Pink Candle By Wil Triggs

“Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.”  (Luke 2:10b-11)
 
“Let us go over to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has made known to us.”  (Luke 2:15b)
 
“For a second year running, there is no Christmas cheer in Bethlehem, with tourists shunning the Palestinian city and many residents seeking a way out as the Gaza war grinds on,” a Reuters story reported December 1, 2024. “Bethlehem's Manger Square in front of the Church of the Nativity is largely deserted and souvenir shops are shuttered.”
 
Life can be tumultuous.

William Blake's paintngs include two sides of humanity—one of Newton planning and creating, leaning forward with a compass planning for higher things; the other is Nebuchadnezzar, matted hair on head and beard, leaning forward on all fours eating grass in the field like a wild animal. These images are the power and folly of human leadership without God in a fallen universe.

The head on the side of the building could have been Caesar or Nero or Caligula. Think Marx. Think Lenin, Stalin, Tito, Mao Zedong. Wall portraiture rendered itself with some features but years and decades smooth over the faces, trading them out for new ones. Pilate, Kim Il Sung, Idi Amin, Pol Pot, Slobodan Milosevic. Nebuchadnezzars all of them. We hate or we exalt leaders in various ways. Bashar al-Assad. Duvalier. Ceausescu. Ivan the Terrible. Brilliant and powerful one moment. Animals hungry for grass the next. And then Ozymandias.
 
In contrast to human leaders of earthly kingdoms, Jesus brings an other-worldly joy to us from the kingdom of heaven. Where the world celebrates the power of human might and humans running away from or drifting toward tyranny, Jesus calls us to sacrifice, to a way that puts the good of others first.
 
The Old Testament prophets foreshadow the altogether new.
 
Hosea lives the foreshadowing—with the prophet marrying a harlot, with children named Judgment and No Mercy and Not My People. The Lord said to Hosea, “Go again, love a woman who is loved by another man and is an adulteress, even as the Lord loves the children of Israel.” (Hosea 3:1)
 
The glass is dark, but the light is flickering, dawning into a new day that is not the way of man.
 
God’s ways, not ours. Against his better judgment, Jonah journeys from the stomach of the whale into the heart of Ninevah to call people to the one true God and then to sit under the tree... “I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, and relenting from disaster.” (Jonah 4:2b)
 
To be like Jesus is to bleed and die and, by faith, live again.
 
Did all the shepherds live to hear the Sermon on the Mount? Did any of them eat the miraculous bread and fish? Did they see Jesus on the cross? Were any of them among the witnesses of the resurrected Christ? For Simeon and Anna, seeing him as a baby was enough. It was not the full picture—no miracles yet, no cross, no empty tomb or disciples staring up at the sky. But they were not bereft of joy in their waiting.
 
We are blessed to have the full revelation of the Bible—rejoice in that! But we should not fool ourselves into thinking that we can fully grasp or attain everything here until the darkened glass grows clear. And though it is clearer than it was, it is still dark.
 
Yet we must embrace joy. We can’t help it. We follow the Jesus joy-giver.  We can know this shepherd joy before us now no matter what we might face.
 
Missionary Amy Carmichael wrote, “Joy is not gush. Joy is not mere jolliness. Joy is perfect acquiescence—acceptance, rest—in God’s will, whatever comes. And that is so only for the soul who delights himself in God.”
 
For those who pray year after year for loved ones to turn in believing faith for the first time ever,
 
For those of us with loved ones estranged from God,
 
For those who wonder—did that person die lost or was there a cry out before the end, he comes.
 
For those facing or fighting disease that robs of strength and health,
 
For people who don’t know who they are and their families who don’t know what to do,
 
For those with broken marriages who wonder if healing and change will ever come,
 
For those grief-stricken with the loss of ones loved, and loved ones who can never be replaced, he comes.
 
If you find yourself wandering in a strange land you never dreamed would be your home,
 
If you find yourself in prison—literal and metaphorical—waiting, longing, dreaming of freedom, he comes.
 
