Chaplain Daily Touchpoint #295: Timothy’s Release from Prison

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Introduction: Hebrews is a New Testament letter. We do not know who the human author was. Maybe it was Paul, but we do not know for certain. But the letter was written to do several things. One of those things was to encourage Christians whose faith was being tested, whose faith sometimes waned.

Questions: Do those issues perhaps apply to any of us today? That is, do any believers today battle spiritual defeatism? Do any believers seem to throw up their hands and siliently preach, “Just forget it. The secularists were right. We’re just cosmic accidents. And the goal of life is entertainment and scrolling on Instagram”?

That would never happen, of course. Folks are much too refined for that. Right? Um, okay.

No; the results speak for themselves. I’ve read books where the statistics reveal that people are spending up to 16 hours each day on screens. They are on screens at work, at screens at home, then at screens at leisure. It’s nearly endless. Their face is in a screen. And all is documented. Scores are being kept. The more time folks are scrolling and clicking, the better for the purveyors of products for sale. For example, newer screens. And the world grows dumber still.

Say what you will, but screen time is endlessly entertaining. I jumped on YouTube recently to listen to one of my favorite bands; the next thing I knew, two hours had elapsed, and all I had to show for it was listening to Dickey Betts’ masterful guitar skills–yet again. But those hours were gone. And what had I to show for them?

But What about Timothy? Hebrews ends (not quite the last sentence, but close) with this: “You should know that our brother Timothy has been released, with whom I shall see you if he comes soon” (Hb 13:23, ESV). Scholars understandably suggest, given the history of 1st c. Christianity under the Roman Empire’s paganism, that the writer is referring to Timothy’s release from prison. No one thinks Timothy was checking out of Rome Regional Hospital, in other words. The Roman government bureaucracy hated Timothy for his Christian witness and they were set upon his death.

Encouragement/takeaway: Have you ever viewed your sufferings as God’s gift? That is, have you seen that suffering as a Christian does at least a couple of things? One thing it does is that it reveals the genuineness (or lack thereof) of your faith in Christ and in the truth claims of Scripture. A second thing it does is bear witness to those who are teachable.

Be encouraged, Christian pilgrim. God has His sheep; they will hear His voice (Jn 10:27-28).

Thoughts upon “Dashing Them In Pieces”

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This morning I was up earlier than usual and was reading Psalms 1 and 2. They are bookends for the Book of Psalms. Plsalm 1 opens with the unforgettable contrast between the two types of people. One man is blessed because he delights in the law of Lord; he is God’s man. The other man is cursed by God because he is the wicked man, a scoffer, a self-absorbed man.

Then comes Psalm 2. It is a foretelling of the Lord’s Anointed, the Christ. David writes of how the wicked rage and plot in vain (v. 1). David writes of how kings of the earth “take counsel together, against the LORD and against his Anointed” (v. 2).

If you did not continue reading, you might think that all is lost, that evil wins, that darkness prevails.

But the turn comes in verse 4: “He who sits in the heavens laughs.” Please don’t miss that turn. That’s the key.

God has His Anointed. That’s what Christ means.

Encouragement: Satan does, let us freely admit, win some battles. But the ultimate war is won by God and His Anointed. God dashes evil like a potter’s vessel (Psalm 2:9b, ESV). Evil men go on and on plotting and scheming for now, but their destruction was written long ago, and their end is active wrath, unless and until they are reconciled unto God via the Anointed.

I do not know where you are today spiritually, but let me encourage you with this from sacred Scripture: God sees the nations raging; God sees how the wicked set themselves up as kings who shake their fists at the Holy One, and care only about themselves; God sees and God laughs (Psalm 2:4). Let us do good, trust the Lord, and be found faithful. God will set all things to rights. We need only have courage and trust the Lord.

Horses & Trees

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Over recent days, the family and I traveled to a region of the country of which I grow fonder each iteration I’m able to spend there. The entire occasion was augmented and enriched by friends we’ve had for years and years. Our kids grew up together. And now their family is welcoming grandchildren and ours will be, too, rather soon. Things could not have been much sweeter.

And the region–once again–delivered life to my soul in ways that I still do not fully comprehend. For some folks, it’s the beach; for others, perhaps, it’s a city; but for me, it’s rural life in the woods. I can hear water running, the turkeys calling, the sound of wind in the canopies, and view the clouds that give the region its name.

Below are just a few shots from my old iPhone that visually delineate the genesis of respect I have for this place, its history, its people, its preservation, and its Maker. I hope you too enjoy.

*My sincere thanks to our friend Peter for allowing us all to stay in his nearby cabin. Grateful.

