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100 Sermon Illustrations on Despair

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Despair in Christian preaching is the crushing loss of hope and trust in God, often seen as a spiritual failure that rejects divine providence and grace. Illustrations for despair commonly use images of darkness, defeat, and self-destruction to contrast the life-giving hope found in faith (Psalm 42:11, Romans 15:13).

A Testimony of God's Power

Romans 8:1

In 1995 I attempted suicide. The doctor told me I was lucky to be alive. I told her I was not grateful she saved my life. At that time I was into a very destructive lifestyle that consisted of alcoholism, prescription drug abuse and lesbianism. I was involved in activities that were not only destroying my life but the lives of others. I was an angry and bitter person. I hated God, blaming Him for all the tragedies in my life. My sister, mother and close cousin had died while I was in my teen years. I blamed God for the abuse I endured. I was tired of living and saw no hope for change.

Then a couple invited me to a Life in the Spirit Seminar (LISS) in Illinois. I had no clue what a LISS was. It did not take long to figure it out. A LISS consists of several team members teaching on various aspects of the Holy Spirit and sharing their testimonies. My intentions for that weekend and God's plans were vastly different. I planned to kill myself, yet He planned to give me Life!

On that Saturday of the LISS, I listened as team members presented their teachings. One person, Peg really connected with me. Her topic was life. She first got my attention when she stood up, did a spin move and stated, “I am a miracle!” I thought she was crazy and as she spoke I grew more skeptical of her. How could she really love God after tragically losing her 15 year old son? How could she have a strong relationship with a God who is so heartless? Surely she must blame God. As God would have it, I was Peg's divine lunch appointment. For some reason, I felt compelled to tell her my story. I was too ashamed to look her in the eyes or speak above a whisper. Her sincerity, compassion and gentleness were amazing! The fact that she did not criticize me for my life choices (sins) baffled me. Peg became “Jesus with skin on” to me that day. She spoke truth in love to my hurting heart. She asked me to return that night for the prayer time and I agreed to do that. But as the day wore on I had many panic attacks and decided I was going home. Several team members surrounded me and prayed for peace, and I felt calm instantly.

I returned for the evening service. However, it seemed a game of tug-of-war was being played and my soul was the rope. The enemy raged at me to leave and I wanted to go home. The Holy Spirit spoke softly to me, lovingly encouraging me to go forward. My feet would not move. I knew that if I left that night without Jesus Christ that I would never have another chance. After what seemed like hours my feet were moving-towards the front of the church! Peg's prayer team was the only one open so I went immediately to them. Peg's team prayed with me for salvation and baptism of the Holy Spirit. They prayed with me for deliverance from many issues, some only God would have known. That was awesome to me! For the very first time in my life I felt peace and joy. The hour-long drive home seemed like only moments as I drove singing praises to God.

I thought God would leave me when the team left and thus could not stop crying! What I did not realize then is that God promises to never leave us or forsake us. It has been 2 1/2 years since that day and Jesus Christ has done just that. I am free of the bondage to lesbianism, alcohol and drugs. He has done and is doing much inner healing. Last year, just days before my dad died unexpectedly, I was able to tell my dad that I forgave him for the abuse he had perpetrated and asked him to forgive me for my hatred towards him. That was God! He has given me a new family at my church. He has helped me to accept myself as the creation He made. But the greatest gift is that I no longer live under condemnation (Romans 8:1-2).

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[Original illustration at this number was a duplicate in KeruxID 25837-26027]

Killed By Meaninglessness

During World War II there were prisoners in a Nazi concentration camp in Hungary who were processing human sewage in a factory. The allies came along, bombed that factory and blew it apart. So the prisoners had nothing to do. The Nazi soldiers had the prisoners take all the rubble of that factory and move it to another field.

The next day, they had them take that same rubble and move it back in reverse. The next day, they had to take that stuff and move it back; day after day they followed the same routine. It was just work doing the same thing over and over with no meaning and no purpose.

Then something strange began to happen. The prisoners started to go crazy. They began to lose their will to live because there was no meaning, no purpose in their work. They were just moving bricks back and forth, back and forth. Many of them began to throw themselves in front of the guards trying to get shot. In essence, trying to commit suicide.

from Sermon by Rev. Rick Warren: What On Earth Am I Here For? via Kerux Sermon and Illustration Database

Dealing With Discouragement

Numbers 11:11

It is not unusual for even the most spiritual people to have their days of doubt. Moses, on one occasion at least, was overwhelmed by his circumstances. After he had listened to the constant complaining of the children of Israel, he basically told the Lord, “I’m fed up. Just kill me. I don’t want to deal with this another day.” — (Numbers 11:11)

Elijah, after his contest with the prophets of Baal on Mt.Carmel, heard that Jezebel had put a contract out on his life. He was so overwhelmed by his circumstances, so discouraged, so uncertain, and so filled with doubt that he said to God, “Take my life.” — (1 Kings 19:10)

Even the great apostle Paul had moments when he was discouraged. He wrote to the church at Corinth, “We were burdened beyond measure, above strength, so that we despaired even of life” — (2 Corinthians 1:8).

Jeremiah, the great prophet, faced it as well. He was ridiculed and harassed for giving out the Word of God. Because he was tired of the pressure he was facing, it made him want to stop giving out God’s Word altogether. He said, “The word of the Lord was made to me a reproach and a derision daily. Then I said, ‘I will not make mention of Him, nor speak anymore in His name’ “ — (Jeremiah 20:8-9).

You are not the only one who has ever faced doubt or uncertainty or has been perplexed as to why God did not work in a certain way. We may be in the midst of God’s working and can’t see the big picture as He can.

from Harvest via Kerux Sermon and Illustration Database despairdoubt

Her Smile Saved His Life

There was a fascinating letter in “Psychology Today” magazine some years back. Dr. Robert Healy, a psychotherapist, wrote of a patient of his, a young man, who had come to him for therapy after having changed his mind about committing suicide. It seems that this young man planned to jump off a bridge in his town when something strange happened. While driving his car to the bridge, he stopped at a traffic light. Looking toward the sidewalk he spotted an elderly woman who was smiling at him. He felt himself smiling back.

The light changed and he drove on, but the memory of her kindly face stayed with him. Later, he told the psychologist, “Her smile made me think that perhaps life wasn't so bad after all.”

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King Duncan, Seven World's Corporation - Found at: http://www.sermons.com; secondary source: Weekend Encounter, by Dick Innes, Copyright (c) ACTS International, 2004, http://www.actsweb.org/subscribe.htm

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The Stones Cry Out

Luke 19:29

I received a letter from a woman who told me she had grown up in a troubled home. At an early age she ran away, began a life of crime, and spent time in jail. Later, ensnared by drugs, she felt that the only way out of her sin-darkened life was suicide. At that point, because of the witness of two women who told her about Jesus, she put her trust in the Savior and found a reason for living. Soon she wanted to tell others about Jesus. She had some artistic ability, so she began to paint Bible verses and spiritual sayings on smooth stones she collected from beaches. She sold them and used the money to aid missionary causes. Those stones were her way of telling others about Jesus.

This woman's story reminds me of what Jesus said as He approached Jerusalem a few days before His crucifixion. The multitude declared, "Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord!" (Luke 19:38). When the Pharisees told Jesus to quiet the crowd, He said that if the people were silenced, even the stones would cry out (v.40).

Of course, Jesus wasn't talking about painted stones, but it is still true that even if our verbal witness is silenced, there are all sorts of ways to tell others about Christ. What "stones" can you use to tell others of your Savior and King? -- Henry Bosch

Through transformed eyes, Lord, help us see A world of people in despair, And help us reach them with Your love, To show them that we really care. -- Sper

I'm just a nobody telling everybody about Somebody who can save anybody!

from Our Daily Bread · Enry Bosch via Kerux Sermon and Illustration Database despair

Aceh and the Abyss: the Fog of Despair

Romans 8:19

“One death is a tragedy,” said Josef Stalin, “a million is a statistic.” He was wrong. Any decent person cannot help but feel overwhelmed by the enormity of the suffering caused by last month's tsunami. The thousands of dead aren't statistics; they are people made in the image of God — victims of a catastrophe that has spurred the world to action and left many in a state of despair.

One of these people in despair is David Brooks of the NEW YORK TIMES. In his New Year's Day column, he called the world's generosity “amazing,” while wondering if this response was a “self-enveloping fog to obscure our view of the abyss.” The “abyss” he's referring to is the sense that nature, contrary to what the Romantics have told us, is neither “a nurse [nor] a friend.”

On the contrary, the events of late December 2004 remind us that, for all our technological prowess, we are subject to the natural elements, not their master.

Unlike the pre-moderns who lived with this knowledge, Brooks finds himself unable to take comfort from biblical faith. The events in South Asia left him thinking that instead of an “active,” albeit mysterious, God, there was only “nature's awful lottery.” That being the case, we should not only mourn for the dead, but also for “those of us who have no explanation,” wrote Brooks, referring to himself.

There is, however, a Christian response to Brooks's despair. Theologian David B. Hart wrote in the WALL STREET JOURNAL that we live in the “the long melancholy aftermath of a primordial catastrophe” — the Fall, something we humans brought upon ourselves as a result of God giving us a free will and our choosing to go our way, not His. But as a result of this “catastrophe,” ours is a “broken and wounded world.” The “universe languishes in bondage to 'powers' and 'principalities' — spiritual and terrestrial — alien to God.”

We see evidence of the Fall all around us: not only in natural disasters, but in illness and death. While you don't have to be a Christian to know that something has gone terribly wrong, you do have to be a Christian to understand God's remedy: In His incarnation, passion, and resurrection, God's Son both judged and rescued creation “from the torments of fallen nature.” Now “all creation groans in anguished anticipation of the day when God's glory will transfigure all things” (Romans 8:19-22).

Until then, says Hart, we are to “to hate death and waste and the imbecile forces of chance that shatter living souls” — not in despair, as Brooks and others do, but in hope.

Hard to believe? Of course it is, even for some Christians. But we continue to live by faith. And so until the day that Christ returns and our faith is completely vindicated, we are to cling to this Gospel and preach it. Its truth and the acts of kindness and mercy it inspires are the only alternative to the abyss of despair.

So Christians now have an opportunity to help the victims of the tsunami, the suffering masses in Asia, and, no less, the confused and despairing masses on every continent. We uniquely can offer hope to both victims.

FOR FURTHER READING AND INFORMATION:

• “Child Sponsors needed for tsunami hit areas,” Mission Network News.

• David Brooks, “A Time to Mourn,” New York Times, 1 January 2005. (Free registration required. After two weeks, costs $2.95 to retrieve.)

• David B. Hart, “Tremors of Doubt,” Wall Street Journal, 31 December 2004.

• Mark Steyn, “On tsunami's shore,” Washington Times, 4 January 2005.

• Daniel Henninger, “Why We Need Politics: The tsunami's sorrows will need more than pity,” Wall Street Journal, 31 December 2004.

• Cal Thomas, “God and suffering,” Townhall.com, 4 January 2005.

• Michael Novak, “Blaming God First,” National Review Online, 5 January 2005.

• Rob Moll and Ted Olsen, “Tsunami Weblog: The World Seeks Meaning,” Christianity Today, 5 January 2005.

• Dean Yates and Tomi Soetjipto, “Rescue choppers cheered in Aceh, children suffer,” Reuters, 3 January 2005.

• Patrick Lannin and Stephen Brown, “Tsunami victims prey to crime from Asia to Europe,” Reuters, 3 January 2005.

• “Traffickers threaten Aceh orphans,” CNN, 5 January 2005.

• “Christians ready to reach closed Muslim countries with Christ's love,” Mission Network News.

• See the “Worldview for Parents” page “Where Did Evil Come From?“

• Daniel Sarewitz and Roger A. Pielke, Jr., “Rising Tide: The Tsunami's Real Cause,” New Republic, 6 January 2005.

• Allen Hertzke, Freeing God's Children (Rowman & Littlefield, 2004).

• Charles Colson and Nancy Pearcey, The Problem of Evil (Tyndale, 1999).

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Copyright © 2005 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint with Chuck Colson" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

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from BreakPoint Commentary · Charles Colson via Kerux Sermon and Illustration Database hope

Walk As Far As You Can

I read a story once of a group of Jews who were escaping the Nazis. They were walking over a mountain and they carried with them the sick and the old and the children. A lot of old people fell by the wayside and said, “I'm a burden; go on without me.” They were told, “The mothers need respite, so instead of just sitting there and dying, would you take the babies and walk as far as you can?” Once the old people got the babies close to their bosom and started walking, they all went over the mountain. They had a reason to live.

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They Welcomed A Hurting Woman

I crept into the tiny rented room they used as their church sanctuary and sat down in the back row. Alone and broken, with fresh bleeding wounds, I pulled my shell around me to keep my real self from being seen. I'd lost one mate to cancer, and now another to divorce. I felt like a failure and was in total despair. But if I wanted to be invisible, I had picked the wrong church.

“Hi, I am the pastor here. Glad you can be with us,” he said as he introduced himself.

“Hi, I'm Barbara,” another member greeted me. “I'm so glad you came today.”

Even before the service began, every member had introduced himself or herself and had welcomed me. Many asked me to come again.

I can't recall the sermon; I only know that it touched me in a way that made tears course down my cheeks. It may have been because of my delicate emotional state, but I could not check the flow. I felt ugly and embarrassed. When the benediction was over, I shot out the back door and past the pastor without a word. I noted his quizzical look, but I didn't pause to explain.

I don't know how I had courage enough to return the following week, but I did. I guess it was because of my limited choices: I could stay home and nurse my hurts, return to my former church where my new ex and his family would be, or go back to the little church that I had attended the past week. The little church seemed the least of the three stressors.

This time I was greeted as an old friend. Most of the women hugged me, and the men all shook my hand. At first I was turned off by their overfriendliness. I had never been a hugger, and those people were invading my space! But with each hug my shell slipped a little.

Week after week the warm smiles and friendly hugs and handshakes began to win me over. With the security of that love I began to heal. The healing didn't happen all at once. It took a long, long time. Sometimes the process was painful. But I am loved - God loves me, and so does my church family.

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Sherian Atkins Wills, Moneta, Virginia; source: Adventist Review, (c) November 25, 2004, http://www.adventistreview.org/; submitted by Mary Thayne

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Rise, Let Us Be Going

John 21:17

In the Garden of Gethsemane on the night Jesus was arrested, the disciples fell asleep when Jesus had asked them to stay awake; they turned their heads away in weariness when he had asked them to pray and keep watch. They felt the heaviness of their eyes instead of the heaviness of the moment, though Jesus repeatedly tried to stir them to be alert. It was a day of failings. After Jesus's arrest, everyone deserted him and fled. Peter, who had emphatically declared he would never deny Christ, heard the rooster crow and knew exactly what he had done. In the aftermath of three denials, Peter wept bitterly. One wonders how the other scattered disciples received the morning.

What do you do with despair? What do you do when you know that you have messed up, when you know that you have missed an opportunity, when it seems that all of your shortcomings are written in large print across your life and there is no going back with an eraser?

Most of us walk away from a ruined moment thoroughly defeated. But where do you go? And how long do you remain in your defeat? Do you throw up your hands and stop trying? Do you mentally beat yourself up? Do you carry your guilt as if paying penitence? Do you, in the words of George MacDonald, house a conscience that does its duty so well it makes the whole house uncomfortable?

Christian author Joni Eareckson Tada knows intimately what the face of despair looks like. Injured in a diving accident that left her paralyzed, she was once convinced she had missed God's best for her. Her misstep loomed before her, and because of it, she believed that God was somehow forced to go with his divine Plan B.

Do we, in our assailings or failings, hold a similar perspective? In the regret of a missed opportunity, the guilt of a failed moment, the despair of an irreversible situation, it is understandable that we sometimes sink into the hopeless thought that it is all over. It is easy beat ourselves up, to despairingly ponder what it means to have missed God's best, and to believe that somehow, with disappointment, God must now come in and adjust his plan for our lives.

How significant, then, are Christ's words to his despairing disciples, and to those of us who have ever felt the sting of regret. To those who had fallen asleep, Jesus returned and said, “Rise, let us be going” (Matthew 26:46). To Peter who had denied him three times, Jesus took him aside and said, “Feed my lambs” (John 21:17). To his once scattered disciples, Jesus offered two commands, neither asking them to sit in a corner and think about what they'd done, nor asking them to carry their sense of guilt for a time before thoroughly moving on. He simply said, “Go” and asked for their obedience.

For the disciples, it was a day of failings. For God, it was the fullness of time, the moment in history when the floodgates of heaven were opened, and failed days, missed moments, and broken lives were forever offered a hope that does not let us down. There are days that we can never get back, words we can't erase, and times when we have certainly failed. Yet in Christ, all is never lost. But all is gained. In him alone we are accepted, redeemed through his blood, forgiven of our sins. In him alone we are adopted, received as children of God, and loved as heirs of the promise. Do not despair. Go and follow.

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Copyright © 2005 Ravi Zacharias International Ministries (RZIM). Reprinted with permission. "A Slice of Infinity" is a radio ministry of Ravi Zacharias International Ministries.

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The Christian Secret

Job 9:16

Agnes Bojaxhiu, who died in 1997, was one of the most influential persons of her time. She was so, because she was so passionate about her beliefs that her life became an articulate expression of her faith. She loved life and so hated abortion; thus even when called to speak to a pre-dominantly American audience, she strongly criticized the policy. When asked to comment on her remarks, President Bill Clinton only noted, “Who can argue with a life so well-lived?”