Every dream and every longing, the lost coin, the precious pearl, the smallest of seeds sown in the land and in our hearts—know that it grows. The Good Shepherd, having left the 99, setting aside the robes and splendors, finds us and hoists us onto his shoulders from the ground where we are caught or hurt or both, and he starts the walk back to the flock.
 
The inns are all filled, but the good Lord Christ enters in to the forgotten, stinky manger places of the soul; he knows the longing, doubting, fearing, loving hearts. Even when he seems far away, he’s near, right beside us. We are carried unknowingly on his shoulders.
 
With laughter and with tears filling our eyes, we light the pink candle of the shepherds, the candle of joy.

Awed by Awe By Lorraine Triggs

We can now add awe to diet and exercise in our pursuit of a healthy lifestyle. So writes Hope Reese in her article “How a Bit of Awe Can Improve Your Health.” Reese quotes Dr. Dacher Keltner, a psychologist at the University of California, Berkely, who defines awe as “the feeling of being in the presence of something vast that transcends your understanding of the world.”

It’s also accessible to everyone and part of everyday life as Keltner writes in his book Awe: The New Science of Everyday Wonder and How It Can Transform Your Life. Keltner says that awe “is its own thing,” and not one of the six basic emotions—anger, surprise, disgust, enjoyment, fear and sadness—that were identified in 1972.

I don’t know how we coped prior to 1972 with these emotions and awe, but Keltner and other experts are currently awed by awe and its impact on our health and well-being. A professor of medical social sciences at Northwestern University points out that “intentional awe experiences, like walks in nature, collective movement, like dance or ceremony” improve our psychological well-being.

Awe hasn’t always meant nature walks or well-being. The archaic definition of awe is dread or terror, to fear greatly or to feel a great reluctance to meet or face, which underscores the audacity of Moses’s request of God in Exodus 33:18, “Please show me your glory.” (At least Moses said please.) God turned down Moses because of awe. God knew that no one could see his face and live. Instead, God showed Moses his heart—his goodness, his grace and his mercy.

Like Moses, David had a sense of this archaic awe in Psalm 51, but instead of asking to see God’s face, David asked God to hide his face from David’s sin. Like he did with Moses, God showed David his mercy, unfailing love and great compassion. Even Dr. Keltner would have to agree that this is awe, something so vast that it transcends our understanding of the world, especially in a world that finds retribution easier to understand than mercy and compassion. But God, who is rich in mercy, unfailing in his love and abounding in compassion, brings healing in his wings and light to people sitting in darkness.

This is the awe of Advent—vast transcendent visits of angels to a young girl, a carpenter and senior saints one minute and the night sky the next, proclaiming great news of great joy of a newborn baby who chose to enter the very world he created, full of grace and truth, unfailing love and great compassion, to save his people from their sins.

May we all be awed by awe this Advent.

The Paper Pumpkin Thanksgiving Mystery By Wil Triggs

This last Sunday, we asked the Kindergarteners to think of something they’re thankful for and 25 children, gave or take a few, raised their hands. Lorraine had a bunch of construction paper pumpkins, and when the children replied, they could put a pumpkin on the whiteboard under the banner “We are thankful for. . .” Repeats were allowed. We will ask for more thanks this Sunday, but so far, this is their pumpkin harvest of thanks:

God
Sister
Dad
Stuffed animals
Mom
Jesus
God
Thanksgiving at grandparents
Aunt Sarah
Fish
Sharing food
K class
Pumpkin pie
Family
Ana and Noah
Jesus
Family
Grandparents
Pumpkin pie
God
Family

To me, there’s something about writing down one’s thanks that makes it more real, more concrete. I sometimes save notes people mail in or drop off at church. One stands out. I go back to it often.

Eighty-six-year-old Anne sent a notecard to College Church with the following message:

One of your church members gave me a ride to the train station last week. It was a cold and snowy day and with my cane I was not managing the snow-covered sidewalk too well.

