Category: Theology


The Good, The Bad, and God’s Grace

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January 12, 2012

It is not uncommon for people to ponder the question of whether there can be good without bad or evil. Considering the fact that both good and bad obviously exist, it is almost begging the question. Theoretically though, if bad and difficult times did not exist, there would be no perception of good because good would have no qualification. There would simply be existence.

With that said, I do not think “would there be good without bad?” is the correct question. It certainly has no discernible answer. I think the proper question would be: without bad, would we have any appreciation for what we received or the life we lived? If there were no pain, would we know when we felt good?

The plumbing backed up in our home a few weeks ago. We have a home warranty, but the plumber could not come out until the next day. We soaked up water with towels, ringing them out as best we could. We were not sure we could run the washing machine without acerbating the situation. We lit scented candles and sprayed air freshener in an attempt to override the stench of sewage. The attempt was only partially successfully.

A couple of weeks ago the heater went out and we were without heat from sometime in the early morning on Monday until Tuesday evening. We had two space heaters, but in a two- story home they were not all that effective. Naturally, the temperature dropped to freezing overnight. Cyndy and I both work at home so there was no choice for us but to bear the uncomfortable situation. However, while we were forced to bear the situation, there was no grinning to speak of.

When the plumber left weeks ago, with everything flushing or draining, we felt relief, even though the stench took a little longer to get rid of. We relaxed as the tenseness of waiting for the plumber to arrive dissipated and the problem was rectified. The feeling returned when the heater technician left a week or so later. With the addition of the anticipation of warmth.

As Joni Mitchell said, “you don’t know what you’ve got ‘till it’s gone.” But what about when it comes back? When the power goes out, the plumbing backs up, or the heater or air conditioner stops working, one begins to appreciate things working when the switch is flipped, the toilet flushes, and the A/C cycles on. Knowing that at any given moment, something may stop working – causing inconvenience and added expense. The principle does not only apply to utilities, of course.

Whether I had a toothache, fractured jaw, gash in my knee, broken heel, or even an end of a relationship (of any kind), I embraced – in a manner of speaking – the pain or inconvenience. Not the misery, but the situation as it is presented. With a toothache, if the tooth is not abscessed, I put off going to the dentist. Not only because I am not fond of dentist’s offices, but also because by living with the pain for a time helps me to appreciate the times I do not hurt – and I know how much better I will feel when the situation is remedied. It did not help when the injuries coincided with times of financial deficit and conflicting schedules.

To put it another way, I am an optimistic realist. I hope for the best, but am prepared for the worst. Difficult or painful times are part of life. There is no reason to get worked up about it – it is no one person’s fault and getting upset will not change the outcome. I did not enjoy the toothache. But I had the comfort of knowing the dentist was there to ease the pain at some point.

Then there are painful times when relief cannot be seen on the horizon. A family member or close friend dies or is diagnosed with a terminal illness. Or one any of a number of calamities occurs. In those moments it is hard not to get worked up about the situation or be upset. The answers are not as clear. The problem cannot be fixed with a single visit when you are tired of the pain. The pain – physical or emotional – seems endless.

Whether or not good could exist without bad, the fact remains that both do exist. Evil can be seen rearing its head in daily life. It affects us in many ways. Fortunately, God also exists and is stronger than the worst evil. We are human, with free will. There will still be illness, death, and other forms of serious pain. But God, with his grace, will help us get through any circumstance and quiet the fear within us. When God helps us through a time of pain, we have a greater appreciation for his grace and the times when life is good.

Peace be with you.

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When God Seems Absent

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December 26, 2011

There is a rock in the flower bed outside the office door to the backyard. If you glance at it quickly, and use your imagination, it looks like a heart. If you look closer, it still resembles a heart – just a little misshapen. Each day I walk outside (except during inclement weather), I glance over at the rock and take comfort from its presence.

I cannot remember when I saw it for the first time, but I remember seeing it for the first time. It was not one of my better days and seeing the rock cheered me up. I thought it was there for me. A sign that God was with me.

Part of me feels a little silly getting comfort from a seemingly random vaguely heart-shaped rock. Regardless, I still feel that comfort. On a difficult day, when everyone seems to have me in their sights, the rock is still there. Letting me know I am never completely alone.