Yet, Agnes Bojaxhiu was privately racked by an emotional vacuum in her relationship with God. In some of her writings, published posthumously, she is quoted as saying: “The more I want [God], the less I am wanted.” Sometime later she writes again, “Such deep longing for God -- and... repulsed, empty, no faith, no love, no zeal. [The saving of] souls holds no attraction. Heaven means nothing. Pray for me please that I keep smiling at Him in spite of everything.”(1)

Ordinarily, this would not be anything noteworthy, as many would privately disclose that we, too, have been troubled by doubt. But now the world looks back at the legacy of Agnes Bojaxhiu, who was better known as Mother Teresa, and these letters, which are very private expressions of her personal struggles, are being publicly analyzed. There are many questions that this honesty about doubt raises. Is it wrong to doubt? What kinds of doubt are acceptable and what is not? And most importantly, how do we deal with it?

We do see in the Bible many who wrestled with doubt. Job who was the midst of suffering said, “If I called and he answered me, I could not believe that he was listening to my voice. For he bruises me with a tempest and multiplies my wounds without cause” (Job 9:16-17). Look at the extent of his struggle -- even if he were to hear the voice of God in answer to his plea, he would not believe that it was in response to his prayer. His bruises, which were many, constrained belief and encouraged doubt.

Then there is Jeremiah who cried out to God in the face of persecution. “O LORD, you have deceived me and I was deceived; you have overcome me and prevailed. I have become a laughingstock all day long; everyone mocks me” (Jeremiah 20:7). Though this was not a cry of outright unbelief, it was a struggle with a God who seems to be silent in the face of unjust suffering.

In addition to these voices, the list of doubters would not be complete without mention of Thomas, whose name brings to mind the very word. When the disciples recounted to him their encounter with the risen Lord, he refused to blindly believe their words. “Unless I see in his hands the imprint of the nails, and put my finger into the place of the nails, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe” (John 20:25).

Where there is faith, it seems there is also the possibility of doubt. How do we handle doubt? Firstly, we should be honest about our doubt. In the Gospel of Mark there is an account of a father who brought his demon possessed son to Jesus. He implored him to cast out the demon. Jesus agreed, saying that all things were possible to those who believed. The father of the boy then confessed, “I do believe; help my unbelief” (Mark 9:24). While there is no mechanical method or technique to rid ourselves of doubt, we can approach God with honesty, confessing our doubt, and our need for his help.

Secondly, God does not want us to live by simply depending upon our feelings. While feelings are important, they do not tell us what is real. They supplement the other facets of how God has made us as humans. Thus, the oft quoted verse comes alive with meaning in this context: “And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength” (Mark 12:30). We need to love God with not just our emotions, but also with all our bodily faculties, our wills, and our mind. As we observe God’s world and reflect on it, there are impressions of the divine formed in the eyes of our heart, which direct us toward the true God. Thus our minds, our emotions, our wills, and all our faculties are complementary components in our relationship, by faith, in Christ.

And finally, while we are often hard on Thomas, he is to be commended because he doubted so that he could believe. It was not a doubt that was destructive, but a doubt that led to a faith that would not fail him. A blind faith may not have held him finally in the face of martyrdom. Far from a troubling secret that Christians must hide with shame, our doubts must always lead us to investigate, and then to respond like Thomas to the evidence provided by the risen Jesus -- with surrender: “My Lord and my God.”

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1. Time Magazine, Sept 3, 2007.

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Copyright © 2007 Ravi Zacharias International Ministries (RZIM). Reprinted with permission. "A Slice of Infinity" is a radio ministry of Ravi Zacharias International Ministries.

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[Original illustration at this number was a duplicate of HolwickID #20884]

He Let His Son Save Him

Acts 27:14

It is not widely known that President Theodore Roosevelt carried a lethal dose of morphine with him for years. The glass vial was small enough to be easily overlooked; it was perhaps the most private possession of one of the world’s most public men. Now he was finally ready to use it. It was December 1913, and Teddy and a group of adventurers, including his son Kermit, were trapped on the River of Doubt, a twisting tributary deep in Brazil’s Amazon rain forest.

Almost from the start, the expedition went disastrously wrong. Now the expedition had reached a set of seemingly impassable rapids. Lives were lost; supplies were destroyed. Roosevelt was suffering from malaria and had developed a potentially deadly bacterial infection after slicing his leg on a boulder. He had become a feverish, at times delirious, invalid. Shivering violently, he concluded that the time had come to take his own life. The Brazilian commander announced that they would have to abandon their canoes and strike out into the jungle -- every man for himself. “To all of us,” one of them wrote, “his report was practically a sentence of death.” For Roosevelt, who could barely sit up, much less fight his way through the rain forest, the plan was simply an impossibility.

He made his decision that night. Before the first rays of sunlight seeped through the thin tent walls, he summoned his remaining strength and said, “Boys, I realize that some of us are not going to finish this journey. I want you to go on. You can get out. I will stop here.”

The only man among them who believed that they could get their dugouts through the rapids was his son Kermit. Having spent much of the past year building bridges, he was extremely skilled with ropes, a talent that had already saved the expedition countless times as it encountered series after series of rapids. Kermit went to the Brazilian commander and argued that he could use ropes to lower the dugouts over the falls. The commander agreed to let him try.

That was all Kermit needed to stay his father’s hand. Roosevelt understood that the best way to ensure Kermit’s survival was not to spare him the burden of carrying his father but to give him the chance to do just that. To save his son, Roosevelt realized, he would have to let his son save him. In the end, Roosevelt, Kermit and all but three men would survive to place the river -- renamed the Rio Roosevelt -- on the map of South America.

from Time Magazine; article: The River Of Doubt · Candice Millard, edited by David Holwick via Kerux Sermon and Illustration Database doubtsuiciderisk

Glimpsing Spring

Matthew 3:2

A friend of F.W. Boreham described the English writer as a man who always seemed to sport a “halo of wonder.” Fittingly, a much-loved signature of this much-loved author was the fresh flower he wore in his buttonhole as he went about each day.

But Dr. Boreham often told of a particular day when he inadvertently forgot the flower. He realized his mistake on a tram into the city just as an elderly woman climbed on board with a large bouquet. As she made her way to a seat, all of the winter-weary eyes turned to the bouquet of golden wattle she carried. A few stops later she stood up to depart, on her way plucking a handful of the flowers for a young boy sitting nearby. He took them without a word of thanks, and as the tram began to move away, she watched as he tossed them on the floor. Dr. Boreham was horrified. “Don’t you want them?” he asked the boy. “No,” the boy murmured contemptuously, “What’s the good?” So Boreham rescued the discarded blossoms and wore them proudly in his buttonhole.

That afternoon everyone he met spoke of those flowers. “The wattle’s out!” said one. “Like the breath of spring!” said another. And with each expression of delight, he recalled the expression of despair in the face of the elderly woman as the tram drove away. When Dr. Boreham told this story at a gathering, he would always conclude, “Though love’s labor often seems lost, it has results that would surprise you. Lift up your hearts!”(1)

The wisdom in his words is timeless, but perhaps peering through that halo of wonder, Boreham would ask us to see even more. You see, long after the woman’s eyes had turned away despairingly, goodness was yet on the move. In a similar way, the Christian aims to see what is sometimes unseen. We believe that the battle has already been won, that Christ is victorious and that the kingdom of God is present and coming. We believe that God is on the move. But this is not always easy to see.

In fact, often when we look around us or turn on the news it seems that only the bad is getting louder. If truth be told, it is hard NOT to take the tone of the boy who tossed aside the small glimpse of spring: “What’s the good?” What’s the good of diminutive hope in the presence of great despair? What’s the good of straining to see goodness when the ugliness is so overwhelming?

Without a doubt, it is of infinite good if it is reality. And reality is what Christ calls us to see. Our vision of an active and real kingdom may be overwhelmed by present and certain evil and it can just as easily be overwhelmed by the busyness of life. But we do well to actively remember that even overwhelmed to the point of death, Jesus proclaimed the sovereignty of a Holy Father on the move.

In fact, I believe we see our surroundings most clearly when we are focused on the reality of the Father. As A.W. Tozer once penned, “Faith is the gaze of a soul upon a saving God.” History continues to confirm the words of John the Baptist, “The kingdom of God is at hand” (Matthew 3:2). Lift up your eyes! Lift up your hearts!

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1. F.W. Boreham, THE LAST MILESTONE (London: Epworth Press, 1961), 14.

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Copyright © 2006 Ravi Zacharias International Ministries (RZIM). Reprinted with permission. "A Slice of Infinity" is a radio ministry of Ravi Zacharias International Ministries.

Mama Knit Some Hope

It was hard to watch her fail. Physically she was growing thinner and more stooped. Mentally she was losing her ability to sort out reality. Initially, my grandmother had railed angrily against the symptoms of Alzheimer’s disease that were eroding who she had always been.

Eventually, the anger gave way to frustration and then resignation. My grandmother had always been a strong woman. She had a career before it was even common for women to have careers. She was independent. In her eighties, she was still dragging out her stepladder every spring to wash all the windows in her house. She was also a woman with a deep faith in God.

As my grandmother lost her ability to live alone, my father moved her into his home. Grandchildren and great-grandchildren were often in the house. She seemed to enjoy being surrounded by the noise and activity of a large, extended family.

As she slipped further away from us mentally, my grandmother would occasionally have moments of lucidity when she knew where she was and recognized everyone around her. We never knew what prompted those moments, when they would occur or how long they would last.

Toward the end of her life she became convinced that her mother had knit everything she owned. “Mama knit my boots,” she would tell strangers, holding up a foot clad in galoshes. “Mama knit my coat,” she would say with a vacant smile as she zipped up her raincoat. Soon we were putting on her boots for her and helping her zip up her coat.

During my grandmother’s last autumn with us, we decided to take a family outing. We packed up the cars and went to a local fair for a day of caramel apples, craft booths and carnival rides. Grandma loved flowers, so my dad bought her a rose. She carried it proudly through the fair, stopping often to breathe in its fragrance.

Grandma couldn’t go on the carnival rides, of course, so she sat on a bench close by and waited while the rest of the family rode. Her moments of lucidity were now a thing of the past having eluded her for months, but she seemed content to sit and watch as life unfolded around her.

While the youngest members of the family ran, laughing to get in line at the next ride, my father took my grandmother to the nearest bench. A sullen-looking young woman already occupied the bench but said she wouldn’t mind sharing the bench. “Mama knit my coat,” my grandmother told the young woman as she sat down.

We didn’t let my grandmother out of our sight, and when we came back to the bench to get her, the young woman was holding the rose. She looked as though she had been crying. “Thank you for sharing your grandmother with me,” she said. Then she told us her story. She had decided that day was to be her last on Earth. In deep despair and feeling she had nothing to live for, she was planning to go home and commit suicide. While she sat on that bench with Grandma as the carnival noises swirled around them, she found herself pouring out her troubles.

“Your grandmother listened to me,” the young woman informed us. “She told me about a time in her own life, during the Depression, when she had lost hope. She told me that God loved me and that He would watch over me and would help me make it through my problems. She gave me this rose. She told me that my life would unfold just like this rose and that I would be surprised by its beauty. She told me my life was a gift. She said she would be praying for me.”

We stood, dumbfounded, as she hugged my grandmother and thanked her for saving her life. Grandma just smiled a vacant smile and patted her arm. As the young woman turned to leave, she waved good-bye to us. Grandma waved back and then turned to look at us, still standing in amazement.

“Mama knit my hat,” she said.

________

Sara L. Henderson

What We Do Not Feel

Job 13:15

The question was recently posed to me, “Can one really feel God’s presence?” The person asking had had experiences in which he believed that he HAD felt the presence of God. But what troubled him was the recognition that people from other faiths, or no faith at all, could have similar subjective experiences that felt just as real to them.

This is not an easy question to answer. I believe that God’s presence can be experienced. The writer of Hebrews invites us, “Let us draw near to God with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith” (10:22). But if I hang my assurance of the reality and goodness of God on the experience of his presence, the consequences for my faith will be radical, and possibly fatal. If feelings are the basis for my faith, and one day I wake up and I do not experience Jesus, but instead experience Gautama Buddha or Joseph Smith, would I then convert to Buddhism or Mormonism?

The question about feeling God’s presence brought to mind the story of Darlene Deibler Rose. Rose was a young American missionary to the jungles of New Guinea who survived four years of captivity in Japanese prison camps during World War II. When Rose tells her story, she describes how a powerful sense of God’s loving presence sustained her through beatings, horrible illnesses, the cruelties of her captors, and the death of her husband.

Although I marveled at Rose’s amazing endurance, I couldn’t help but wonder if I could endure as she had. I have not felt God’s presence in the unmistakably palpable way that she did. But towards the end of the story of her imprisonment, Rose relates an experience that brings the answer to this question into focus. At the time, she was in solitary confinement and severely malnourished. In spite of her outward difficulties, she had continued to feel inner peace. Then, she writes,

Quite suddenly and unexpectedly, I felt enveloped in a spiritual vacuum. “Lord, where have You gone? Why have You withdrawn Your presence from me? O Father...” -- in panic I jumped to my feet, my heart frantically searching for a hidden sin, for a careless thought, for any reason why my Lord should have withdrawn his presence from me. My prayers, my expressions of worship, seemed to go no higher than the ceiling; there seemed to be no sounding board. I prayed for forgiveness, for the Holy Spirit to search my heart. To none of my petitions was there any apparent response.

Rose spent the night crying out to God, searching for a reason for why He had withdrawn her ability to feel his presence. When no answer came, she prayed:

Lord, I believe all that the Bible says. I do walk by faith and not by sight. I do not need to FEEL You near, because your Word says You will never leave me nor forsake me. Lord, I confirm my faith; I believe. The words of Hebrews 11:1 welled up, unbeckoned, to fill my mind: ‘Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, THE EVIDENCE OF THINGS NOT SEEN.’ ...Evidence not seen -- that was what I put my trust in -- not in feelings or moments of ecstasy, but in the unchanging Person of Jesus Christ.... In a measure I felt that I understood what Job meant when he declared, ‘Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him’ (13:15). Job knew that he could trust God, because Job knew the character of the One in Whom he had put his trust. It was faith stripped of feelings, faith without trappings.(1)

I believe that we can feel God’s presence, and that we should eagerly seek it. But we cannot base our faith on a foundation of emotional experience. If we base our faith on feelings, when the feelings go, the faith will flee. FAITH IS BEING SURE OF WHAT WE HOPE FOR AND CERTAIN OF WHAT WE DO NOT SEE. Faith is also being sure of what we do not FEEL. If a commitment to Christ assured us that we would always feel his presence, faith would not be required of us.

The story of Darlene Deibler Rose testifies to the reality of the Holy Spirit -- the Comforter, who will never leave us nor forsake us -- as powerfully as any story I have encountered. But Rose was wise enough to know that her faith could not rest on that experience. When the darkness descended, she kept walking, until she had passed through the darkness into the light.

________

1. Darlene Deibler Rose, EVIDENCE OF THINGS NOT SEEN (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1988), 155-156.

________

Copyright © 2007 Ravi Zacharias International Ministries (RZIM). Reprinted with permission. "A Slice of Infinity" is a radio ministry of Ravi Zacharias International Ministries.

===============

Version in Holwick's sermon of May 25, 2014:

Darlene Deibler Rose was a young American missionary in the jungles of New Guinea in the 1940s. During World War II she was captured by the Japanese and spent four years in a prison camp. Through beatings, horrible illnesses, the cruelties of her guards, and the death of her husband, she continually felt a powerful sense of God’s loving presence sustaining her.

But toward the end of her imprisonment, something changed. At the time, she was in solitary confinement and severely malnourished. Her sense of inner peace evaporated. She wrote:

“Quite suddenly and unexpectedly, I felt enveloped in a spiritual vacuum. ‘Lord, where have You gone? Why have You withdrawn Your presence from me?’ In panic I jumped to my feet, my heart frantically searching for a hidden sin, for a careless thought, for any reason why my Lord should have withdrawn his presence from me. My prayers ... seemed to go no higher than the ceiling.... I prayed for forgiveness, for the Holy Spirit to search my heart. To none of my petitions was there any apparent response.”

Rose spent the night crying out to God, trying to figure out why she couldn’t feel his presence. When no answer came, she prayed:

“Lord, I believe all that the Bible says. I do walk by faith and not by sight. I do not need to FEEL You near, because your Word says You will never leave me nor forsake me. Lord, I confirm my faith; I believe.”

At that moment the words of Hebrews 11:1 came to her mind:

‘Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, THE EVIDENCE OF THINGS NOT SEEN.’

“...Evidence not seen -- that was what I put my trust in -- not in feelings or moments of ecstasy, but in the unchanging Person of Jesus Christ.... I felt that I understood what Job meant when he declared, ‘Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him’ (Job 13:15).”

Miss Rose concluded that you can feel God’s presence, and we should seek it. But we cannot base our faith on a foundation of emotional experience. If we base our faith on feelings, when the feelings go, the faith will flee. FAITH IS BEING SURE OF WHAT WE HOPE FOR AND CERTAIN OF WHAT WE DO NOT SEE.

Last One Off Earth, Turn Out the Lights: Modern Desperation

A few weeks ago, the world famous physicist Stephen Hawking came one step closer to his dream of going into space: He took a flight in a “specially modified aircraft” that allowed him to experience weightlessness.

Hawking, who is almost completely paralyzed by Lou Gehrig’s disease, said that the purpose of his flight was to “encourage public interest in space.” Not out of the kind of “new frontier” optimism, but out of a despairing view of humanity.

For Hawking, the goal for space travel isn’t to seek out new life or even to boldly go where no man has gone before — it’s to ensure the survival of the human race.

