Let’s keep it clear. As Christians we are to be like our Father. 

Some religions say to their devotees, “Follow me, and the things you fear will not happen to you.” By contrast, Christianity says, “Follow Christ, and some or all of the things that you fear may happen to you; but you do not have to fear them anyway.” Such confidence and courage are born from faith in God the Father Almighty who – even though we face the final enemy, death – will deliver us from the grave. 

Woodie White served United Methodists as a bishop. Some time ago he experienced one of the most difficult things he had ever faced in his life. It is one of my favorite stories and I may have shared it in a prior article. He was sitting at home relaxing, watching his favorite team, the Washington Redskins. The phone rang and a relative exclaimed hysterically, “Woodie! Woodie! You had better come quick. Something terrible has happened to your mother. She has been raped!”

He immediately left Washington, D.C., for New York City. When he walked into his mother’s house and saw her, she was frying chicken. Someone had broken into her home and robbed and raped her. Woodie stood immobile in a state of shock, but then he moved to his mother, took her tenderly in his arms, fighting back tears and anger.

As he was holding his mother, she said, “I’m frying chicken. I thought you might be hungry.” He was so overcome with the beauty of her spirit in the face of tragedy that he broke into tears.

Then his mother looked at him, and in her face was a wonderful light as she told him, “Son, I want to tell you something, and I don’t want you to ever forget it. God is still good! God is good! God is good!”

God’s almighty power is precisely this kind of love, this power of goodness and hope that this mother knew in her own soul and reflected even in the midst of her suffering and pain. This is the power and glory of the Father that Jesus portrayed in his story of the prodigal, and in all of his other stories and prayers. This is the power that Paul described in his praise of God’s love in Christ from which nothing, absolutely nothing, can separate us (Romans 8). It is a power and a relationship that Christians have known throughout the ages. It is not a vengeful power or arbitrary force. It does not leave us alone in our suffering. It travels with us through our pain, and it enables us to stand with courage exposing evil even when our own lives are at stake. It is the power of God’s creative and redemptive love as shown to us in Jesus the Son – the power of the Father Almighty.

We call God Father because we follow Jesus’ example. There is a sense in which we can assess how well one understands Christianity by how much one makes of the thought of being God’s child, having God as Father.

The designation of God as Father has nothing to do with gender: God is not a sexual being. It describes a relationship of shared love and fellowship in which God pours out God’s blessings on all God’s children. God is our Creator and Liberator. Our relationship to God rescues us from sin and alienation and helps us remember who we are created to be. As God liberated the Jews from Egyptian bondage, so God rescues and redeems us from whatever bondage may enslave us.

God is all-powerful, almighty; but God’s power is always defined, perhaps even limited, by God’s love. Though we may not be delivered from pain and suffering, God is with us in our pain and suffering, sustaining us with almighty love. Even though we face the final enemy, death, God will deliver us from the grave, giving us eternal life.

And it is by His strength and through His grace, that we too can be like our Father.

James Rowe is a prolific music composer, and yet most of us have probably not heard of him. He was born in Ireland and worked for the Irish government before immigrating to the United States in his late 20s. Eventually, he became a full-time writer, composing hymns and editing music journals for publishers. One of my favorites songs among his best-known works is “Redeemed,”

Redeemed—how I love to proclaim it! 

Redeemed by the blood of the Lamb; 

Redeemed through His infinite mercy,

His child, and forever, I am. 

Redeemed, redeemed…

Another well-known favorite is “Love Lifted Me.”

Love lifted me!

Love lifted me!

When nothing else could help,

Love lifted me!

One of his songs I have never heard sung in a congregation. It is entitled, “You Never Mentioned Him to Me,” and it speaks directly to an essential function of every Christian. We are witnesses.

O let us spread the word

where’er it may be heard,

Help groping souls the light to see,

That yonder none may say, “You showed me not the way,

You never mentioned Him to me.”

Scripture charges us to take the good news about Jesus to others, to sow the seed. We know that not all soil is fertile; the responsibility to respond to the gospel lies with the hearers, not with us. The prophet, Ezekiel, encourages us, “But if you warn the wicked to turn from his way, and he does not turn from his way, that person shall die in his iniquity, but you will have delivered your soul. (Ezekiel 33:9) Our charge is to be faithful. Paul was rather adamant about it. “I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow. So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow.” (1Cor.3:6-7)

O let us spread the word

where’er it may be heard,

Help groping souls the light to see,

That yonder none may say, “You showed me not the way,

You never mentioned Him to me 

 A few sweet words may guide a lost one to his side,

Or turn sad eyes on Calvary;

So work as days go by, that yonder none may cry,

“You never mentioned Him to me.”