Then one day last week the rock was gone. There was an indentation in the flower bed where the rock had been. It had rained recently, but there was no corresponding deposit of soil. Our dog, Misty, often buries food and digs it back up later. Cyndy and I thought we knew most of her spots, and she usually covers it back up. Regardless of the reason, the rock was gone.

I felt lost. Which I feel rather silly admitting, but it is true. I walked around in circles, looking for where it might have ended up. The day did not seem right without the rock in its proper place. The rock had been a sign of hope. Was its absence a sign of the opposite? My mood was altered without a discernible reason.

The temperature was beginning to get colder. I would kick around and peer through the grass and leaves, but it was not a thorough search. I would tell myself that it really was not worth it and I would just have to get used to it not being there. But the feeling of emptiness did not go away. When I went back outside, I found myself circling the area again, with the scenario repeating itself.

A few days ago I was searching again – closer this time – and dug up a couple of rocks. I felt around and dug a little further. I do not know what caught my eye or caused me to dig where I did. But there was the heart-shaped rock. I placed it back up in a place of relative prominence near the bricks that border the flowerbed.

I do not know if the rock is from God, but I would like to think he is using the rock – so to speak – to get a message across. If not to me, then through me, by my telling of the story. But I do know that there is a message here – one way or the other.

We tend to take God for granted. We see the signs, and feel strangely warmed, but we simply come to expect them rather than appreciate them. We do not take time to thank God for the grace he bestows upon us. We take the fact that God is always with us, no matter what we do, way too literally. We forget our part of the covenant.

Then something happens and we think God is not there. We walk around in circles, looking for him. We shuffle the grass and leaves wondering where he could be. Then we get desperate, praying that we will find him. After digging a little bit, putting forth effort and praying, God makes himself known to us. Letting us know he never actually left us in the first place. He did not fail us. We failed to live up to the faith God has in us.

Peace be with you.

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Merry Christmas, from Jesus

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December 25, 2011

He walked through the streets in darkness,

Homeless but not alone,

A man on a mission of reverence

beyond the mundane chore of survival,

in a spirit of grace and mercy.

___

He stopped at Johnson’s Laundry

With it’s Closed for Christmas sign,

He knelt on the sidewalk outside the door,

Quietly saying the Lord’s Prayer,

the only prayer he knew.

___

Thanking “Papa” Johnson

For the clothes left unclaimed,

He left a small package – a crude, homemade cross

With a card on which was scrawled,

“Merry Christmas, from Jesus.”

___

Next was Garcia’s Grocery

For the leftovers not yet spoiled

He knelt and prayed –

Another crude cross,

And the card, “Merry Christmas, from Jesus.”

___

Ten blocks later, Miller’s Hardware,

For his sturdy, cardboard box dwelling,

and timber for his bed,

A kneel, a prayer, a larger crude cross,

And the card, “Merry Christmas, from Jesus.”

___

Too far from home, the mission closed,

He found a bench in the park,

after a passerby bought coffee

and he walked – recalling forgotten memories –

without knowing what they meant.

___

Early the next morning on Christmas Day,

he fought the wind and rain,

through the cold streets to the mission,

where Christmas dinner was served, the soul sustained,

and life again had purpose.

___

The rain stopped, the wind died down,

as he trekked on home,

home – an alley behind the church

white and made of stone,

with a view of the cross on the wall.

___

He turned into the alley

and stopped in his tracks.

Where his cardboard box had stood,

was a sturdy lumber shack,

with a roof, a window, and a door.

___

He opened the door to a sturdy wooden cot,

An orange crate table, his few possessions inside,

with something new on top.

A suit of clothes hung on a hook,

with the laundry marker still on it.

___

He closed the door because he could,

he’d forgotten what it felt like.

Walking to the table he turned on the lamp,

it had been years since he had his own light,

but then his breath went away.

___

Also on the table sat a Bible, brand new,

inscribed with a name he hadn’t used in years,

next to a picture of a family he’d forgotten he had.

He stood staring at them, his mind racing,

memories bombarding his thoughts.

___

He sat on the cot and picked up the Bible,

after staring at the picture a while.

He ran his fingers over the only thing he owned

that wasn’t worn by wear or weather,

with emotions he couldn’t control.

___

Through tears, with shaking hands,

he opened the Bible and read

“Merry Christmas, from Jesus.”