The Boy Surpasses the Man

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Sometimes when you watch your children, you see they’ve surpassed you–in height, speed, talents, etc. This week I’ve been able to step away from work and watch my boy. He discusses his passion for music and his calling into the world of ministry via music. It is a beautiful thing to see and hear. May the Lord call him irrevocably to Himself and make him faithful to his appointed end.

Soul Food from the Smokies

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Some scenes from recent days in the Smokies follow. I will upload a few shots over coming days. There are too many for one post on my blog.

It is hard for me to overestimate how much this place means to me. Something about it touches what Scripture calls the inner man and what pagan poets even term the soul.

Thankful to the Lord for this place and for precious people with whom to appreciate it.

I know that I’m just one man, but my prayer is that each generation would protect and preserve such beauty and know such joy.

A special thank you to Peter, too, my old buddy from my seminary days, for his continued kindness and wisdom, and for his allowing us to enjoy his cabin.

Beauty & Terror of the Dread Warrior

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Introduction: I was reading Jeremiah 20 again and again. Why? Jeremiah was ministering at a time (500s B.C.) when Judah continued its spiritual and moral decline. They’d grown spiritually fat and happy, so to speak, thinking judgment would not really fall. Enter Jeremiah, God’s man.

Historical context: Jeremiah had the divine but difficult commission to tell the truth about his times. He was like the men of Issachar in that he understood the times and knew what the nation should do. But knowing that, and being faithful to herald that message, entailed many risks and great suffering. (Sound like the gospel, perhaps?) Scripture is one coherent story; it all hangs together.

The religious leadership in Jeremiah’s day was especially corrupt. Those who are supposed to be set apart for leading people in the things of God were the most morally compromised and corrupt. Therefore, they hated the truth-teller, Jeremiah. That’s what Jeremiah 20 is all about. But Jeremiah was faithful to his call from God. He had counted the costs of being a disciple of God.

Text: “But the LORD is with me as a dread warrior; therefore my persecutors will stumble; they will not overcome me. They will be greatly shamed, for they will not succeed. Their eternal dishonor will never be forgotten” (Jer 20:11, ESV).

Teaching: The true prophet of God (Jeremiah) calls the Lord a dread warrior. In other words, God’s a warrior. He is fierce. He is a fighter for light and truth. He is sovereign and the king. Though sin darkens the souls of men, though spiritual wickedness infected the religious leadership, God was still God and still had his prophetic truth-teller Jeremiah to herald the truth of God in an environment where most did not want to hear it. But here’s the good news: some did long for the truth and did have the intestinal fortitude to receive it and live by it. There’s always a remnant, in short, due to God’s sovereign grace.

Most will take the broad way of destruction; that is the clear teaching of Scripture (Matthew 7:13-14, e.g.). But some will recognize the darkness and turn to the light. Why? Because they, like Jeremiah, understand that God is their Dread Warrior.

Encouragement: Scripture teaches “It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God” (Hebrews 10:31). Why? Because God is the Dread Warrior. That reality should drive us to God, not away from God, when we realize that God’s grace is extended to us in the Gospel. Jeremiah would go on and on in his ministry to teach faithfullly. He labored profoundly to reach the people. He loved them enough to warn them of the biblical commands to discern the true from among the false. And Jeremiah’s one of the greatest of the prophets in history. Why? Faithfulness. It comes down to that. He knew God was his Dread Warrior, and that there’s no ultimate success in hiding from Him.

The Wad of Cash

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My favorite time of day is the 30-45 minutes before the sun rises and the first moments afterwards. Especially on clear mornings. That was the case again recently on a flight. I’d gone out to Texas and then Arkansas to minister to some fellow soldiers. On the flight back into Dallas, Texas we were still over Arkansas below. The sky was clear, the sun was emerging, and all seemed irenic. Though the flight was full, folks were getting along and mostly patient with one another. (If you fly often, you will discover such characteristics are not always prevalent.)

Anyway, we landed in Texas safely and I had about an hour before my connecting flight to Atlanta. I patronized a bagel shop for a bottle of water and a breakfast bagel, walked to my gate, and sought a chair to sit down in and eat while waiting for my flight. From the looks of it, this flight to Atlanta was going to be full, too. It is July, after all, and I suppose many folks are vacationing.

When I wathced the people, it was clear who’d been to the beaches or other sunny destinations. The girls and women had on their loose-fitting clothes and their skin was brown with summer. And the boys and men often wore t-shirts and shorts, often with a cap of some sort, with place names like Cancun, Miami, or Cabo Wabo embroidered thereupon.