She would not accept any money so I told her I’d put it in the donation at church.
This is to say thank you, God bless,
Anne

At the Thanksgiving Eve service, brave people stood and publicly expressed thanks. They were brief and heartfelt. You know with each one that there is longer story in the background.  

Loving parents, family, home, my friend, College Church, my job, the prayers of the church for my mother, youth group, ever-present Jesus, sharing the gospel with my students, College Church’s music, KMs, HYACKs, the goodness of God, the family of the church, KMs, the Living Word class, the Lord's help when I faced thoughts of suicide, God's covenantal love, the seventh-grade boys, Mike, the metaphor of a new pair of glasses, Baxter, my job, women's Bible study, God's presence in the storms of life.

As I listened, what people said brought things to mind from the past year. How interwoven we are with others, blessed to be connected and worshiping together.

Thinking back to Anne’s note, there’s a mystery to this message. How did Anne know her helper was from College Church? It doesn’t matter really, but it makes me curious to know more of the story. There is mystery when people help others. I think sometimes because we don’t always know how God might be at work in the kind acts, or the kind words we say to strangers, or the path we walk together through the years.

These are the type of mystery I think I like best—not a whodunit, but just the good stories of lovingkindness spreading without the need of shining a spotlight anywhere else but on Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith. He is working, especially in those times when we don't even know it, hearts burning with us.

Who is the man on the road to Emmaus talking to us with such wisdom?

How can we feed such a multitude with only one boy’s lunch?

Terrified, I wonder what I’m seeing in the storm, the figure of a man walking across the stormy roiling waves as if on a level floor?

Why save the best wine for last?

Why does only one in ten healed of leprosy bother to say thanks?

Why tell a crippled man to get up and walk?

Why cast our net on the other side of the boat after a whole night without a single fish?

Why open the tomb after a man has been dead for so many days?

Who is it I see from the boat cooking breakfast onshore and calling out to us?

Jesus, thank you for coming to us in the storm, thank you for talking to us on the road, praise you for giving us wine when we only expect water, bless you for filling our nets, casting out demons, bringing to life muscles, nerves, bones with the simple command, get up and walk. Thank you that your ways are not ours and you do not leave us to our own ways. Thank you for accepting meager thanks, even when we know our hearts should be overflowing with thanksgiving. Jesus, thank you for empty tombs and tombs, our tombs even, that will be empty one day, each of us stepping out or up or in from temporal to eternal, Jesus.

So as thankful as I am for pumpkin pie, corn casseroles, mashed potatoes and turkey, I am even more grateful for a simple breakfast on the beach and your invitation to come, follow, love, give.

House Church by Lorraine Triggs

In its heyday, my childhood church in suburban Detroit was a megachurch before megachurches existed. The building was a wonderful mishmash of church architectural styles from the 1940s, 60s and 70s when various additions were made. It made a great home for the children of the church, where we children freely roamed the educational wing, obediently heading to our classrooms when the bell rang for Sunday school or evening Training Union.

Until the evening someone dared Billy to stick his head through the bars of the stair’s railing. Billy was an average size kid with an average size head, and as good Baptist children, we loudly voiced our opinions about the dare, but before a consensus could be reached, Billy took the dare and stuck his head through the railing.

We were in awe, until Billy realized he couldn’t pull his head back out. The bell for Training Union went off, no one moved and then chaos ensued. Teachers ran out of the classrooms and tried to pull Billy out. Someone ran down the stairs to the church kitchen for a tub of lard. Billy twisted and turned his head and started to cry. Then off in the distance, a siren wailed. We began to breathe easier. Help was on the way, and despite that nasty-sounding electric saw cutting through the railing, Billy’s head remained attached to his body.