___________________________

© 2009  Daniel L. Roark

Merry Christmas!

Peace be with you.

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The Dartboard Incident

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December 12, 2011

My family lived in Waco, Texas when I began attending elementary school. I had a friend whose family lived in one of the largest homes of anyone I have personally known. Although it might not seem as expansive now. While I do not remember his name (I’ll call him Rick) or how we became acquainted, I distinctly remember parts of the house and activities we were involved in. There were parts of the house I never saw.

There were small enclosed stairs at the back entrance – or one of the back entrances – that led to a small, seemingly hidden room on the second floor, and a larger room on the third floor. The smaller room was a reading room of sorts, and I think that the larger room was the entirety of the third floor. The only access to the rest of the house was through a short hall on the second floor leading from the stairs and reading room. The larger room had a large tv – for the time – an easy chair, a sofa, a coffee table, and little else I cared about noticing at the time.

Behind the easy chair was a cardboard box about 3’x3’x3′ that was always at least half full of candy of all sorts. When I spent the night at Rick’s house, we would wake up early and walk to what I think was one of the first 7-11s. Either way, it opened at 7 a.m. and closed at 11 p.m. If we were up before six, we would play in the large pile of dirt in the middle of the construction site next door to the convenience store.

At the store we would buy a bunch of candy, take it back to Rick’s house, and add it to the candy in the cardboard box. After a couple of visits, I discovered that Rick had rules for the box of candy. Regardless of how much candy I put in the box, I could only take out one piece at a time. And not whenever I wanted to. I did not contribute to the stash of candy after that.

On one such sleepover, the two of us were in the short hallway between the reading room and the door to the rest of the house – which was closed. On the back of the door was a dart board. Rick was being cruel for some reason and would not let me have a turn at throwing darts. Which was not how I had been taught to treat a guest.

I protested for what seemed to me like a good while. Certainly longer than I thought it should take to get my turn at darts. Exasperated, I stood in front of the dartboard with my hands out, telling him I would not move until he gave me the darts. I was not all that confident after Rick told me if I did not move he was going to throw a dart anyway. The interchange repeated several times. Until he threw the dart into the palm of my hand. I stood there with a dart sticking out of my palm, staring at him in disbelief, asking him why he would do that.

“You should have moved,” Rick said as he snickered and shrugged his shoulders.

My hand did not hurt until after I pulled the dart out. Then it stung considerably. I do not recall staying at Rick’s house after that. I may have, but if I did, it was never the same. The trust was no longer present. Granted, I might have continued protesting without standing in front of the dartboard, but that was having little effect. Then again, he could have been a kind host and let me take a turn. He also never apologized.

I was beginning to learn that not everyone lived – or tried to live – by the golden rule. Or by “loving thy neighbors as thyself” as the Bible says. I was also beginning to be the recipient of looks and remarks when I stuttered. I had often heard people say that I would grow out of my stuttering. Since that was beginning to look less and less likely, people were beginning to assume that something was wrong with me. I was certainly not normal. While I was used to snide remarks and looks, physical pain at the purposeful hand of another was something new. As to the dart situation, it was difficult to ascertain which hurt more – my pride or my hand.

Through the years, I have seen, and heard of, people making a sheer mockery of the golden rule. I have also learned how difficult the golden rule is to follow. I have long since forgiven Rick. I do not even remember his right name or the pain of the dart in my hand. Regardless of the difficulty, I keep trying to treat others as I want them to treat me. But I keep track of my own candy and I do not play darts anymore.

Peace be with you.

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Tyndale House Publishers’ NLT Translation Bible Giveaway

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December 8, 2011

 Tyndale House Publishers is having an NLT Facebook page giveaway. Here are the details:

Starting on November 29th until December 24th at the New Living Translation Facebook page Tyndale is giving away lots of great prizes and something free for you just for singing up.

By visiting the giveaway entry page (located on the NLT Facebook page, the link is under the profile picture) and entering your name and e-mail address you’ll be entered to win the following prizes:

One random person each day will win a Life Application Study Bible Family Pack (Guys Life Application Study Bible hc, Girls Life Application Study Bible hc, Student’s Life Application Study Bible hc, Life Application Study Bible hc, Life Application Study Bible Large Print hc).

One Random person each week will win an Apple iPad 2!

