humility – Alaska Bible Teacher

We Were Born to Serve Him

“When a servant comes in from plowing or taking care of sheep, does his master say, ‘Come in and eat with me’? ⁸No, he says, ‘Prepare my meal, put on your apron, and serve me while I eat. Then you can eat later.’”

“And does the master thank the servant for doing what he was told to do? Of course not. ¹⁰In the same way, when you obey me you should say, ‘We are unworthy servants who have simply done our duty.’”

Luke 17:7-10

Ater years of ministry— this particular passage has slowly become one of my favorites. The path I’ve walked has been challenging, and it seems to me that I haven’t done it very well at all. I’ve been a fool much of the time, and yet, if anything, God has held me firmly in place. I haven’t always been faithful. But He has.

ter years of ministry— this particular passage has slowly become one of my favorites. The path I’ve walked has been challenging, and it seems to me that I haven’t done it very well at all. I’ve been a fool much of the time, and yet, if anything, God has held me firmly in place. I haven’t always been faithful. But He has.

I used to kill rattlesnakes when I lived in Mexico. It demanded a certain cautiousness, and lesson #1 was this–you never, ever take your eyes off of the snake–no matter what. I think we must approach ourselves carefully. Our hearts are desperately wicked. We must understand this.

“I am more afraid of my own heart than of the pope and all his cardinals. I have within me the great pope, self.

Martin Luther

Please let me explain what I’m thinking.

The Lord Jesus tells us one of those stories of his. This parable is one of his best. It makes a lot of sense, and it resonates. It tells me that I must watch myself, lest I forget that this passage is all about me. I’m His slave. A slave of love, grace, but also of labor.

Jesus’ parable explains our duty as His servant.

It seems that after a hard day’s work, a slave still needed to prepare his master’s dinner. No matter how much he toiled out in the fields, he had a duty to serve his master in this way; and it does seem unfair–we live in a land “where all men are created equal.”

But this is how the God’s Kingdom works.

We get dirty, we toil hard, and we sweat under the hot sun. We dream of a glass of cold lemonade (with ice), and a cool shower when we quit the fields. But that isn’t the way it works. Yes, Jesus gives his laborers rest–but the work continues.

The work goes on, even when God buries his workers. Hopefully, the next generation will continue my almost humble efforts, and his work in his fields will continue. But, in the meantime I must “watch” myself carefully, and do his will out in his fields.

“Just as a servant knows that he must first obey his master in all things, so the surrender to an implicit and unquestionable obedience must become the essential characteristic of our lives.“

Andrew Murray

Yes, it’s a foreign concept, and we can’t really relate–we either skip its message, or apply it to others. Jesus uses it quite adroitly, the servant works for his master; completely, exclusively. A slave who has no rights of his own.

We serve and obey our Master.

“Any desire for promotion, pleasure, riches, or fame will quickly make one a servant of the Beast. And, I’m afraid, that is exactly what many of today’s pastors and preachers have become.“

Chuck Baldwin

I’m Under Command

When Jesus had entered Capernaum, a centurion came to him, asking for help. ⁶“Lord,” he said, “my servant lies at home paralyzed, suffering terribly.”

⁷Jesus said to him, “Shall I come and heal him?”

⁸The centurion replied, “Lord, I do not deserve to have you come under my roof. But just say the word, and my servant will be healed. ⁹For I myself am a man under authority, with soldiers under me. I tell this one, ‘Go,’ and he goes; and that one, ‘Come,’ and he comes. I say to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.”

¹³Then Jesus said to the centurion, “Go! Let it be done just as you believed it would.” And his servant was healed at that moment.

Matthew 8:5-9, 13; (see Luke 7:2-10)

Our obedience was how we survived. I understand authority and submission to my superior officers. It’s known as “the chain of command” and it’s the reason why my century survived in a hostile place. I blended my will to my superior, and I knew he was also under authority to his own superior.

It wasn’t easy duty as a Roman soldier among the Jews. We were hated everywhere we went.

