"Hillside Faithfulness" (Judges 7)

watch - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7S4ThogiTIQ&feature=youtu.be

Sunday, January 26, 2020

            If you weren’t with us last Sunday, we talked about Gideon.  An ancient Israelite, God called him to liberate God’s people from a growing threat.  A coalition of Midianites, Amorites, and other eastern tribes had assembled an enormous army with iron chariots and this force harassed the Israelites just as they were settling the land God had promised to their ancestor Abraham. 

            So, God called Gideon to be the one to lead the people against the Midianite coalition.  Gideon wanted no part of this, but he built an altar and the angel of the Lord engulfed that altar in flames.  That sign, though, wasn’t enough for the man who informed the Lord that he was from the most insignificant clan in his tribe and he was the least in his clan.  He asked for signs and God gave them.

            He asked that the fleece be soaked with dew overnight and the ground around it remain dry.  God did this.  He asked that the miracle be reversed – wet ground and dry fleece.  God did that.  Finally, out of dodges and delays, Gideon accepted God’s assignment.

I originally titled today’s message “Hillside Faith,” but the more I read and reread, the more I realized Gideon had little faith.  The bigger and better story is God’s faithfulness.  God said He would deliver His people and he would do it through Gideon no matter how thin Gideon’s faith. 

In Judges 6, Gideon negotiated with God, demanding signs and proofs.  In chapter 7, the time had come to put together the Israelite army.  Judges says there were so many Midianites they were like a cloud of locusts (6:5), over 120,000 warriors (8:10).  Meanwhile Gideon had 32,000 soldiers (7:3).  It was a fool’s errand, destined for bloody failure. 

“Too many!”  God said, “You, have too many.”

I imagine Gideon thinking, “Too many, right.  … Wait, what?  We have too many?”

God didn’t stutter.  “The troops you have are too many.  Israel will only take credit away from me” when they win (7:2).  In our lives do we take credit for gains when what we should do is thank God for His grace?

Following God’s lead, Gideon tells his soldiers, “Anyone who is afraid can go home.”  Actually, he says anyone who is trembling with fear may go, and 22,000 do just that.  Gideon should have gone with them.  With all the signs and confirmations God gave him, he was self-centered and terrified throughout the episode.  This sifting out of the fearful happened at the stream of Harod, which in Hebrew means “the spring of trembling” (7:1, 3).

Now Gideon has to face 120,000 bloodthirsty Midianite Commandos and their iron chariots with 10,000 men.  Still too many, says God.  God will do the sifting this time.  Every soldier is to go the “Stream of Trembling,” and God tells Gideon to watch how they drink.  Everyone who cups his hands and brings the water up is moved to one side.  They’re cut.  They won’t be in the army that will route the Midianites and deliver God’s people.  Those who lay down, put their faces to the water, and lap it up like dogs will be the ones who make up God’s army.  Of the 10,000 left, 300 drink in this fashion.  Three hundred! 

Remember the movie called 300!  that came out a few years ago?  Leonidas was the king of the Greek city-state Sparta when they faced the Persian invasion in the battle of Thermopylae in the early 5^th century BC.  Three hundred brave Spartans faced a vast onslaught.  All were killed as they heroically defended their homeland. 

Their feats of heroism have been told over and over.  The Hollywood film version lauds the sensual masculinity and dauntless resolve of the outmanned Spartans.  They fought with savage courage. 

We find a much different “300!” story when we read about Gideon’s troops in Judges 7.  Like Leonidas, Gideon had to face a well-armed enemy of 10’s of 1000’s of veteran soldiers.  The comparisons end there. 

God told Gideon, “If you are scared, do a reconnaissance and take along your servant Purah” (v.10).  In chapter 6, Gideon’s idolatrous father Joash stood between him a murderous mob.  Here in 7, Gideon’s servant Purah holds his hand while God leads him to not only surreptitiously reconnoiter the Midianites, but to do so at the perfect spot.  Among 100,000 Midianites, Gideon happens to overhear one tell another of a dream of crumbling barley bread that topples the tent of Midian.  His comrade says, “This is …  the sword of Gideon; … into his hand God has given Midian and the entire army” (7:14)!