Everyone that signs up gets a free download copy of the Life Application Bible Study – Book of Luke!

Good luck!

Peace be with you.

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Useless Until Useful

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October 3, 2011

There are a number of boxes, gadgets, and doohickies in our shed, closets, and drawers that we have kept because they “might be useful some day.” They just sit there waiting – hoping that someday they fulfill their purpose – useless until useful. I walked out into the backyard this morning and discovered that Cyndy found a use for a box I decided to hang on to a few days ago. The box had acquired a secondary purpose. Like the doohickey – or thing-of-a-jig – that becomes the perfect “tool” to complete an odd job around the house.

Once a “might be useful someday” object serves a purpose it is no longer possibly useful. It is indispensable. It can collect dust for years, but it will not be thrown away. On the premise that because it has been useful once – or twice as the case may be – it will inevitably be useful again. Even though that might not be the case.

I have found that for some people, and some Christians, the Bible is simply one of those things to have around because it might be useful some day. They take it to church on Sunday if they remember it. “After all, they have one in the pew.” Then they never actual open it. Why bother when the lay reader is reading it to them. And the preacher will remind them if their thoughts happen to drift.

But – sure enough – a time comes when their Bible becomes useful. Tragedy strikes family or friends. A job is lost, a relationship ends, or any one of any number of life-changing events occur. Then their Bible again has purpose. It eases their mind, softens their heart, soothes their soul, or simply provides comfort. Their Bible has become indispensable.

Unfortunately, there are too many Christians to whom the Bible is something waiting to be useful. They have not discovered the life-changing story of the Israelite’s history, the life and death on the cross of Jesus, or the forgiving grace of God. They have not felt their “heart strangely warmed” as John Wesley did. They have not had their souls cleansed with God’s grace.

With persecuted Christians around the world clamoring for Bibles and materials to continue their spiritual journey with Christ, it is sad that many Christians in our part of the world have a Bible that they never use. I have had a Bible – and have been a Christian – for as long as I can remember. Beginning with the pocket-size New Testament I received when I began attending Sunday school. I have always had a Bible at hand. Unfortunately though, there were times when I felt I was keeping it around “in case it was useful.”

When I finally felt the Lord’s nudging and again opened my Bible for study and prayer, I ceased to think of the Bible as being “potential useful.” It is a part of my day, my life, my profession, and our family life. I feel uncomfortable when too much time has passed since our last visit. The Bible, once thought of as potentially useful, has become indispensable.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” John 1:1 NRSV.

Peace be with you.

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“Step On a Crack, Break Your Mother’s Back”

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September 30, 2011

I was walking to our sons’ school with the youngest son’s football gear stuffed in my backpack. Cyndy was running errands after dropping them off at school. In the waking up atmosphere of sleepy-eyed confusion in which things can slip teenage minds, J.D. had forgotten his gear on the couch. Of course, he had to have it right away. It was a hot and fairly humid day. Which was not conducive to walking long distances on sidewalks with slight, intermittent, shade.

When I am walking, I watch the ground ahead of me – for several reasons. For one thing, I walk quickly which requires watching the terrain. And by watching the ground ahead of me, I am not constantly reminded of how far away my goal is at any given time. I have also found a large number of coins over the years (albeit mostly pennies).

I walk in long strides, setting up a quick rhythm. Inevitably, I set my stride with the aim of missing the cracks in the sidewalk. Lengthening my stride when the situation requires it. At some point the superstition of my youth slips through – bringing to mind the phrase we used to say.

“Step on a crack, break your mother’s back.”

Do I believe it? Not really. Do I avoid the cracks? You betcha – just to be on the safe side. And I will have you know that to this day my mother has not broken her back. A few other things maybe, but not her back. I will also have you know that I do not think my avoiding cracks had a thing to do with it.

Yet, as I was walking to my son’s school, I was avoiding the cracks. Mostly to set up a rhythm in my stride, but avoiding the cracks nonetheless. That got me to thinking – as walking is wont to do – about avoiding cracks and hedging bets.

As a general rule, I can set a rhythm or pace and move quickly along while still avoiding the cracks. As we as Christians can go about our life in the secular world, avoiding the larger, more obvious sins. But then I come across a section of sidewalk – or life – that has begun to show wear, causing a conundrum. There are so many cracks that even a hop-scotch afficionado would have trouble traversing the area.