But my servant was paralyzed, and I knew that he was suffering greatly, but I had run out of options. My servant was the only family I was allowed to have. Since I served as a centurion I was not allowed to have a wife for the duration of my service. Over the years I’ve kept close and trustworthy servants with me–these men were very dear to me. They were my family.

I certainly was aware that we lived in constant danger from radical Jews, especially the Zealots. They had already assassinated some of my men.

I had exhausted all efforts to bring some relief and healing to my servant–he seemed to be getting worse, not better. I had information that there was an itinerant teacher who had a reputation as a healer of diseases. This man, Jesus from Nazareth, had a large following and I realized that He was now my only possible solution.

So I went to Him for help.

He wanted to return with me to my home. His willingness to come encouraged me, but I simply couldn’t allow that. Jesus’ visit would’ve made Him ceremonially unclean–I was a Gentile, a “dog.” And also bringing Him to my home might create an issue among my men.

I understood that my home was officially off-limits to Him.

But yet I did understand something. I was under authority as a centurion in the Roman army, and my men followed my orders. Obedience meant survival in a very angry and hostile environment like Judea. Our entire unit was constantly drilled in this, and each man understood the need for following authority. We had to obey our superiors.

So I simply asked Jesus to heal my servant, with just His word of command.

Jesus marveled at this. He said that my adherence to protocol was evidence of real faith. I think it’s funny but He made me an equal with the Israel patriarchs. My faith was now to be emulated by the Jews. How odd.

As a Roman centurion I knew I deserved nothing. Simply, Jesus spoke a command and when I returned home my servant was healed. I came and found him completely healthy.

“As the authority of the Caesars flowed through his own yielded life, so the authority of God over diseases, demons, and all else would flow through Christ’s.”

F.B. Meyer

“Christ will always accept the faith that puts its trust in Him.”

Andrew Murray

Washing Between the Toes

⁶He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, do you wash my feet?” ⁷Jesus answered him, “What I am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand.” ⁸Peter said to him, “You shall never wash my feet.”

“Jesus answered him, “If I do not wash you, you have no share with me.”

John 13:6-8 (verses 3-17)

Chapter 13 always rocks my world. I visualize this, like a fly on the wall, watching it happen–and then I replay it over. It always unravels me. Why does this have to happen? What does this passage tell me about Jesus and his kingdom? (John 13). Why can’t I just walk away from it, and leave it be?

Jesus made himself a slave on purpose.

Or perhaps he was always a slave all along, and we just didn’t realize it? Foot-washers were pretty much regarded as sub-human, mindless drones who mechanically performed a necessary duty. The lowest of the low, the very least of the least. Today they’re the burger flippers and the pool cleaners.

But Jesus took that role on himself, he laid aside his garments and his Godhood. (They landed in a pile in the corner of the room). When he knelt down to scrub feet (making sure he got between the toes), it was Deity serving man. This God/rabbi intentionally did this, not reluctantly or halfheartedly–but carefully. Brilliantly.

He was their teacher, and custom demanded he enjoys the prerogatives of that position. But he wouldn’t, and didn’t. He mustn’t. As I stress over this, I must conclude he really was their “teacher,” but not in the way I expect. What he was doing on his knees, was instructing them in the art of loving each other.

He showed us a real leader in action.

And isn’t making disciples all about loving (and washing) someone else more than ourselves?

We get things turned around sometimes–we think that spiritual authority is moving up when it’s all about going down. We elevate our pastors and elders, maybe subconsciously–and human nature lets it happen, and then we’re amazed why our leaders struggle so.

Leaders function best when they wash between the toes.

There was a point in Jewish history when the people actually demanded that God would give them a king, instead of a judge (1 Samuel 8:5-9). God warned them that this wasn’t in his plans–but they insisted.

They had to have one, everyone else did. We still must have celebrities, and then we wonder why they short-circuit on us. Who can resist the privilege, and the limelight of the platform?

The Church was never meant to operate like this.

That’s what Jesus said. Instead, it’s we who’ve turned it upside down. It’s we who insist on turning our pastors into minor celebrities. We assert that they take on the role of a “king” (albeit, a little one maybe). Perhaps leaders who stumble and fall do so because we want them to be front and center? Who can handle the privilege and the adulation? I know I can’t.