My eyes perused the terminal for a seat, and I finally spotted two empty ones. I pulled off my backpack and put my backpack down in one seat and I sat in the one next to it. I unwrapped the foil and began to munch on the breakfast bagel and drink the bottle of water. As I finished the breakfast sandwich, I rose from my seat and walked over to the trash bin to discard the foil wrapper and put the now-empty water bottle in the recycle bin for plastics. But as I returned to my seat, something caught my eye. Sticking out from under my backpack was a wad of cash. I simply had not seen it when I took my pack off and placed it in the seat. When I spotted the wad of cash now, I picked it up and asked the people around me, “Excuse me, do you know who this belongs to?” but each person denied knowing who it belonged to.

I put the wad of cash back on the seat, but kept looking around the terminal. Surely, someone will come back looking for this, I thought. Plus, there are cameras everywhere in airports. Surely, it should be discoverable how someone dropped this, forgot it, or exactly what had happened.

But I kept looking around. As people came and went, several times I saw their eyes fall upon the wad of cash, but I just left it there, hoping the rightful owner would return.

Another 40 minutes passed, and still no one appeared for the wad of cash. Finally, the girl’s voice came on the intercom, announcing it was time for my group to board the flight to Atlanta. I picked up my backpack and slung it over my shoulders and boarded.

As I flew back, and the sun rose, I read my book. But my thoughts kept returning to that wad of cash. I wish I knew that righteousness would prevail, that the rightful owner returned, that the good would come out on top. But I just don’t know.

Tales from Travels: A Warrant for His Arrest

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Introduction: I had flown to Texas and then to Arkansas to minister to fellow soldiers. I was in my element–mobile, teaching military personnel, and teaching on topics near and dear to my heart: spiritual readiness and spiritual fitness. I was thrilled to come to see this set of guys again. It had been several months since I had been able to pour into them and to just be with them. They’re among my favorite soldiers–good ‘ole boys from Arkansas, Texas, and Oklahoma, mostly. Salt of the earth patriots. My kind of people.

A few hours later, the American flight landed in Dallas. I had an hour or so to kill until my next flight. I found an open chair and resumed the book I’d read on the flight. I only had a few pages left, and I finished the book.

I’d had to wake at 0130 back in Georgia in order to be at the Atlanta airport at 0330 for American’s first a.m. flight to Dallas. All had gone well so far, though. There was scant traffic at that hour, and I had no significant hassles to speak of, even at Atlanta’s airport.

Anyway, the flight had landed in Dallas, just as the sun was coming up. As far as you could see, it was flat and already hot, even at dawn. I’m not wired for July heat in Texas or much of July heat anywhere else, but that’s another story.

Closer than I Thought: When I took another flight to my final destination, I picked up my ride. My lodging was not ready yet, so I drove to a local bookstore to peruse the shelves. I found a book of Faulkner stories. I’ve read Faulkner for decades now, and respect him now as always. A giant of literature.

Anyway, I gripped the book of Faulkner stories in my right hand, retrieved my wallet with my left hand, and walked to the front counter to pay. A petite brunette with a ponytail and black Books-A-Million t-shirt rang me up.

“Could I interest you in a membership card?”

“No thanks.”

“How’s your day going so far?”

“Fine,” I said.

“Just relaxing, eh?”

I just smiled. I sometimes struggle to engage when the conversation is about drivel. Say something significant, or I’m likely to check out.

“Could I interest you in a gift card?” she continued.

“No thanks.” Honestly, I was starting to get annonyed. Just let me pay for the Faulkner book and be on my way, I thought.

“I had to park close to the store this morning,” she said.

“Sorry?”

She kept cutting her eyes to the left, signaling me somehow.

“My husband … he told me to park right in front of the store,” she said.

I was completely lost as to what she was driving at.

She whispered, “We found out. There’s a man with a warrant between us and the store next door. The cops are on their way. My husband told me to park close to the front of the store, so I did.”

“Oh,” is all I could think to say.

I looked down at the little black pad for me to pay. The total appeared; I tapped my debit card.

“Receipt?” she asked.

“No thanks.”

I walked out, the hot sun blaring down already, my Faulkner book in my right hand. I noticed a silver Nissan by the Books-A-Million, near the bookstore’s entrance. I assumed it belonged to the girl at the register. I sat in the car for a few moments. Waiting. For something. Cops to show? A criminal to become visible to me? I waited. Nothing. No cops that I saw. Perhaps they would come circumspectly, in unmarked clothes and plain clothes. I waited some more. Still nothing.

I sat in the driver’s seat, the A/C on blast.

Here I was, out here to teach fellow soldiers about spiritual readiness and spiritual fitness, and I’d just listened to a girl tell me that a criminal was steps away, a man with a warrant out for his arrest.

I got notice: my lodging was ready. I scanned the parking lot again. I think I was looking for a man to walk in the Books-A-Million, a shady-looking guy, perhaps, but no one entered the store since after I exited.

Reluctantly, I pulled out of the bookstore parking lot and onto the road that led to my lodging. But I am still wondering what happened/didn’t happen.