Spring Planting

It has been a long hard winter.  We have hunkered down and worn our masks to survive Covid.  Like the disease, winter has resisted letting go its grip.  A month ago, Texas was plunged into the harshest winter on record. Two weeks ago, snow swept across the nation’s midsection from Colorado to New England. And a week ago the Rockies and the Astros played baseball in a snowstorm. Nevertheless winter, like Covid, is waning.  The trees are beginning to bud. The daffodils are blooming. Fans are cautiously, and joyously, returning to baseball stadiums. Families are planning vacations.                        

As we have done from time immemorial, farmers are plowing the soil and sowing their seed while the rest of us dig in the dirt and plant our gardens.  We know that spring will come, and summer will follow.  

There is something about digging in the earth, sowing seed and burying plants in the freshly turned soil.  It is an act of faith, of hope and expectation. It is an ancient ritual of believing. It is a way of interacting with life’s mysterious miracle.  I wrote a poem about the experience. 

I have bedded them,

laid them down to sleep,

dug shallow graves

and buried them

beneath soft soil,

dark, moist, rich dirt,

gently padded and patted.

 

They have been accepted

by the earth,

their burial signified by stick-markers

on which are written their names,

not in remembrance but in expectation,

waiting for them to wake,

to spring from dormant death into full flower:

pink and red and lavender,

yellow and white

the funeral-ritual of spring.

 Gardens are like cemeteries, the name markers signifying the faith and hope with which the bodies of those who have gone on before were laid to rest. What is buried appears to be dead and lifeless. But the dead in Christ will rise again!

Paul had this image in mind when he wrote, “When you sow, you do not plant the body that will be, but just a seed, perhaps of wheat or of something else.  But God gives it a body as he has determined, and to each kind of seed he gives its own body.  … So will it be with the resurrection of the dead. The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable; it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body.

“I declare to you, brothers and sisters, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable. … When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: ‘Death has been swallowed up in victory.’ … thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” (1 Corinthians 15:37-54).

Winter has passed.  Spring and summer and life will prevail!

How We Deal With Guilt and Shame

 This Sunday evening the world will watch the Academy Awards.  It is an odd year, with most theaters closed during Covid and many productions hampered or postponed. The event itself will be adjusted for Covid precautions. Still, careers will be made, and new movies will become instant classics.

 In 2017 Casey Affleck won the Best Actor Oscar for his performance in “Manchester-By-The-Sea.” When the movie received numerous Oscar nominations, we decided to watch it. What could be more romantic than sunrise over the bay, New England houses lining the shore and boats gently resting in the harbor?

 But “Manchester By the Sea” turned out to be no romance.  It is a tragedy that slowly unfolds through flashbacks in the mind of Lee Chandler, the main character played by Affleck, as he wrestles with his brother’s death and guardianship of his brother’s son.  To fulfill his brother’s dying wish, he must move back to Manchester-by-the-Sea, the site of his shame.

 As the movie unfolds we eventually learn the depth of Lee Chandler’s shame, a shame so deep that he despises himself.  His personal sense of shame prevents him from receiving love, acceptance and forgiveness from others.  Lee Chandler is incapable of loving or being loved.  He is a tortured soul.

 This is what sin does.  We not only feel guilt for our sins, we also experience shame, guilt’s more devastating accomplice.  This is what happened to Lee Chandler.  His shame causes him to hide in Boston, bitter, alone, cynical and angry.  Sadly, in Lee’s case, he is not able to overcome his shame to receive the love of others or of God.

 The Bible has 198 references to “shame” and to being “ashamed.”  We first see evidences of shame after Adam and Eve willfully disobey God’s command.  When God created man and woman, the Bible says, “Adam and his wife were both naked and they felt no shame.” (Genesis 2:24).  But, after their sin, they are ashamed and hide themselves from one another and from God.

 God comes looking for us.  Just as He searched for Adam and Eve who trembled with shame in their hiding place.  He comes to remove our shame and restore our relationship to God and to one another. God gently and tenderly clothed them as we clothe our children.