After the flight, Hawking said that “life on Earth is at an ever-increasing risk of being wiped out by a disaster such as sudden global warming, nuclear war, a genetically engineered virus or other dangers.” Thus, colonizing other worlds may be our only chance of surviving our own folly.

If this sounds like Hawking — who is Isaac Newton’s successor at Cambridge University, the most prestigious chair — has been watching a bit too much of the Sci-Fi Channel, he’s not alone in his bleak assessment. In a recent NEW YORK TIMES’ op-ed, Robert Wright of the New America Foundation described what he called “an apocalyptic vibe in the zeitgeist.”

Wright argued that it’s “not hard to imagine how the technological sophistication that got us to the brink of global civilization could be our undoing.” He cited “classic nuclear apocalypse,” “eco-apocalypse,” and “terrorism” as three possible factors that could lead to a “planetary death spiral.”

These are hardly isolated examples. These days, if you want lectures on human depravity and the looming apocalypse, the best places aren’t churches or Christian book stores — it’s prestigious op-ed pages and science departments of universities.

It’s clear that the anti-religion crowd is growing desperate, the result of all their angry rejection of the hope of the Gospel.

Oddly enough, there is something almost biblical in this kind of talk. ALMOST, that is. This recognition of the human capacity for folly and self-destruction is a welcome alternative to the naïve utopianism and belief in progress that dominated so much of twentieth-century thinking. But it’s only PART of the truth.

What’s missing is the solution to what C.S. Lewis called our “bentness.” After all, even if we do escape the bounds of Earth to colonize new planets, our fallen human nature will accompany us on the trip and the cycle of folly will start all over again.

That’s why the real “logic of human destiny” (to borrow a phrase from Wright), is the Gospel. It not only describes the human condition correctly, it provides an answer to that condition — an answer that can be implemented on this world, not Rigel IV.

Instead of removing us from this planet, God came down to this fallen world. In living and dying as one of us, He transformed our humanity in a way that can break the power of sin and folly.

What needs modifying is us, not our spacecraft. The best antidote to the “apocalyptic vibe” Wright describes is hope — not in what man can accomplish on or off this planet, but in what God has done and continues to do, His kingdom, and the assurance that our human destiny is Heaven, not Mars.

________

Copyright (c) 2007 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint with Chuck Colson" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

from BreakPoint Commentary · Charles Colson via Kerux Sermon and Illustration Database futurescience

The Dark Night of the Soul: What Makes Faith Real

Luke 22:31

Perhaps you remember the media frenzy over Mother Teresa’s letters, which were published after her death. Because those letters revealed depression, doubts, and spiritual darkness, many argued that Mother Teresa’s Christian faith could not possibly have been real. Atheist Christopher Hitchens, for instance, insisted that she must have realized that “religion is a human fabrication.”

Well, nonsense.

Hitchens had no way of understanding Mother Teresa and her faith, but there’s another author who would have understood perfectly. In fact, this man might have said that Mother Teresa’s struggles actually showed just how real her faith was.

John of the Cross, who lived in the 1500s, is the writer, friar, and priest featured in Ken Boa’s latest Great Books Audio CD Series. Ken tells us that this man’s “spiritual development was forged in a life of pain, conflict, and passion for God.” The title of John’s most famous work, The Dark Night of the Soul, is familiar to all of us because we’ve all experienced this, as Christians have through the centuries, the “seasons of darkness and dryness in the spiritual journey.”

Too frequently, our modern attitude about prayer is to make it all about ourselves instead of about Christ. We focus on a “technique or set of steps” that’s supposed to bring sure results. But this approach can leave us unprepared to deal with the doubts and darkness that can overwhelm even the most faithful Christian.

John of the Cross contended that the dry seasons teach us about our own powerlessness and our own need for complete reliance on Christ. He talked about not one, but several different kinds of “nights” that we may go through.

There’s the night that we experience in our senses. But then there’s the far darker kind that we experience in our soul, which leads to terrible feelings of “desolation” and “abandonment.” We may experience these nights in “active” ways, when we must work to reach out to God, and “passive” ways, when we must be still and allow God to act upon us.

Of the dark night of the senses, Ken says this: When “the senses are stripped of all pleasure and joy in prayer,” our attention can be drawn toward God, who purifies us and takes us “through dread to eventual joy, not despair.” But we can only experience this kind of growth if we willingly submit to God even when all our feelings seem to be pulling us away from Him.

As for the dark night of the soul, John of the Cross explained that it may be used to teach the soul “renunciation and deprivation,” “faith,” and finally, “the ultimate rapture of union with Christ.”

As you can imagine, this teaching has been tough for many to take. Even one translator acknowledged that it can be “repelling.” But, as Ken says, it nonetheless has something important to teach us about “the cost of discipleship” — even those of us who will never experience a night as dark as the one Mother Teresa knew.

Inspired by The Dark Night of the Soul, we can respond to Christopher Hitchens and others like him that they’ve got it exactly backwards. It’s the shallow faith, the kind that focuses only on our own happiness, that can’t last. The times of darkness, the dark nights of the soul, ultimately serve to make our faith stronger and deeper.

________

Copyright (c) 2009 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint with Chuck Colson" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

from BreakPoint Commentary · Charles Colson via Kerux Sermon and Illustration Database doubtdarknessatheism

The Dark Night of The Soul

2 Corinthians 4:7

The dark night of the soul. This phenomenon describes a malady that the greatest of Christians have suffered from time to time. It was the malady that provoked David to soak his pillow with tears. It was the malady that earned for Jeremiah the sobriquet, “The Weeping Prophet.” It was the malady that so afflicted Martin Luther that his melancholy threatened to destroy him. This is no ordinary fit of depression, but it is a depression that is linked to a crisis of faith, a crisis that comes when one senses the absence of God or gives rise to a feeling of abandonment by Him.

Spiritual depression is real and can be acute. We ask how a person of faith could experience such spiritual lows, but whatever provokes it does not take away from its reality. Our faith is not a constant action. It is mobile. It vacillates. We move from faith to faith, and in between we may have periods of doubt when we cry, “Lord, I believe, help Thou my unbelief.”

We may also think that the dark night of the soul is something completely incompatible with the fruit of the Spirit, not only that of faith but also that of joy. Once the Holy Spirit has flooded our hearts with a joy unspeakable, how can there be room in that chamber for such darkness? It is important for us to make a distinction between the spiritual fruit of joy and the cultural concept of happiness. A Christian can have joy in his heart while there is still spiritual depression in his head. The joy that we have sustains us through these dark nights and is not quenched by spiritual depression. The joy of the Christian is one that survives all downturns in life.

In writing to the Corinthians in his second letter, Paul commends to his readers the importance of preaching and of communicating the Gospel to people. But in the midst of that, he reminds the church that the treasure we have from God is a treasure that is contained not in vessels of gold and silver but in what the apostle calls “jars of clay.” For this reason he says, “that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.” Immediately after this reminder, the apostle adds, “We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies” (2 Cor. 4:7–10).

This passage indicates the limits of depression that we experience. The depression may be profound, but it is not permanent, nor is it fatal. Notice that the apostle Paul describes our condition in a variety of ways. He says that we are “afflicted, perplexed, persecuted, and struck down.” These are powerful images that describe the conflict that Christians must endure, but in every place that he describes this phenomenon, he describes at the same time its limits. Afflicted, but not crushed. Perplexed, but not in despair. Persecuted, but not forsaken. Struck down, but not destroyed.

So we have this pressure to bear, but the pressure, though it is severe, does not crush us. We may be confused and perplexed, but that low point to which perplexity brings us does not result in complete and total despair. Even in persecution, as serious as it may be, we are still not forsaken, and we may be overwhelmed and struck down as Jeremiah spoke of, yet we have room for joy. We think of the prophet Habakkuk, who in his misery remained confident that despite the setbacks he endured, God would give him feet like hind’s feet, feet that would enable him to walk in high places.

Elsewhere, the apostle Paul in writing to the Philippians gives them the admonition to be “anxious for nothing,” telling them that the cure for anxiety is found on one’s knees, that it is the peace of God that calms our spirit and dissipates anxiety. Again, we can be anxious and nervous and worried without finally submitting to ultimate despair.

This coexistence of faith and spiritual depression is paralleled in other biblical statements of emotive conditions. We are told that it is perfectly legitimate for believers to suffer grief. Our Lord Himself was a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. Though grief may reach to the roots of our souls, it must not result in bitterness. Grief is a legitimate emotion, at times even a virtue, but there must be no place in the soul for bitterness. In like manner, we see that it is a good thing to go to the house of mourning, but even in mourning, that low feeling must not give way to hatred. The presence of faith gives no guarantee of the absence of spiritual depression; however, the dark night of the soul always gives way to the brightness of the noonday light of the presence of God.

________

First published in Tabletalk Magazine, an outreach of Ligonier.

His Own Funeral March

When Napoleon flung his troops across the Alps, and they were climbing their way over the snowy peaks to the sunlit plains of Italy, a most pathetic incident took place. A little drummer-boy was caught by a sliding avalanche on the mountain and shot into the crevasse. Unhurt, he found himself on the ledge. Far above him was the winding host going zigzag up the mountain. The soldiers who had witnessed the accident looked back, but they dared not turn aside; it was “Onward!”

The little lad commenced to play on his drum the relief call, and they heard him. Many a father in that French army, I think, wished there would come orders to relieve the lad; and then, as they wound out of sight and again came into view, they heard the appeal on the drum. Napoleon was told what had happened, but what was a little drummer-boy to him? What was a little drummer-boy to the great host that he was leading over the Alps, and he would not give the order to save the lad. “March on!”

The lad noticed the forms of his comrades getting fainter and fainter, and when he saw that there was to be no rescue, that he had to lie down and die, they heard him stop the relief call on his drum. A few minutes he waited, and then they heard him beating his own funeral march. The veterans in that army wept. They wept, and as they told of it by the campfires years after, they wept again. The lad beat his own funeral march; he had to lie down and die. There was no rescue, no hope, nothing but despair and death.

Aye, but that is not the story of the Cross. There is a funeral march being played from the judgment hall, and on the cross out side the city; and when I tell you that Jesus Christ died, the real Son of God, the substitute for us, there is life as a result of the funeral march. There is joy, and there is gladness, come from the death of Christ.

-- John Robertson

The life of each one is precious to our great Commander, even the life of the most insignificant “drummer-boy” in His army. Still, each of us should stand ready to die, when by our death Christ’s eternal purposes march forward, unhindered by us.

-- Duane V. Maxey

from Fredericksburg Bible Illustrator Supplements via Kerux Sermon and Illustration Database despair

Neither Optimism Nor Despair: Why Hope Is Better

Romans 15:13

In an old bit titled “Everything is Amazing and Nobody is Happy,” Comedian Louis C.K. mocked how crabby people can be today, despite living in an age so much better and easier than any other time in human history. Despite incredible technological innovations, like smart phones and airplanes, we still find ways to be upset.

Similarly, National Review senior editor Charles C.W. Cooke recently wrote about the lack of optimism in contemporary America, even amidst great advancements. In his essay, “Against Misery,” Cooke, a self-identified atheist, claimed Americans have reason to be optimistic and to push back against the doldrums of contemporary despair,

Per Gallup, 81% of Americans are either ‘very’ or ‘somewhat’ satisfied with their lives, while just 20% are either ‘very’ or ‘somewhat’ satisfied with the way things are going in the United States in general. And why wouldn’t they be, when, day in and day out, our leaders declaim and condemn and lament the awful state of things.

The staggering gap identified by this Gallup data is worth exploring. Cooke noted that even amidst the negative views about our country, often portrayed by political leaders and the media, Americans still seem happy. And they should be, given that we have the strongest economy in the world, the most durable constitutional system, the strongest military, and we are the home of the world’s tech industry — amongst other critical factors.

Cooke thinks this gap is attributable to the fact that most respondents to the poll, whose lives individually are good, are answering on behalf of supposedly unhappy people — many of whom probably do not exist. That’s because, Cooke worries, “the electorate has adopted a worldview that renders satisfaction philosophically unattainable.” However, for a majority of Americans to like their own lives but overwhelmingly not like the state of their own country is, as Cooke said, “absurd.” After all, “Americans live in America.”

There’s much to appreciate about Cooke’s analysis, including his observation that people think and operate within the framework of a worldview. There is, however, more to say from the framework of a distinctively Christian worldview. Specifically, our options are never merely between optimism and pessimism.

Christians are right to lament moral collapse but should never be reduced to despair. At the same time, Christians should not be merely optimistic, cheerful, or against misery. Rather, Paul wrote that God’s people should abound in hope (Romans 15:13). This is not the kind of wrongly defined wishful-thinking “hope” used by political campaigns. As one political scientist wrote, such ideas are “gas giants” without necessary subjects and objects, which leave us to ask: Hope for what? Or in what, exactly?

The great commentator William F. Buckley, Jr. liked to say that the “wells of regeneration are infinitely deep.” Of course, Christians know Who the living water is that brings regeneration. As Peter described in his first epistle — a letter full of hope with both a subject and an object — Christians are “born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ...”

The Apostle Paul also underscored the reality that Jesus Christ is Lord throughout his epistles, especially in his prayer for the saints at Ephesus recorded in 1:18. Paul prayed that they might “know what is the hope to which he has called you” — a hope he anchored in the death, burial, and Resurrection of Christ.

But Paul didn’t stop there. Christ is not only resurrected, proving victory over death, but He is also reigning over all creation. Christ is seated “far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the one to come.”

Though Cooke makes a compelling case for optimism in our time and the need for a revival of what William Wordsworth called the “happy warrior,” his analysis is based on the temporal, not the eternal. That kind of hope is vulnerable to corruption and loss. Even more, calls to optimism are ultimately unfulfilling and unsatisfactory because they are untethered from the true source of contentment that only hope can provide.

Some Feelings Should Be Felt, Not Medicated

All sadness is not a psychological disorder, according to sociologists Allan Horwitz and Jerome Wakefield. But try telling that to the psychiatric establishment. The official diagnostic manual used by mental-health professionals defines depression as two continuous weeks of such symptoms as despondency, diminished pleasure in life, and difficulties in sleeping and eating. In the manual, it doesn’t matter WHY a person is despondent. If you’ve lost your job, or your romantic partner dumped you, or you’ve been given a diagnosis of cancer, you’re still deemed clinically depressed if you’re sad for two weeks or more. This might account for the recent 300 percent increase in Americans diagnosed with depression and the explosion in the use of antidepressants.

Real depression is a serious mental illness, but it is a disservice to conflate it with sadness that is a normal response to a serious loss. Being sad after a major setback or disappointment is a normal part of human nature and, in fact, may serve an important purpose, such as giving us a “time-out” to grapple with what has happened. Some feelings should be felt, not medicated.

Faith From A Flower

Job 3:20

Out of the history of Napoleonic France, Leonard Griffith has given us a moving story of a political prisoner by the name of Charnet. Charnet was thrown into prison simply because he had accidentally, by a remark, offended the emperor Napoleon. Cast into a dungeon cell, presumably left to die, as the days and weeks and months passed by, Charnet became embittered at his fate. Slowly but surely he began to lose his faith in God. And one day, in a moment of rebellious anger, he scratched on the wall of his cell, “All things come by chance,” which reflected the injustice that had come his way by chance. He sat in the darkness of that cell growing more bitter by the day.

There was one spot in the cell where a single ray of sunlight came every day and remained for a little while. And one morning, to his absolute amazement, he noticed that in the hard, earthen floor of that cell a tiny, green blade was breaking through. It was something living, struggling up toward that shaft of sunlight. It was his only living companion, and his heart went out in joy toward it. He nurtured it with his tiny ration of water, cultivated it, and encouraged its growth. That green blade became his friend. It became his teacher in a sense, and finally it burst through until one day there bloomed from the little plant a beautiful, purple and white flower. Once again Charnet found himself thinking thoughts about God. He scratched off the thing he had scribbled on the wall of his dungeon and in its place wrote, “He who made all things is God.”

Somehow through the guards and their wives and the gossip of the community, this little story reached the ears of Josephine, Napoleon’s wife. She was so moved by it and so convinced that a man who loved a flower that way could not possibly be a dangerous criminal that she persuaded Napoleon to release him. So Charnet was set free. You can be sure that he dug out his precious little prison flower and took it with him and cultivated that plant in the years to come. He also pondered in his heart a verse that he put on the little flowerpot holding the plant. What would that verse be? “If God so clothe the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is cast into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?” (Matthew 6:30)

________

David A. Seamands, “Instruction for Thanksgiving,” Preaching Today, Tape No. 62.

Wesley Didn't Love God

Mark 14:30

Despite his achievements, John Wesley never quite overcame profound self-doubt. At age 63, he wrote to his brother, “I do not love God. I never did. Therefore I never believed, in the Christian sense of the word. Therefore I am only an honest heathen... And yet, to be so employed of God!”

________

Stephen Tomkins, JOHN WESLEY: A BIOGRAPHY (Eerdmans 2003), p. 168.; Letter to His Brother on 27 June 1766; cp. Journal, 14 October 1738; 4 January 1739

*

[Original illustration at this number was obsolete and deleted]

from Wikipedia.org; Article On John Wesley via Kerux Sermon and Illustration Database despairbelieve

Great Is His Faithfulness

Lamentations 3:19

Lamentations 3:19-24 is the basis of the hymn “Great is Thy Faithfulness” and contains a powerful message about hope in the midst of hopelessness.

Imagine being in the shoes of the author, Jeremiah. After years of prophesying of the coming doom of Jerusalem, after years of witnessing spiritual infidelity on the part of the people, God’s judgment in the form of the Babylonian exile had finally come in 586 B.C.