At every turn, God reassures his faithless servant.  Gideon and his troops divide into three groups of 100 and come out of the hills above the Midianite valley encampment.  Each Israelite smashes the jar he’s carrying, and then each blows a trumpet.  In all the noise, the Lord throws the Midianites into such a confused, chaotic panic; they begin turning their swords on each other (7:22).  The Israelites don’t even have to fight.  They just pursue the shell-shocked enemy.

The outcome was never in doubt because this story began before Gideon was ever born.  This story began in Genesis 12 when God called a shepherd named Abram, changed his name to Abraham, and promised him that his descendants would live in this land as God’s people.

The sins and the mistakes of God’s people did not negate the promise.  God would work through his people flawed as they were.  Likewise, God works for his purposes in this community through us, his church. 

I want our church to grow.  I hope everyone here grows in Christ, matures spiritually, and comes into a deeper knowledge of God.  I hope our church as a body grows in a sense of our connectedness to Christians all over the world.  I hope we experience an expanding vision of God’s call on us as a group. 

            I also hope more people come to our church because they decide to turn to Christ after hearing the gospel here.  Most Sunday mornings, less than 90 people are in the building.  I’d like to get that to a range of 90-100 people.  And if that happens, then, I hope we grow to 120 weekly and then grow from there and so on.  I hope the growth is a sign that people here are turning to Jesus.  I hope a lot of baptisms accompany the growth.

            Having said that, hear me clearly.  Growth is not our goal.  Our design when we come together is to glorify God in Jesus Christ.  We want to follow Jesus, love others, and share hope in a safe, welcoming environment.  We pray growth will come out of following, loving, sharing, and welcoming. 

If growth were our goal, it would become an idol.  Idols command our worship, but our worship belongs to God.  When we worship an idol, we have robbed God of what’s his, and forfeited that opportunity to connect with God in a relationship of welcome and trust.  So, growth, we hope will be a byproduct of us living faithfully as a worshipping community.  Growth cannot be our ultimate goal.  Our one ultimate goal is to glorify God in Christ. 

I’ve been thinking about Gideon’s story since last year when a lot of people left our church.  People left when we made significant decisions they found to be too conservative.  Many of you did not like those decisions, but you stayed.  Others left because they thought other decisions we made were too liberal.  Many of you agree, but you’re here.  You stayed.  Some left our church because they were exhausted and disillusioned regardless of how the conversation turned out.  Many of you were every bit as discouraged, but you stayed with your church family, and committed to the future God has for us. 

I was discouraged by all the leaving.  But, each Sunday, when I saw those of you who kept coming back, I thanked God.  And I thought about Gideon.

My original thought in titling the message “Hillside Faith” conveys the idea that Gideon demonstrated amazing faith in the face of impossible odds and that we need to do the same.  We – the people of a small church facing institutional challenges as well as each of us personal challenges in our individual lives – need the faith of Gideon to face what’s before us.  Except the story is not Gideon’s faith, but God’s patience.  The God who dealt with Gideon as he was and delivered Israel through Him is the star of Judges 6 and 7.

That same God is the star of Hillside Church’s story.  God has planted this church in this community to bear witness to the salvation we have in Jesus Christ.  God’s purposes are served and God’s goals are accomplished, sometimes with our cooperation, sometimes in spite of our shortcomings.

When I was uncertain about our church’s future, I wrote a note that I’ve kept in my prayer journal since then.  It says “Gideon’s 300.”  If we were to more forward as a smaller group of people, we would do it in faith, and without worry or anxiety.  Studying Gideon’s story, I realized it is actually God’s story.  The focus is not on the three hundred or on our 70-80 Sunday morning worshipers.  The focus is on our God who is always faithful.