The song pictures Judgment Day as we stand to hear our fate pronounced. Before our appearance at the bench, another is condemned to eternal death. He cries out an accusation toward us:

“You never mentioned Him to me,

You helped me not the light to see;

You met me day by day and knew I was astray,

Yet never mentioned Him to me.”

That is a harrowing thought. Perhaps that is why the song is sung so infrequently. It makes us uncomfortable. But the hymn isn’t intended to make us feel guilty about our shortcomings in talking about Jesus. It has an end in itself. As followers of Christ, we are called to witness. How often do we share Him with others? When was the last time we had a serious conversation with someone about our faith? Dare I ask? When was the last time you mentioned him? More painful perhaps, “when you mentioned him, what did you say?”  

You never mentioned him to me. You may have difficulty with the imagery, but reflect. The imagery reminds us of what is happening, in reality, every day of our lives. If we are faithful to our commission, whether we are successful in our efforts or not, this hymn should be an encouragement. But if we are not, songs like this should be a powerful appeal to redouble our efforts. Which is it for us?

My friend, George (Chuck) Hunter, has told a thrilling story – one of those lively vignettes of Methodist history that gives us our vision for now and the future.

A great Methodist leader named C. C. McCabe was the leader of new church extension for the Methodist Episcopal Church in about 1881. He was a prodigious planner, strategist, fund-raiser, and mobilizer. Under his leadership for sustained years, the Methodist Episcopal Church averaged starting one new congregation a day, and some months averaged two congregations a day.

One particular day he was traveling to help launch a round of new church plantings in Oregon, Idaho, and Washington, when he picked up a newspaper that had recorded the speech delivered in Chicago by Robert G. Ingersoll, a famous philosopher and agnostic, to the annual convention of a group that imagined itself to be the wave of the future, the Free-thinkers Association of America. In this speech, Ingersoll contended that the churches of the United States of America were in a terminal condition and in another generation there would be few, if any, of them left, which, on the whole, would be a good thing. That incensed McCabe. He got off the train at the next town, went to the Western Union office, dictated a telegram, and sent it to Ingersoll at the convention that was still meeting in Chicago. The telegram read, “Dear Bob: In the Methodist Church we are starting more than one new congregation a day, and we propose to make it two. Signed, C. C. McCabe. P. S. All hail the power of Jesus’ name.”

That was the first of many spirited exchanges and debates between them. The word about that telegram got out and there evolved a folk hymn, part of which went like this:

The infidels, a motley band,

In counsel met and said,

The churches are dying across the land,

And soon, they’ll all be dead.

When suddenly a message came,

And caught them with dismay,

We’re building two a day.”

Chorus

We’re building two a day, dear Bob,

We’re building two a day.

All hail the power of Jesus’ name,

We’re building two a day. 

It has happened before. It can happen again. It should happen. It will happen again when we Methodists recover the warm heart, when we provide structures of love and care, and when we get a passion for ministry and mission, believing the world is our parish.  

Then, we can offer Charles Wesley’s great hymn to those so ready to proclaim the church’s death, and truly sing it with the conviction of seeing it again in our day.

And are we yet alive,

And see each other’s face?

Glory and praise to Jesus give

For His redeeming grace. 

Preserved by power divine

To full salvation here,

Again in Jesus’ praise we join,

And in His sight appear.

What troubles have we seen,

What conflicts have we passed,

Fightings without, and fears within,

Since we assembled last.

But out of all the Lord

Hath brought us by His love;

And still He doth His help afford,

And hides our life above.

Then let us make our boast

Of His redeeming power,

Which saves us to the uttermost,

Till we can sin no more.

Let us take up the cross

Till we the crown obtain;

And gladly reckon all things loss,

So we may Jesus gain.

I read T. S. Eliot’s poetry, even though I have to struggle to read and understand it. I keep reminding myself that what he expresses is worth the arduous effort and energy I might exert in reading him. One of his geniuses is his creation of power-packed phrases and images. Here is one of them:

“For most of us, there is only the unattended Moment.”

The unattended Moment.  I want to ponder that image as we continue our reflection on Jesus’ call, “Don’t be anxious about tomorrow.” In our last article, pondering this call, we made the case that when we are anxious about tomorrow we take on excessive anxiety about things we cannot change and many of us are paralyzed with fear of our inability to live the Christian life.  If fear of tomorrow or the day after tomorrow consumes us, we will miss the possibilities of the richness of living today.