 For this reason, God sent His son to search for us and to die for us.  Jesus said, “The Son of Man came to seek and to save that which was lost.”   And Hebrews exhorts us to fix our eyes upon Jesus, “the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.” (Hebrews 12:2).

 All our guilt and all our shame can be removed when we accept God’s redemptive love through His Son, Jesus Christ. We need no longer be crippled by shame.  His sacrifice is greater than our sin. We can again love God, ourselves and others.

Marriage

 Last week Prince Philip died at age 99 after 73 years of marriage to Elizabeth.  They met when she was 13 and he was a dashing young naval cadet. They married 8 years later, 5 years before she unexpectedly ascended to the throne as queen.  Their marriage has been an enduring love story for almost three-quarters of a century.  

 Few marriages are as well known as Elizabeth and Philip.  But, in spite of all the odds against it, more than half of all those who make their vows at the altar remain married to one another throughout their lives.

 Alexander and Jeanette Toczko met when they were eight years old in 1927 and fell in love.  Thirteen years later they married each other.  75 years after they said their vows, they knew they were dying.

 Alexander played golf into his nineties and remained active until he broke his hip.  Their children knew how much they wanted to be together and had their beds placed side-by-side in their home.  On June 17, 2015, Alexander died in his wife’s arms.  His wife hugged him and said, “See this is what you wanted.  You died in my arms, and I love you. I love you. Wait for me. I’ll be there soon.”  In less than 24 hours Jeanette joined her husband. They were buried on June 29, 2015 in San Diego, California.

 I understand a little of how Alexander and Jeanette felt about each other.  My wife and I celebrated our 50^th anniversary in 2018.   I married her when she was 19 and I was an older and wiser 22.  In a little church in Freeport, Texas we said our vows and promised to love and cherish each other until death. A few years ago, I wrote a poem in which I tried to capture my feelings:

Where did she come from?

This woman who walked into my life

When I was young,

Who joined her life to mine,

And all the time

My life was joined to hers.

Who bore my children,

Who raised them and taught them

By her example, how to love

By loving me.

 

How did this happen

That she became more than my lover

And my friend;

That she became my very soul?

Marriage is God’s wonderful gift to the human race.  He bestowed it in the garden when He saw that Adam was lonely.  God caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam, took from his side a rib, and fashioned the first bride.  When he saw her, Adam said, ““This is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called ‘woman,’ for she was taken out of man.”  That is why a man leaves his father and mother and is united to his wife, and they become one flesh.” (Genesis 2:21-24).

God gave us marriage as a mysterious bond and endowed us with the awesome power to pro-create.  “Be fruitful and multiply,” God said. (Genesis 1:28).  And so we did.  It is the one command we have been pretty good at.

O My Soul

 Most of our conversation, it seems, revolves around our bodies and money: how we look, how to stay healthy, how to remain young, how to become wealthy.  We spent 2020 hunkered down, masked up and isolated just to stay alive.  

 Concern for our bodies drives a large segment of our economy.  United States health care expense passed $3.81 trillion in 2019.  Most of this, of course, was corrective surgery and treatment, but elective cosmetic surgery totals more than 13 billion dollars.  This includes liposuction, breast augmentation and hair removal. The fitness industry with its books, talk-shows and exercise facilities is enormous. In 2014 fitness center revenues in the U.S. exceeded $24 billion.

 I can understand this.  Since my body is the only one I have, I want to take care of it.  Of course, I guess there are limits to which I want to do this. I love Blue Bell ice cream and I like to sit in the stands snacking on a hot dog while I watch healthier people compete on the field. 

 I can also understand our interest in money.  We all have to pay our bills, and most of us have ambitions to own our home, drive a nicer car, send our kids to college and enjoy vacations.       

But what happened to the concept of the soul?  We seldom hear the word mentioned, including in our churches.  Jesus taught that, as important as our bodies may be, nothing is as important as our soul. 

Regarding the body in comparison to the soul, He said, “Do not be afraid of those who can kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell.”   With respect to money, Jesus said, “What good will it be for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul? Or what can anyone give in exchange for their soul?”  

