Where Was God When I Needed Him?

This is good stuff.

We had a guest speaker at church on Wednesday, a man I highly respect. He told a true story of taking a missionary team to Kenya, and how everyone they touched in a prayer service was healed of their sickness. When they came back to America, the same team of believers didn't have the same results. Very few if any were being healed. He said to me, "Pastor Tim, I don't have a theology for that."

I do. Right or wrong, this is what I believe: Those people in Kenya just don't know any better. They don't know that you can only believe what you see. They don't know that you have to pray "just right." They don't know that you have to end your prayers with, "In Jesus Name" or they just disappear on their way to heaven. They don't know that you have to wear the right clothes, belong to the right denomination, graduate from catechism classes or tithe regularly to be blessed of God. How silly of them.

Now. I'll remove the tongue from my cheek and say this... we've been spoiled in America by our own freedoms and selfishness. As Christians we don't mean to treat God as a cosmic slot machine or his Son as a Genie in a Bottle, but in many ways that's what your prayers and mine have boiled down to. In Kenya, they understand honor. They understand faith. Stay with me, here. Read these incredible verses from Luke chapter 8 and you'll see what I mean.

Now when Jesus returned, a crowd welcomed him, for they were all expecting him. Then a man named Jairus, a ruler of the synagogue, came and fell at Jesus’ feet, pleading with him to come to his house because his only daughter, a girl of about twelve, was dying.

As Jesus was on his way, the crowds almost crushed him. And a woman was there who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years, but no one could heal her. She came up behind him and touched the edge of his cloak, and immediately her bleeding stopped.

“Who touched me?” Jesus asked.

When they all denied it, Peter said, “Master, the people are crowding and pressing against you.”

But Jesus said, “Someone touched me; I know that power has gone out from me.”

Then the woman, seeing that she could not go unnoticed, came trembling and fell at his feet. In the presence of all the people, she told why she had touched him and how she had been instantly healed. Then he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace.”

While Jesus was still speaking, someone came from the house of Jairus, the synagogue ruler. “Your daughter is dead,” he said. “Don’t bother the teacher any more.”

Hearing this, Jesus said to Jairus, “Don’t be afraid; just believe, and she will be healed."

Two very different people, two very different circumstances, with one thing in common: their faith. Neither one of them had to come to the altar crying, be slain in the spirit, pray at the top of their lungs, dance, scream, or shout. All of those things can happen, and all have their place. But I'll go as far as to say this: Jesus didn't heal them.

Their faith in Jesus healed them. They believed Him. They honored Him.

And so many people in our United States, wearing the label of Christian, dishonor God by shacking up together outside the confines of marriage, approving of the homosexual lifestyle that God calls "abominable," abusing their bodies with tobacco, drugs, alcohol and yes - even food. With mouths like sewers, they curse their neighbor and then ask God for his blessings. They post "F" this on Facebook, then write a request for prayers when things aren't going so well. Where's the honor? Where's the respect for our Creator? Our Savior?

The Bible says the prayers of the righteous avail much. The people in Kenya and other third world countries where revival is happening get it. They understand it. God is moving among those people in an exciting, miraculous way.

We look at the situation in Africa and shake our heads sadly. But I ask you America, which of the people are the truly blessed?

The Best Birthday Gift Ever

I often miss things that are right in front of me. I can be standing in the middle of the railroad tracks, and not see the train bearing down one me. Those people always catching on to things just a split second after everyone else? Meet the poster child.

So let me break this very long story down into a bite sized segment for you, because it's really good stuff. This morning I preached on "Four Enemies of Faith." One of those enemies is trusting in what you see, rather than what the Holy Spirit confirms in your heart. After all, II Corinthians 5:7 says that we walk by faith, not by sight.

Nearly 27 years ago, my mother died in a horrible head on car-bicycle accident. Just the day before, mom and I had been having a small argument about the clothes I wore, the choices I was making, and the lack of direction in my life. She wanted better things for her son. She wanted me to let her know when I came home safely from work, even if it meant waking her up. She worried. After she died, God answered my prayer about her salvation when he led me to her Bible. She had written on the inside cover - "Be Saved, Romans 10:9." I knew her future was secure.

Fast forward about 25 years. I was looking through her Bible not too long ago and found a bookmark with her name on it. I assume it's in the last passage she read. So I opened to Psalms 91 and read the verse she had circled, "For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways." I was furious. For the first time, I blamed God for taking her. If He really promised that He would protect her, then where was He that night? Why did He let her die in that accident? Why would He lead her to that scripture only to allow her be killed? I knew better, but I was still very angry with God. However, His Holy Spirit within me told me I had to let the anger go and walk by faith. But the questions prevailed.

Fast forward again to last Thursday. Five times I began writing five different sermons. Nothing stuck. Every Pastor who has preached for any length of time understands that frustration, but this was like hitting a brick wall over and over. It was late Friday night before I finally had the message about faith. As I studied scripture, I was reminded again of my anger over what I found in mom's Bible. That's when God dropped the answer in my heart like a mighty anchor. We walk by faith, not by sight. That verse from Psalms 91 wasn't bookmarked by accident. It wasn't there for mom.

It was meant for me.

God had it there for me to find. He reminded me that through the years, when I wandered from the faith, when my marriage was on the brink, when I came back to God only to nearly throw it all away again when the enemy attacked, He was there to see me through. God has been more faithful and kind to me than I could ever deserve. God answered my mom's prayers. He DID command His angels to guard me. As tragic as the night was, and as much as I wish I could go back and make it all right again, the circumstances have shaped me and molded me into the man I am today. I understand that now. I see it by faith.

So this morning as I fought back the tears, I shared that story with my church family. I did my best to connect my experience with theirs. My prayer is that it helped someone in their faith walk. But you know, God wasn't through putting His exclamation point on His message. My wife teaches Kid's church, and rarely gets to sit in on our worship services. So as I was sharing this story with her at home tonight (and she understood the point before I even got to the good part) I suddenly stopped short. "Do you know," I said, "that mom would have been 70 years old today?" I preached that whole sermon without realizing... today was mom's birthday.

Typical of my mother. She gave me the gift instead.