Babylon laid siege to the city for 18 months. People were starving. The hands of compassionate women even boiled their own children, being reduced by their desperate hunger to cannibalism (4:9-10). Finally, the invading nation breached the walls. They slaughtered many. Others they removed from their beloved Promised Land, dragging them across the desert with bronze hooks in their noses to a pagan land, never to see their homeland again. The temple of God’s presence -- Solomon’s temple -- was razed to the ground. And Zedekiah, the Davidic king, the source of messianic hope, had sons killed before his eyes before having his own eyes gouged out.

Only Jeremiah and the poorest of the poor remained in the ruined city, devoid of provision, protection, and prospects. Jeremiah’s response to the devastation was Lamentations -- a series of laments composed as alphabetic acrostics to express his complete and profound grief over the events.

Yet in the center of the book, in the longest of the laments, surrounded by bitter expressions of despair and despondency, Jeremiah found hope -- a sure and certain hope. It was a hope based not in his circumstances, but upon the firm foundation of God’s character. When all Judah believed God had abandoned them to the hopelessness of the exile, Jeremiah confessed his firm faith in the enduring faithfulness and lovingkindness of God. When even the most compassionate earthly mothers failed, Jeremiah confessed that God’s compassions never fail.

Pursue Meaning Instead of Happiness

Job 7:16

People pursue happiness, says Emily Esfahani Smith, but it’s always temporary. Pursue meaning instead.

________

In September 1942, Viktor Frankl, a prominent Jewish psychiatrist and neurologist in Vienna, was arrested and transported to a Nazi concentration camp with his wife and parents. Three years later, when his camp was liberated, most of his family, including his pregnant wife, had perished — but he, prisoner number 119104, had lived. In his best-selling 1946 book, Man’s Search for Meaning, Frankl concluded that the difference between those who had lived and those who had died came down to one thing: meaning.

As he saw in the camps, those who found meaning even in the most horrendous circumstances were far more resilient to suffering than those who did not. “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing,” Frankl wrote in the book, “the last of the human freedoms — to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”

In his book, Frankl gives the example of two suicidal inmates he encountered in the camps. Like many others there, these two men were hopeless and thought there was nothing more to expect from life, nothing to live for. “In both cases,” Frankl writes, “it was a question of getting them to realize that life was still expecting something from them.” For one man, it was his young child, who was then living in a foreign country. For the other, a scientist, it was a series of books that he needed to finish. Frankl writes: “This uniqueness and singleness which distinguishes each individual and gives a meaning to his existence has a bearing on creative work as much as it does on human love.... A man who becomes conscious of the responsibility he bears toward a human being who affectionately waits for him, or to an unfinished work, will never be able to throw away his life. He knows the ‘why’ for his existence, and will be able to bear almost any ‘how.’”

In 1991, the Library of Congress and the Book-of-the-Month Club listed Man’s Search for Meaning as one of the 10 most influential books in the United States. Today, the book’s ethos — its emphasis on meaning, the value of suffering, and responsibility to something greater than the self — seems to be at odds with our culture, which is more interested in the pursuit of individual happiness. “To the European,” Frankl wrote, “it is a characteristic of the American culture that, again and again, one is commanded and ordered to ‘be happy.’ But happiness cannot be pursued; it must ensue. One must have a reason to ‘be happy.’”

According to Gallup, the happiness levels of Americans are at a four-year high. On the other hand, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, about four out of 10 Americans have not discovered a satisfying life purpose. Forty percent either do not think their lives have a clear sense of purpose or are neutral about whether their lives have purpose. Research has shown that having purpose and meaning in life increases overall well-being and life satisfaction, improves mental and physical health, enhances resiliency, enhances self-esteem, and decreases the chances of depression.

This is why some researchers are cautioning against the pursuit of mere happiness. In a new study, psychological scientists asked nearly 400 Americans aged 18 to 78 whether they thought their lives were meaningful and/or happy. Examining their self-reported attitudes toward meaning, happiness, and many other variables — like stress levels, spending patterns, and having children — the researchers found that a meaningful life and a happy life overlap in certain ways, but are ultimately very different.

How do the happy life and the meaningful life differ? Happiness, they found, is about feeling good. Specifically, the researchers found that people who are happy tend to think that life is easy, they are in good physical health, and they are able to buy the things that they need and want. While not having enough money decreases how happy and meaningful you consider your life to be, it has a much greater impact on happiness. The happy life is also defined by a lack of stress or worry.

Most importantly from a social perspective, the pursuit of happiness is associated with selfish behavior — being a “taker” rather than a “giver.” The psychologists give an evolutionary explanation for this: happiness is about drive reduction. If you have a need or a desire — like hunger — you satisfy it, and that makes you happy. People become happy, in other words, when they get what they want. Humans are not the only ones who can feel happy. Animals have needs and drives, too, and when those drives are satisfied, animals also feel happy.

“Happy people get a lot of joy from receiving benefits from others, while people leading meaningful lives get a lot of joy from giving to others,” says Kathleen Vohs, one of the study authors. In other words, meaning transcends the self while happiness is all about giving the self what it wants. People who have high meaning in their lives are more likely to help others in need. “If anything, pure happiness is linked to not helping others in need,” the researchers write.

What sets human beings apart from animals is not the pursuit of happiness, which occurs all across the natural world, but the pursuit of meaning, which is unique to humans, according to Roy Baumeister, the lead researcher of the study.

The study participants reported deriving meaning from giving a part of themselves away to others and making a sacrifice on behalf of the overall group. Having more meaning in one’s life was associated with doing activities like buying presents for others, taking care of kids, and arguing. People whose lives have high levels of meaning often actively seek meaning out even when they know it will come at the expense of happiness. Because they have invested themselves in something bigger than themselves, they also worry more and have higher levels of stress and anxiety in their lives than happy people. Having children, for example, is associated with the meaningful life and requires self-sacrifice, but it has been famously associated with low happiness among parents, including the ones in this study.

“Partly what we do as human beings is to take care of others and contribute to others. This makes life meaningful, but it does not necessarily make us happy,” Baumeister told me in an interview.

Meaning is not only about transcending the self, but also about transcending the present moment — which is perhaps the most important finding of the study, according to the researchers. While happiness is an emotion felt in the here and now, it ultimately fades away, just as all emotions do; positive affect and feelings of pleasure are fleeting. The amount of time people report feeling good or bad correlates with happiness but not at all with meaning.

Meaning, on the other hand, is enduring. It connects the past to the present to the future. “Thinking beyond the present moment, into the past or future, was a sign of the relatively meaningful but unhappy life,” the researchers write. “Happiness is not generally found in contemplating the past or future.” That is, people who thought more about the present were happier, but people who spent more time thinking about the future or about past struggles and sufferings felt more meaning in their lives, though they were less happy.

Having negative events happen to you, the study found, decreases your happiness but increases the amount of meaning you have in life. “If there is meaning in life at all,” Frankl wrote, “then there must be meaning in suffering.”

The wisdom Frankl derived from his experiences in concentration camps, in the middle of unimaginable human suffering, is just as relevant now as it was then: “Being human always points, and is directed, to something or someone, other than oneself — be it a meaning to fulfill or another human being to encounter. The more one forgets himself — by giving himself to a cause to serve or another person to love — the more human he is.”

By putting aside our selfish interests and serving someone or something larger than ourselves — by devoting our lives to “giving” rather than “taking” — we are not only expressing our fundamental humanity, but are also acknowledging that there is more to the good life than the pursuit of simple happiness.

________

Adapted from the article, "What is a good life?" in The Week magazine, February 13, 2013, which is derived from work by Emily Esfahani Smith in The Atlantic Magazine.

[see also #63932]

A Total Loss Could Not Stop Him

Luke 8:15

William Carey, often called the “Father of Modern Missions,” dedicated his life to spreading the gospel in India. Serving as a missionary there from 1793 until his death in 1834, he never took a furlough.

Although he had little formal education, Carey was a gifted linguist who learned dozens of languages and dialects. His goal was to translate Scripture into as many Indian languages and dialects as possible. In order to meet this goal, Carey supervised the creation of India’s first printing press. he established a large print shop in the city of Serampore, where he did his Bible translation. The building was two hundred by fifty feet, and twenty translators worked there in addition to typesetters, compositors, pressmen, binders, and other writers.

On March 11, 1812, Carey was teaching in Calcutta. While he was gone, a fire started in the printing room. His associate, William Ward, smelled smoke, and called for help. Despite many hours of exhaustive efforts to fight the fire, the building burned to the ground. Just five pieces of equipment were saved.

Carey’s entire library, his completed Sanskrit dictionary, part of his Bengal dictionary, two grammar books, and ten translations of the Bible were lost. Gone also were the type sets for printing fourteen different languages. Vast quantities of English paper, priceless dictionaries, deeds, and account books were all gone.

Another missionary interrupted Carey while he was teaching a class in Calcutta to inform him of the stunning and tragic events of the day before. When Carey returned to Serampore and surveyed the scene, he wept and said, “In one short evening the labours of years are consumed. How unsearchable are the ways of God. I had lately brought some things to the utmost perfection of which they seemed capable, and contemplated the missionary establishment with perhaps too much self-congratulation. The Lord has laid me low, that I may look more simply to him.”

Although he was heartbroken, he did not take much time to mourn. With great resiliency Carey wrote, “The loss is heavy, but as traveling a road the second time is usually done with greater ease than the first time, so I trust the work will lose nothing of real value. We are not discouraged; indeed the work is already begun again in every language. We are cast down but not in despair.”

Carey resolved to trust God that form the embers would come a better press and more scholarly translations. With a few months Carey had set up shop in a warehouse.

Little did Carey know that the fire would bring him and his work to the attention of people all over Europe and America as well as India. In just fifty days in England and Scotland alone, about ten thousand pounds were raised for rebuilding Carey’s publishing enterprise. So much money was coming in that Andrew Fuller, Carey’s friend and a leader of his mission in England, told his committee when he returned from a fund-raising trip, “We must stop the contributions.” Many volunteers came to India to help as well.

By 1832 Carey’s rebuilt and expanded printing operation had published complete Bibles or portions of the Bible in forty-four languages and dialects!

from The One Year Book of Christian History · E. Michael Rusten, Sharon O. Rusten via Kerux Sermon and Illustration Database discouragementperseverance

A Gideon Bible Delivered Him From Despair

John 14:27

I was born in Los Angeles in 1949 into a Reform Jewish family. We grew up in the suburbs and had the usual and normal lifestyle of the 1950s and 60s. My father was a strict man brought up in the old world of Jewish law. He was a faithful attendee in the synagogue, but didn’t express a love for God. My mother was a nurse who worked the 3-to-11 shift my whole life.

I was Bar Mitzvah at age 13 and confirmed at 16, went into the Army at 17 and never went back to the synagogue, except a time or two because my Gentile wife was curious about the customs.

My wife was born and raised a Christian in Ashe County, North Carolina. For almost 30 years of married life I successfully kept my wife from going to church. I successfully kept my children away from God. I successfully fulfilled my own lusts and desires for worldly things and worldly pleasures. I was taught through the hardship of my childhood that love was something that hurt you. My father would say, before he took a belt to me, “I’m only doing this because I love you”, then he would hit me and humiliate me. This is what I knew of love.

To the world I was a great guy. I was in the medical profession as a Physician’s Assistant for a local surgeon and I was well liked by our patients and hospital staff. They thought I was so nice. But all the time I was a sinner in my own world. As the years went by, Polly and I raised two daughters. The harder I tried to NOT be like my father, the more I was like him. So my children, even though I never physically harmed them, grew up with the abuse of my voice and stature. In other words, their love for me was due to their fear of me, just like my father and me. It turned out that our younger daughter suffered with ulcerative colitis and while still in her early 30’s, had to undergo extensive surgery to heal her problem.

All this was going on while I was running around the country as a tour director with a company I’ll just refer to as “Heathen Tours” having a great time. It was during all this, too, that I failed my wife in the worst possible way. She had been diagnosed with breast cancer and had had major surgery followed by chemotherapy, but I was not there for her. Not just being gone when she needed me the most, but also being unfaithful to her.

On Christmas Eve of 1996, it all came to a head and Polly threw me out of the house, telling me I was no good for her or the family and that she was a lot better off and happier without me to worry about. I packed my belongings in my pickup and went to a local motel. It was a typical Christmas Eve, cold, snowing, and very dark. The streets were empty as I drove to the motel. The owner wouldn’t let me stay there because he had a rule that married locals couldn’t stay in his motel. I had to swallow my pride and “confess” to him what was going on. He took pity and made an exception. It turns out he is a Christian, and his letting me stay there was a sign of Christ’s love. It dawned on me as I entered my room that my life was over. I had lost everything that was important to me. I would never see my wife, daughters and grandchildren again. I was more angry than depressed at that moment. I took a pistol with me into the room.

There was an open book on the TV. I knew what it was and I didn’t want anything to do with it. Usually those Bibles are in the side table drawer but this motel owner put them on top of the television. I swiped it off the TV onto the floor where it fell - open. I tried to kick it under the bed, but it hit one of those wooden frames under the mattress, and it skidded towards the bathroom. I reached down to pick it up to put in a drawer. As I lifted it, I felt the strongest “voice” in my head say, “Read it now”. I felt unusual warmth in my hands and I looked down into the book and read about peace and love. “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you, not as the world gives it to you; let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” (John 14:27)

I had planned to end my life, being that it wasn’t worth much. But I kept seeing these two words “peace and love” on the page and I started to think that maybe the answers were in this book. This book was, of course, the Holy Bible placed there by the Gideons. I read enough to know I had to talk to someone about this and the only person who came to mind was my wife’s pastor, Reverend Lawrence Goodman. He had visited our house every year for ten years, but I had always waved him away. I was Jewish and didn’t need or want a Christian pastor.

I called Polly and told her that I was out of control and could not understand why I kept on doing such terrible things. I asked her if she thought her pastor would see me, and she said she didn’t know. So I called him and asked him if I could make an appointment to see him sometime after Christmas and he said, “No” - he would see me first thing in the morning, Christmas morning. That was the second sign of love. The next morning I drove to his home. He had sent his family out so he could meet with me. I started to cry and confess to him what I had done. He didn’t scold, judge, or pity. He simple listened and asked me if I knew about Jesus. He told me that the ONLY way to make it through the addiction of sin and have a peaceful life is to invite Jesus the Savior into my life. My first thought was that this is absurd. But this warmth came over me again and I realized for the first time in my adult life, that I was not in control. I had no power in my own life. After a few hours of talking, he told me to go back to the hotel and read the Gospel of John three times. I left realizing that I was more depressed than I have ever been in my life. I realized I had failed in everything. My shirt was soaked with tears. I still thought about killing myself.

I was on the way back to the hotel when I found myself passing the home of a couple who had been good friends for years. They had always been what I thought were “real Christians”. They were the ones who stayed with Polly while she suffered through the chemotherapy. They were the last people in the world I wanted to see. I was so ashamed of myself. Nevertheless, I know now, that the Holy Spirit was in control that night and I found myself driving into the driveway of Herb and Barb Rash. I went into the house and found them sitting on the sofa, watching their two beautiful children opening presents under the tree. I started crying again and they sat there amazed because they had just been praying for me. They didn’t know what was going on with Polly and me. I told them a little about what was happening and how I had just been to see their pastor. Barb started crying, got up and left the room. When she returned, she was carrying a book and showed me that it was her prayer journal and where she had been praying for me for more than ten years.

I was so touched by this act of love; I had to leave, being overcome with emotions I didn’t know how to deal with. No one had ever said that to me in my life. That was the third sign of love that day.

For the next three days, I stayed in the motel room and read the Gospel of John as the pastor had suggested. I even prayed, which was awkward, as I had never prayed like this before. I can’t remember exactly what went on for those three days. Nevertheless, on Sunday morning, I called Polly and asked her if I could go to church with her. She said I could if I wanted to, but I could tell she really didn’t care. At church I sat with her in the fourth pew on the right and the pastor gave a powerful sermon. I was sobbing when he finished. I went forward at his invitation, actually lifted out of the pew, not knowing why or how, and told him I needed help. He asked me if I was ready to accept Jesus into my life and I said, “yes”. Was I doing this for Polly he asked. I said no, I was doing this for me. Because if I didn’t, I was going to die.

He told me to get down on my knees, but my legs gave out and I fell down on my knees and face. The water came flushing out of my eyes, nose and mouth and my whole body felt like it was in a spasm. He asked several questions which I cannot remember except that I answered yes and then I felt a hand on my back and then one on my head then many hands all over me. I felt such a presence that I had never felt before. When the moment passed, I was helped up and sat down on the pew to get myself collected. I realized that almost every person in that church had come down to lay hands on me. That was the fourth sign of Christ’s love. But most wonderful was that Polly was one of the many people kneeling next to me and touching me as I sobbed.

I had to leave after that. I had promised my mother I would fly out to San Francisco and be with her, as she lay dying of leukemia. It wasn’t until I was on the plane and talking to a Christian man, that I learned I had just been “saved”. My time spent with my mother was stunning. I learned that even on her deathbed, my mother, who encouraged and pushed me to fulfill the traditions of Judaism as a young man, did not believe in God. What a shock! I had to tell her what had occurred that morning in the church. I was afraid to tell her, because most Jewish mothers have a strong negative reaction to this kind of news. But Mom was actually happy for me. She knew my life was difficult and she was happy that I had found peace in my life. But she was not interested in knowing who Jesus was or surrendering herself to him. I stayed with her for six weeks and during that time she got a little better. I spent a lot of that time going to churches and studying with local clergy. I was very fortunate to meet a Messianic Rabbi who explained many things to me about being a “Christian Jew”. I actually met with him several times to listen and learn. I left there with a good feeling about myself and the new creature I had become.