Before bed every night, Candy and I write down blessings in a notebook.  We’ve done it throughout our marriage.  The other night we looked back 2 years, the last Sunday of January 2018.  There were 140 people in worship at HillSong Church that Sunday morning.  I don’t know the first time Hillside will have that many people.  But it doesn’t matter.

What’s our goal?  To glorify God because He is always faithful.  However strong or weak our faith is, God loves us, and God works out his purpose in this community through us. 

I have been blessed to see God at work here.  Our faithful God goes before us.  We need not fear.  We step into the future humbly and boldly seeking his path, and sharing the good news of new life in Jesus Christ – new life available to all who come. 

Whatever you might be dealing with, God knows and God sees you.  God’s got you.  He will walk you through the valley, whatever valley you’re in.  He is faithful and we are his. 

AMEN

God's Gravitational Pull (Hebrews 11:1-3)

Sunday, July 7, 2019

            What gives you calm assurance?  How do you find a feeling of security? 

            Of course the church answer to these questions is “God.”  But, what’s your actual answer?  Maybe it is God that you turn to and in turning to God, you find assurance.  The important point is your honest answer.  Not what you’d say to sound religiously correct in church, but when, in actuality, do you feel truly safe and believe your hopes will come true?  What gives you that feeling?

            A friend from my seminary days, John, remembers growing up in Hawaii, fearing hurricanes.  He was 9 years old.  Schools were closed early because the island was in the path and a hurricane warning was issued.  He and his siblings hurried home and began boarding up windows and filling containers with water.  Out the window, they saw trees bending over in the wind.  An eerie, pre-storm darkness settled over the early afternoon sky.

            Their mom arrived home and complimented her children on their hurricane prep.  Still, they were scared.  Then, their dad walked through the door.  John’s fear evaporated into assured confidence.  The storm eventually changed course.  The island was not hit.  Nine-year-old John was completely convinced that the storm dare not harm them, not while their dad was home.  His assurance came from his faith in his dad.

            Faith is the assurance of things hoped for.  What prevents us from having this assurance?  The demon of uncertainty.  What will the test at the doctor’s office reveal?  My daughter isn’t home and it’s really late.  Where is she?  They’re announcing layoffs at work.  Is my position safe?  What will I do if it isn’t?  The demon of uncertainty nips constantly at the edges of our consciousness.

            The assurance of things hoped for; faith is also the conviction of things not seen.  My served in the infantry in the Vietnam War.  He was one of only five Americans in his unit.  They were advisers with America’s allies, the South Vietnamese.  Deep in the jungle, in the midnight darkness that swallows men up, it was impossible for Dad to distinguish between his own soldiers and the North Vietnamese enemy. 

            The first time he was in that situation, he had to completely trust in his training, his God, and his fellow soldiers.  With bullets flying over that head making the whizzing sound only those who have experience combat have heard, listening to shouts from all sides coming in a language he did not know, and with the deafening cacophony of gunfire, Dad did not panic.  Faith enabled him to maintain his composure.  He had a moment where he stepped outside of himself and remarked, “Oh! This is how I’ll react when it gets real.”

            No half-hearted effort would do.  For survival, he had to be confident and to be confident, he had to have faith. 

            Twentieth century theologian Howard Thurman had a similar moment of clarity in his life in ministry.  Like my dad, only in different circumstances, he too realized, “Oh!  This is how I will react when it gets real.”

            A first year seminary student, he was serving as a chaplain’s intern and on this particular night, he was the only one in the chaplain’s office when the extremely concerned nurse called.  “Are you a minister?”  She asked.  Thurman writes, “In one kaleidoscopic moment, I was at a crossroad.  A decision of vocation had to be made.”  Oh!  This is the moment.  “Yes,” he said, “I am a minister.”  “Hurry,” her worry rising, “A dying man has asked for a chaplain.  Hurry or you won’t make it.”  He did make it.  That man died hearing Howard Thurman’s prayer, holding Howard Thurman’s hand.  In that moment, a minister was born.

