By Brad Olsen

Recently I was able to visualize the response of the Jews to Jesus and his miracles. Perhaps some will find this elementary. But for the first time, I can see vivid pictures, and hear the sounds, of how the some Jews understood Jesus to be their messiah.

The apostle John Mark wrote the earliest depiction of Jesus’ life (Mark) between 50 and 65 A.D.

Each time Jesus impacts a life, John Mark gives us a glimpse into the response of witnesses (including the apostles, and, of course, himself).

Here are three examples:

• After the scene in which Jesus calms the squall while in the boat with his disciples, they say, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey Him?” (Mark 4:41).
• The masses heard about Jesus “. . . and wherever He entered villages, or cities, or countryside, they were laying the sick in the market places, and entreating Him that they might just touch the fringe of His cloak; and as many as touched it were being cured.” (Mark 6:56)
• After Jesus healed a deaf and mute man, “. . . they were utterly astonished, saying, ‘He has done all things well; He makes even the deaf to hear, and the dumb to speak.’” (Mark 7:37)

What John Mark does not point out, but is poignantly evident to most Jewish contemporaries of Jesus (to whom John Mark was writing), is the bold ties to Old Testament scripture:

• Referring to Yahweh, the Psalmist writes: “Who dost still the roaring of the seas, the roaring of their waves, and the tumult of the peoples.” (Psalms 65:7)
• The Lord tells Israel, “But for you who fear My name the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings; and you will go forth and skip about like calves from the stall.” (Malachi 4:2)
• Isaiah prophesied: “Then the eyes of the blind will be opened, And the ears of the deaf will be unstopped. Then the lame will leap like a deer, And the tongue of the dumb will shout for joy. For waters will break forth in the wilderness And streams in the Arabah.” (Isaiah 35:5-6).

Jesus expects that, sooner or later, each of us will respond as these early Jews did. After Thomas confessed to doubting Him, Jesus said, “Because you have seen Me, have you believed? Blessed are they who did not see, and yet believed.”

So today I pray: “Lord, may we respond to You the way the early witnesses did. So be it.”

I often forget the power of purpose.  A one-word question gets straight to the meat of the matter. Such a simple word, “why?” appears so shallow, immature and innocent. Three-year-olds recite it regularly until parents beg them to stop.

But the children have it right. They want to learn the purpose: of food, of plants, of families, of people, of God . . . Their curiosity wears us down. But I sometimes wish I had the undying curiosity to learn about everything and its purpose. Or if I’ve already decided on a particular purpose, that a revolutionary idea would reform it.

My wife, Beth, and I recently celebrated our 25^th wedding anniversary on a small island in the Caribbean Sea. We were joined by our good friends, Pepper and Gwen. And we decided to make it our purpose to love the Lord, his creation and each other.

We noticed that many of the resort’s guests were twosomes. And many of them wanted to join our fun little group. A couple from Paris ate breakfast with us one morning, and we asked them a simple question: “What is the purpose of this day?” Peter, the husband, grabbed onto the question and continued to pose it throughout the week.  When I returned home, I received emails from him, repeating the question: “What is the purpose of this day?”

The question that appeared so elementary to us profoundly affected Peter and his worldview.

I think God wants us to ask the questions, to reconsider our concrete opinions and beliefs, and to never stop. We can learn a lot from a 3-year-old.

By BRAD OLSEN           

I came upon a nice New-Year thought you might enjoy. It come from Oswald Chamber’s “My Utmost for His Highest” (December 31):

“Leave the Irreparable Past in His hands, and step out into the Irresistible Future with Him.”

This is our prayer for each of you as you move into a new year. God bless you.

By BRAD OLSEN           

As football season slowly reaches its end, a story comes to us from Texas. So many parts of this story seem to odd, so inverted. Yet we see once again the power of love. Love is the tool left to us by Jesus to win the world. I think you’ll enjoy this:

Tuesday, December 23, 2008


Life of Reilly


By Rick Reilly


ESPN The Magazine



They played the oddest game in high school football history last month down in Grapevine, Texas.