After six weeks, Polly allowed me to come home to try to restore our very shattered marriage. I couldn’t go back to work for “Heathen Tours” because of the kind of lifestyle it represented. I found out about a company in North Carolina that was looking for a director. Believe it or not, I was hired by Christian Tours as a tour director and eventually spent many thousands of miles on buses with Christians who have helped me grow in the Lord. I have met several Gideons on my tours to whom I give big hugs and thanks for their dedicated ministry.

I know today that I became a Christian in the church that morning. It took some time to learn that. Jesus alone came to me that Christmas Eve, reached down to the bottom of the barrel, into the muck and filth of sin and pulled me out and saved my life. He did it for a reason. I am not sure yet what He has planned for me but I have traded the life of darkness for a life in the Light and for that trade I promised Him my life. I will do whatever He asks of me. That’s all there is to it. Without Him, I am nothing.

I believe He called me into ministry by opening up the opportunity for me to attend Fruitland Baptist Bible Institute. I graduated in June 2001 after completing a 2-year course of study. I share my testimony with Gideons at their Pastors’ Banquets several times a year and at many churches. I was ordained as a minister of the Gospel on April 14, 2002, and served as pastor of Phoenix Baptist Church in Lansing, North Carolina, for fifteen months.

In July 2003 a small group of committed believers and I planted a new church in Ashe County called Faith Fellowship and Harvest Ministries. In 2007 we bought our first building, but within four years the church had outgrown that facility, forcing us to move to a larger building in Jefferson. It must be a ‘God-thing’, but our church, where I serve the Lord, is only one mile away from that motel where I met Him.

Our oldest daughter came to know the Lord and invited Jesus into her life. Our youngest daughter and I were baptized together on Easter Sunday morning, 1997. Both of our daughters are now married. I was honored by God to lead three of my grandchildren to the Lord and to have baptized them and my wife. Polly has recovered from all her surgeries and is doing well. In fact, she worked at three different hospitals during the two years I attended Fruitland Bible Institute so I could be a full time student.

Although God is still doing a work in my family and me, we are now a recovering, reconciled, restored, and most of all, a resurrected family. God has been so good to us. I submit this testimony to you in the name of Jesus, for His Service, giving Him the glory, and honor.

Elliott Osowitt

October 17, 2011

The 'Asphyxiation of Hope': Robin Williams, Suicide, and Depression

Acts 27:20

One of the world’s favorite comedians took his own life. It makes me very sad. But it also makes me determined to get the word out about clinical depression.

By now, you’ve probably heard about the shocking suicide of comedian and Oscar-winning actor Robin Williams.

Shocking, but if you know anything about suicide and Williams’ personal history, not entirely a surprise. Williams had been open about his problems with alcohol and drugs. What’s more, Williams had been, according to his publicist, “battling ‘severe depression.’”

Alcohol, drugs, depression, all of these are associated with suicide. And as psychiatrist Kay Redfield Jamison of Johns Hopkins writes in her book, “Night Falls Fast: Understanding Suicide,” the most common factor in suicide is mental illness, in particular “mood disorders” such as clinical depression and bipolar disorder.

Now, as somebody who has suffered from this myself over the years, I have to say it’s very important to be clear about what doctors mean by clinical depression. It is not being sad, even for extended periods of time. Sadness is part of the human condition. But clinical depression is a medical condition “which paralyzes all the otherwise vital forces that make us human,” leaving us with a life that is “bloodless” and “painless.”

In his book, “The Noonday Demon,” which chronicled his life with severe clinical depression, Andrew Solomon has written that the opposite of depression isn’t happiness, it’s vitality.

And as Jamison tells us, the presence of mood disorders not only makes it more likely that a person will attempt suicide, but also will incline them towards more “serious” efforts in that direction — that is, efforts that exhibit more forethought and planning.

Depressed people often self-medicate with alcohol and drugs, which, according to Jamison, “more often worsen [the pain]” and “undermine the individual’s willingness to seek out and receive good clinical care.” They also reduce inhibitions and increase risk-taking, thus reinforcing whatever tendencies toward self-destruction a person may possess.

A friend of mine told me that several times he’d seen Robin Williams attending Redeemer Presbyterian in New York City. Apparently Williams was looking for answers. Maybe he found them, and maybe he didn’t; but we serve a merciful God whose thoughts and ways are not our own.

I say this because tragic events over the past few years have reminded us that Christians are not immune to the scourge of suicide. Outstanding Christians such as Tony Dungy and Rick Warren have lost sons to suicide. As Warren and his wife, Kay, told Piers Morgan of CNN, they had talked their son Matthew off the proverbial ledge many times in his tragically-short life.

Like most of those left behind in the wake of suicide, they wondered if there was anything more they could have done, and concluded that the answer was “no.” As Warren told Morgan “If love could have kept my child alive, he’d be alive today, because he was incredibly loved.”

In the wake of Matthew Warren’s suicide, discussion about how churches deal with depression intensified. Christian leaders wrote about their own struggles with depression. And let me add my name and that of the colleague who helped me prepare this BreakPoint commentary to the list of those who struggle with depression.

If you or anyone you love suffers from depression, please get help. You can come to BreakPoint.org and click on this commentary and we’ll direct you to resources that can help.

Why some people ultimately succumb to what Christianity Today writer C. Michael Patton called “the asphyxiation of hope” and others don’t is something we just don’t know.

What we do know is that Christians are called to walk alongside those who suffer.

________

Copyright © 2014 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

The Inner Disintegration of Our Society

Job 4:5

America remains a rich and powerful nation, but millions of our citizens are “wracked with grief and despair,” said David French in NationalReview.com. Stark evidence of that paradox was provided by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s latest annual report on American life expectancy, which showed our average span either falling or stagnating for the third consecutive year. The last time we saw a downward trend in life expectancy, America was fighting World War I and suffering through a flu pandemic that killed 675,000. Now drugs and suicide are mostly to blame. The overdose rate is up 356 percent since 1999, and the 2017 death toll — 70,237 — ”far outstrips the total American fatalities in Vietnam.”

For a large swath of our population, the family structure has broken down, amid rampant divorce, children being raised out of wedlock, and young men unable to find jobs that support a family. “We’re facing not so much a drug problem as a heartbreak problem,” said Mona Charen, also in NationalReview.com. With families and social bonds crumbling, an AARP study found one-third of Americans reported chronic loneliness. Isolation is a state “about as deadly as smoking.”

Our country’s problems go deeper than economics, said David Brooks in the New York Times. We’ve had 10 years of economic expansion, and the GDP is currently growing at a robust 3.5 percent a year. Yet many employers can’t find workers with necessary skills, and jobs that provide dignity, and middle-class wages are dwindling. Millions of people suffer "a crisis of connection." In many rural and working-class communities, people are no longer involved in churches and community organizations; they’re less likely to know their neighbors and less likely to get married. It’s not jobs, jobs, jobs or better welfare programs that will save us from this ongoing social catastrophe. It’s human relationships, and a society that cares about people more than money.

The So-Called “Deaths of Despair”: Why Americans Are Dying Younger and Younger

Acts 27:20

Years ago, Chuck Colson asked, “Where is the hope?” Too many Americans today have no answer, and it’s showing.

For the third year in a row, according to a November report from the Centers for Disease Control, American life expectancy dropped.

The last time this happened was a century ago, in the years 1915-1918, years marked by our entry into World War I and the outbreak of the “Spanish Flu” pandemic, which killed 675,000 Americans.

This time, neither war nor pestilence is behind the drop in life expectancy. The threats are not external, but internal.

The biggest factors behind the drop in life expectancy among Americans over the last three years are drug overdoses and suicides. In 2017, more than 70,000 Americans died from drug overdoses, and approximately 45,000 people intentionally took their own lives.

These deaths, along with alcohol-related deaths, have been dubbed “deaths of despair” by researchers Anne Case and Angus Deaton.

The “despair” referred to by Case and Deaton is largely economic, resulting from diminished job prospects and other personal disappointments. As Case put it, “Your family life has fallen apart, you don’t know your kids anymore, all the things you expected when you started out your life just haven’t happened at all.”

As a result, people, usually but not always men, turn to alcohol and drugs to ease their pain. An increasing number take their own lives.

Certainly, Case and Deaton’s explanation is partially true. But it doesn’t explain the 30-percent rise in suicide rates among 15-to-24 year-olds, who haven’t experienced these kinds of disappointments. Nor does material deprivation explain why the suicide rate among African Americans and Hispanics is only about a third that of white Americans despite being, on average, poorer.

Something else is going on. And it’s related to the word “despair.”

Chuck Colson and his friend Richard John Neuhaus used to remind people that despair is a sin. Now if you define “despair” as extreme sorrow or grief, then calling it a sin seems cruel and unfeeling.

But that’s not really what despair is. In the Christian view, despair is the opposite of hope. Thomas Aquinas wrote that despair “is due to a man’s failure to hope that he will share in the goodness of God.” For Aquinas, despair was more dangerous than even unbelief or hatred of God because “by hope we are called back from evils and induced to strive for what is good, and if hope is lost, men fall headlong into vices, and are taken away from good works.”

For Aquinas, “nothing is more execrable than despair. For he who despairs loses his constancy in the daily labors of this life, and what is worse, loses his constancy in the endeavor of faith.” As the sixth-century theologian Isidore of Seville put it, “to commit a crime is death to the soul; but to despair is to descend into hell.”

If there’s a better word than “Hell” to describe the despair we are seeing in so many American communities, I’m not aware of it.

Still the question remains, “What is the source of this despair?” The answer lies in Aquinas’ words “share in the goodness of God.” Put simply, Americans place their hope in the wrong thing.

I’m not only referring to those who kill themselves, whether deliberately or indirectly. They’re merely the most vulnerable victims of a worldview that has us, in Isaiah’s words, spending money on that which is not bread, and working for what doesn’t satisfy.

Their disappointment is more keenly felt than ours, but make no mistake, the expectations our culture imposes on us will ultimately end in death. If not physical death, spiritual death. We’re told to seek satisfaction from things that cannot ultimately satisfy us, such as sex, stuff, and self.

The results are what Aquinas would have predicted: a headlong fall into vice and away from seeking to do good. The most vulnerable among us wind up paying the ultimate price.

But to know Christ and His resurrection is to know hope. May we never hide that in a culture that needs it so desperately.

________

Resources

“U.S. life expectancy declines again, a dismal trend not seen since World War I,” by Lenny Bernstein, Washington Post, November 29, 2018; .

________

Copyright (c) 2018 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

from BreakPoint Commentary · John Stonestreet with Roberto Rivera via Kerux Sermon and Illustration Database suicidehopelessnessalcoholism

Pathologizing Masculinity: Diagnosing Men As The Problem

Mark 10:6

According to America’s leading psychologists, it’s okay to be a man, but it’s not okay to be traditionally masculine.

A new report on boys and men from the American Psychological Association reminded me, again, why worldview is so important. The report is the first of its kind from the APA, which has previously issued guidelines for girls and women, as well as for so-called “sexual minorities.”

For years now, the APA has been at the forefront of legitimizing progressive gender and sexual ideologies, and this report is in that same vein. To put it mildly, their conclusions are less clinical recommendations than they are naked worldview assertions.

Of course, the report isn’t all false ideologies. It opens, in fact, by recognizing a true and painful reality: Men and boys in America are not doing well. They’re diagnosed with ADHD at twice the rate of girls, they perform worse on standardized tests, they’re suspended and expelled from school at a disproportionate rate. As they get older, men use drugs and alcohol more often. They don’t seek help for mental health issues like depression as frequently as women do. They commit 90 percent of homicides, and make up 77 percent of homicide victims. They account for 93 percent of federal prison inmates and are 3.5 times more likely than women to commit suicide. In fact, male suicides are up more than fifty percent in the U. S. since 1980. We’ve talked of these so-called “deaths by despair” a few times on BreakPoint.

Faced with all of these troubling realities, the APA identifies the problem with men as being “traditional masculinity,” which they define as “anti-femininity, achievement, eschewal of the appearance of weakness, and adventure, risk, and violence.”

That’s not how I define traditional masculinity. Anti-femininity? Violence? That sounds like being a jerk. Reading between the APA’s straw-men and caricatures, it becomes clear what assumptions are really behind the report.

Traditional masculinity, the authors go on to argue, is socially constructed. Real gender is “non-binary,” the report says. In fact, even identifying male sex with masculine gender betrays “heteronormative assumptions.” In other words, masculinity does not objectively exist. It is whatever we make it. The report actually says, “Psychologists should help boys and men create their own concepts of what it means to be male.”

LGBT ideology is taken by the authors of the report as gospel. “It’s no longer just (a) male-female binary,” says one. The report criticizes “individuals with religious affiliations and conservative social and political views, who may equate masculinity with heterosexuality.” These folks, hints the APA, need to be cured of their errant views.

The game here is painfully obvious. This isn’t science, it’s a worldview that sees masculinity as anyone would have defined it just a generation ago as a problem needing to be solved. But as David French writes at the National Review, the APA has it all backward. The real plight of boys and men today coincides with our culture’s rejection of traditional masculinity, not the embrace of it! To say that the answer is to further deconstruct what it means to be a man is ludicrous.

Our society has no fixed categories of what it means to be a man, much less any resources for catechizing the next generation of men.

To be a man doesn’t always mean being a tough guy, though that can come in handy. But it does mean protecting, loving, leading, fellowshipping with God, and cultivating our garden as Adam was to cultivate his. Masculinity reaches its pinnacle in Christ, who far from being a man of violence, laid down His life for His beloved, and invites all men to do the same.

Our culture’s rejection of these created truths is at the root of much of the real turmoil that the APA documents. But the solution isn’t to caricature and then reject masculinity like a disorder. It is to re-discover and embrace real masculinity, which God declared to be “very good.” Thankfully, the traits and roles of real masculinity aren’t socially constructed. They’re innate — created by God as an expression of His image complemented by and working in concert with femininity.

Unless we recognize this, it won’t be socially-constructed concepts of masculinity we’ll be pathologizing. It will be men themselves.

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Resources

Grown Men Are the Solution, Not the Problem

David French | National Review | January 7, 2019

APA issues first-ever guidelines for practice with men and boys

Stephanie Pappas | American Psychological Association | January 2019

APA Guidelines for Psychological Practice with Boys and Men

PDF | August 2018

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Copyright (c) 2019 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

from BreakPoint Commentary · John Stonestreet with G. Shane Morris via Kerux Sermon and Illustration Database crimedespairmanhoodpsychology

Losing Our Religion: Blue Laws Decline While Deaths of Despair Do Not

Amos 8:4

A mortal affliction affects much of America’s heartland. Known as “deaths of despair,” both the Rust Belt and Appalachia have seen incredible spikes in rates of addiction, overdoses, violence, and suicide. In addition to the thousands who die each year by various forms of self-harm, thousands more live Gollum-like, trapped by their chemical chains and in loneliness.

It is a complex situation. While we must not diminish anyone’s moral agency, the downward paths we are on are paved, lined, and greased by a number of contributing factors. For example, Beth Macy, the author of the book Dope Sick, has documented the lethal partnership of doctors and drug companies, not to mention the co-option of government oversight agencies, which inflicted a plague of highly addictive opioids on some of America’s poorest areas of the country.

A new recent study, however, points to an additional complexity, an oft-ignored element of this cultural disease: the decline of religion. According to the study’s authors, there is some correlation between the end of so-called “Blue Laws” and the opioid epidemic. In certain parts of the country, Blue Laws have long limited the range of activities allowed on Sundays. Certain businesses were not allowed to be open, and certain things (especially alcohol) could not be sold. Though these laws continue in certain areas, particularly in Europe, they began to disappear in parts of the United States as the 20th century wore on, to the point that now they are few and far between.

Of course, a significant, culture-wide phenomenon like the opioid crisis cannot be reduced to something as simplistic as whether or not people can shop on Sunday. To do that would be to mistake correlation for causation, kind of like saying murders go up with ice cream sales. And this is something the study’s authors readily admit.

Rather than claiming that the end of Blue Laws created the opioid crisis, they use the end of Blue Laws as a marker to track the decline in American religiosity. The diminishing connections to faith in communities across the country, especially in those areas where they were once so strong, are among the factors that contributed to our nation’s chemical plague. In other words, Blue Laws are a kind of canary in the coal mine, marking when we’ve crossed a dangerous line.

In light of these diminishing religious commitments, reinstating Blue Laws likely will not lead to a reversal in rates of addictions or other deaths of despair. Even if they were an important part of our cultural life of faith at one time, too much has changed for such an easy fix. However, what these laws represented and what has been lost as they disappear points to the underlying causes, not only of the opioid crisis of but many of our parallel pains as well.

What we need to ask is, in a mix of Friedrich Nietzsche and REM, what is the cost of losing our religion?

As much as we prize our individualism, particularly here in America, human beings aren’t just dust motes of consciousness, floating on the air currents of life. We’re connected, not just to one another, but to a host of other elements through relationships that give us meaning, identity, direction, and hope. To be healthy, as individuals and as communities, these relationships (upward, inward, outward, and downward) must be strong.

Human beings need a connection to something beyond ourselves, something higher and transcendent in order to find ourselves, to know who and what we are, to be sure of our identity. We need connections with one another, especially the links of family and friendship, in order to be accountable, supported, and complete. And, we need proper connection to the physical world around us, so to be tethered to reality through things like meaningful labor, a place to call home, and some part of the world to call “mine.”