            Faith is the conviction of things not seen.  What prevents us from having conviction?  The demon of ambivalent indecision.  “Are you a minister?”  Howard Thurman did not mumble, “I guess so.”  He said, “Yes, I am a minister.”  My dad and fellow soldiers didn’t say, “Well, we’ll try to win the battle tonight.  We’ll do our best.’  They went out in faith to face very difficult challenges.

            Forced with severe trials that impose stress on us and threaten us, we can’t sort of believe in God or vaguely hope that some undefined help is coming from some nondescript somewhere.  We need utter confidence in the God we know through our faith in Jesus Christ.  He is the crucified, resurrected one.  His Holy Spirit fills this room and fills our hearts.  We live as if our lives depend on his help because we know they do.  We live confidently because we know He is dependable.  God can be trusted.

            How?  Where do we find such confidence?  What gives us the “assurance of things hoped for” and “the conviction of things unseen?”  The unseen God and His pull on our lives.

            From the 1890’s into the early 1900’s, American mathematician Percival Lowell was observing the stars using the best telescopes available at the time.  He sensed a gravitational pull on the planet Neptune, but he couldn’t see the body exerting that pull.  From his calculations, he knew it was not the planet Uranus.  He couldn’t see what it was, but he knew it was there.  He believed in his understanding of how gravity and orbits work.  In the 1930’s astronomers confirmed his observations with the discovery of what is now known as a dwarf planet, Pluto. 

            God’s gravitational pull on our lives is much more potent than that of Pluto on Neptune.  The writer of Hebrews was so convinced of God’s reality and God’s goodness that he saw God’s hand guiding history.  Because of his own experience in following Jesus, he could feel God as he lived his life.

            Have you felt the pull of God in your life?  During trying times, it can be hard.  The oft-quoted “assurance of things hoped for, conviction of things not seen” can feel like wishful thinking when life is falling apart and everywhere we look all we see is disappointment, heartache, loss, and despair.  The writer of Hebrews does not deny this. 

            In 10:32, the passage that leads into the word about faith in chapter 11, he writes, “Recall those earlier days, when, after you had been enlightened [read saved by faith], you endured a hard struggle with sufferings.  Believers in every age face trials.  Thus the Hebrews author cautions Christ followers, when facing tests, to not abandon the confidence we have (10:35).

            In chapter 11, after the opening words about faith, he moves into numerous examples of people who have exemplified the kind of faith he’s describing.  Of all the names he references, I find Abel, son of Adam and Eve, quite interesting.

            Hebrews 11:4 refers to the story originally told in Genesis 4.  God receives Abel’s offering but not Cain’s.  God does not reject Cain as a person, just his offering.  Cain is enraged.  God warns Cain telling him to master the sin that is trying so hard to master him.  He doesn’t.  He gives into the rage and murders his brother Abel.  When questioned by God about what happened, Cain lies.  Then he reverts to bitterness.  Am I my brother’s keeper?

            The Hebrews author, like the Genesis author does not specify why one offering was acceptable and the other was not.  What the writer of Hebrews does say is Abel gave the offering in faith and his faith made the difference. Note, faith did not save Abel.  He was murdered.  Even when we display great faith, we can and will face serious, dangerous opposition in life.  What Hebrews tells us about Abel is “he died, but through his faith, he still speaks” (11:4d).

            When we receive faith as we yield to God’s pull on our lives, and when we grow in faith through prayer, study, worship, and a deepening relationship with God, our lives speak too.  In good times and bad, when we walk in faith like Abel and all those listed in Hebrews 11, God speaks in us; and, through us, God reaches the world with His invitation to salvation.

            Of course the key is walking in faith.  Are we?  Are we walking in the orbit of God’s gravitational pull? Does the Spirit that fills us speak in our Monday-Saturday, everyday lives?  Does the truth we discover when we comb through the pages of the Bible characterize how we live?  Do the decisions we make in life reveal that we are listening to and trusting the Holy Spirit?