It was Grapevine Faith vs. Gainesville State School and everything about it was upside down. For instance, when Gainesville came out to take the field, the Faith fans made a 40-yard spirit line for them to run through.


Did you hear that? The other team’s fans?


They even made a banner for players to crash through at the end. It said, “Go Tornadoes!” Which is also weird, because Faith is the Lions.


It was rivers running uphill and cats petting dogs. More than 200 Faith fans sat on the Gainesville side and kept cheering the Gainesville players on—by name.


“I never in my life thought I’d hear people cheering for us to hit their kids,” recalls Gainesville’s QB and middle linebacker, Isaiah. “I wouldn’t expect another parent to tell somebody to hit their kids. But they wanted us to!”


And even though Faith walloped them 33-14, the Gainesville kids were so happy that after the game they gave head coach Mark Williams a sideline squirt-bottle shower like he’d just won state.

Gotta be the first Gatorade bath in history for an 0-9 coach.


But then you saw the 12 uniformed officers escorting the 14 Gainesville players off the field and two and two started to make four. They lined the players up in groups of five—handcuffs ready in their back pockets—and marched them to the team bus. That’s because Gainesville is a maximum-security correctional facility 75 miles north of Dallas. Every game it plays is on the road.


This all started when Faith’s head coach, Kris Hogan, wanted to do something kind for the Gainesville team. Faith had never played Gainesville, but he already knew the score. After all, Faith was 7-2 going into the game, Gainesville 0-8 with 2 TDs all year. Faith has 70 kids, 11 coaches, the latest equipment and involved parents. Gainesville has a lot of kids with convictions for drugs, assault and robbery—many of whose families had disowned them—wearing seven-year-old shoulder pads and ancient helmets.


So Hogan had this idea. What if half of our fans—for one night only—cheered for the other team? He sent out an email asking the Faithful to do just that. “Here’s the message I want you to send:” Hogan wrote. “You are just as valuable as any other person on planet Earth.”


Some people were naturally confused. One Faith player walked into Hogan’s office and asked, “Coach, why are we doing this?”


And Hogan said, “Imagine if you didn’t have a home life. Imagine if everybody had pretty much given up on you. Now imagine what it would mean for hundreds of people to suddenly believe in you.”


Next thing you know, the Gainesville Tornadoes were turning around on their bench to see something they never had before. Hundreds of fans. And actual cheerleaders!


“I thought maybe they were confused,” said Alex, a Gainesville lineman (only first names are released by the prison). “They started yelling ‘DEE-fense!’ when their team had the ball. I said, ‘What? Why they cheerin’ for us?’”


It was a strange experience for boys who most people cross the street to avoid. “We can tell people are a little afraid of us when we come to the games,” says Gerald, a lineman who will wind up doing more than three years. “You can see it in their eyes. They’re lookin’ at us like we’re criminals. But these people, they were yellin’ for us! By our names!”


Maybe it figures that Gainesville played better than it had all season, scoring the game’s last two touchdowns. Of course, this might be because Hogan put his third-string nose guard at safety and his third-string cornerback at defensive end. Still.


After the game, both teams gathered in the middle of the field to pray and that’s when Isaiah surprised everybody by asking to lead. “We had no idea what the kid was going to say,” remembers Coach Hogan. But Isaiah said this: “Lord, I don’t know how this happened, so I don’t know how to say thank You, but I never would’ve known there was so many people in the world that cared about us.”


And it was a good thing everybody’s heads were bowed because they might’ve seen Hogan wiping away tears.


As the Tornadoes walked back to their bus under guard, they each were handed a bag for the ride home—a burger, some fries, a soda, some candy, a Bible and an encouraging letter from a Faith player.