Marx got it wrong. Religion isn’t the opiate of the masses, but instead a part of life most needed, irreplaceable by technological convenience or scientific mastery. The loss of religion has been a bad idea wherever it has been tried, and those suffering across Appalachia and the Rust Belt are some of its most obvious victims. By abandoning religion, specifically the Christianity which once provided meaning to these now missing relationships, the essential connection between individuals and communities and a higher purpose has been lost.

As Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn said all the way back in 1983, “Men have forgotten God; that’s why all this has happened.” Blue Laws didn’t hold off the effects of substance abuse, but the religious impulse that such laws represented were part of a way of seeing life and the world, one in which we weren’t just reduced to being cogs or animals or sexual expressions. The Christianity that the world has rejected offers the hope that the world so desperately needs.

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Copyright (c) 2022 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

American Life Expectancy Continues To Fall

Mark 12:30

According to a CDC report released in December, the life expectancy of Americans fell by about seven months in 2021, reaching the lowest point in two decades. Although researchers expected a major drop in the wake of COVID-19, many industrialized nations are seeing signs of recovery. The U.S., however, despite spending more on healthcare than any other country, continues a trend in the wrong direction. More importantly, while COVID-19 remains a leading cause of death in the U.S., deaths from cancer, diabetes, kidney disease, and drug overdoses increased over the last year.

In fact, even if the COVID death numbers are to be believed, this downward trend in the life expectancy of Americans predates the pandemic. In 2019, a report published in the Journal of the American Medical Association detailed U.S. life expectancy over the previous 60 years. “The general trend,” wrote Joel Achenbach in The Washington Post, was that “life expectancy improved a great deal for several decades, particularly in the 1970s, then slowed down, leveled off and finally reversed course after 2014, decreasing three years in a row.” The last time that life expectancy decreased three straight years in the United States was during World War I and the Spanish flu.

The spiral has continued since, as has the contributing factor of what are often called “deaths of despair.” In 2021, there were over 100,000 deaths from drug overdoses, an increase of 15% from the previous year. Deaths from suicide and liver disease also increased, the latter a symptom of the same kind of self-destructive behaviors increasingly taking the lives of young Americans. Ellen Meara, health policy professor at Dartmouth, told The Washington Post, “There’s something more fundamental about how people are feeling at some level. ... People are feeling worse about themselves and their futures, and that’s leading them to do things that are self-destructive.”

Despite our ever-advancing potential to deliver medicine to those who need it, Americans are increasingly lonely, purposeless, and prone to reckless behavior. The connection between mental and physical health is well documented, and Christians of all people should know the complex and inextricable links between body and spirit, as well as individual and community.

In this cultural moment, it should also be noted that such despair is taking hold at a time when we have almost unlimited access to fun, pleasure, and distraction. As G.K. Chesterton famously wrote in The Everlasting Man,

Pessimism is not in being tired of evil but in being tired of good. Despair does not lie in being weary of suffering, but in being weary of joy. It is when for some reason or other the good things in a society no longer work that the society begins to decline; when its food does not feed, when its cures do not cure, when its blessings refuse to bless.

Or as journalist Andrew Sullivan summed up in a piece written about the national opioid epidemic: “America, having pioneered the modern way of life, is now in the midst of trying to escape it.”

It may be that, faced as we are with decreasing life spans, a life of purposeful, selfless faithfulness could have an incredible impact. The greatest commandment, Jesus said, is to love God with our whole selves — hearts, souls, minds, and strength — and to love our neighbors as ourselves. As we obey, we turn both upward and outward. The upward turn both reveals and offers purpose. The outward turn offers a joy that is far better than momentary pleasures.

Of course, God never promises to preserve physical health. But hear the words of Solomon

Trust in the LORD with all your heart,

and do not lean on your own understanding.

In all your ways acknowledge him,

and he will make straight your paths.

Be not wise in your own eyes;

fear the LORD, and turn away from evil.

It will be healing to your flesh

and refreshment to your bones.

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Copyright (c) 2023 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

from BreakPoint Commentary · John Stonestreet & Kasey Leander via Kerux Sermon and Illustration Database despair

The Epidemic of Despair

Mark 8:35

In a viral post back in July, entrepreneur Robert Sterling described what many people feel

There is something deeply unwell in our society right now. ... I’m sure social media, economic malaise, Covid lockdowns, fentanyl, and every other reason we hear about factor into it.

Yet, all these reasons, he continued, “in aggregate, still feel insufficient.” Something “metaphysical,” seems to have shifted.

A Breakpoint commentary in April described the mental health crisis of American teens, especially teenage girls. As The New York Times reported, “Nearly three in five teenage girls felt persistent sadness in 2021 ... and one in three girls seriously considered attempting suicide.” Boys aren’t doing much better, with so-called “deaths of despair” at an all-time high among the male population.

This widespread mental instability has culturewide consequences. In a recent documentary, filmmaker Christopher Rufo diagnosed what he calls our “Cluster B Society.” The rise of “woke” ideology and cancel culture, he argued, corresponds with the explosion of psychopathologies like narcissism and borderline personality disorder. These “disorders of the self,” Rufo explains, wreck relationships and lead to profound social dysfunction. When they become “formalized and entrenched” in “human resource departments, government policies, cultural institutions, and civil rights law,” they lead to precisely the kinds of extremism and emotional instability that infects politics today, especially among the young.

What is this “metaphysical shift,” this feature of modern society, that is driving so many people into despair? Writing for the Institute for Family Studies, University of Virginia sociologist Joseph Davis argues that our mental health crisis is the end of a long process that began well before the iPhone, social media, or fentanyl. The seeds of despair and derangement, he thinks, were sown when people stopped looking to timeless institutions and transcendent realities to give their lives meaning, and instead turned inward for answers.

Davis cites Jennifer Breheny Wallace, who in her book Never Enough notes that even successful and privileged young people often say they feel “utterly vacant inside.” The reason they are looking inward for meaning is because they’ve been taught for decades now, by everyone from Disney and Oprah to pop stars and professors, to reject external sources of meaning like God, family, or country. “Their truth” is found within, while external sources of authority are oppressive and stifle authentic individuality.

As a result, Davis argues, “the public frameworks that gave life direction and meaning — prescribed roles, rites of passage, compelling life scripts, stable occupational trajectories — continue to fade away.” That’s why, as he puts it,

We feel empty, inadequate, and adrift because we have been thrown back on ourselves, forced to face the challenge — at younger and younger ages — of trying to establish an identity, make commitments, live with conviction, desire life, and find meaning without the very sources that make these things possible in the first place.

As theologian Carl Trueman demonstrated in his book The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self, the idea that life’s greatest meaning comes from within and from there we express our authentic identity is a recent development. Our ancestors looked beyond self, to external sources of authority. In our culture of expressive individualists, many people are finding themselves, to paraphrase Friedrich Nietzsche, unchained from a sun.

Writing of the death of God in his famous Parable of the Madman, Nietzsche accurately predicted the chaos to come but also noted that people in his day could not realize the implications of doing away with fixed, transcendent meaning. “I have come too early,” says the Madman. “This tremendous event is still on its way, still wandering; it has not yet reached the ears of men.”

Perhaps today, in the ruins of the institutions, traditions, churches, families, and cultures once tied to belief in an unchanging God, Nietzsche’s prophecy has come true. We are adrift with only ourselves as gods. If the statistics are accurate, more and more people are finding this intolerable.

We were never meant to invent meaning for ourselves. The demands of our hyper-individualistic society feel unbearable because they’re unreasonable. We put the weight of defining the world on our shoulders, and it’s heavier than we ever imagined. The self is not big enough to define the truth.

This means that solving our mental health crisis will take much more than cutbacks on social media or crackdowns on opioids (though these are good ideas). It will take a return to older, less individualistic sources of identity and a willingness to stop treating “be yourself” or “you do you” as some kind of profound wisdom.

This Breakpoint was co-authored by Shane Morris. To help us share Breakpoint with others, leave a review on your favorite podcast app. For more resources to live like a Christian in this cultural moment, go to breakpoint.org.

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Copyright (c) 2023 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

What Will You Do With Your Daniel Scar?

Acts 27:20

Today, I did something I’ve never done before at a funeral. Something so ill-advised that pastoral care professors reading this likely will flinch on hearing it. Something that’s the wrong thing except when it is suddenly very necessary. I told part of my own story to a crowd of people I never had met to help them hear what else I needed to say about their grief.

That’s not what I intended to do when I walked into the chapel for the noon service today. But when I looked out over the sea of about 100 pained faces filling the room, and as I listened to the stories of four eulogists, I knew I needed to change my plans.

Daniel was 43 years old. No spouse or partner, but he was the beloved son, brother and uncle to adoring family members. He was a man’s man — big, loud, full of life, loved to hunt and fish and be outdoors. He brought joy to everyone around him.

But beneath that public persona, Daniel didn’t think his life mattered. The pain led him to take his own life.

That’s how I came to be standing in front of this crowd of strangers where men were weeping so hard they couldn’t see. I looked out over the crowd and realized there are only a few times among the hundreds of funerals I’ve officiated I’ve ever seen so much raw emotion.

And here I was — a stranger — asked to bring words of hope and comfort. I fretted about this through three songs and four eulogists before it was my turn to stand and deliver a message. I had spoken briefly at the beginning, setting the stage for why we were gathered here and reminding everyone this is not the way life is supposed to be, that mothers shouldn’t have to bury their children, that a beautiful life should not be cut in half.

People nodded in agreement as I spoke those words.

The four eulogists all were superb — and brief — in what they said. They told the kinds of stories grieving people needed to hear. Stories about Daniel, not about themselves. Funny stories, poignant stories, memories.

The last of them told one story that captivated my attention. She grew up with Daniel and said he was her first true friend as a child. She was as much a girlie girl as he was a manly man even as a child, she said. So when one day Daniel wanted to show her a hatchet, she had no idea what a hatchet could do.

You can see where this is going, right? I listened and did a quick visual inventory; the speaker appeared to have all her limbs intact. Sure enough, there was a mishap that day, though, and the speaker nearly lost a finger in Daniel’s hatchet demonstration, she said, holding up one hand as evidence.

“Now I have a Daniel scar,” she said tearfully.

My mind was racing. I knew I needed to pick up that theme when I spoke next. That was too good to let go.

When I rose, I took off my suit jacket, laid it on the small pew behind me and approached the podium. “You don’t know me, and I don’t know you,” I began. “But we share a common story.”

“Depression is a disease that tells you lies. It tells you you are not worthy, your life doesn’t matter, that the world would be better off without you in it,” I said. “I know because, like Daniel, I’ve been there and still am there some days. And based on statistics, at least a few of you in this room today know exactly what I’m talking about. You have been there too. Maybe you’re there today.”

By this point, I was unbuttoning my right shirt sleeve and rolling it up to my bicep to reveal the semicolon tattoo there. “This is my Daniel scar,” I continued. “This is a reminder that seven years ago I thought the world would be better off without me in it. The pain was too great.

“The thing about depression is it often afflicts people who you have no idea could be depressed. People like me, an extreme extrovert. People like Daniel, who was the joy of your lives.”

Heads were nodding all across the room. Tears were flowing. Tissues were being passed.

I briefly explained the meaning of the semicolon as an alternative view when you think life has placed a period at the end of your story. Change the period to a semicolon and realize your story is not over. There’s more to your story.

“There may be some of you here today who believe the world would be better off without you in it,” I said. “But I want you to see this room full of people who will tell you a different story. You are loved. Your life matters. You are needed.”

I also reassured everyone there they were not to blame for Daniel’s death. Whatever they thought they could have done, whenever they could have called, whatever they could have said, they had to let it go. Blaming yourself for someone else’s self-inflicted death is a burden you don’t need to carry.

Honestly, I’ve never cried so much delivering a funeral message as I did today. Somehow, with these people in this moment, this was personal. I needed to speak a word of gospel hope, and I needed these strangers to trust I was not some passthrough preacher who didn’t know what he was talking about.

I needed them to know I had some skin in the game.

“Here’s the point,” I continued. “Everyone here today now has a Daniel scar. And you’ve got to decide whether that scar is going to make you better or bitter. You’ve got to decide whether you’ll be angry or you’ll be challenged to live your life in a more beautiful way.”

Then I was able to declare the message of hope of the gospel: “The Bible teaches us there is nothing that can separate us from the love of God, neither famine nor war nor principalities nor powers ... or depression. Nothing we do can separate us from the love of God.”

And from there I was able to share the gospel hope of Christ’s resurrection from the dead, of his promise that where he has gone, there we also may be, that though we appear dead we will yet live, that Jesus is the resurrection and the life. I was able to speak the words of the Apostle Paul that this mortal body must give way to the immortal body. It may look like death has won the day, I said, but it has not. Jesus Christ has defeated death.

After the message, I took my place beside the open casket as friends and family passed by to pay their respects one last time. Never ever in 20 years of officiating funerals have I had so many people stop to whisper a word to me as they passed by. Several held up fingers, wrists, arms to show me their semicolon tattoos. “I have one too,” they whispered knowingly.

And one man gave the greatest compliment I’ve ever received at a funeral: “I don’t know you, but I’ll never forget you and what you said today.”

Maybe this is just one of those had-to-be there moments. Perhaps the emotion of this day can’t be transferred in writing. But this one message speaks to us all: We all have Daniel scars.

We all carry wounds and remembrances of near-misses and tragedies and pain and sorrow that shape who we are. And we have a choice about how to tell that story. We can hide our pain under a shirt and coat and pretend it isn’t there, or we can let those who are struggling know they are not alone.

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Mark Wingfield serves as executive director and publisher of Baptist News Global.

Escape From Chosin Reservoir

Another story from the battle of Chosin Reservoir in the Korean War. In the frantic retreat from the Chosin Reservoir, Colonel Faith's Task Force attempted to break out with over 500 wounded men. The trucks were so overloaded they tied wounded on the fenders and hoods; as more soldiers were hit they had to be left on the side of the road. Chinese mortars and machine guns raked the column mercilessly.

Private Louse Grappo, 17 years old, lay in one truck with a bullet through his leg. He heard an explosion near his ear. His shoulder didn't hurt, but he finally realized shrapnel had pierced his helmet. The twang of the steel helmet made his ears ring and the concussion almost knocked him out. "My God!" he exclaimed. He had taken thirteen pieces of shrapnel and a large piece of flesh was missing from his right shoulder.

Inside his mittens was a rosary. "I'm a young kid," he prayed. "I don't even know what it is to have a girlfriend, or to go to a dance. If you will just let me live to experience life, I'll go to Mass and Communion every day for a year." But he knew he was lying. He thought about what he had just promised, then said, "God, I'm you," he confessed. "I'm not going to do it for a year. But I WILL do it for six months." Then the youngster from Youngstown, Ohio, the baby of twelve children, passed out. He had prayed so hard his rosary had fallen to pieces.

The entire task force was stopped dead and cut to pieces by the Chinese all night. When Grappo came to in the morning, most of the trucks except his were on fire. He heard Chinese all over the place; ammo was exploding. He peered out of his truck and saw what looked like a campground with hundreds of people lying asleep, but they were all dead. Only he and one other man were alive on his truck. He got out, and unable to walk, crawled along railroad tracks until he came to the frozen reservoir. Chinese fired at him, but he didn't care if he died; he just kept moving. The next thing he knew, he was looking up at a Marine colonel.

Escape From Chosin Reservoir

Another story from the battle of Chosin Reservoir in the Korean War. In the frantic retreat from the Chosin Reservoir, Colonel Faith's Task Force attempted to break out with over 500 wounded men. The trucks were so overloaded they tied wounded on the fenders and hoods; as more soldiers were hit they had to be left on the side of the road. Chinese mortars and machine guns raked the column mercilessly.

Private Louse Grappo, 17 years old, lay in one truck with a bullet through his leg. He heard an explosion near his ear. His shoulder didn't hurt, but he finally realized shrapnel had pierced his helmet. The twang of the steel helmet made his ears ring and the concussion almost knocked him out. "My God!" he exclaimed. He had taken thirteen pieces of shrapnel and a large piece of flesh was missing from his right shoulder.

Inside his mittens was a rosary. "I'm a young kid," he prayed. "I don't even know what it is to have a girlfriend, or to go to a dance. If you will just let me live to experience life, I'll go to Mass and Communion every day for a year." But he knew he was lying. He thought about what he had just promised, then said, "God, I'm you," he confessed. "I'm not going to do it for a year. But I WILL do it for six months." Then the youngster from Youngstown, Ohio, the baby of twelve children, passed out. He had prayed so hard his rosary had fallen to pieces.

The entire task force was stopped dead and cut to pieces by the Chinese all night. When Grappo came to in the morning, most of the trucks except his were on fire. He heard Chinese all over the place; ammo was exploding. He peered out of his truck and saw what looked like a campground with hundreds of people lying asleep, but they were all dead. Only he and one other man were alive on his truck. He got out, and unable to walk, crawled along railroad tracks until he came to the frozen reservoir. Chinese fired at him, but he didn't care if he died; he just kept moving. The next thing he knew, he was looking up at a Marine colonel.

The Dismal Philosophy of An Unbeliever

Bertrand Russell was a man who had no faith in the Bible or God. He describes in eloquent terms the natural outcome of a life from which all faith in the resurrection of Christ is removed. He says:

"The life of man is a long march through the night, surrounded by invisible foes, tortured by weariness and pain, towards a goal that few can hope to reach and where none can tarry long. One by one, as they march, our comrades vanish from our sight, seized by the silent orders of omnipotent death. Brief and powerless is man's life, on his and all his race the slow, sure doom falls, pitiless and dark. Blind to good and evil, reckless of destruction, omnipotent matter rolls on its relentless way. For man, condemned today to lose his dearest, tomorrow himself to pass through the gates of darkness, it remains only to cherish, ere yet the blow falls, the lofty thoughts that ennoble his little day."