Peter of course, was classic Peter.

It seems that whenever he resists, he gets rebuked. He makes it quite clear that Jesus will never wash feet–that Jesus will never use a basin or towel and serve him like this. It was outrageous. Unacceptable. It didn’t fit in Peter’s personal theology. He had no room for Jesus the slave.

Jesus still washes His people. He has not changed.

He sits us down and takes off our shoes and socks, and scrubs us clean. And we hate it. But to be washed by him is a condition of our discipleship. Every follower must be clean, and he continues his work to this day. We sin daily, even as his own, and he cleans us up–and somehow that really bothers us.

The gifts of leadership are one way of washing feet.

At least that’s what our leaders were designed to do. That’s Jesus’ way of doing things. But it seems we’ve adopted Peter’s attitude, and embraced the ‘pre-king’ thinking of Israel. We need our celebrities, we want our kings. We simply can’t imagine it any other way.

“The very first thing which needs to be said about Christian ministers of all kinds is that they are “under” people as their servants rather than “over” them. Jesus made this absolutely plain. The chief characteristic of Christian leaders, he insisted, is humility not authority, and gentleness not power.”

John Stott

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Her Weak Eyes

Stuck in the wonders of scripture we read about Leah and her sister Rachel. We see the two daughters of Laban have become Jacob’s wives. We must step into Genesis 29 to see more.

Jacob longs for Rachel. She is his “soul mate” and because he’s in love, the customs and technicalities of the day somehow get by him. Because of this, he will have to take on Laban’s subtle trickery, where daughters get exchanged, and we must sort out who is who.

Laban’s deception creates a huge crisis for everyone.

But it seems Jacob just rolls with it. I suppose deception has always been Jacob’s strong suit. (But when we see a deceiver like Jacob gets deceived, that can’t be all bad).

But it’s Leah that I tend to think about. Her own issues are unique. Genesis 29 explains it a bit cryptically,

“Leah’s eyes were weak, but Rachel was beautiful in form and appearance.”

Genesis 29:17

You must know that there is confusion by commentators about the “weak eyes.” Some take it literally (as in, she is very “near-sighted,”) while others who look at the original Hebrew find the words to be a bit looser and vague. They tend to think that this is a polite way of saying she really wasn’t pretty.

The text also states that Leah was “hated.”

Genesis 29:30-31.

She is wounded, and life requires that she live as unwanted. She is a woman of tragedy and broken hopes and dreams. She will always live as a reject. At best, she will always be a distant second, and always a bit scorned and neglected for this.

I must conclude that Leah is the champion for the challenged.

I love Leah and I think I understand her. Her life is a long tragedy and very full of sadness. For the next 30-40 years she will always be a cast-off, someone who has been broken on life’s bitter vagaries. She’s a fellow struggler, and a survivor.

Her sad life is comparable to us who have to fight so hard over our own illness or handicaps.

She must’ve been challenged by her terrible weakness. I understand this. My own life has been “topsy-turvy” and a really hard struggle. Somehow it seems we must work through these things way too much.

It doesn’t seem fair.

For those of you who are confined to a wheelchair, or must use a cane, or who deal with a physical or mental illness. Leah should be our hero. For those who have been betrayed by addiction, or who have felt rejected through a bitter divorce– Leah speaks to us.

She is for every loser and for failures of all stripes. But through all of our setbacks and messes, we must realize that God does love us– even as we weep.

We may have Leah’s eyes, but we can also have His grace.

“I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.”

Psalm 139:14

I also have a new site at KingDavid101.com.

Learning How to Dance

**“And David was dancing before the Lord with all his might, and David was wearing a linen ephod.”**

2 Samuel 6:13-15

“The most valuable thing the Psalms do for me is to express the same delight in God which made David dance.”

C.S. Lewis

It seems I’m the world’s worst and the clumsiest of all. And since my brain surgery, it has gotten even worse. I fall several times every month. I need to use a cane now. (And if you look up “klutz” in the dictionary you’ll see my picture, lol.) 😃

When I start to dance, you had better head for higher ground!