I’m happy to report that we all made it safely to adulthood and today communicate mainly through the church’s alumni Facebook group, since my childhood church no longer exists. It wasn’t abandoned but demolished, unlike the roughly 1,100 former churches currently for sale in the U.S. according to an article in The New York Times. It was the headline that caught my eye: “For Sale: Hundreds of Abandoned Churches. Great Prices. Need Work.” I am still deciding what bothers me more—the demolition of my once-vibrant home church, the abandoned churches put up for sale all over the country, or the buyers snapping them up to convert them into one-of-a kind private homes.

In early church history, houses became churches—not the other way around. In 1 Corinthians 16:19, the church in Aquila and Prisca’s house sent hearty greetings to the church in Corinth. Paul deepens the definition of a house when he instructs the believers in Galatia to “do good to everyone, and especially to those who are of the household of faith.” (Galatians 6:10) Paul’s personal greetings at the end of his letter to the Romans use the language of family to describe the members of this new household of faith—Andronicus and Junia are kinsmen (as well as fellow prisoners), beloved Stachys and Persis, and Rufus’ mother—who has been a mother to Paul.

The church is at its best when it is a home for the lost, the found, the sick, the ones who are sick but don’t admit it. It’s a home where the door is left open for a prodigal’s return, or gently closed on the clamor and chaos for the world weary to find rest. It’s a place where you and I are “no longer strangers and aliens, but . . . fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God.” (Ephesians 2:19)

In the end, the church is home to pilgrims who are looking forward to a feast set on a table that overflows with the bounty of grace and mercy in a home that lasts forever.

Reading the Love by Wil Triggs

When I was a freshman at Bible college, Randy, a friend of mine, confessed to me that he was having a hard time in his American literature class. The problem: Moby Dick. The professor expected him to read the whole thing.
 
Randy felt that he could fake his way through the quizzes and probably get by, but the teacher had him sign a piece of paper confirming that he had read the whole book.
 
With his name on the line, he knew he had to forge ahead and read every page at some level. I still remember his words, “I have never read a book from beginning to end.” I thought I had misunderstood him, so I questioned him. What do you mean? You mean this school year? Not your whole life. How could that possibly be true?
 
Randy explained that in his school, he was never required to read entire books—just excerpts in anthologies. He didn’t know what to do.
 
I told him to keep reading. The book might grow on him as the class discussed it. Then again, it might not. I mean, the prof wasn’t asking him to love the book. He only had to read it through and give it a chance. I felt for Randy. I mean, for the first book ever . . . why couldn’t she have assigned something shorter like Winesburg, Ohio or The Old Man and the Sea or A Tree Grows in Brooklyn or, given the way this musing is going, Fahrenheit 451.
 
I thought of Randy’s struggle when I came across a recent article in The Atlantic that reported a growing number of students, even in the Ivy League schools, don’t read books from beginning to end. They just can’t focus enough to read an entire book. Class curriculums are changing to a collection of shorter essays. One literature class reportedly no longer requires the reading of Crime and Punishment. But if they can’t read that one, how will they ever get to The Brothers Karamazov?
 
The thing that seemed especially strange about Randy’s question was that he was a Bible major. A book. A really long book. I did not ask at the time if he was including the Bible in his statement. A collection of books. Old and New Testaments. Had he read that book all the way through from beginning to end?
 
Maybe in Randy’s mind the Bible didn’t count because it was the Bible. Of course, the Bible is the ultimate book. What Moby Dick is to American literature, the Bible is to the universe and eternity and life itself. Lowest, highest and deepest. Everest. Death Valley. Lake Baikal. The Word of God. Actually more than a book.
 
After David, after Solomon, after the kingdom split and most of the people did evil, along came Josiah (2 Chronicles 34).  He was doing right, cleaning up the land, tearing down idols, purging the land, rebuilding, renewing, bringing his kingdom up to date and generally doing good.
 
Then during all the cleaning, Hilkiah found the Book of the Law. And Josiah, for the first time ever, heard and listened. He read his Moby Dick. OK, well, maybe he had it read to him, but he really heard it.
 