An Inevitable Question

Acts 2:24

According to Albert Camus, death is philosophy's only problem. But a giant one it is, I might add! How quickly one's philosophy may be swept away with one word: Death. How does one make sense of life when it's haunted by this specter?

Many anti-theists think that the idea of God is what has prompted this fear. Let us check their claim.

Agnostic philosopher Bertrand Russell admitted that his life was built on unyielding despair. Perhaps that is why he issued a statement with Albert Einstein-just two days before Einstein's death-confessing that "those of us who know the most are the gloomiest about the future."

With the belief that there is nothing beyond our world, "gloominess" is a reasonable response. Though denying God may leave us free to abolish the past and decree the future, nonetheless, what hope do we find in human decrees? The removal of God does not alleviate the fear of the future does it?

Archibald McLeish reiterates this:

There is, in truth, a terror in the world, and the arts have

heard it as they always do. Under the hum of the miraculous

machines and the ceaseless publications of the brilliant

physicists a silence waits and listens and is heard. It is the

silence of apprehension. We do not trust our time, and the

reason we do not trust our time is because it is we who have made

the time, and we do not trust ourselves. We have played the

hero's part, mastered the monsters, accomplished the labors,

become gods-and we do not trust ourselves as gods. We know what

we are. In the old days when the gods were someone else, the

knowledge of what we are did not frighten us ... But now that we

are gods ourselves we bear the knowledge for ourselves. Like

that old Greek hero who learned when all the labors had been

accomplished that it was he himself who had killed his son. (1)

Fear of death does not prove or disprove theism. But it is also true that the removal of God from reality does not remove our fear of death. This is a question we cannot kill. For one's philosophy of life to be complete, the question of our destiny must be answered or the inevitable intrusion of death will haunt our ability to secure meaning. By contrast, understanding death is what makes the Gospel of Jesus Christ so resplendent with hope.

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1. McLeish, "When We Are Gods," Saturday Review, 14 October 1967.

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Copyright © 2002 Ravi Zacharias International Ministries (RZIM). Reprinted with permission. "A Slice of Infinity" is a radio ministry of Ravi Zacharias International Ministries.

*

Where Is Meaning Found?

Job 17:1

Harvard professor Stephen Jay Gould has said the following regarding the quest for meaning:

The pathways that have led to our evolution are quirky,

improbable, unrepeatable and utterly unpredictable. Human

evolution is not random; it makes sense and can be explained

after the fact. But wind back life’s tape to the dawn of time

and let it play again - and you will never get humans a second

time ... We cannot read the meaning of life passively in the

facts of nature. We must construct these answers ourselves -

from our own wisdom and ethical sense. There is no other way. [1]

Compare that conclusion from a prominent scientist to the thoughts of a cab driver, as recorded in Life magazine:

We’re here to die, just live and die. I live driving a cab.

I do some fishing, take my girl out, pay taxes, do a little

reading, and then get ready to drop dead. You’ve got to be

strong about it. Life is a big fake ... You’re rich or you’re

poor. You’re here; you’re gone. You’re like the wind. After

you’re gone, other people will come. It’s too late to make it

better ... The only cure for the world’s illness is nuclear war

- wipe everything out and start over. We’ve become like a

cornered animal, fighting for survival. Life is nothing.

One man declares that the arrival of humanity is "quirky, improbable, and unrepeatable." The other believes that life is, essentially, a mere animalistic fight for survival.

It may be easy to dismiss one view as academic and the other as the catharsis of a hardened cynic. Yet if we take a closer look, there is a striking similarity between them. For both, ultimate reality is impersonal and material. That is, there is nothing beyond us to give meaning to our lives. And with that starting point, whether a professor or a cab driver, the conclusion will be the same: We are left to our own devices to manufacture meaning. This is the inevitable conclusion if all of life is reduced to the chemical and molecular.

Is this really the nature of reality? Are we really nothing more than time plus matter plus chance?

In the following series I would like to present to you a counter-perspective - that there is something beyond us that gives us a framework for meaning. Because unlike the professor and the cab driver, I think we can root our meaning in more than the quirks of neurochemistry. We can find that meaning in the very being of a personal God.

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1. Stephen Jay Gould, quoted in David Friend and editors of Life magazine, The Meaning of Life, page 33.

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Copyright © 2002 Ravi Zacharias International Ministries (RZIM). Reprinted with permission. "A Slice of Infinity" is a radio ministry of Ravi Zacharias International Ministries.

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Her Former Drug-scene Friends Say She'll 'Get Over It,' But She Hasn't

Luke 15:11

After years of being known as a party girl, Susie Henley, 30, has a new life in Christ.

"A lot of my friends have pulled away from me. They're freaked out," Susie said. "I was the acid queen, the party girl. They think I'll 'get over it,' but I haven't."

Susie leapt into the drug scene right after graduation. The next 10 years were a blur. Traveling the world, the only routine in her life was "wake and bake" -- every day began with coffee, cigarettes and a joint (marijuana).

"I never thought a day ahead of the day I was living. My life was having fun. I just lived moment by moment. I could not imagine not doing drugs," Susie said, describing her old mind-set. "Everyone I knew did them."

She credits God with protecting her from the seduction of cults and Eastern religions during her extensive periods in the Orient.

"No matter what free-living scene I was in, I never got pulled into Buddhism, New Age or other stuff because Jesus was always there in my mind," she said, although, "My life did not reflect Jesus."

By the time she was 25, Susie had seen a lot of the dark side of life. She began questioning what she had always thought of as her dad's religion. Her father, George Henley, was the only believer in the family for many years.

"Who is Jesus?" Susie asked herself. She would travel many more miles and have some horrific "bad trips" on drugs before finding peace in him.

During a season of despair after ending an eight-year relationship with her boyfriend, an artist in British Columbia, Susie found herself on her knees in front of a Billy Graham telecast. Weeping, she cried out to God and he answered her prayer, giving her the strength to go on.

Stuffing a Bible in her backpack, she left for Japan. She immediately fell back into her old party ways but two things had changed. She told everyone she met about Jesus and she quit using hard drugs. She wasn't ready to give up pot and cigarettes, being addicted to both.

The Bible went with her from country to country -- unopened. Until she got to India. The request of a young Indian girl to translate some verses made Susie read it for the first time. She was overwhelmed.

"When you fall so deep as I did and God reaches out to you, there's no denying it," she said.

Not long after, Susie received some much-needed reality therapy. She was rolling a joint while reading aloud from her Bible to a new friend, Sarah, who observed, "I want to tell you one thing. Your intentions are good, but your actions stink!" For the first time, Susie realized she was like the liar she had read about in 1 John 2:4. The shattering reality of the number of people she had deceived by living one life and proclaiming another gripped her.

"I quit [using pot] right then and there. I was hindering people from coming to know the Lord! I am completely drug-free now," she said.

Susie finally realized she could never grow as a Christian without fellowship. Like the prodigal son, she went home in mid-1997 to be nurtured at Hillcrest Baptist Church in Kamloops, British Columbia.

After an incredible experience as a summer missionary in 1998, Susie recognized her calling.

"I loved the style of life in India. I want to be a missionary and work with those kids on the street there." In order to be a missionary, she is pursuing a degree at the Canadian Baptist Seminary in Cochrane, Alberta.

"I want to be with God and do the right thing. I'll just go day by day. I don't want to run ahead of Jesus -- Jesus is so amazing! What is life without him?"

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A Testimony of God's Power

Romans 8:1

In 1995 I attempted suicide. The doctor told me I was lucky to be alive. I told her I was not grateful she saved my life. At that time I was into a very destructive lifestyle that consisted of alcoholism, prescription drug abuse and lesbianism. I was involved in activities that were not only destroying my life but the lives of others. I was an angry and bitter person. I hated God, blaming Him for all the tragedies in my life. My sister, mother and close cousin had died while I was in my teen years. I blamed God for the abuse I endured. I was tired of living and saw no hope for change.

Then a couple invited me to a Life in the Spirit Seminar (LISS) in Illinois. I had no clue what a LISS was. It did not take long to figure it out. A LISS consists of several team members teaching on various aspects of the Holy Spirit and sharing their testimonies. My intentions for that weekend and God's plans were vastly different. I planned to kill myself, yet He planned to give me Life!

On that Saturday of the LISS, I listened as team members presented their teachings. One person, Peg really connected with me. Her topic was life. She first got my attention when she stood up, did a spin move and stated, “I am a miracle!” I thought she was crazy and as she spoke I grew more skeptical of her. How could she really love God after tragically losing her 15 year old son? How could she have a strong relationship with a God who is so heartless? Surely she must blame God. As God would have it, I was Peg's divine lunch appointment. For some reason, I felt compelled to tell her my story. I was too ashamed to look her in the eyes or speak above a whisper. Her sincerity, compassion and gentleness were amazing! The fact that she did not criticize me for my life choices (sins) baffled me. Peg became “Jesus with skin on” to me that day. She spoke truth in love to my hurting heart. She asked me to return that night for the prayer time and I agreed to do that. But as the day wore on I had many panic attacks and decided I was going home. Several team members surrounded me and prayed for peace, and I felt calm instantly.

I returned for the evening service. However, it seemed a game of tug-of-war was being played and my soul was the rope. The enemy raged at me to leave and I wanted to go home. The Holy Spirit spoke softly to me, lovingly encouraging me to go forward. My feet would not move. I knew that if I left that night without Jesus Christ that I would never have another chance. After what seemed like hours my feet were moving-towards the front of the church! Peg's prayer team was the only one open so I went immediately to them. Peg's team prayed with me for salvation and baptism of the Holy Spirit. They prayed with me for deliverance from many issues, some only God would have known. That was awesome to me! For the very first time in my life I felt peace and joy. The hour-long drive home seemed like only moments as I drove singing praises to God.

I thought God would leave me when the team left and thus could not stop crying! What I did not realize then is that God promises to never leave us or forsake us. It has been 2 1/2 years since that day and Jesus Christ has done just that. I am free of the bondage to lesbianism, alcohol and drugs. He has done and is doing much inner healing. Last year, just days before my dad died unexpectedly, I was able to tell my dad that I forgave him for the abuse he had perpetrated and asked him to forgive me for my hatred towards him. That was God! He has given me a new family at my church. He has helped me to accept myself as the creation He made. But the greatest gift is that I no longer live under condemnation (Romans 8:1-2).

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[Original illustration at this number was a duplicate in KeruxID 25837-26027]

Beauty Out of Ashes: Something’s Stirring In The Rubble of Lebanon

Joel 2:28

You think America has problems? Spend a week or two in Lebanon, and you’ll get a taste of what real — as in existential — problems are. Even Scrooge would sympathize.

Imagine scrounging barely enough food to eat once, maybe twice a day — even if you are a college-educated professional in Beirut, the former “Paris of the East.” Imagine having electrical power for an hour a day. Or spending eight hours in car lines waiting for a quarter-tank of gas. Or losing more than 90% of your buying power, if you still have a job. Or discovering your bank accounts are frozen. Or getting sick and finding no medicine anywhere, at any price, to relieve your suffering.

Your “government” consists of corrupt clan chieftains who refuse to relinquish power, even as the nation collapses. The largest and most powerful group, Hezbollah (“Party of God”), represents militant Shi’ite Muslims and answers to Iran. But numerous other tribal godfathers aren’t much better. They just don’t have as many guns.

One of the worst non-nuclear explosions in modern history — resulting from years of criminally negligent storage of tons of hazardous materials — killed hundreds of Lebanese, injured thousands and destroyed much of Beirut’s port and surrounding neighborhoods in August 2020. The area remains in ruins more than a year later.

Welcome to Lebanon

Welcome to Lebanon. The once-vibrant and beautiful country of 6.7 million people, wedged between Israel, Syria and the Mediterranean, is suffering. Over the past half-century, Lebanon has endured Palestinian occupation, Israeli occupation, Syrian occupation, 15 years of viciously sectarian civil war, the 2006 war with Israel, multiple political assassinations, the influx of more than 1.5 million Syrian refugees fleeing their own civil war, the huge 2019 demonstrations demanding political change (which yielded nothing), and COVID-19.

And now, one of the worst financial meltdowns in economic history is destroying what’s left.

Regardless of their circumstances, the resilient Lebanese pride themselves on muddling through, often with cheer and gallows humor. Not this time.

“It’s an utter hopelessness and despondency,” said a veteran Christian worker about the national mood. “In many ways, the explosion that happened at the port a little over a year ago was the last straw. People usually say, ‘We’ll get through this.’ But now they’re saying, ‘This is harder than the civil war.’”

Those who can get out have left or are leaving. Those who remain depend on remittances from family members abroad, relief aid and grim determination to survive.

“If your income is in U.S. dollars, which is less than 1% of the population, you’re fine,” said “Robert Sacker” (named changed for security), another longtime Christian worker. “But the 99-percenters are doing very poorly indeed. The Lebanese currency is worthless. Now we have people who were making $600 a month trying to get by on $40 a month. It’s impossible.”

Failed state

What brought Lebanon to the brink of failed-state status? Neighborhood bullies, such as Syria and Iran. Political, economic and societal corruption. Ransacking of the national treasury by clans and powerful families who jealously guard their positions.

Even the political power-sharing agreement that finally ended the 1975-1990 civil war contained the seeds of future destruction. Too many factions want a piece of the shrinking pie. At least 17 different groups, to be more precise: Shi’ite and Sunni Muslims (the majority); a variety of Catholic, Orthodox and Protestant Christian sects; the Druz;, the Alawites; and so on.

Lebanon is not so different from other places in the Middle East, where diverse and sometimes warring groups found themselves thrown together in new “nations” arbitrarily drawn by Western powers after the collapse of the Ottoman Empire a century ago. There are just more groups jammed into a smaller space.

“Lebanon is not so much a nation as a collection of families, clans and tribes,” Sacker explained. “In a failed state, Lebanese have always turned to the family, clan and tribe for help. They’re doing that now, because the government is essentially impotent. It is a country of patronage, not a country of laws.”

But with so little to go around, and the rest of the world distracted by larger problems (or tired of bailing out Lebanon’s corrupt power brokers), even the old patronage system is breaking down. Along with poverty, bitter social disillusionment has set in — including disillusionment with religion, particularly among Muslims.

“Part of it is a rejection of (militant) Islam, with mainstream Muslims separating themselves from some of the more radical groups,” said “Linda Smith,” another Christian worker. “But a lot of them slide into ... I wouldn’t call it atheism as much as hating religion and anything to do with it, especially the young generation.”

Movements to Christ

So why are many Lebanese Muslims now turning to Jesus?

On the surface, Christian sects and churches in Lebanon are struggling as much as everybody else — losing young people to the great exodus abroad, sinking into poverty. But behind the scenes, something deeper is happening in Lebanon, the wider Middle East and the Muslim world: Muslims have become more responsive to the Christian gospel message than at any other time in history.

Iran and Afghanistan have the fastest growth rates among evangelical believers of any locations on the planet, according to Operation World. American missiologist David Garrison has identified 69 statistically significant “people movements” toward Christ in the Muslim world since the year 2000 (defining a “movement” as at least 1,000 believers or 100 churches). That is a staggering number, considering the painful and violent history of Muslim-Christian interaction.

Many observers credit the major, church-based prayer movements of the 1990s for this trend, along with generations of Christian outreach, widespread social turmoil in the Muslim world and a demand among Muslim young people for more freedom. But some things in the spiritual world cannot be chalked up to human activity.

Everywhere Muslims are coming to Christ, they talk about having dreams and visions — usually of a man dressed all in white. He tells them he is Jesus, or prods them to seek out a Bible or a particular believer they know. In my own journalistic travels in the Islamic world, I have interviewed many Muslims who tell this story.

“It seems to be a combination of things God is using to draw Muslims to himself,” Smith said. “The bold proclamation of his word, but also social media, satellite TV, internet and radio, while at the same time dreams, visions and in certain cases, miraculous healings.

“They’re crying out for hope. And in places of such sheer desperation like Iraq, Syria and Lebanon, (Jesus is) all about bringing beauty out of ashes and showing people he is for them, not against them. More Muslims are coming to Christ now than ever before in Lebanon.”

More than bread alone

Many churches and Christian NGOs (non-governmental organizations) in Lebanon are focusing intensively on distributing food, medicine and other aid to get the needy — whatever faith they may follow — through the current crisis. Muslims appreciate that, but they aren’t just looking for material help.

“Bill Kendrick,” a young Christian worker, lives in the heavily Shiite Bekaa Valley, east of Beirut, which also is crowded with Syrian Muslim refugees. They’re desperate for work to feed their families, to be sure, but they want more. The worse the economic situation gets, he reports, the better the spiritual climate becomes.

“There’s younger guys and women coming to faith left and right,” Kendrick said. “But even among the elders and heads of households, dreams and visions are very common.”

One Shiite man he befriended, who can trace his lineage back to Muhammad, planned to become a sheik (Muslim leader). But as he studied the Quran, he began to see contradictions. So he read the Bible and became a believer.

Kendrick urges new believers to count the cost of following Christ, because they almost certainly will face anger and shaming from their families, possible family or community expulsion, and maybe worse. It goes with the territory but doesn’t deter serious seekers.

One church holds a service most American evangelicals would recognize. “But then the pastor has a separate service, and you see all these covered (Muslim) women coming in, and Muslim men worshiping the Lord,” Smith explained. “It’s exciting.”

So if you’re worried about America’s troubled state this Christmas, take heart. Things could be worse. And even if they get worse, the light shines in the darkness.

