I was very very close to my maternal grandparents. They have both passed on now and gone to their inheritance but I see and do many things that remind me of them. Today, for example, my body was all messed up because of my flight schedule. I flew from Idaho to Colorado. Then I flew from Colorado to Georgia. Then I drove from the airport in Atlanta 3 hours to my apartment. By the time I laid down, the sun was coming up, and I had to get up. I cannot sleep when there’s light. Anyway, this is not to whine. After all, lots of people have crazy schedules sometimes and sleeplessness is not unique to me.

This evening, like my maternal grandfather invariably did in all the years I was blessed to have him in my life, I craved cereal before bedtime. I know it’s not healthy, but I was craving it–badly. I love a particular brand of raisin bran-type cereal, and so I drove to the store around the corner from my apartment and picked up a box and a half-gallon of the milk I prefer, and a few other small items. When I got to the register to pay, a very kind black woman about my age came over to the register. She so much reminded me of folks that I gravitate towards that I almost had to pinch myself.

“Hey, hon,” she said. “How you doin’?”

“I’m fine, ma’am. You? I just found myself craving some cereal. So I’m here,” I said. She was so sweet, I just felt comfortable opening up to her.

“You’re good, hon. That’ll be $17.37,” she said. I paid for the cereal, milk, and other items.

I used my debit card and paid. Normally the cashiers at this establishment are perfunctory and about as interested in customer service as I’d be in a college calculus class–totally checked out. But not this lady. She helped me bag the few items. Then she said something that warmed my soul.

“Enjoy your cereal, hon. And Happy Easter.”

I felt myself smiling like a little boy. “Happy Easter to you, ma’am. I hope you have a good evening.”

I feel ashamed now that I did not even notice the woman’s name. I would like to write a positive review of her for the store to be cognizant of; she deserves it. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve become an old man and tend to romanticize the past or what. But when you meet people who are truly kind … well, I won’t speak for others … but when I meet such people, they stick out. They make my heart happy. They remind me of people with manners and what we used to call common courtesy. It is no longer common.

But this dear lady at the store tonight, as I went to grab a few items, and eat a bowl of cereal, and reflect upon my beloved grandparents, I just want her to know that I appreciated it. It’s the small things, I suppose, that are in fact not small or insignficant at all.

There’s a remnant of beautiful and kind folks who still speak respectfully, and still say, “Happy Easter” to one another in a culture that in so many ways has lost its soul. Thank God for kindness and the other remnants of the true, good, and beautiful.

I’ve been a fan of the band Genesis for many years, especially during the Peter Gabriel years. I’m indebted to my old college buddy Ken for educating me to the deeper things of Genesis when we were in our 20s and were both drawn to ‘prog’ rock bands like Rush, King Crimson, Yes, Genesis, et al.

Genesis has a song with the title “Watcher of the Skies.” In Idaho, I find myself watching the skies constantly. The weather patterns seem to change both rapidly and constantly, and I’m often gazing at the skies and the mountains underneath as if answers are forthcoming if I’ll just attend. When the clouds move over the mountains, the sunlight that gets through makes it appear that the earth is a conveyor belt of images.

In the Genesis song, the lyrics run like this:

Watcher of the skies, watcher of all
His is a world alone, no world is his own
He whom life can no longer surprise
Raising his eyes, beholds a planet unknown

Creatures shaped this planet’s soil
Now their reign has come to end
Has life again destroyed life?
Do they play elsewhere?
Do they know more than their childhood games?

Judge not this race by empty remains
Do you judge God by his creatures
When they are dead?
For now, the lizard’s shed its tail
This is the end of man’s long union with Earth

From life alone to life as one
Think not now your journey’s done
For though your ship be sturdy
No mercy has the sea
Will you survive on the ocean of being?
Come ancient children, hear what I say
This is my parting counsel for you on your way

Sadly now, your thoughts turn to the stars
Where we’ve gone
You know you never can go
Watcher of the skies, watcher of all
This is your fate alone, this fate is your own

On your own, your own
On your own, your own

Gabriel and the fellows from Genesis are all Brits, and I’ve no idea of the context of the song’s genesis (I could not resist the pun), but when I find myself gazing around me and up at the skies, then down at the visual patterns that slide, shift, morph, and move, one could do worse things than be a watcher of these mysterious skies.