Horatio G. Spafford,  a wealthy lawyer in the 1860s, seemed to live a charmed life enjoying both health and wealth. But, in 1870, he lost his son to scarlet fever.  When his wife’s health began to fail, he decided to move his family to Europe. Delayed by his commitments at work, he sent his wife and four daughters ahead. On November 22, 1873, their ship sank at sea. Only his wife survived.  Returning to the spot where the ship sank, Horatio Spafford stood looking over the swelling seas where his daughters drowned and wrote these words:

“When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.”

Horatio and Anna Spafford spent the rest of their lives caring for homeless children, the poor and oppressed.

We are more than our bodies and more than our money.  Our “soul” is who we really are, whether rich or poor, healthy or sick.  Our soul is shaped by acts of kindness, honesty, virtue, generosity and faith. The destiny of every nation and every generation is ultimately determined by the soul of its people. 

We Beheld His Glory

Different people did different things to cope with Covid. I wrote a book. We Beheld His Glory, A Novel will be launched this week on Amazon.com, free as an eBook April 1-5. It was a great way to spend the days huddled at home during the pandemic.

 The book is based on the Gospel of John and the Synoptic Gospels, Matthew, Mark and Luke.  Since it is a novel, I could let my imagination run free.  What was it like for Peter, Andrew, James and John when they first met Jesus after John the Baptist baptized him? (John 1). John was baptizing just north of the Dead Sea.  Peter, Andrew, James and John were fishermen who lived in Capernaum on the Sea of Galilee, several days’ journey to the north.  How did they get there?  How did they find Jesus?  What was it like?

 I have studied, preached, taught and pondered the stories in the Gospels all my life. My mother first told the stories to me when I was a toddler.  I heard them in Sunday School and at church growing up. I was called to preach and became pastor of a church when I was 19.  55 years later, I am still mesmerized by “The Story.”  The story of Jesus has shaped my life and my world view.  It has shaped me.

 When I was a youth, we would sing old hymns that I have never forgotten.  “Tell me the story of Jesus, write on my heart every word, tell me the story most precious, sweetest that ever was heard.”  “I love to tell the story, for those who know it best are hungering and thirsting, to hear it like the rest.”  I have never grown tired of the story. I still love to think about it and to tell it.

 So, I started thinking, imagining, and writing.  One year and 26 chapters later, it was a book. 

 Next Sunday the world will again celebrate the resurrection.  It is the high moment of the year for everyone who believes and follows Jesus.  The Gospel writers devote most of their writing to this final week in Jesus’ life: more than a third of Mark, one-fourth of Matthew and Luke and over on-half of John.  And they leave us with many questions. How did the 12 misunderstand Jesus so completely prior to the resurrection? What happened on the Sabbath after Jesus was buried and what did they do? How do we reconcile the records of the resurrection? How and when did the disciples return to Galilee?

 I have enjoyed thinking about the three-year journey with Jesus, including some of the dynamics among the 12, John’s friendship with Jesus’ mother, as well as the questions above.  I have tried to capture my thoughts through imagination in the form of a novel.

 We Beheld His Glory was released on Amazon.com on March 15.  I hope you will download a free copy as an eBook April 1-5 and receive it as an Easter gift.

 Bill Tinsley’s book, We Beheld His Glory is available at Amazon.com, free eBook April 1-5.  Visit www.tinsleycenter.com. 

No Respecter of Persons

 We adopted Buddy, our tri-color corgi, 11 years ago. He spent time wandering the streets as a stray and endured the indignities of animal control before he found us. They called him “Tex.”  But he soon made it clear that his name was “Buddy.”  You can read his story in the children’s book, Buddy the Floppy Ear Corgi.

 When I go for a walk without Buddy, I am invisible. Few people notice me or speak.  But when Buddy takes me for a walk, we are celebrities.  Children stop what they are doing and run to us, asking if they can pet him.  Some adults do the same. We have gone for walks on beaches in Texas, in neighborhoods and parks in Minnesota, Montana and Colorado.