            When he was asked, “Are you a minister,” Howard Thurman said, “Yes, I am a minister.”  When Cain had his moment, he raged at Abel, abandoned his faith, and turned bitter toward God.  How will you react when life confronts you?  Will you yield to the demons – the demon of uncertainty and demon of ambivalent indecision?

            Or do we remember?  “By faith” the Hebrews author writes in verse 2, “our ancestors received approval.”  Will you and I join that heraleded role call – Abel, Enoch, Norah, Abraham; Peter, Paul, Martin Luther, John Wesley, Billy Graham, Martin Luther King Jr., Howard Thurman?  Will we live such a faith that our names are on the list?

            God doesn’t care how small our congregation is.  God wants to see how big our faith is.  When Gideon went to battle against tens of thousands, God whittled Gideon’s army away until all he had left was 300.  The victory came not by military might or genius strategy, but by faith.  We are orbiting the same God that delivered Gideon and justified Abel and brought Jesus out of the grave, alive, resurrected.  He will do the same for us. 

            Trust Him.  In the battles you face in life, look to him, unseen as God sometimes seems to be; look to Him and have faith. 

AMEN

“A Witness for our Day” (Daniel 6)

Sunday, February 11, 2018 

            I open with a question: “Decades from now, what will be written about the public testimony of the American Church in the early 21^st century?”  This question requires some explanation.  Fifty years from now, when the writers of history look back at the years 2000-2020, what will they remember about the church in the United States?  In Chapel Hill, North Carolina? What will be said about the way the church in our day represented God and trusted in God?

            It’s an odd way to think about things.  Imagining people fifty years from now as they remember us: who does that?

            That is what we do when we read Daniel.  We remember how the chosen people of God, ancient Israel, lived out their faith while they were exiled in Babylon and then Persia, when that empire overran Babylon.  We learn about faith by seeing how Daniel stayed true to God even when Persian religious leaders tried to corrupt his faith.  We learn about dedication to God by seeing how Jews in Jerusalem in 164 BC were inspired by reading Daniel and thus stood up to the horrible persecution wrought by Antiochus Epiphanes IV.  

            In the days of Daniel, people of faith, Daniel and his friends, gave witness to the goodness and authority of God before powerful Pagan rulers. In the days of Antiochus Epiphanes, the Jerusalem Jews gave witness to their faith in God by rebelling against the tyrant who declared himself a god.

            In our day, what is our faith saying?  What is our exercise of faith saying about us and what are we saying about the Kingdom of God that, in Jesus, has invaded the present day and has confronted present day governments?   How does our faith speak?  

            Daniel chapters 1-6 are examples of “martyr stories.”  The Greek word ‘martyr’ actually means witness.  We have taken it to mean one who dies for their faith, but in fact, it means witness.  To follow Jesus is to be a witness, one who has seen and received the salvation Jesus gives.  All Christians are witnesses.  Is our witness strong enough that we would live up to the modern day definition of ‘martyr’ if that were called for?  One commentator describes Daniel as a man with “unflinching faith.”  When future generations talk about the way we represented Christ, will they look at us and say, ‘When they were challenged to deny Christ, they stayed true and did not flinch?’”

            By the time we are in Daniel 6, Daniel has survived several tyrant-rulers of Babylon.  In fact, he outlasted the Babylonian empire.  Daniel was among a group of young, talented Jews who were essentially kidnapped when Babylonian forces defeated the Southern kingdom of the Jewish people, Judah, and overthrew the capital, Jerusalem.  They brought the brightest and best of Judah’s young people back to Babylon to indoctrinate them in Babylonian court life. As the ultimate humiliation, they intend to take these young people, Israel’s future, and turn them into loyal Babylonians.  

            It didn’t work.  In spite of multiple death threats and execution attempts, Daniel and his friends Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, stayed true to God.  Now, in chapter 6, Babylon has been replaced by Media-Persia, ruled by Darius.  