And when he heard it, he tore his clothes and grieved for his sin and the sins of his people. He didn’t keep the word to himself, just for his own repentance and renewal.
 
And the king went up to the house of the LORD, with all the men of Judah and the inhabitants of Jerusalem and the priests and the Levites, all the people both great and small. And he read in their hearing all the words of the Book of the Covenant that had been found in the house of the LORD. And the king stood in his place and made a covenant before the LORD, to walk after the LORD and to keep his commandments and his testimonies and his statutes, with all his heart and all his soul, to perform the words of the covenant that were written in this book. (2 Chronicles 34:30–31)
 
We cannot truly hear the Word without conviction of sin. We have no choice when we truly hear than to tear our clothes and fall prostrate to the floor.
 
If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities,
    O Lord, who could stand?
But with you there is forgiveness,
    that you may be feared.
(Psalm 130: 3–4)
 
But where is this forgiveness? Where is it?
 
“Sacrifice and offering you did not desire—
    but my ears you have opened—
    burnt offerings and sin offerings you did not require."
Then I said, “Here I am, I have come—
    it is written about me in the scroll.
I desire to do your will, my God;
    your law is within my heart.” (Psalm 40:6–8).
 
Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel. (Isaiah 7:14)
 
And Mary said to the angel, “How will this be, since I am a virgin?” (Luke 1:34)
 
“Then will the eyes of the blind be opened
    and the ears of the deaf unstopped.
Then will the lame leap like a deer,
    and the mute tongue shout for joy.
Water will gush forth in the wilderness
    and streams in the desert.” (Isaiah 35:5–6).
 
Do we ever really stop reading the Bible? What about not just reading, but actually living the Bible? Repent. Tear down the idols. Read the whole book. If Randy could make it through Moby Dick, and he did, what about us, the people of God, steeping in it, savoring it, smelling, tasting, hearing every word of every delicious page.
 
Jesus, aware of this, withdrew from there. And many followed him, and he healed them all and ordered them not to make him known. This was to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet Isaiah:

“Behold, my servant whom I have chosen,
    my beloved with whom my soul is well pleased.
I will put my Spirit upon him,
    and he will proclaim justice to the Gentiles.
He will not quarrel or cry aloud,
    nor will anyone hear his voice in the streets;
a bruised reed he will not break,
    and a smoldering wick he will not quench,
until he brings justice to victory;
   and in his name the Gentiles will hope.”
(Matthew 12:15-21)
 
Through the pages, Jesus comes to us like the whale we cannot escape. Who would want to escape? Keep reading.
 
Then he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant and sat down. The eyes of everyone in the synagogue were fastened on him. He began by saying to them, "Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing." (Luke 4:20–21)
 
“He went to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, and on the Sabbath day he went into the synagogue, as was his custom. He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was handed to him. Unrolling it, he found the place where it is written:

‘The Spirit of the Lord is on me,
    because he has anointed me
    to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners
    and recovery of sight for the blind,
to set the oppressed free,
    to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.’
(Luke 4:16-19)
 
Keep reading. Let us strap ourselves to Christ, Ahab-like, to the great figure of the deep, riding, diving, drowning, living and dying in the wonder of the love that answers every question asked by anyone. And beyond that—falling down prostrate not before the swelling judgment of our overarching sin from which we cannot find landfall; but rather, falling down before the Word who spoke and gave and pursued love for us, who redeemed the irredeemable, the one who plants us new like Psalm 1 meets A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.
 
Behold, I am doing a new thing;
    now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
    and rivers in the desert. (Isaiah 43:19)

Words, Words, Words by Lorraine Triggs

”Words, words, words, I’m so sick of words,” sings Eliza Doolittle in “My Fair Lady.” Eliza would have hated the conference Wil and I participated in this week. 

We have been in Puebla, Mexico, at LittWorld 2024, where 200 Christian creatives from 40 countries have gathered to celebrate words and creativity. In some ways, this conference is shop talk for writers, editors, designers and publishers, but the conference theme gets to the heart of this triennial gathering: publishing for lasting impact.