So which cracks count in the break your mother’s back scenario? If it is a natural part of the sidewalk which was purposefully made that way, is that considered a crack? Is it just the cracks that have developed over time from wear and weather that count? Or do all cracks count, causing the situation to be crucially problematic?

In our Christian lives the question – considering the cracks as sins – is which sins to avoid. Which cracks are actually sins? And which cracks are part of the sidewalk as it was made? When we come to the section with too many cracks to avoid them all, which do we choose not to avoid?

We are human and cannot avoid all sin. And not all the cracks in life’s sidewalk are sins. Some cracks are merely faults in the sidewalk. Fortunately, “step on a crack, break your mother’s back” is just a game. Unfortunately, life is not a game. Even though it might seem that way at one time or another. Some of the cracks we try to cross in life are wider and deeper than we could have imagined.

When we reach those rough spots in life’s sidewalk, we wonder if we took the wrong path – if we are on the wrong sidewalk. We are unsure which cracks to avoid and which cracks are okay to step on. What false idols we have succumbed to and need to avoid, and what we should be embracing more than we are.

During those times of rough spots, when our paths reach too many cracks in the sidewalk and other obstacles, we need to recall what Paul said to the Corinthians. “No testing has overtaken you that is not common to everyone. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tested beyond your strength, but with the testing he will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it.” Corinthians 10:13.

As we walk along life’s sidewalk, we need to put our faith in God, and trust the path we take. By the grace of God we make it to the end of the sidewalk.

 Peace be with you.

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Being Between Holes

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September 26, 2011

Occasionally, I begin to notice that I keep adjusting my belt. It is not due to a major shift in my weight. I weigh about the same as I did in high school – give or take five pounds at any given time. And I am way past high school. 

When I buy a belt, it fits snugly. Maybe right after my jeans have been washed, the belt might feel a little loose, but when my jeans work back out, it fits fine again. Inevitably, at some point in time, I begin to notice that I need to tighten up the belt a little. But sure enough, when I try to tighten it, I find that I cannot do so without discomfort. I find that I am once again in my personal twilight zone of being “between holes.”

When I bought the belt I had a two hole leeway. Both worked okay, but one a little better. Where did that leeway go? Okay, the belt is leather and leather will flex a bit after time – I get that. And jeans tighten and loosen – I get that, too. But the holes are the same distance apart they always were – within a fraction of an inch. And although I am at the age that my body is beginning to shift, it has not as yet affected my waist.

It is not a recent occurrence. The situation is the same with our son’s belts – when they wear them. Many times I have taken out my pocket knife and fashioned a new hole in a belt. But that is only a temporary solution and does not work for any thing resembling a formal event. And, unlike the original holes, it tends to grow, sometimes splitting the belt in the middle to the next original hole or simply splitting it in half.

Unfortunately, it is not a problem for which I think there will be an easy solution. But it did get me to thinking about the times in our lives when we find ourselves “between holes.” We receive life with all the right holes – with a two hole leeway. We keep going back and forth between one hole and another. Because we do not keep on a steady path, our faith stretches, the human factors flex, and we find we need another hole. Which we try to make ourselves. But the holes we make are inferior to the original holes and do not stand up to wear and tear.

The “between hole” theory can apply to our bodies, the planet, and our faith. We take what we are given, as perfect as it can be, and flex it, stretch it, use it, and abuse it until we suddenly find ourselves between holes. Then we think we can solve it on our own. We make another hole. But our solutions are only temporary and usually do not stand the test of time.

We need to work within the boundaries of what we were originally given. Stay within limits and follow the path we know we ought to and take care of what we have been given. We should listen to the Lord and demonstrate – toward others and our planet – a “love that comes from a pure heart, a good conscience, and sincere faith.” 1st Timothy 1:5.  

Peace be with you.

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The Hen that was a Rooster

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September 20, 2011

There is a rooster next door. Which would be insignificant if we lived in the country, but that is not the case. The family thought they were buying a third hen. I am not quite sure how that worked, but I have to assume it is possible. The rooster is apparently not so sure himself that he is, indeed, a rooster. His crowing has not been tremendously loud – though still annoying – but it is also not refined. He almost sounds hoarse.

