Monthly Archives: November 2011

Jesus knew

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He knew all about the woman’s life before she told Him anything.

It didn’t take long for her to figure this out. She heard His probing description of her personal life and quickly bounced the conversation in a different direction. That’s in verse 20 of John 4 – the story of the Samaritan woman.

More than knowing about her life circumstances, Jesus knew what she needed… she needed water that would satisfy more than water from the ancient well she came to get water from. She needed living water – His life being poured into hers.

I’m not much different than the Samaritan woman. I look for satisfaction from sources that won’t fill the hole. I often think, “If I could just have this happen, I’d be satisfied.” Or, “If I could just get an iPhone, I wouldn’t be ashamed when I go to business meetings.”

You and I both know that things and circumstances won’t fill our deepest desires. Even relationships won’t. Things, circumstances, great food, excellent coffee or significant relationships will meet some of our desires. And oftentimes those are OK or even good. But when I look to anything other than Jesus for filling my deep need for fulfillment, I will ultimately come away empty. That realization may take an hour – or months – but eventually it will hit.

Jesus always wants me back. He didn’t tell the Samaritan woman how wrong she was. He just invited her to drink the living water. Once she realized what he was talking about, she dropped everything to tell her friends and family. They came and believed too.

If it’s real, we will want to share it. If it’s not real for you today, ask Jesus to make His living water more real. He will.

Wait. Ask again. And rest while you wait.

(Paul Merrill normally writes here every First Friday. Because of the advent series starting tomorrow, he’s writing on the last Wednesday of the month.)

Doing business

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Just a few notes for a shopping weekend.

1. It’s “support a small business” Saturday. I could ask you to buy that Kindle you want from my amazon store, but that’s not a real small business.(But I write at smallbizsurvival.com sometimes.)

2. You could buy a present for my sister. She loves to help a small business called Artfeeds in Joplin, where the tornadoes were. They actually are a non-profit that takes art to kids in schools, helping them learn how to make art. You know, some of you, how much creativity saves your heart every day. As you listen to music. As you design. As you dance. As my sister Jill points out, they have a new van. They need gas. They accept Paypal. (And it’s what Jill’s getting from us for birthday AND Christmas – a gift for someone else.)

3. In Fort Wayne, where I live, there are kids in a juvenile detention center. Even this weekend. Eighth-graders who have been kicked out of school every year for the last three years and end up getting picked up and sent to juvie. I know. Maybe they deserve it. A little. But maybe they don’t have adults who give a rip. Except Joe does. He goes there all the time to visit them and listen to them and build trust and hope. Here’s a video. And here’s a link to donate. (We did.)

4. Four years ago, I wrote a series of posts for the season of Advent. They looked at people in the book of Luke anticipating something. I decided to run them here starting December 1. I’m taking a couple days off first. I’ll finish the creed sometime, I promise. But I need to step back and anticipate, too. (You can download the whole Advent reader if you don’t want to wait).

Seated.

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Andrew was home for Thanksgiving yesterday. He was in Florida last year, traveling as part of the crew with a band. He’s been traveling with them for more than two years: gone, home, gone, home. Last Saturday was his last concert. He retired from the road. He decided that part of life was done.

A bunch of people said great things about him. Fans of the band were fans of the stage manager. Not because of his music – he plays the radio – but because of his very Andrewness.

When I said he is home, I didn’t that he was with Nancy and Hope and me. He’s with his wife Allie at their apartment in Chicago. He’s right where he belongs. But last weekend we got to see him briefly, to give him a hug. To let him know, once again, how proud of him I am.

What does this have to do with the creed?

When we recite “He ascended into heaven and sits at the right hand of the Father,” I think it looks like Andrew stopping here on Monday morning, Andrew home today.

He finished his work, was proud of what he did. He did it well. He could take pride in finishing. And then he’s back to where he belongs, to the enduring relationships.

There is, between father and son, deep affection and pride. There is love. In the creed, for Father and Son, there is this same sense of affection, of completion. To say “God is love” is to see this relationship, this sitting side by side chatting, hugging, laughing, weeping.

With Andrew last week, with Hope home from college this week, I can’t stop looking at them.

What if that’s in the creed?

I wrote more about this image last year: Two chairs, leaning together.

8 ways to say thank you

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1. Thank someone. I mean actually personalize the thank you. Otherwise we merely have a vague sensation of being generally grateful – which is all about us.

2. Tell someone that gave you a gift how it was used. Last year, someone gave me fun-size m&m packages. I told her how they had encouraged several other people. When someone gives us a food gift card, I tell them how it helped our family have time together.

3. Forget performing. We worry about whether we are thankful enough, whether we are using the right words, whether we are quick enough. For people who gave without expectations, quit worrying about getting it right. Just thank them.

4. Be brief. (Don’t say, “I didn’t deserve this and you didn’t have to.” Just say thanks.)

5. Thank them in a way that shows you know them. Not everyone likes notes or flowers or objects. Some people actually like a hug. Or a look in the eyes. Or a :)

6. Sometimes thanks can be for presence more than presents. Who has spent time being patient with you this year? Who sat and listened to you? Who drove 400 miles and gave up a day of work to come to your dad’s funeral?

7. Understanding of a gift sometimes comes after the thank you.  So say thank you even if you don’t understand. And when you do understand, be willing to thank someone again. “You know how you did that for me 10 years ago? I finally understand. Thank you.”

8. Get out of the center of the universe. We often aren’t grateful because we are worried about the next event or what isn’t finished yet or because we don’t deserve what they did or because we have to ____. All of that is arrogance. We think we are more important (or more unimportant) than anyone else.

Thanks.

From Friday to Sunday is 36 hours.

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Everyone who can do clock math reads the creed clause “The third day he rose from the dead” and thinks, “it’s only thirty-six hours from Friday night to Sunday morning” Why do we always talk about the three days? Why did Jesus say “that he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life”? Didn’t he know how to do math? I mean, why do we recite a creed that makes it look like we don’t know how to use a clock and a calendar.

I understand the concern. I really do. It is only thirty-six hours. That’s not three of our days. That’s like my dad saying, “the morning’s almost gone” at 9:30 on Saturday morning. The morning’s not almost gone. In fact, it shouldn’t have started as early as it did.

Stop for a minute and think about the whole phrase. He. Rose. From. The. Dead. Three days, three hours. who cares? I mean he was dead and buried and now he’s alive. That’s huge, right? Bigger than vampires. Bigger than Frankenstein. Bigger than cryogenics. Bigger than marketing for Black Friday.

In fact I love the matter-of-fact nature of the creed at this point. There is no attempt to impress, to preach, to prove. There is no Passion Play designed to evoke emotion. After being buried on parts of three calendar squares, Jesus, who has been described very carefully before this in the creed, rises from the dead. Once dead, now alive. Dude.

And this isn’t the end of the story, the end of the creed, the end of amazing. In fact, it’s just the middle. The story keeps going.

Whole books are written around these couple lines of death and resurrection. Arguments, careers, reputations. But this simple declaration is at the heart of them all.