There has been a lot of quoting Isaiah 52:7, and for good reason, especially since the word “publishing” which is music to all our ears, is repeated twice in the verse—those who publish peace and those who publish salvation. This week I also heard other words, such as “humility “ and “servant” and “encourage” that give an upward turn to what my global family members communicate here, and then there where they live in Mexico City, Peru, Spain, the UK, Kenya, Nigeria, Ukraine, South Korea. . . .The list goes on.

Words of peace and salvation and humility also give an upward turn to ordinary conversations, and when paired with other words such as gentleness, kindness, patience, we no longer need to get the last word in to win the argument or to prove a point. These Spirit-driven words are ones for which we should never tire. And we should strive to find them growing in our hearts, rolling off our tongues and blessing others.

I don’t blame Eliza Doolittle for being sick of words that are hurtful or selfish or full of empty promises. So, for the Eliza’s of the world and for ourselves, let our words speak healing and reconciliation into our relationships. Let our words encourage and build each other up, and may every conversation turn upward to the Word who dwelt among us, full of grace and truth.

Surprised by Life and Death by Wil Triggs

We are coming up on the International Day of Prayer for the Persecuted Church. With that in mind, here are a few excerpts from recent prayer sheets that I prepare weekly. The quotes and stories are from real people who live each day with faith that stands apart from the people around them.
 
10/23/2024 Nigeria — A week ago, Pastor Eli Abdullahi Tinau attended a memorial service honoring 29 Christians who were killed by Islamic Fulani extremists in 2015.
 
The victims, who had sought refuge in a classroom at LGEA Primary School in Nkiendoro, Miango district of Bassa County, were brutally murdered after militants bypassed the military’s protection. Two survivors were critically injured, and one later died from gunshot wounds.
 
Pastor Tinau, 35, has come close, many times, to being a victim of Fulani extremist attacks himself. It’s simply part of his work as a missionary from Katsina state. Tinau, who also pastors the Evangelical Church Winning All (ECWA) in Nkiendoro, which is about 60 miles from Jos, doesn’t let the threat of violence or even death deter him from sharing the gospel with the Fulani. So far, Tinau has led two Fulani to Christ.
 
10/25/2024 Somalia — As Mohammad Abdul led a Christian worship gathering on the evening of Oct. 5 in his home in Somalia’s Lower Juba Region, four Muslim relatives waited outside for the event to end. 
 
As the worship ended, his relatives confronted Abdul, asking him why he was worshiping God differently. 
 
“My prayer is a secret between me and my Lord Isa [Jesus],” Abdul told his relatives. “Why should I pray in public? That’s just a way to please men. In my time of worship, I should please only God, who is in the heavenly places. Isa, who saved me, knows my heart, and I am happy in my heart, so leave me alone.”
 
His relatives then assaulted Abdul, hitting him with a blunt object and slapping him in the face.
 
I have followed stories of persecution for years, and now weekly, and there’s something about these stories that never fails to encourage me and disturb me, all at the same time.
 
I don’t know why this comes as a surprise, but for me it still does after all these years. We Christians find inspiration when other Christians die for their faith. We pray and do what we can to stand with them, but the impact of a person giving their all in the face of opposition does something nothing else can.
 
More than any temporal advancement, becoming the head of a company, being elected to public office, even gaining recognition and praise in a field of music or another artistry, those who die for Jesus’ sake have launched people into missionary service and deeper walks of faith. Many of my older friends recall the five young men who died at the hands of the Waorani in Ecuador and how their sacrifice changed the way people thought about missionary service. There is a church there today.
 
So, for this special time of prayer, I’ve collected a few quotations from people who have known the fellowship of suffering through the ages.
 