As he did under the Babylonian monarch, Daniel thrived under Darius, distinguished himself, and rose in prominence.  He was so impressive, Darius planned to install Daniel as the primary administrator for the entire Persian Empire.  Of course this did not sit well with other administrators, called “satraps” (v.1, 2).  These Persians, Daniel’s political rivals, knew they had no chance of matching Daniel’s wisdom in governing.  However, they held two trump cards.  

First, they understood the connection between Persian law and Darius’s ego.  Under Persian law, no one, not even the king, can go against an established edict.  Once it is written and sealed, it must be observed.  The only way to overcome a hastily enacted law is to enact another that will override the first.  

We see this in the book of Esther.  The anti-Jewish schemer Haman convinces the king to write an edict that will effectively wipe out the Jews.  The feeble minded king allows himself to be manipulated into legalizing genocide.  Once Esther reveals the wicked plot, the only recourse the king has is to write another law that allows the Jews to arm and defend themselves.  Even though he is king, he is powerless to overturn an established law.

The satraps around Darius in Daniel chapter 6 know this.  And they know Darius’s ego will render him short-sighted.  So, they convince him to enact a 30-day law.  For 30 days, no one in the Persian Empire may pray to any god other than Darius himself.  Darius, in his heart of hearts, knows he cannot answer prayer.  He does not have that power.  He knows this.  

But, he think to himself, “This will be cool.  For 30 days, everyone will worship, only me. How awesome!” So he signs it into law.  This is where the satraps play their second trump card.  They know how loyal Daniel is to the God of Israel.  Darius knows it too, but he didn’t consider the consequences of his actions.  He was enamored with the idea of people bowing before him, but he didn’t stop to think of whom the law would affect and how it would affect them.  

The plan devised by the satraps goes perfectly.  As scheduled, Daniel goes to his open window in his upper room, faces Israel, and begins to pray.  They got him!  He’s praying to God, not to Darius.  They run over each other as they sprint to the king’s chamber to report that Daniel has violated the edict.  

And we see just how powerless this king is.  He’s passed a law requiring people to pray to him.  Not only can he not answer anyone’s prayers, he cannot even overturn the law to save the life of one he likes and trusts - Daniel.  He tries!  But the nefarious satraps say, “Know, O king, that it is law of the Medes and Persians that no interdict or ordinance that the king establishes can be changed” (6:15).  He to whom the Persians must pray is a slave to the law he himself established.  Daniel must face the prescribed punishment for violating the law.  He must be thrown into the lion’s den.  

It was an underground cave, with a stone over the opening in the top; a very inhumane existence for the lions.  But we know the ancients did this sort of thing.  Roman, Persians and other ancient peoples would keep what are meant to be wild, free-roaming beasts, lions and other big cats, in captivity.  They kept the beasts hungry, so when a gruesome execution was called for the predators would be eager to devour whatever fell through that hole.  

Because of Darius’s irresponsible edict, Daniel was what went through the opening.  As he was lowered to a certain death, Darius desperately cried out, “May your God whom you faithfully serve deliver you” (6:16).  And the hole was covered with the stone and the king’s wax seal was affixed so that the hole could only be opened at the king’s command.

Then, Darius spent the night violating his own law.  It says he did not eat or sleep all night long.  Everyone in the Persian Empire was mandated by law to pray to this guy. Praying to anyone else led to a date in the lion’s den.  And here is Darius praying to someone else - the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.  Verse 18 only says that he fasted, but he had just proclaimed, as Daniel was lowered in, that Daniel’s God could save him.  That kind of faith statement leads me to think he spent the night in prayer, asking God to save Daniel from his, Darius’s impulsive foolishness.

Darius was up at daybreak.  He had obeyed the law.  Now he would break the seal, open the hole, and see if his prayers were answered.  “Daniel,” he called, “has your God delivered you” (v20)?