A preacher friend tells of a person who, awakening to how dingy his life and world had become because of his worrying, made a worry table. Analyzing how he and other people worried, he concluded that 40 percent of most worries never happen; 30 percent were about past decisions we cannot alter. 12 percent about criticism (mostly untrue) of us by others, usually arising from envy and misunderstanding; 10 percent were about personal health that only grew worse with worry; and only 8 percent were legitimate concerns that need our attention. All of this means that when we worry we waste a lot of time and energy, and overlook opportunities which may never come again to us, special moments that may occur only once in our lifetime. 

Unattended moments. Think of the hugs that we have shunned because we were worrying, the spontaneous surprises of children growing up, the wayside miracles in nature, the fun of playing together, the secrets that we could have known, the beauty we could have shared.  The unattended moment is packed with possibilities for richness, meaning, and growth. But we miss it because we are not focusing our eyes on the present and are anxious about tomorrow. The greatest price we pay for worry is the loss of the richness of living today.

We need to hear clearly, and heed Jesus’ words: “But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O men of little faith?”  I’m seeking to live by the conviction that we can trust God for tomorrow, because we can trust God for today.

A member of our congregation and a dear friend knows this truth as well as anyone I know. He is an alcoholic, but has celebrated over twenty years of sobriety. He remains sober because of his one-day-at-a-time trust in the Lord. He wrote a contemporary gospel song which expresses this truth in a memorable way. The title of the song and its message are a simple prayer he heard an old man pray: “Lord, we know what you’re gonna’ do ’cause we see what you’ ve already done.”

Focus again on the powerful image with which I began my reflection: violets cracking rocks. It’s a powerful picture. A tiny, fragile violet with so much life in its tiny structure, with so much thrust for sunlight and air that it literally cracks the rocks and pokes through so that it can peek at the sunlight and finally burst forth in its pristine purple glory. Paul said that nothing in all the world can separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus. We can trust God for tomorrow, because we can trust God for today. 

Someone reminded me recently that what lies behind us and before us are small matters compared to what lies within us.’ I know that I have the Holy Spirit within me. That means I have power, like the violet, to crack all the rocks of circumstances. So I listen to Jesus: “don’t be anxious about tomorrow”!

We have been pondering the way Jesus’s resurrection can crack through our worry. An important perspective on hearing Jesus’ word, “Don’t be anxious,” is to know that he is certainly saying  Don’t borrow the trouble of worrying about your ability to live the Christian life. This is something most of us have thought little or nothing about. Yet, I think it’s a big problem in many of our lives.

Recently I counseled with a psychologist who thirteen months before had been freed from a gripping drug addiction. He was thankful for his deliverance, but was almost paralyzed by his fear that God was going to place in his life something to which he would be unable to respond.

Worrying  about our ability to live the Christian life is a big problem for many of us. It expresses itself particularly in anxiety about the fact that we will fall into sin again. We know that we are weak and that we do give in to temptation. Our problem comes when we adopt a poor me attitude that says, “It’s always going to be like that. I’m simply not able to live the Christian life.”

To be sure, we sin. Hopefully, we feel guilty for our sins. But we must not remain in our guilt. Scripture promises that when we confess our sin, God forgives and “remembers our sin no more” (Jer. 31:34).  The fact is we are adding sin to sin if we choose to remain guilty after confession and repentance. We can exchange our guilt for praise because “the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin” (1 John 1:7).

So we should not borrow the trouble that comes from saying, “I’m sure I’ll do it again.” As Christians, we are in Christ, and we must live believing that in him we live one day at a time. We don’t dwell on the possibility of succumbing to temptation tomorrow. Jesus has set us free now, not tomorrow! Christ is our keeper today and tomorrow. We are living in him; as long as we do, he will keep us. So don’t borrow trouble by worrying about your ability to live the Christian life.

What are you worried about? Rehearse the lessons we need to keep in mind

Don’t borrow trouble.

Don’t borrow the trouble of worrying about your ability to live the Christian life.

Be aware of, but don’t give into anxiety about the fact that we may fall into sin again.

There have been a few occasions in my life when, almost immediately after meeting and greeting a person, they asked, “What are you worried about?” Persons often wear themselves on their faces. 

In my last article I reflected on Tennessee Williams’ image, violets cracking rocks. In his teaching, Jesus used an equally powerful image: “Consider the lilies… how they grow; they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” This was a primary teaching of Jesus. He closed a section of the Sermon on the Mount with his lesson about God’s care for us, “Don’t be anxious.” 