 Buddy never seems to meet a stranger.  He doesn’t care what people look like, what color their skin, what kind of tattoos they might have. They can be gay, straight, male, female, old or young, rich or poor, educated or disabled, Asian, Black, Hispanic, White or Native American.  He loves them all and they all seem to love him.

 A few years ago Buddy helped us “adopted” a group of international students at Baylor who met in our home for Bible studies. They were from Indonesia, South Africa, Zambia, China and the Czeck Republic.  They loved Buddy, took him for walks and kept him when we were away. Buddy loved them. They became our “children” and, although they have earned graduate degrees and scattered to ends of the earth, we remain in touch. Our world that is beset by prejudice, suspicion, hatred and violence needs to learn the lessons Buddy has been teaching

 It’s a lesson I am still working on, a lesson Buddy is still trying to teach me.  It is a lesson Jesus taught and one that Peter struggled to learn.  Jesus intentionally led his followers through Samaria, a region Jews refused to visit, and introduced them to a woman who had five husbands and was living with a man who was not her husband. He incensed his hometown authorities when he pointed out that God used Elisha to heal a Syrian rather than a Jew.  He embraced lepers who were outcast from their families. He healed the sick, the blind and the lame.  He dined with despised tax collectors. This was not the journey Peter and his companions expected. 

 It was only later when the Holy Spirit led him to enter the home of a Roman Centurion that Peter seemed to understand.  Upon entering the home, Peter said, “You yourselves know how unlawful it is for a man who is a Jew to associate with a foreigner or to visit him; and yet God has shown me that I should not call any man unholy or unclean.” (Acts 10).

 Every person we meet, however they look, wherever they are from, is special in the eyes of God, made in His image, a person for whom God has declared and demonstrated His love. (John 3:16).

How Big Is God

 In 2009 I bought a 1977 VW Bug.  Every fender was dented and it had no bumpers. Peeling paint fluttered in the wind.  It was on its last legs.  Its next stop, if not with me, would probably be the junk yard.  It might have been melted down for scrap metal and recycled as a Porsche. Who knows?

 But when I drove it, in spite of its rattles, it appealed to me. It was kind of like the Love Bug, Herby, begging for another chance.  So, I bought it on a nostalgic impulse and towed it home.  When I hooked it to my truck and pulled away from the house where I found it, the wife of its previous owner stood on the porch and applauded. She was happy to see it go, an eyesore removed from her driveway.  When I showed it to one of my friends, he asked if I found it at the bottom of a lake.  My wife is understanding and allows me these little follies, but made it clear I had to clean it up.

 I took it to a body shop where they took one look at it and said, “We don’t do that kind of work.”  But they pointed me to someone who did body work in his backyard and had experience with old VWs.  He walked around my bug, examined it carefully and announced, “I’m not afraid of it.”  That sealed the deal.  We painted it silver and named it Bullet.  I drove Bullet for 8 years, until we moved to Colorado and it refused to pass the emissions test. Old VW bugs are hard to kill.   

 The same year my VW bug was manufactured, NASA launched Voyagers 1 and 2 to explore the solar system and interstellar space.  Traveling at 39,000 mph it took 34 years for Voyager 1 to reach the edge of our solar system.  Although they have reached speeds fifty times faster than the fastest fighter jet, it will take them 70,000 years to reach the closest star. 

 One scientist put the size of the universe in perspective.  If our sun were the size of a grain of salt, he said, the orbit of the earth would be one inch in diameter.  And the closest star would be four miles away.

 When we look into the night sky it is filled with stars, seemingly close together.  But, in fact they are very, very far away.  There are four hundred billion stars in our galaxy alone and scientists estimate billions of galaxies in the universe.  If the cosmic universe is this big, how big is God?

 Shortly before Jesus was crucified, he prayed, “Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am, and to see my glory, the glory you have given me because you loved me before the creation of the world.”  (John 17:24). The word for “world” in this statement is not the Greek word, “ges” from which we derive our words “geology, geography and geothermal.” It is the word “cosmos” indicating the “cosmic universe.”  When we think about the expanse of the cosmic universe, we get a small glimpse of His glory, and quickly realize that our finite minds are far too small to comprehend His majestic greatness.