I do not know whether it is attributed to his lack of experience or his cognitive insufficiency, but this rooster has no idea when he is supposed to crow. While he does crow in the morning, the crowing does not coincide with the rising of the sun. He is also prone to crow at any time of day, particularly if the hens are clucking. He began crowing about 11:30 the other night. Apparently, to this rooster, porch lights, airplane lights, or even lightning bugs resemble the sunrise to our neighboring rooster.

The rooster’s annoying crowing got me to thinking that we all go about our daily lives “crowing” about insensitive drivers, people who will not put their phones on vibrate during meetings or services, those who make us wait for no apparent reason, and the person who looks at us as if it is our fault when we know darn well it certainly is not. At the same time, we pray, and ask for God’s help to get us through some – ultimately at least – minuscule situation. A situation which must appear to God as relatively insignificant as those fleeting incidents that tick us off during the day.

All of us must admit that we know someone who constantly crows. About how good a Christian they are perhaps. About how they do not understand why people do not see things their way. And so on and so forth. Unfortunately, we must also admit that we do some crowing ourselves.

When it occurs to me – often in mid-sentence – that I am crowing on, shall we say, I try to quickly change course. After, that is, finishing the sentence that gave my mouth a bad taste. If I tarried too long over the line, my face goes flush with embarrassment. At least it feels like it does. I can recall times in which it was evident in the look on the listener’s face that I had indeed blushed. Their look also let me know that I had been caught crowing. Which made me want to become part of floor and slide away.

Maybe the rooster’s crowing irritates me because he reminds me how irritating I can be sometimes. Even though I’m not the only one he irritates with his incessant shouting. But when I am walking around the backyard complaining out loud about the people who bothered me throughout the day, I feel my face slowly become flushed. If I could see God’s face, I would see that knowing look. The look that makes me realize the only one I am fooling is myself. I am merely crowing needlessly. It then occurs to me that praying sincerely might be a good idea.

Peace be with you.

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A Hibachi, a Prank, and Silent Sin

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September 19, 2011

When I was a single father, and my daughter was at her grandparent’s house, I fixed a steak on the small hibachi on the front porch. It was a covered wooden porch but the roof was ten feet high and, like I say, it was a small hibachi. The steak I was cooking covered a majority of its surface area. When the steak was ready, I ate it along with the vegetables I had fixed, then put the dishes in the sink. All the while the front door was wide open.

I laid down on the couch, the left two feet of which faced the front door, and fell asleep watching television. At some point, I was awoken from a deep sleep to the foggy place in between deep sleep and fully awake. I heard a sound, some running steps, and doors slamming. I got on my feet, clawing through the fog, and headed for the open door. I watched the car pull away.

The hibachi was gone. Which was not a tragic loss – I had not paid much for it. But there had been burning coals and ashes in it! I looked around on the porch and over the side where I figured they would dump it. There were, however, no ashes to be found. Not even between the porch and the middle of the street. The two young men had just shoved a grill with a burning fire in their car.

As I stood there looking in the direction in which they had driven and shaking my head, I had a vision of these two guys driving around with steaks, looking for a grill to cook them on. In my mind I saw them driving to a park, pulling out the hibachi and blowing on the coals to cook their steaks. Why else would they take a cheap hibachi costing less than fifteen dollars – with a fire in it no less? It is doubtful they were looking for a grill for their family.

Most likely they were just stealing it for a prank. When they realized it had burning embers in it they did not have time to dump them out before escaping, as it were, in their car. But did they dare each other? Remember, I had the front door open and was laying on the couch facing the door (albeit asleep). What about the hibachi was worth taking the chances they took? Had I thought fast enough, and cared about the hibachi enough, I could have read the number on their license plate.

Thinking back on the occasion, the situation calls to mind those times when we commit sins and think that no one knows or we “got away with it.” Getting too much money in change from an inexperienced or overworked employee at the store, for example. Or being charged less than the actual price and keeping silent. Parking in a handicapped parking space when not at all disabled would be another example. There are many other examples.

We inwardly dare ourselves to not say anything, while at the same time we know it is morally wrong. We think no one notices. We tell ourselves that makes it “okay.” But God is standing on the front porch, shaking his head, watching as we walk or drive away – wondering why we think we have “gotten away” with anything.

Peace be with you.

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