The Gainesville coach saw Hogan, grabbed him hard by the shoulders and said, “You’ll never know what your people did for these kids tonight. You’ll never, ever know.”


And as the bus pulled away, all the Gainesville players crammed to one side and pressed their hands to the window, staring at these people they’d never met before, watching their waves and smiles disappearing into the night.


Anyway, with the economy six feet under and Christmas running on about three and a half reindeer, it’s nice to know that one of the best presents you can give is still absolutely free.


Hope.

I hope you all enjoyed good holidays. I realize that not all do. If the holidays have been difficult due to loneliness, or loss of a loved one, or another difficulty in life, our hearts go out to you. 

I haven’t written in some time, but I plan to blog more in the new year.

On an unrelated note, I was reminded last week of a great quote from one of my heroes in the faith, Dr. Richard Halverson, former chaplain of the U.S. Senate. I tried to locate the original, but couldn’t. So here’s my paraphrase:

“What started in Palestine as a relationship, went to Greece and became a philosophy, then went to Rome and became a religion, went to Europe and became a culture, and then went to America and became an enterprise.”

The quote begs the question: “What has Jesus become in my life?”

“Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: the virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son and will call him Immanuel.” –Isaiah 7:14

The Old Testament prophets foretold of the Messiah who would come to redeem Israel.  They called him Immanuel- “God with us.”

The fact God would choose to redeem the world through sending his son in the likeness of man should never grow old to us.  Immanuel walked among us to show us, in part, how very much he desires to be near to those whom he loves.

Pondering the significance of the God who walked among us, I recall a passage from C.S. Lewis’ “The Horse and His Boy.”  In this story, Jesus is portrayed as a lion and comes to Shasta, a young, lost boy who figures the world has all but forgotten him.  Read the words spoken to him and reflect on the significance of Immanuel this Christmas season:

“And being very tired and having nothing inside him, he felt so sorry for himself that the tears rolled down his cheeks.

What put a stop to all this was a sudden fright. Shasta discovered that someone or somebody was walking beside him. It was pitch dark and he could see nothing. And the Thing (or Person) was going so quietly that he could hardly hear any footfalls. What he could hear was breathing. His invisible companion seemed to breathe on a very large scale, and Shasta got the impression that it was a very large creature. And he had come to notice this breathing so gradually that he had really no idea how long it had been there. It was a horrible shock.

It darted into his mind that he had heard long ago that there were giants in these Northern countries. He bit his lip in terror. But now that he really had something to cry about, he stopped crying.

The Thing (unless it was a Person) went on beside him so very quietly that Shasta began to hope he had only imagined it. But just as he was becoming quite sure of it, there suddenly came a deep, rich sigh out of the darkness beside him. That couldn’t be imagination! Anyway, he had felt the hot breath of that sigh on his chilly left hand.

If the horse had been any good - or if he had known how to get any good out of the horse - he would have risked everything on a breakaway and a wild gallop. But he knew he couldn’t make that horse gallop. So he went on at a walking pace and the unseen companion walked and breathed beside him. At last he could bear it no longer.

“Who are you?” he said, scarcely above a whisper.

“One who has waited long for you to speak,” said the Thing. Its voice was not loud, but very large and deep.

“Are you- are you a giant?” asked Shasta.

“You might call me a giant,” said the Large Voice. “But I am not like the creatures you call giants.”

“I can’t see you at all,” said Shasta, after staring very hard. Then (for an even more terrible idea had come into his head) he said, almost in a scream, “You’re not - not something dead, are you? Oh please - please do go away. What harm have I ever done you? Oh, I am the unluckiest person in the whole world!”

Once more he felt the warm breath of the Thing on his hand and face. “There,” it said, “that is not the breath of a ghost. Tell me your sorrows.”