I was approaching Boise, Idaho on the flight from Atlanta. And as we descended below the lowest clouds, and the snow on the ridges surrounding Boise came into view, I completed this reading of DeLillo’s Players, a novel that is utterly DeLilloesque in its exquisite and precise diction, accurate in its observations of human behavior, revealing of the sadness just below the surface in contemporary life, and a wonderful read from the prophetic master of the most connected and yet isolated culture we have ever seen.

I was in line at the Wendy’s in the airport for a coffee. The gentleman in front of me had a headset on with a wrap-around microphone, and he appeared to be in conversation with someone. But he turned around to me (I was in my military uniform) and spoke warmly and clearly.

“Thank you for your service, man.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said.

“I was born at Ft. Benning, man. I’m from Columbus,” he said.

“Really? That’s great. That’s actually where I’m stationed–at Benning,” I said. “But they’ve renamed it to Ft. Moore. They’re renaming almost all posts.”

“Man, why they doin’ that? How ’bout changing people’s mindset instead of changing history?”

Suddenly I thought I’d met my soulmate.

Here he and I were–different races, but both men of about the same age–and there was no racial animus. We were just two men–one black and on his way to Pennsylvania, and another a white one on his way to Idaho.

But he was not done talking. He kept going.

“I know, man, why they say they doin’ it. You and I both know. But why not change your mindset instead of renaming things, man? That’s what I say. Feed your mind. Expand your mind. Stop lookin’ each other up and down for colors, man.”

“I think we’re cut from the same cloth,” I said.

“It’s the mind, man. Anyway, man, I’m on my way to Pittsburgh. I’m in the oil business. But I want you to know it’ll always be Benning to me, man. I was born there. I grew up and went to school in Columbus. That’s home, man,” he said.

The girl behind the register called out his name for his coffee. He paid and retrieved his coffee, then turned around to me and again thanked me for my service. “Appreciate you, man. It’s still Benning, brother,” and he pointed to his right temple with his index finger and mouthed mindset again.

Question: Why’s steadfastness so important?

Context: One of the many ways in which Christianity is unique among worldviews is in its theology of who God is and what God is like. God–over and over again in Scripture-is referenced as steadfast, unchanging, & constant. For example, in Jeremiah 10:5, the prophet writes, “Their idols are like scarecrows in a cucumber field, and they cannot speak; they have to be carried, for they cannot walk. Do not be afraid of them, for they cannot do evil, neither is it in them to do good.”

And in Jeremiah 9:24, the prophet writes, “but let him who boasts boast in this, that he understands and knows me, that I am the LORD who practices steadfast love, justice, and righteousness in the earth.”

Encouragement & Application: The steadfastness, immutability, and constancy of God are crucial to one’s life as a believer because he/she has the Rock of Ages upon which to rely. God “gives life to all things” (1 Tim 6:13) and is “the true God; he is the living God and the everlasting King” (Jer10:10). When everything appears unhinged and chaotic, the biblical believer knows why: those who reject God have by definition rejected reason, logos, and order.

But the believer knows the One who is constant, steadfast, and sure.

I went to the woods today to hike, look for sheds, but most of all to read some more of DeLillo’s Players. As I sat between a pine and a holly, I heard steps. I looked up.

Then the girls came by–a deer locomotive.

They caught my scent and the older doe blew and blew at me.

So much fun to watch these girls doing their thing.

Text: Psalm 81. It is too long for this format but I encourage you to read it. For the purposes here, I will highlight its recurring theme: The obedience of God’s people leads to God’s blessing; disobedience leads to God’s judgment. This principle applies to individuals, countries, and cultures. 