Even so, I do love the idea of dancing, but I’m like Bozo, the circus clown, only wearing roller skates! I lurch from side-to-side and I’m always on the verge of falling on someone’s lap, which is a real hoot!

But there is just one dance that I am waiting for.

It’s the dance I’ll have with my Savior. There will be a day, in a place and time where He will call me home and He himself will teach me how to dance. I know it’ll be incredible, and it’s a day that I anticipate, and honestly, I hope it comes soon. (He’s finally going to heal me!)

But to really dance you must first liberate your heart.

You must cancel out all self-consciousness. If you are self-aware, you will never enter into the joy and wonder of the true dance. You will be a perpetual wallflower, living only on the edges. And, you will be very sad.

It seems you must dance in your heart before you can ever dance with your feet.

I desperately would like to dance. And when I see Him clearly on that day, I’ll have no cane to slow me down. I will be as graceful, and to be perfectly honest, I won’t be watching you, (I’m sorry). I will see only Jesus. And I believe that my heart will beat for Him exclusively.

Jesus shed His blood for me.

I belong to Him. He forgave all my sin and has given me eternal life. Knowing this fills me with such joy that my feet won’t stand still. He redeems me, and is this not a cause for a dance, or two, or maybe three? Maybe eternity will be filled with more joy than we ever dreamed possible?

Some of you have been damaged–mashed up in the grinding gears of life’s hard issues. It’s hard to dance. I understand. But I also know that your life can be astonishingly full of grace– you have endured so much, and yet Jesus intends to occupy your thoughts and vision with real hope.

As His disciple, you’ll discover your special dance. And when you finally see Him, your heart will finally be free to spin and twirl.

He is the reason we can dance. He is the Lord of the dance.

“Young women and young men, together with the elderly, will celebrate and dance because I will comfort them and turn their sorrow into happiness.”

Jeremiah 31:13

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The Christian’s Guide to the Election

Our vote matters a lot. Here are some principles a believer should always follow. This list is a good way to function and maybe even see our own hearts in the light of the Gospel, and the direction of the Holy Spirit.

As a believer who is also a citizen this matters so much.

We maybe Republican, Democrat, or independent, but we know that God’s Kingdom rules over all. We must keep our hearts firmly fixed and settled in something that knows our Father’s purpose.

Please read the above list through, as I think it directs us to Him. I guess if I’ve got any insight into this at all I would add prayer and intercession. That wasn’t included, but adding it would enhance this list even more.

“If My people, who are called by My name, shall humble themselves and pray, and seek My face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and will heal their land.”

2 Chronicles 7:14

Failure, Fish and Forgiveness

“Simon Peter said, “I’m going fishing.” “We’ll come, too,” they all said. So, they went out in the boat, but they caught nothing all night.”

John 21:3

This verse has always got me thinking. I can’t help but wonder why Peter pulled that move. Jesus had put so much effort into His disciples, and still, they just disappeared back to the boat and nets. I guess they just went back to what they knew best—fishing.

I’ve always wondered why. Why return to their lives after Jesus called them from their old lives?

Now there are two views: one suggests Peter acted wisely, while the other sees him as compromised and shaken by his denial and failure as a disciple, buckling under challenge from a servant girl.

So, Simon Peter, and seven others pile in a boat and returned to what Jesus called them from. They revert to their old ways. That’s understandable, but that doesn’t make it right. I think Peter was a little singed when he denied Jesus by the fire.

Peter was about to be restored by Jesus around another fire.

Since Peter had publicly denied Jesus three times, he was now required to respond to three equally public questions. It is noteworthy that this exchange took place openly, reflecting the very nature of his previous denial. Furthermore, it is reasonable to believe that from this moment onward, Peter would lead not from a position of strength, but from a place of profound vulnerability.

Luke 5

In Luke 5, we read of the beginning when they caught absolutely nothing, a moment that embodies the frustration and despair often faced by those who toil without reward. Peter and his crew had fished all night long, diligently casting their nets into the dark waters, yet they had zero to show for it, each failed attempt serving as a reminder of their limitations.

