History Belongs to the Martyrs

Last week's text, Psalm 33, helped me explore a theme often neglected in the church. Psalm 33 proclaims that the earth is full of the steadfast love of the Lord. The writer sees this truth evident not only in the beauty of creation but in the crumbling of arrogant nations and the overthrow of powerful armies.

I wrestled with this theme for quite some time before the good Lord reminded me that it's true. There's something else going in the world than just brute force. Though there is struggle this side of heaven, we still see signs that the steadfast of the Lord is at work.

Simply put, history belongs to the martyrs. I don't merely mean people who die for their faith, though that is not to be excluded. Rather, I'm using the term the way it's employed in the New Testament. In the New Testament, the word martyr refers to one who witnesses to God's vulnerable love. Just think about all the examples we have of Christianity slowly growing and influencing the world, even without using political power and military might.

The early Christians died for their faith, refusing to bear arms against anyone. Slowly but surely their way of life won over most of the Roman Empire. St. Francis of Assissi lived a life of simple obscurity, caring for the poorest of the poor to the neglect of his own health. Today, we still find ourselves inspired by his witness. And let's not forget Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King Jr., missionaries who labor in the far off places for Christ's amazing love, and parents who witness in countless ways and invest in the kingdom by raising their children to be disciples--all inspired by the death and resurrection of Jesus.

We see this theme clearly at work in Revelation. This amazing book constantly reminds us that God will work for the good of those who love him, even though failure seems so immiment. At the end of time, we will worship the lamb who has been slaughter (Rev. 5). And gathered around the throne are those who have been God's faithful witnesses (Rev. 6, 7.14-17).

Is there anything more wonderful and shocking than this? Sounds to me like the steadfast love of the Lord rules history.

Peace.

When Kings Die

This week I have been confronted with my own vulnerability. Watching my eight-year-old son enter into the realm of tackle football has softened my heart to the harsh realities of our competitive culture.

A little background might be in order: My son has always excelled in football, flag-football, that is. He usually scores most of the points on his team. Twice they have placed him in the quarterback position. He catches well and more often than not he's the fastest kid on the team. He dreams of playing some football, at least at the high school level. I believe he is capable, if his will remains strong. (Yes, I know, everything I've said thus far does not come from an objective observer; but bear with me until I make my point.) You also need to know that this is his dream, not mine, in case you're wondering. I'm not that fond of the football mentality. But I dream with my children; I journey with them in their aspirations.

That aside, he strapped on the pads for three days of assessment to be placed on a team and in a position. He did not perform to his capacity. Thus, he has been assigned as a bottom dweller, and, I assume, a soon-to-be bench warmer. The tragedy of this entire experience is that there was no teaching, no instruction for those who have never played with pads. Sink or swim, sorry so sad was the basic approach. My son doesn't see what's happening, so he's okay. But the father, yours truly, aches. I find myself wondering, is this how it works? Is that what makes or breaks some people--a few days? You have a good night, you're noticed, you're placed in the quarterback position, someone works with you and believes in you, and your path is set for you. Others who lack the right father or the right opportunity or the right connections are left behind? This seems to be the harsh reality of our competitive world.

It has been good for me to remember this. Because as I said last week, when the kings of our lives die, then we can see the King. Remember Isaiah 6.1? "In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord . . ." Isaiah, faced with his own vulnerability--the loss of a good king, sees the King. There is a connection. When our dreams and the dreams of our children are dashed to pieces, then and perhaps only then, are our hearts finally open to see glory of God.

Yes, from time to time, we need to be reminded that we're pursuing stuff that was never intended to bear the full weight of our confidence. We keep thinking that a new relationship, a new car, the fulfillment of a desire will finally bring lasting rest and satisfaction to our weary souls. What we often miss is that these things, though often good, are as fragile as our mortal life. Here today, gone tomorrow.

So I pray this lesson is not lost on us. Faced with our fragile existence, may we be open to the King of glory--the one upon whom we must depend. He is the one designed to bear the weight of our confidence. Nothing else is secure.

Peace!