Over and over again in the psalm, God speaks through the poem of Asaph, stressing this fundamental law of the harvest: “Hear, O my people, while I admonish you/O Israel, if you would but listen to me!” (v. 8). 

And v. 10 says, “I am the LORD your God, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt,/Open your mouth wide, and I will fill it.” And vv. 11-12 drive home the principle again: “But my people did not listen to my voice;/Israel would not submit to me./So I gave them over to their stubborn hearts,/to follow their own counsels.” 

Connection to today:  For anyone with eyes to see and courage to say what’s obvious, this is exactly what is unfolding in the West. By and large, the culture hates God, wants to silence godly prophetic voices, wants the truth to remain inside the doors of buildings with steeples, and to remain in quiet Bible studies, but to have no effect upon actual daily life. Just be irrelevant, and you’ll be fine: that’s the message. 

But for things that God hates, the things that God claims merit His wrath, we’re forced to celebrate and nod in assent, or risk being made pariahs, lose our livelihoods, or worse. In other words, it actually costs something to be a believer. You don’s say? What a concept, that following God might actually cost something. 

Over and over in Psalm 81, God promises to bless His people, but they actually need to be faithful to His revealed will, and not hide the light of truth under a basket. Otherwise, God gives people over to follow their own stubborn hearts (v. 12, Romans 1) as just judgment for sin. 

Encouragement: The heart of God for people is overt in Psalm 81. Come to Him in repentance, humility, trust, obedience, and receive divine benediction. Reject the God who made you and all things, and see where godlessness leads. You needn’t look far. But there is yet time to return and be restored. 

I am continuing to teach through Matthew with some saints from church. Currently I am in verses 25-34 of Matthew 6. They are some of the most familiar words of Christ to many people, many of whom have just heard them referenced or quoted as a sort of emotional salve. But there is a lot going on here. Follow me.

Jesus was continuing his sermon. We now call it the Sermon on the Mount. The best scholarship tells us that this is a sermon Jesus taught repeatedly during His public ministry. This is why different gospel writers emphasize different pieces of the sermon’s various topics.

The main issue under discussion in these verses is anxiety; ανησυχία in Greek means “anxiety, disquiet, restlessness, straining concern.” It should go without saying, I suppose, but I do not know anyone who does not battle some degree of anxiety. The main reason I cannot bring myself to engage in social media platforms is due to some people’s anxiety and anger being launched at others like verbal artillery. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen what a landscape looks like after artillery descends, but it’s not exactly Eden.

But beneath that vitriol that characterizes so much of today’s commentary is anxiety. People are restless, disquiet, strainingly concerned, and anxious about where things are, where they are headed, and what to do.

And yet Christ says to His people: “Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?” (Mt 6:26).

Last week I was in southwest Florida with my job. Each morning I would walk down to the beach early to catch the sunrise. Each morning, the pelicans, seagulls, ducks, and more would fly above me. Even as hard of hearing as I am, I could hear them as they called to one another, found fish, and their wings sliced through the Florida skies. The lesson was so clear.

I don’t know what the weather was like when Jesus preached this sermon in Israel. The text does not say. But I can just picture birds that might have been around, and how He may have pointed at them, then looked at His hearers, and said, “See, dear ones? See? Watch and learn. Then, come to Me and I will teach you the deepest things of God.”

“Give me a good something to write about,” I said. “I’m so … tired out … I feel like I have nothing left.” That was my message to her. She texted me, “Write about Solomon in Ecclesiastes.” As usual, she was right. Therefore, here goes …

For as long as I can remember, Ecclesiastes has remained my favorite book of the Bible. I have shelves of Bibles. And when you pull almost any of them from the shelves, they will fall open to Ecclesiastes. I have marginalia there, sermon notes there, teaching notes there, personal notes there, underlining there, etc. I see so much in Solomon that I want say to him, almost as if he were standing near me, “You too?” I’ve been there–have made countless blunders, been in abundance, been in penury, been fleshly, been close to the Lord, been in rebellion against Him, and on and on. There’s no good in hiding; I admit it head-on. Solomon, I get it.