Ours is a jittery age. We are terribly worried about success and prestige, but we’re not worried half enough about what we’re doing to ourselves. We ought to be bothered about ulcers and heart attacks that we bring on ourselves. We ought to be bothered about the fact that our friendships are superficial. We ought to take note of the fact that no amount of money can compensate for the way we rob ourselves and become slaves to ourselves.

We have a right to be anxious. Conflicts and upheavals around the world are moving nations deeper and deeper into a war mentality. That’s a part of the big picture, and it is anxiety-producing. We don’t have to think at that level. Our day-to-day living brings enough. Jesus knew that, so he said, “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Let the day’s own trouble be sufficient for the day” (Matt. 6:34).

One of the important things Jesus is saying is this: Don’t borrow trouble. I don’t know the history of that phrase, but we know what it means. So did Jesus. “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Let the day’s own trouble be sufficient for the day.”

Look at that issue from two perspectives. One will immediately strike a chord in us; the other, we have probably thought too little about.

First, don’t borrow trouble by taking on excessive anxiety about things you cannot change. Excessive anxiety about things we cannot change is one of the biggest issues in our life. There are some burdens that we cannot handle for ourselves, and there are some burdens that we were never meant to handle. Those burdens are to be turned over to God. 

A second perspective on hearing Jesus’ word, “Don’t be anxious,” is Don’t borrow the trouble of worrying about your ability to live the Christian life. This is something most of us have thought little or nothing about. Yet, I think it’s a big problem in many of our lives. We worry about our ability to live the Christian life. This expresses itself particularly in anxiety about the fact that we will fall into sin again.

We know that we are weak and that we do give in to temptation. Our problem comes when we adopt a poor me attitude that says, “It’s always going to be like that. I’m simply not able to live the Christian life.” To be sure, we sin. Hopefully, we feel guilty for our sins. But we must not remain in our guilt. Scripture promises that when we confess our sin, God forgives and “remembers our sin no more” (Jer. 31:34).

The fact is we are adding sin to sin if we choose to remain guilty after confession and repentance. We can exchange our guilt for praise because “the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin” (1 John 1:7).

So we should not borrow the trouble that comes from saying, “I’m sure I’ll do it again.” As Christians, we are in Christ, and we must live believing that in him we live one day at a time. We don’t dwell on the possibility of succumbing to temptation tomorrow. Jesus has set us free now, not tomorrow! As far as tomorrow is concerned, Christ is our keeper. We are living in him; and as long as we do, he will keep us. 

Don’t borrow trouble by worrying about your ability to live the Christian life. What are you worried about? Rehearse the lessons we need to keep in mind:

Don’t borrow trouble.

Don’t borrow the trouble of worrying about your ability to live the Christian life.

Be aware of, but don’t give into anxiety about the fact that we might fall into sin again.

Easter is the punctuation mark of the Christian Faith: the death and resurrection of Jesus, God’s Son as his gift of salvation for all who will receive it. Easter stirs an image in my mind: violets cracking rocks.

The image was connected with the work of Tennessee Williams, one of America’s greatest dramatists. In their commentary about his life and work, critics often made the point that he was a lonely and frightened man. His plays presented a world of shattered hopes and failed visions. While he loved his characters, they, like him, struggled against the frightening blindness of their lives.

Later, Williams became less angry and frightened. After his death, Darn Sullivan, writing in the Los Angeles Times, noted that Williams’s themes had changed; that in his later work, he was writing about “the power of violets cracking the rocks.” 

What a powerful image… “the power of violets cracking the rocks.” More powerful, but in the same category, is an image: Jesus used, “Consider the lilies… how they grow; they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” (Luke 12:27)

That the image came to me should not be a surprise. I grew up in rural Mississippi. Winters were wet and cold. We had few clothes, but they were adequate. I had three brothers and two sisters. I was the youngest of three boys. I not only wore “hand-me-down” shirts and overalls, but shoes. The size needed, and shoes available, determined what shoes were purchased in the Fall before winter set in. It was rare that we wore shoes at any time in the summer. Wearing shoes was determined by season and weather.

That necessity was decided primarily by my mother. We children didn’t enjoy wearing shoes, and we hounded our parents to let us shed them. I don’t know how other parents made the decision, but Momma had her own way. A blooming violet was proof of spring and promise of summer. If we could bring home a blooming violet, it was “shoes-off-time.”

That’s the reason Williams’ image came to mind just before Easter. What an image for resurrection: the power of violets cracking the rocks. In the weeks ahead I am going to reflect and share with you more about this dynamic because Jesus used a similar one in teaching about life.

Consider how the wild flowers grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will he clothe you—you of little faith! (Luke 12:27-28 NIV)