Deliver Us From Evil

Psalms 139:7

Even the smallest children in Vacation Bible School that year seemed to catch the irony deeply anchored in the story of Jonah. God calls one of his prophets to deliver a message to save the great city of Nineveh. The prophet, who is in the profession of pointing lives to the God who saves, runs in the opposite direction because he knows God would really save them! The special effects and the unforgettable plot — a great storm, a big fish, and a God everyone knows you can't run away from — make the narrative an easy theme for children's sermons and vacation bible school. Yet, child or adult, the text offers a mouthful. At the thought of Jonah in the fish, one little boy noted anxiously, “He needs God to save him!” Jonah introduces us to the God who hears, though our words are wrapped in self and seaweed, and the bars of sin and self-deception continue to imprison us. We need God to save us.

A text within the book of Jonah that is of particular interest to me is a text that in some ways seems not to fit in the story at all. Interrupting the style that quickly draws in its hearers, the text moves from narrative to poetry and back again to narrative. And yet the deliberate jaunt seems to provide a moment of significant commentary to the whole. The eight verses of poetry not only mark an abrupt shift in the tone of the text, but also in the attitude of its main character.

Spoken as a cry for deliverance, the poetic words of the prophet arise from the cold belly of the fish to the presence of merciful God. The scene is a stirring image reminiscent of David's wonder, “Where can I flee from your presence? ... If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.... If I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me” (Psalm 139:7-10). By his own actions, Jonah had descended into the depths, moving from the land of life and light into a sea of darkness and dampness. Yet his words ascend to the God to whom salvation belongs, and Jonah is saved:

I called out to the LORD, out of my distress,

and he answered me;

out of the belly of Sheol I cried,

and you heard my voice.

For you cast me into the deep,

into the heart of the seas,

and the flood surrounded me;

all your waves and your billows

passed over me...

When my life was ebbing away,

I remembered you, LORD,

and my prayer rose to you,

to your holy temple. (Jonah 2:2-7)

Someone told me recently that we only seem to truly pray when we are in the midst of despair. When we have no other excuses to offer, no other comfort to hide behind, no more façades to uphold, we are most likely to bow in exhaustion and be real with God and ourselves. In our distress, we stand before Him as we truly are — lives in need his mercy. “For most of us,” writes C.S. Lewis, “the prayer in Gethsemane is the only model.”

Jonah's eloquent prayer for deliverance stands out in a book that is detailed with his egotistic mantras and glaring self-deceptions. In the midst of the mysterious darkness of the fish, he seems to understand the deception that keeps him in the dark: “Those who cling to worthless idols forfeit the grace that could be theirs” (2:8). Jonah, if only momentarily, clings to a truth more secure than comfort: “Salvation comes from the LORD” (2:9).

In moments of despair and distress, may we see similarly. In times of trouble, may God remove the idols that block our view of Him and reveal his strength in our weakness, his heart in our transparency. At times the deliverance we need is that of deliverance from ourselves.

Sadly, Jonah's idols of self and comfort returned not long after the prayer was finished and his life was spewed back into normalcy. As he rages over the death of a plant and the saving of Nineveh, Jonah brings to mind Isaiah's description: “Surely the hand of the LORD is not too short to save, nor his ear too dull to hear, but... your sins have hidden his face from you” (59:1-2). Still, the book ends on a note bidding us to see that God is about the work of salvation. Whether in the lives of nations “who know not their right from their left” or in the lives of men and women blind with self and sin, God moves faithfully among us. Might we remember in distress and in safety, salvation comes from the LORD.

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Copyright © 2005 Ravi Zacharias International Ministries (RZIM). Reprinted with permission. "A Slice of Infinity" is a radio ministry of Ravi Zacharias International Ministries.

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[Original illustration at this number was moved to Kerux Sermon #4868]

Indians Found A Reason To Hope

Acts 11:14

Kumar, a Christian in South India, was grieved because none of the 13 people he had invited came to watch a Billy Graham evangelistic broadcast at his home on December 23rd. He began to pray, and around 9 p.m. he felt God compelling him to invite his wife’s sister’s family to watch the next night’s broadcast. Immediately he set about to contact them.

It wasn’t easy. His sister-in-law’s family had no phone, so Kumar had to call their neighbor and plead with him to go and bring them to the phone for an urgent message. When his brother-in-law, Satish, reached the phone, Kumar asked him and his family to catch a bus to his city as soon as possible. Satish said he had no money. Kumar encouraged him to borrow the money and said that he would reimburse Satish for the tickets.

Satish consented, and at 4 a.m. he and his family boarded a bus for the long trip to Kumar’s house. They arrived at 5 p.m., and an hour later they watched the My Hope telecast from the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association. Afterward, Kumar gave his testimony and asked if the others wanted to put their faith in Christ. They were all looking at one another, and Kumar wondered what they were thinking. Then Satish, noticeably distressed, stood and explained that he had lost his job because the tea factory that he worked for had closed. Further, the company was demanding that the family vacate their company-owned house. Seeing no hope, the family had decided that on December 25 they were all going to commit suicide.

Now they saw that through Jesus there is hope, and they prayed with Kumar to accept Christ. Satish said he felt like a new man, and, after staying several more days with Kumar, the family returned home ready to face the future with Christ.

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This excerpt was taken from Bob Paulson, “My Hope: India,” Decision (March 2006), p. 10-11; © 2006 Billy Graham Evangelistic Association; all rights reserved.

"Your Day of Disaster"

Isaiah 10:3

Sermon in Family series. Coping with Tragedy.

Isaiah 10:3

"YOUR DAY OF DISASTER"

I. Most families are not prepared for the unexpected.

II. Disaster of Despair.

A. Long sickness, financial burdens.

B. Christian heroes have also felt like giving up. 2 Cor 1:8

C. We may feel like giving up, but can overcome.

III. Disaster of Defeat.

A. Moral failure is among worst defeats for a family. 2 Tim 4:10

B. To survive, a family needs to learn how to forgive.

C. Forgiveness is hard, but it is the only way to heal.

IV. Disaster of Death.

A. King David and poignant death of his young son. 2 Sam 12:16-23

B. Dealing with your family and death.

C. The great promise of salvation is that death is defeated.

V. How Christians can cope.

A. "Overcoming" is not automatic.

B. Pain is normal is this fallen world. You cannot escape it.

C. Learn to embrace the pain.

D. Pain can become endurable when it is shared.

VI. Pain is not God's last word. Rom 8:8,28

from Condensed sermon outline (handout) by Rev. David Holwick · Serm92zj.pco via Kerux Sermon and Illustration Database tragedyfamilydespairdeath

An Inevitable Question

Acts 2:24

According to Albert Camus, death is philosophy's only problem. But a giant one it is, I might add! How quickly one's philosophy may be swept away with one word: Death. How does one make sense of life when it's haunted by this specter?

Many anti-theists think that the idea of God is what has prompted this fear. Let us check their claim.

Agnostic philosopher Bertrand Russell admitted that his life was built on unyielding despair. Perhaps that is why he issued a statement with Albert Einstein-just two days before Einstein's death-confessing that "those of us who know the most are the gloomiest about the future."

With the belief that there is nothing beyond our world, "gloominess" is a reasonable response. Though denying God may leave us free to abolish the past and decree the future, nonetheless, what hope do we find in human decrees? The removal of God does not alleviate the fear of the future does it?

Archibald McLeish reiterates this:

There is, in truth, a terror in the world, and the arts have

heard it as they always do. Under the hum of the miraculous

machines and the ceaseless publications of the brilliant

physicists a silence waits and listens and is heard. It is the

silence of apprehension. We do not trust our time, and the

reason we do not trust our time is because it is we who have made

the time, and we do not trust ourselves. We have played the

hero's part, mastered the monsters, accomplished the labors,

become gods-and we do not trust ourselves as gods. We know what

we are. In the old days when the gods were someone else, the

knowledge of what we are did not frighten us ... But now that we

are gods ourselves we bear the knowledge for ourselves. Like

that old Greek hero who learned when all the labors had been

accomplished that it was he himself who had killed his son. (1)

Fear of death does not prove or disprove theism. But it is also true that the removal of God from reality does not remove our fear of death. This is a question we cannot kill. For one's philosophy of life to be complete, the question of our destiny must be answered or the inevitable intrusion of death will haunt our ability to secure meaning. By contrast, understanding death is what makes the Gospel of Jesus Christ so resplendent with hope.

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1. McLeish, "When We Are Gods," Saturday Review, 14 October 1967.

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Copyright © 2002 Ravi Zacharias International Ministries (RZIM). Reprinted with permission. "A Slice of Infinity" is a radio ministry of Ravi Zacharias International Ministries.

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Resurrection of Christ Is the Heart of the Gospel

John 1:12

Paul was in jail, not because he had done anything wrong, but because he refused to deny his Lord. The specter of death was imminent. Though his life was spared this time, within a few years he was martyred for his unwavering testimony that Jesus is the Savior of the world.

As he wrote a letter to his dearest friends, Paul declared his intense desire to know his Lord more intimately. His words are powerfully poignant: “I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death” (Philippians 3:10).

Paul understood something fundamental. The death, burial and resurrection of Jesus Christ is the central event of the Christian faith. It is the central message in our Christian witness. It is the source of our hope and the strength of our life.

The power Paul sought was not a quest for political power, financial prosperity or personal influence. It was far deeper than that. He longed to have such a relationship with God that the deepest needs of his heart would be fully satisfied in Christ alone.

• The resurrection of Jesus has power to revive the broken heart.

A sad reality of human existence is the depth of loneliness many people experience daily. As social beings, we draw strength and purpose from interacting with others. Many have no close relationships with others who fully love and accept them. They have no one with whom to share their deepest and most intimate thoughts.

One day, Charles Weigle returned home from a preaching tour. He found a note from his wife. She had left him, taking their small daughter with her. Overcome with despair, he saw no reason to live, no purpose in life. Over the next few years he frequently contemplated suicide. Some years later, sitting at the piano in his home, his fingers began idly to course their way over the keys. Reflecting on God’s sustaining grace, a melody emerged and blended with the words in his heart. Within 30 minutes, he had penned a song -- “No One Ever Cared for Me Like Jesus” -- that has since comforted thousands:

I would love to tell you what I think of Jesus,

Since I found in Him a friend so strong and true;

I would tell you how He changed my life completely;

He did something that no other friend could do.

No one ever cared for me life Jesus,

There’s no other friend so kind as He;

No one else could take the sin and darkness from me;

O how much He cared for me.

• The resurrection of Jesus has power to reclaim the empty heart.

Blaise Pascal, the 17th-century mathematician, philosopher and physicist, observed that the human heart is like an “infinite abyss.” After suffering multiple ailments for many years, he was converted to faith in Christ. Following his conversion, he devoted himself to contemplations on theology and philosophy. His most famous work from this period is “Pensees.” Reflecting on the vacuum in the human heart, he wrote, “What else does this craving, and this helplessness, proclaim but that there was once in man a true happiness, of which all that now remains is the empty print and trace? This he tries in vain to fill with everything around him, seeking in things that are not there the help he cannot find in those that are, though none can help, since this infinite abyss can be filled only with an infinite and immutable object; in other words by God himself.” (Pensees, 148/428) In spite of his brilliance and his contributions to mathematics, Pascal realized that life apart from God is empty. He found his refuge in Christ alone.

• The resurrection of Jesus has power to save the seeking heart. Of course, the most fundamental message of Easter is “that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures” (1 Corinthians 15:3-4).

The Bible contains a series of stories of people in successive generations who were lost, who sinned, who needed a Savior. The great patriarchs and matriarchs of Scripture were flawed and fallen men and women.

Jesus emerges from the pages of Scripture as the solitary figure to rise above the downward pull of sin. As the Son of God, he had infinite capacity to absorb the guilt and shame of the sins of others. His death on the Cross fulfilled God’s plan. As a holy God, God demands that sin must be punished. As a merciful God, God Himself provided a sacrifice for sin. The Just One (Jesus) would die for the unjust ones (humanity). He died for you and me! But ... and this is great news ... his death did not end the story! In the ultimate statement of power over sin and death, Jesus rose from the dead. As the resurrected Lord, He stands willing and able to save to the uttermost those who come to God by him (Hebrews 7:25).

A consistent theme of biblical proclamation is that the seeking heart will find its salvation in Christ. Isaiah wrote, “Seek ye the Lord while he may be found; call ye upon him while he is near” (Isaiah 55:6). Jeremiah wrote, “You will seek me and find me when you search for me with all your heart” (Jeremiah 29:13). Jesus Himself said, “Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).

When Paul wrote his poignant letter, he expressed a profound truth: there is power in the resurrection! On this Easter weekend, what greater joy could you find than to receive Jesus Christ as your Lord? John the Apostle expressed it so wonderfully in John 1:12: “But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, to those who believe in His name.”

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Roger S. Oldham is vice president for convention relations for the Southern Baptist Executive Committee.

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[Original illustration at this number was added to HolwickID #24095]

Finding Your Easter Sunrise

Mark 5:22

There is a stopping point in the North Carolina mountains called Pretty Place. Pull off the main road and follow a dirt one to a clearing and there stands an open-air chapel on the side of the mountain. Simple concrete benches encompass a stone pulpit. The area is open on all sides so you can see the breath-taking beauty of the scenery. There is a feeling of reverence about the place. People talk quietly, as though in church, in this wonderful place of solitary reflection.

At Easter time about twenty years ago, a group of friends and I decided to attend the sunrise service at Pretty Place. I had always wanted to go but never managed. I was an Emergency Room nurse and had to work on this particular Easter Sunday too, but worked it out to go to the service, and then go to work my shift. We got up about 2:00 a.m. to make the drive to Pretty Place. We arrived in the dark, parked, and proceeded toward the chapel. A huge gathering of people collected in and around the chapel. In darkness, a simple nondenominational church service was held including a hymn, a prayer and a short message.

I was content just to sit and enjoy the tranquility, the smell of earth and pine, and feel the coolness of the morning air on my skin. I heard the birds and the sounds of the woods around us and enjoyed the pleasure of being with my friends. The sky lightened as the day broke and a glowing orange ball began to appear as if it was rising out of the earth. One minute there was a gray canvas and the next, a glowing sphere of orange, yellow, pink rose filling the sky. Then, more quickly than they had come, the crowd took their leave to return to the real world. I headed for work.

I arrived feeling peaceful and ready for the day. The ER was quiet too. Since there were no patients, I began cleaning and restocking.

I heard the familiar announcement, "patient in the hall" and then the sound of a man's voice calling for help in desperation and panic. I entered the hallway to see a man carrying a small, limp, breathless child. Traces of blood and discoloration smeared one side of her pale face. No other wounds were visible. The man handed me the little girl, dressed in a frilly dress, lace-trimmed socks, patent leather shoes, and a crushed Easter bonnet. His words spilled out. He couldn't see her when he backed the family van out of the driveway. She was dressed and ready for church. She saw her daddy leaving. She ran behind him. She only wanted to go with her daddy.

I rushed her into critical care leaving the father in the hallway. Someone would come shortly to get him to fill out the paper work and show him to the family waiting room - not the usual waiting room, but the small, softly-lit, private waiting room where families and friends await bad news and pray desperate prayers for the lives of their loved ones.

As the call of Code Blue went out over the hospital loudspeaker, a team gathered to do all that was possible to save this child. Her Easter clothes were cut away and she was intubated. We began CPR, started an IV, and gave her drugs to attempt to restart her heart and lungs. It soon became obvious her neck was broken. We continued to resuscitate her, doing everything within the power of man and medicine. We couldn't give up the life of this small child. There is a knowing, an intellectual process that says there is nothing to do, but the heart often pushes us beyond this knowledge to try anyway. So try we did.

After the hopeless resuscitation ceased, I slowly removed the tubes with tears in my eyes, a huge lump in my throat, and heaviness in my chest. We took care of the details of preparing her body for death and for her family to see her. The Emergency Room doctor went to the family room. His words to the father would start with, "Your little girl is dead. There really was nothing we could do, but we tried." He would talk, trying to explain what had happened. He would listen for a little while to give the father a chance to begin to verbalize how he was feeling.

The cry we heard coming from this man as he was given the news still touches me at the core of my very being. Some of us have experienced the misfortunes in life that enable us to understand the pain and loss this man must have felt.

It's been twenty years since that Easter Sunday. I am married now and have four children of my own. I traded in the job of being a nurse for that of being a full time mother and homemaker. Not an Easter has passed since that I do not remember that little girl in the arms of her father on that Easter Sunday. I can always recall the pain and agony of that father's cry at the news of the death of his daughter. Now, as a parent, I understand that cry in a way that I couldn't at that time.

Medical personnel must learn to deal with the pain and suffering of others in order to do their job. We witness human misery, loss of limb and life, loss of family, and at times, the horrible unspeakable things that people do to each other. My saving grace is always that when I remember that little girl dying I also remember the profound experience of being at the Easter sunrise service. I'm glad that on that morning I made the effort to go. I remember the magnificence of that sunrise there on the side of a mountain and the awe I felt taking it all in.

I experienced two opposite ends of the spectrum of human emotion that day - wonder and despair, life and death, joy and suffering, breath-taking beauty and profound sadness. I wrap the beautiful memory of the sunrise service around me to protect me from the hurt I felt at the death of that little girl. That memory of the sunrise was the armor I carried into battle that day as I went to do my duty in the ER.

As a nurse or a doctor or anyone who deals with pain and suffering, we must care for ourselves in order to be of service to others. We cannot give water to others from an empty well. We must take time to refill the well - to find our Easter sunrise.

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By Cindy Bollinger (c) 2000, from Chicken Soup for the Nurse's Soul by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, LeAnn Theimann and Nancy Mitchell-Autio.

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