“Daniel then said to the King, ‘O king, live forever!  My God sent his angel and shut the lions’ mouths so they would not hurt me, because I was found blameless.  ... I have not done no wrong” (v.21-22).   God, unlike Darius, is not subject to any law.  Daniel technically did violate the king’s edict by praying to God.  

Sometimes that’s the call of faith.   Church goers get uncomfortable when politics shows up in sermons, but if we seriously engage the stories of the Bible, it is impossible to avoid politics.  In Acts chapter 6, the early church appointed seven of those early Christians to be the first deacons, charged with church administration.  One of them, Stephen, was also a preacher.  

He was working miracles of healing and exorcism, and he taught that Jesus fulfilled the Law of Moses.  Enraged synagogue leaders rallied the temple high council of scribes and elders and a gang enacted a people’s arrest.  They dragged Stephen before the council who interrogated him about his preaching.  The entirety of Acts 7 is Stephen’s sermon.  The basic content is a recounting of the Old Testament story that leads to a climax of accusation.  Stephen accuses the temple leaders of executing God’s prophet, but not only a prophet; the Holy One of God, the Son of Man, Jesus.

For Stephen, to stay true to God, meant to openly oppose those who possessed political power - the temple leaders.  To preach the gospel meant to participate in subversive politics.  The same was true for Daniel 500 years earlier and for the Jews under Antiochus 200 years earlier.  

The temple leaders stoned Stephen to death. When we are faithful in the face of oppression and challenge, there is not a guarantee that God will spare our lives.  Sometimes our witness brings suffering.  Look at Stephen who died a horrible death by stoning.  Look at Christians today in North Korean and Iranian prisons.  Why was Daniel miraculously spared?  Why was Stephen and many other executed?  Why are our brothers and sisters in the faith in other countries today persecuted and imprisoned?  Much of the time, only God knows the answer to the “why” questions.

Not always knowing the “why,” we can answer the “what?”  What will future generations remember about how we represented Jesus and spoke the Gospel truth to our generation?

I pray they will remember that we were clear: God and only God is all-powerful.

I pray that they will remember we shared hope: in Jesus Christ, there is life.  All are sinners, but he offers forgiveness and in him, we have a right relationship with God in spite of our sins.  Jesus makes us new, adopted as sons and daughters of God.

I pray they will remember that our faith was fearless, unflinching: we did not put our trust in a political party; we did not give our loyalty to a government or a nation.  We lived as God’s possessions, as disciples of Jesus Christ.  

I pray that they will remember what we said about Jesus and that we demonstrated the love and grace of God, and in remembering our witness, future generations will become Christ followers.

It is a choice.  Faith wasn’t a part of Daniel’s life.  Faith was his life.  Everything in life, for Daniel, happened in light of his relationship with God.  We can choose to have church, faith, prayer be a small part of our lives.  I am not sure what to call those who make that choice.  If we choose a Biblical faith, the faith embodied by Daniel and Stephen and many others, it becomes our everything.  Faith is not a part of our lives.  Faith in the living God is our life and we cannot imagine life without it.   We would rather lose, suffer, and die than abandon faith.

Lent begins this Wednesday, Ash Wednesday.  For our church it will be a time to focus on repentance (turning to God) and unity (our interconnectedness in Christ).  It will also be a time of spiritual discipline.  

I will talk a little bit about this in the Ash Wednesday worship service and in next week’s sermon. I urge you to take up spiritual practices that help you grow in your relationship with Christ.  The reason Daniel was ready to face lions is his spiritual life was forged in daily discipline.  He prayed three time a day, without fail.  He recognized God because he was attuned to God through daily practices.  

God is always with us, in our successes and when we suffer.  We are more ready to see and hear God, and to respond in faith, as we condition ourselves to listen.  As we move into the week ahead, I encourage everyone to be ready to take up spiritual disciplines and to grow in the relationship with God.  You might not have a lions’ den ahead of you, but there will be trials.  God is bigger than the trials and will be there to help you.  So, I encourage you seek him and to speak his Gospel whenever the opportunity arises.

AMEN