Forest Park Church

I recently found myself comfortably holed up in my home office, heater on high, sitting on my couch, watching a video of a group of adventurous friends preparing to face a mountain.  From the confines of my cozy office, I imagined joining friends, prepping, and heading out on some wild adventure of our own. Scrunched over, I lace up my hiking boots, feeling the snowflakes brush my cheeks and the chill in the air warming my heart. I gaze ahead at the trail before me, anticipating the steep climb's joys, challenges, and unknowns. But I know it's all very different when you are at the base of that mountain. From a distance, all of the preparations and heartaches feel distant because I am comfortably insulated from the realities of the climb by the screen. Still, at the base camp, the cold cuts to the bone, the red frozen fingers ache and throb, the snow and ice sting the face, and the weight of the packs strains the necks and the backs.

Life is like that; when we sit back in comfortable times, it seems easy to plan how we will respond to particular situations in life or to criticize others for how they respond, but in the moment, we will often react in ways we regret because the environment or stress gets to us. Sometimes, we need to step back and reframe the situation, which is what prayer is all about. This week, we will examine how Biblical prayer changes our perspective and response to more closely match those of Jesus Christ. 

We are all different from one another, and that variety is the spice of life.  Some of us have upbeat dispositions, while others play the music of life in a minor key. Yet how we respond to life's trials affects not only our overall disposition but also our witness.

   The famous hymn writer Fanny Crosby lost sight when she was only 6 weeks old. She lived into her nineties, composing thousands of loved songs. On her 92nd birthday, she cheerfully said, "If in all the world you can find a happier person than I am, do bring him to me. I should like to shake his hand."

   Fanny carried out a resolution she made when she was only 8 years old: "How many blessings I enjoy that other people don't. To weep and sigh because I'm blind, I cannot, and I won't."  At an early age, she chose to "rejoice in the Lord always" (Philippians 4:4) no matter how bleak the situation might appear. 

  The prophet Nehemiah reminds us that it is "the joy of the Lord is our strength", and Jesus boldly proclaimed in John 15, "These things I have spoken to you, that My joy may remain in you, and that your joy may be full."

  Our challenge for this week is, when faced with the choice of self-pity or faith-filled joy, to respond with joy. 

In the beginning years of genetic research, French scientists took tissue from parts of the Japanese quail brain thought to control the bird’s call and implanted it in the brains of five chicken embryos. The experiment worked. Researchers say the hatched chicks sounded like quail rather than chickens.

 Those poor chickens were of two minds: were they a covey or a flock? Sometimes, we can feel the same way; two stories are competing for our minds and hearts. The first story broadcasts loudly across culture and social media. It claims that you and I are the center of the universe. We are unique individuals, and we can be awesome. We need to create our identities. By making the right choices with our wardrobe and weekends, and by hanging out with the right people and doing the right things, we can be limitlessly happy.

 The second story is quiet. It’s more of a whisper from the darker corners of our minds, but it will not go away. It’s there in the middle of the night, a longing when the promises of the first story are underdelivered. The whisper tells us we were made for more. In hushed voices, it insists that we have an immovable and essential identity, a sort of real home somewhere out there. We long for it, and we know it’s not just in our imaginations. There’s got to be more to this life.

In that second story, we find the ultimate truth: we are created for more; we are created to have the mind of our master, Jesus Christ. That transformation is often subtle and tedious to navigate, but ultimately, it is God’s desire for each of His children that we might see life increasingly from God’s perspective.

I love music. I've always loved music. But when I started playing a musical instrument in fourth grade, I had (and still do sometimes) a poor sense of rhythm. Each Friday, my mother would drop me off at Mrs. Mooberry’s house for piano lessons, and I can still remember her asking me, week after week, "Are you counting this?" and "You didn't count this week, did you?"

  The truth is, counting was something I reserved for math class, and I found counting the rhythm repeatedly while playing the piano very difficult. My mind doesn’t seem to want to do those two things simultaneously, and honestly, I didn't really see the point. I was well into my Jr high school years, before I really began to develop some sense of rhythm.

 So, how did I survive all those years of playing recital pieces and playing in a band? I used external cues. I would watch for my teacher’s tapping my foot or listen for a specific note/chord, and then I would know it was time for me to come in.

 Over the past several weeks, we’ve been looking at “Vintage” Old Testament Bible stories. Each of the stories has one thing in common: in the midst of the struggles and opportunities that presented themselves, each character is looking forward to something better, a day when God’s plan of salvation would enter into the world. Last week we celebrated that plan. Jesus chose to be obedient to the Father, leaving behind all the glories of heaven so that he might become one of us, teach us how to live, how to respond to a broken world, and ultimately give up his life so that we might have forgiveness and freedom from our own sins.

 What makes the gospel extraordinary isn’t just the forgiveness of sin. It’s the fact that God gives us His Spirit that, together with our spirit, allows us to write a new story. The process of writing that new story is often very similar to the process of internalizing a beat. At first, it all feels unnatural, and you end up mimicking others in order to "fit in," but as God does His good work in your heart, what was once externally motivated becomes internally driven because your character and your heart are more and more aligned with the one who was born with a perfect moral rhythm, Jesus.

In December 1903, after many attempts, the Wright brothers successfully got their "flying machine" off the ground. Thrilled, they telegraphed this message to their sister Katherine: "We have actually flown 120 feet. Will be home for Christmas." Katherine hurried to the local newspaper editor and showed him the message. He glanced at it and said, "How nice. The boys will be home for Christmas."

 It’s so easy to miss the most important stories: the night of Jesus' birth, the world was distracted by many things. Emperors and Kings sat on their thrones and ruled their nations in power and splendor. In meek contrast, God’s visit to earth occurred in an animal shelter with no attendants present and nowhere to lay the newborn king but a feed trough. Indeed, the event that divided history, and even our calendars, into two parts may have had more animal than human witnesses.

Jesus had every right to be celebrated like royalty, but he chose a humble birth. If only our humility could resemble that of Christ’s.

 Someone once said that if our greatest need had been information, God would have sent us an educator; If our greatest need had been technology, God would have sent us a scientist; If our greatest need had been money, God would have sent us an economist; If our greatest need had been pleasure, God would have sent us an entertainer; But our greatest need was forgiveness, so God sent us a Savior.

Have you ever been in the presence of greatness? Perhaps you shook the hand of a world leader. Maybe you got close to a famous athlete. Or you may have had a book signed by a bestselling author.

To be near such icons of popularity and prestige can almost take your breath away. You’ve seen them on television or read about them in the newspaper, but now you’re in their presence! It can make your skin tingle.

I mean no offense to anyone, but it really shouldn’t. No slight to the world’s top athletes, business leaders, politicians, or prestigious actors, musicians, and authors, but they are all ordinary people. They may have done something great, but they are just like you and me at the heart of it all. In God’s eyes, they are sinners who need the grace of the only One who can truly be called great: Our Almighty God.

Isaiah put it best when he said, “Woe is me, for I am undone!” (Isaiah 6:5). He had seen the living God and was devastated by the contrast between himself and the Lord. Until God rescued Isaiah, the prophet was powerless.

We’re all equally ordinary. But we can be lifted to incredible heights through the salvation God provides. Only an extraordinary God could do that for ordinary people! This Sunday, we will look at the legendary life of Isaiah and gather lessons that will change our lives today.