Shasta was a little reassured by the breath: so he told how he had never known his real father or mother and had been brought up sternly by the fisherman. And then he told the story of his escape and how they were chased by lions and forced to swim for their lives; and of all their dangers in Tashbaan and about his night among the tombs and how the beasts howled at him out of the desert. And he told about the heat and thirst of their desert journey and how they were almost at their goal when another lion chased them and wounded Aravis. And also, how very long it was since he had had anything to eat.

“I do not call you unfortunate,” said the Large Voice.

“Don’t you think it was bad luck to meet so many lions?” said Shasta.

“There was only one lion,” said the Voice.

“What on earth do you mean? I’ve just told you there were at least two the first night, and-”

“There was only one: but he was swift of foot.”

“How do you know?”

“I was the lion.” And as Shasta gaped with open mouth and said nothing, the Voice continued. “I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept. I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you.”

“Then it was you who wounded Aravis?”

“It was I.”

“But what for?”

“Child,” said the Voice, “I am telling you your story, not hers. I tell no one any story but his own.”

“Who are you?” asked Shasta.

“Myself,” said the Voice, very deep and low so that the earth shook: and again “Myself”, loud and clear and gay: and then the third time “Myself”, whispered so softly you could hardly hear it, and yet it seemed to come from all round you as if the leaves rustled with it.

Shasta was no longer afraid that the Voice belonged to something that would eat him, nor that it was the voice of a ghost. But a new and different sort of trembling came over him. Yet he felt glad too.

The mist was turning from black to grey and from grey to white. This must have begun to happen some time ago, but while he had been talking to the Thing he had not been noticing anything else. Now, the whiteness around him became a shining whiteness; his eyes began to blink. Somewhere ahead he could hear birds singing. He knew the night was over at last. He could see the mane and ears and head of his horse quite easily now. A golden light fell on them from the left. He thought it was the sun.

He turned and saw, pacing beside him, taller than the horse, a Lion. The horse did not seem to be afraid of it or else could not see it. It was from the Lion that the light came. No one ever saw anything more terrible or beautiful.”

To church or not to church?

Mike Dart, a friend from Wichita, Kansas, read me a section of a new book yesterday.

It captured my interest. “So You Don’t Want to Go to Church Anymore?” by Wayne Jacobsen and Dave Coleman, creates an illustration of what Jesus might think about organized religion today. The authors portray the disconnect between our message and what we really want to say. Here’s a little sampling you might enjoy:

“I dashed across the lobby and turned up the hallway to the education wing. There he was standing in front of our Sunday school bulletin board, his eyes arching over the top of itfollowing the three-inch letters that read: I WAS GLAD WHEN THEY SAID TO ME, LET US GO TO THE HOUSE OF THE LORD.

“What’s that mean?” He asked, drawing an imaginary rainbow with his index finger tracing the words.

“That we should enjoy being in God’s presence.” My voice involuntarily turned up at the end making my answer sound more like a question

“Good answer. Why is it here?”

“That’s our mission statement for Christian education.” I answered, trying to appear nonchalant, but I knew he was driving at something. I just wasn’t sure what it was.

“We are trying to provide an atmosphere where the kids really enjoy coming to their classes.”

“And ‘the house of the Lord’, would that be this building?” He pointed down both ends of the hallway.

Oops. I didn’t like where this was going. After a pause, I responded, “Well, of course we all know it means something greater than this.” I was desperate for a right answer here, but I had the uneasy feeling that I didn’t have one in my arsenal.

“But what do people think who read this?”

“They probably take it to mean coming to our church.”

“Is that what you want them to think?”

I decided if I didn’t answer we would move on. But he again let the silence hang longer than I could bear. “I guess we do.”

“Don’t you realize that the most powerful thing about the gospel is that it liberates us from the concept that God dwells in any building? For a people steeped in the rites of temple worship this was either great or terrible news. His followers thought it was great. No longer did they have to think of God as cloaked in the recesses of the temple, available only to special people at select times.”

I detected sadness in his voice and stood silent a moment.

“So then, Jake, if it isn’t this building, where is God’s house?”