If we are the sheep of His pasture, remember that sheep are headed for the altar.
—Jim Elliot


When you're able to love, you're able to sacrifice yourself for the truth. Since I learned that lesson, my hands do not clench into fists.
—Sabina Wurmbrand
 
Lord, open the king of England's eyes!
—Wiilliam Tyndale
 
You can kill us, but you cannot harm us.
--Justin Martyr
 
My desires are crucified, the warmth of my body is gone. A stream flows whispering inside me: Deep within me it says, Come to the Father. Near to the sword, I am near to God. In the company of wild beasts, I am in company with God. Only let all that happens be in the name of Jesus Christ, so that we may suffer with him. I can endure all things if he enables me. I am God’s wheat. May I be ground by the teeth of the wild beasts until I become the fine white bread that belongs to Christ.
—Ignatius of Antioch
 
Our life is seed, sown in the earth to rise again in the world to come, where we will be renewed by Christ in immortal life. I did not frame this body, nor will I destroy it. God, you gave me life, you will also restore it.
—Jonas of Beth-Lasa
 
Perhaps you can add your own expression of faith, expressing your love and commitment to Jesus. Ours is not theirs, but in prayer in some small way, theirs can be ours. 

Father, Maker of all things, every soul;
Son, shepherd who sings, bruised triumph, names on scroll,
Spirit, new life brings with the burning coal.
Let all who have breath praise the surprise
And rejoice in awe as we see the dead rise.
Ours the suffering, the grave, the skies,
because by faith  “. . . some were tortured, refusing to accept release, so that they might rise again to a better life.” (Hebrews11:35)

Bibles Up! by Lorraine Triggs

I’d like to think that on Sunday in some church somewhere in America, children are having a Sword Drill in their Sunday school classes. As a child, I ruled at Sword Drills, or Bible Drills as my church called them.

“Bibles up!” We would hold our King James Bibles by their spines over our heads—any lower would be cheating.

“_________” Teacher would give a Scripture reference, which was also our cue to look for anyone thumbing the pages of their Bible to gain advantage. This naturally gave way to accusations of cheating, hoping to disqualify any competitor.

“Go!” Hurry to find the verse in our Bibles and start reading it aloud.

I continued my rule of the Bible drill as a curriculum editor at David C. Cook Publishing. It was the early days of desktop publishing, and my fellow editors and I would play our version of Bible drills. One of us at our desk with an unopen Bible; one at the computer set to hit find and go; one to call out a random Scripture reference. Human vs. computer and we savvy editors would always win.

In theory Sword Drills are designed to help children learn how to locate books of the Bible and be comfortable looking up verses, with the goal of having Scripture verses ready for spiritual battle. In practice, Bible drills did help me learn my way around the Bible, but in a hop, skip and a jump way, and, however unintentionally, turned Scripture into a competitive sport—one that I am still tempted to play today.

If my current social feeds reveal anything, it’s how easy it is to post Bible verses for one’s personal agenda and advancement. I do manage mostly to avoid these kinds of posts, but I still hop, skip and jump through Scripture and use it for my advantage.

Here I am reading along in Philippians, happily keeping up with Bible study, when I read verses 14 and 15 of chapter 2: “Do all things without grumbling or disputing, that you may be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and twisted generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world.”

Rather than slow down and face my grumbling and disputing, my complaining and arguing, I skip right over that to the much safer crooked and twisted generation. It’s easier to complain about the dark days we live in than to confess to grumbling about an unfair situation or not getting my own way.

I compare the sins of the godless—sexually immoral, idolaters, adulterers, those who practice homosexuality, thieves, the greedy—to the nice sins I commit, using God’s Word to inflate myself as I take a giant leap over Paul’s reminder in 2 Corinthians 6:11 that “such were some of you," apart from Christ's rescue of us from good and bad sins.

Scripture is useful, not for personal gain or promotion, but “useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the servant of God maybe thoroughly equipped for every good work.” (2 Timothy 3:16-17, NIV)

So, Bibles up!

(Philippians 2:15-16)

Go

". . . shine as lights in the world, holding fast to the word of life.”