, so good. But then I went to the Delta counter in Pennsylvania to check my bag and print my boarding passes. Might you guess how many courteous employees were at the counter to facilitate that process? I’ll give you some brackets: It was less than 3, 2, or 1, but it was not a (-) number. That’s right. Good’ole 0. Zero. Let me say that again: zero!

Okay, I’m a nice guy, kind of on the quiet side, military, not one for small talk, and just want folks to be present and ready when that’s their job. Is that too much to ask? Finally, I walked over to the United counter.

“Ma’am. I’m sorry to bother you, but do you happen to know if there are any Delta folks around? I would like to check my military bag.”

“Oh, they’re understaffed. They don’t have anyone here right now,” she replied.

Um, what? Am I living in an alternate universe presided over by Mr. Bumblefart? (Sorry, I have these interior dialogues in order not to throat punch some people.)

“Since you’re military, you may try going upstairs to TSA PreCheck, and they’ll check it for you,” she said.

“Okay. Thank you, ma’am.”

I took the escalator upstairs, pulled out my military ID card, my boarding passes (I was able to print these via the kiosk, without a Delta employee), and placed my duffel to be checked in the gray bin, and my small ruck in another, and proceeded through the scanner.

My duffel got stopped by the gaggle of women staring at the monitor. There were six–yes, six!!!–women in blue TSA shirts, staring at the monitor as if I were a Columbian smuggler with 6 kilos of cocaine in my bag.

The man behind me was incensed. “What is this?” he exclaimed. “How many women does it take to do this? I have a flight!”

I felt bad for him, too, but I kept saying to myself, “Okay, surely, someone will step up and take charge, someone who knows what he is doing.”

But that didn’t happen. And it still didn’t happen. And it still didn’t happen.

I began to think the man behind me was going to remove his loafers from his feet and start lauching salvos at the TSA women.

But the six of them just kept staring at the monitor that revealed the contents of my duffel, as if I had a nest of cobras inside that might spring out like Medusa’s sons from her neck.

We waited, and waited, and waited. The anger at the TSA counters by the travelers was palpable.

Fiinally, a woman dared–can you believe it?–to actually talk to me, ask me if it was my duffel, and when I said yes, she unzipped my duffel. “Sir,” she said, “These shampoo and conditioner bottles are too big. Would you like to check them or would you voluntarily abandon them?”

I almost lost my cookies.

The woman downstairs, since Delta employees were missing in action, told me to come upstairs to TSA and that TSA would check my military duffel. But nope, TSA said they couldn’t do that. That needed to be Delta. Well, you don’t say? Thanks for the insight. (Insert mental throat punch here.)

So here I am, without my shampoo and conditioner (oh, and my shaving cream, I forgot that was necessarily ‘voluntarily abandoned,’ too), with my military duffel beside me, and I’m sure I’ll get the hateful look if and when a Delta employee shows up when the plane arrives.

Does anyone else deal with this stuff, and also scratch his/her head and think, “Really? Are these the most-qualified applicants? These people?” At times like this, I appreciate my dogs more and more.