“We are.” I shook my head at how stupid that sign looked to me now. I wonder if John knew it had been myidea to begin with. I certainly was not going to tell him.

“Then how can anyone go to themselves?” He sighed with frustration. “Do you remember what Stephen said right before they picked up stones to kill him?” ‘The Most High does not dwell in houses made by human hands.’ That’s when they turned on him. It reminded them of Jesus’ challenge to destroy the temple and he would rebuild it in three days. People can get very touchy about their buildings, especially if they think God dwells in them.”

I didn’t say anything, I just nodded my head in agreement.

“And are they glad when they come?”

It took me a moment to figure out what he meant. “We hope so. We go to an awful lot of work.”

“It certainly looks that way.” John’s eyes were roving all over the bulletin board where announcements about training seminars, staff meetings, class activities and request forms for supplies spilled over the edges.
“A quality program takes a lot of work.”

“Undoubtedly. And not a little bit of guilt, either, to say nothing of manipulation.” I followed his eyes to the center of our teacher-recruitment poster. It was a full color depiction of a teenager in punk garb on an urban street at night. In big letters down the left side it read. “If only someone would have taken the time to teach him about Jesus. Volunteer today.”

“Guilt? Manipulation? We’re not trying to make anyone feel guilty, just giving them facts.”

He shook his head and started walking down the hall. I glanced back up the hall toward the sanctuary, knowing that’s where I should be. But instead I quickly decided I’d better stay with John who had already
turned down another hallway.

As I rounded the corner I could hear the strains of children singing, We’re all in our places, with bright shining faces. Good morning to you! Good morning to you!

John was peeking through the partially opened door. Rows of first graders sat facing the teacher in their miniature chairs. As the song ended, there was lots of squirming, poking and laughter. One boy dressed in a bright blue sweater vest turned around to stick out his tongue at one of the girls. When he did he caught sight of us looking at him and immediately turned back around and pretended to pay attention.

We couldn’t see the teacher from our vantage point, but we could hear her pleading voice shouting from our right.

“Let’s say our memory verse,” she shouted. “Come on! Settle down or there will be no snack later.” Apparently the threat was effective because the room went silent.

“Who knows their memory verse?” Hands shot up throughout the classroom. “Let’s say it together. ‘I was glad when they said to me,’” the staccato voices never changed pitch. “‘Let us go to the house of the Lord, Psalm 122 verse one.’” Most voices had faded out for the reference except for one girl who wanted everyone to know she knew it.

“And what does it mean?” the teacher shouted above the rising noise.

Two hands shot up, one of them the same girl who had repeated the reference so loudly. “Sherri, tell us!”

“That’s my girl,” I whispered to John.

The girl stood up. “It means that we should enjoy coming to church, because this is where God lives.”

“That’s right,” the teacher said as I felt my face flush with embarrassment.

I shrugged my shoulders when John turned to smile playfully at me. Then he soundlessly mouthed two words: “It’s working.” The smile on his face pulled the plug on my embarrassment. He made it so clear that he wasn’t here to shame me.

When we both turned back to the class, the teacher was passing out golden stars made from foil for children to stick up on a chart on the wall. We used them for things like attendance, memory verse, and if the children brought their Bibles. The class was in chaos as kids were getting their stars, dodging each other while finding their name on the chart and then licking their stickers in place.

When the class got back to their seats, the teacher went to the chart and pointed down a few of the rows. “Look at all the stars Bobby has. Sherri is doing well, too, as are Liz and Kelly. Don’t forget the five top Superstars will get a special prize at the end of the quarter. So, let’s work hard. Make sure you come every week, bring your Bible and work on your memory verse.”

“Making a list and checking it twice?” John sang softly. It took me a minute to realize that was a Santa Claus song, not one of ours. “Seen enough?” he asked, turning towards me.

“What? Oh, me. I’m just watching you. I already know what goes on in there.”