Solomon was the child of a king. King David was his dad. But David, like his son later, had sin in his life, blew it in certain areas of his life, reared rotten children oftentimes, was a bad dad, battled the flesh, and on and on. Yet, folks tend to laud David as if he were a great man. Well, he was. And, well, he wasn’t. Just like his son, Solomon.

Solomon prayed for wisdom–and received it. Solomon was graced to build the temple, the remnants of which you can still visit in Israel today. Solomon was blessed with riches, beauty, friendship, women, dominion, popularity, and more. Yet, he wrote Ecclesiastes. Why? Even folks who know next to nothing of Scripture know this: “[V]anity of vanities! . . . All is vanity.”

There is a lifetime of wisdom in just the first 11 verses of Ecclesiastes. For tonight, I just want to focus on one verse: verse 3: “What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun?” There’s a pun going on in the question. Whose rule are we under? Are we working under the sun or under the Son [of God]? That’s the theme of Ecclesiastes. This world vs. heaven; the temporal vs. the eternal; the visible vs. the spiritual; the now vs. the forever.

I appreciate Solomon so much because he was honest. I’d rather have an honest and spiritually-broken preacher than a sanctimonious poser with no blisters. Give me the scarred saint over the cloistered bromide boys.

More to come. But for now, read Ecclesiastes. Then, read it again. I will join you.

Text: “Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the LORD that will stand” (Pr 19:21). 

Context: When you read Proverbs 19-20, you see a kind of blueprint that emerges. The blueprint uses the Hebrew poetic form known as parallelism. The first part of the verse expresses an image or idea, and then the second verse accentuates the principle taught, either by repetition or by contrast. An example helps: “All a poor man’s brothers hate him; how much more do his friends go far from him!” (Pr 19:7a). The first verse teaches the principle of how people flee one in need, and the second verse emphasizes the same idea via repetition. 

Connection to today: I perused the headlines this morning after I awoke. To state the obvious, they were troubling. America’s a nation without borders; Haitians and others are being flown into the nation by our government; Fulton County, GA’s corrupt justice system is once again in the world’s spotlight; twin NYC girls are stabbed, one of whom dies; and more and more stories of men playing in girls’ sports and running the tables, etc. It was just more of the same. It seems as if, to quote Dylan, 

Broken lines, broken strings

Broken threads, broken springs

Broken idols, broken heads

People sleeping in broken beds

Ain’t no use jiving, ain’t no use joking

Everything is broken

Doctrine & application: The second half of Proverbs 19:7 is synonymous parallelism, which just means it’s another way of saying the same things as the first verse; it emphasizes a principle via repetition: “He pursues them with words, but does not have them” (Pr 19:7b). The idea is simple but powerful: Money attracts but poverty repels. But look at the verse with which I began, Proverbs 19:21. It’s antithetical parallelism that’s used in that verse. The second verse teaches a principle via its contrast—”but it is the purpose of the LORD that will stand.” See the contrast? 

The first half of Proverbs 19:21 appears to be taking you a direction where you might think that man’s corrupt machinations will win, but then the second verse puts the kibosh on that idea. The purposes of God will stand, that’s the point. 

When the wheels are coming off the train; when words are forcibly stripped of their clear and historical meanings; when truth is on the scaffold; when we’re told, “All is well; everything’s secure,” but then you see with your own eyes murders and assaults and robberies, know that God’s purposes will stand. Why? Because God is not mocked. When you spit in the wind, it comes back twice as hard and is rather nasty. Theology is not just for the academy; it undergirds every worldview. When we see the harvest of mayhem, may we have the wisdom to repent and return to the Lord whose plans will stand.