“I’m not sure you do.” John turned away from the window and walked a little further down the hall, stopping finally alongside the water fountain. His right arm crossed his chest with his left elbow resting on
it, his left hand massaging his down-turned forehead.

“Jake, did you see that boy sitting next to your daughter in the shorts and light yellow T-shirt?”

“No, not specifically.”

“Well, I’m not surprised. There wasn’t much to look at really. He wasn’t making any noise, just sitting therewith his head down and his arms folded.”

“Oh, I know who you’re talking about. That must be Benji.”

“Benji. Did you notice that he didn’t know one word of the memory verse and he didn’t even go up to get the star he earned just for coming today?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“How do you think all that made him feel?”

“I hope it made him want to do better; to bring his Bible, to come more often and to memorize his verses. That’s how we motivate the kids. Everyone does it. It is for a good purpose.”

“But how is he ever going to compete against… Sherri, was it? Are his parents as supportive as you are?”

“He only has his mom and has never seen his dad. She’s a hard worker and loves him a lot, but you know how tough single parenting can be. I can’t even imagine it myself.”

“Do you think Benji will go away encouraged?”

“That’s what we’re hoping.” I thought of Benji sitting there with a distant look I’d seen so many times. “But I guess we’d have to say it hasn’t worked for him yet, although it works for most of the other kids. We have one of the most successful children’s ministries in the city.”

“Is it your point that Sherri’s feelings of accomplishment are worth Benji’s shame?”

I tried to answer his question, but couldn’t think of anything to say that didn’t sound incredibly stupid.”

How many Sunday Schools are set up just this way?

I couldn’t help but remember that as followers of Jesus, our message is a person. God created a dynamic, multi-media classroom (earth) for us to learn about Him. Jesus represents the visible likeness of the ultimate invisible person: God Himself. And to any human observer in the world, one can’t find a better message than Jesus Himself.

By the way, you may e-mail the authors at: waynej@lifestream.org or dcoleman7070@att.net

How often do we count our blessings? When we do, how many blessings are we entailed to count?

A friend tells a story of teaching his children to be grateful. At bedtime prayers one night he tells his children that instead of just praying for whatever comes to mind, they are going to name things they are grateful for. So they begin, “I’m grateful for Mom, I’m grateful for Dad, I’m grateful for a house to sleep in, for food to eat…” The list continues for a couple minutes then inevitably fades away. They have run out of things they are grateful for.

The Dad is frustrated that his children are so unaware of the multitude of blessings that flood their life.

So the next night he tries a different strategy. “We’re going to pray for what we’re grateful for again, but this time, anything you don’t say I’m taking away and won’t be here in the morning.”

That night, the list of things they were grateful for expanded exponentially.

On this Thanksgiving Day and in this holiday season, I hope you are able to recall the multitude of things you have to be grateful for.

“In everything give thanks, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”
-1 Thessalonians 5:18

“Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us be thankful, and so worship God acceptably with reverence and awe…”
–Hebrews 12:28

Guess who wrote this and when: “The budget should be balanced, the Treasury should be refilled, public debt should be reduced, the arrogance of officialdom should be tempered and controlled, and the assistance to foreign lands should be curtailed lest (the country) become bankrupt. People must again learn to work, instead of living on public assistance.”

Sounds a bit like our situation today, doesn’t it?

Now consider what King Solomon wrote in Ecclesiastes: “All things are wearisome, more than one can say. The eye never has enough of seeing, nor the ear its fill of hearing. What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; There is nothing new under the sun. Is there anything of which one can say, ‘Look, this is something new’? It was here already, long ago; it was here before our time.”

By the way, Cicero wrote the first quote in 55 B.C.

The “young armor-bearer” responds in a way worthy of note: “Do all that you have in mind. Go ahead, I am with you heart and soul.”

Wow.

Any of us would search the world for a friend who would believe in us like this young man believed in Jonathan.