John 21

Pretty much the same thing happened in John 21, where once again the disciples returned to the beach empty-handed after a long night of labor. These stories resonate deeply with us, illustrating the struggles of persistence in the face of apparent failure, while ultimately leading to a greater revelation of hope and fulfillment that follows such trying times.

God’s grace homes in on Peter’s heart.

Both Peter’s calling and Peter’s reinstatement involve a miraculous catch of fish. Luke 5 and John 21 become a fascinating pivot-point for Peter’s walk. Both reveal Jesus’ power and love. Both declare His commitment to Peter.

Man has one desperate need. That is for forgiveness.

Are you frustrated with your discipleship? Are you tempted to return to the things of the past?

Jesus is patiently waiting for you on the beach, full of love and commitment. His promises hold strong and are ever true. Through His own sacrifice and the precious gift of His blood, He has already paid the ransom for you—a deep, unbreakable covenant of love.

He is still your Savior. He knew all your sins, and dark failure. He knew all of this before you were even born.

“Jesus Christ became Incarnate for one purpose, to make a way back to God that man might stand before Him as He was created to do, the friend and lover of God Himself.”

Oswald Chambers

You’re a Steward of Your Pain

Some time ago I came across a story that connected. It seems a visiting speaker came and stood in front of a congregation. He shared a painful incident from his childhood. He wanted to bring healing to others. After he spoke, an elder came and spoke to him–

“You have learned how to become a proper steward of your pain.”

The visiting speaker was profoundly touched by this. Finally, something came together in his heart and soul. Yes, he did learn how to deal scripturally with those ugly things from his past. He was becoming a proper steward of his pain.

The word for steward in the original Greek is oikonomos. It literally means “a keeper of a home.” It describes a manager, a superintendent to whom the head of the house or proprietor has entrusted the management of his affairs, the diligent care of receipts and expenditures.

The issue seems to be of management, how can God use these awful things for building His Kingdom?

No question about it, we live in a world of darkness. Each of us has been touched by hard things. Scars are part of our lives. When we come to Christ they come with us. All of these grim things are a real piece of us, we have been hurt (or maybe we’ve wounded others?)

Are you a good steward of who you are? Whether you’ve experienced trauma–something physical, sexual, or perhaps a mental illness. It could be any scar you carry from your past, and no one is immune from them it seems. You’ll find freedom if you can use these things for Him and his Kingdom.

We must see and understand that Jesus has taken everything and redeems it all for His glory.

He understands us fully–our past, present, and future. He ‘knows’ us–the real and hidden us. The challenge I suppose is to take these sad events to the throne. He alone can heal and then use that which has devastated us. What was intended to destroy is now meant to build.

Satan has afflicted you in his dark attempt to destroy you.

Jesus intervenes to save. As we grow to accept this, the Holy Spirit comes as our comforter and guide. He starts to teach us true redemption, and the incredible healing that he brings with him. It really is his work, not ours. We finally understand. It’s then we become broken healers that God can use.

His light has truly overcome our dark.

We’re being taught (sometimes very slowly) to carry all of these things and plead the blood of Jesus over our past. He covers us completely. He has redeemed us. Luke 1:68 explains much clearer than I can:

“Blessed is the Lord, the God of Israel because he has visited and provided redemption for his people.”

Becoming a steward of our pain is his doing. We’re able to touch others with these things that would cripple and destroy others. He has made us “managers” of these things, and we are taught to teach others, declaring that God has completely saved us. He works miracles!

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has passed away, and see, the new has come!”

2 Corinthians 5:17

We’ll sovereignly meet those who need to hear our story. We’re being transformed into authentic witnesses. Yes, at times these awful things still hurt, and I suppose that’s to be expected. But we’re learning to manage them. We’ve become real-life stewards of our pain.

“That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good.”

Romans 8:28

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When Pain is All You Can Think About

Sometimes we live in darkness. We suffer and it’s hard. We mentally accept God’s grace and His love for us, but in our heart we remain untouched. Pain saturates everything it seems. We seem to go through the motions, but deep down we’re convinced that we’ll never find the light that so many claim to have.

Since I have a disability I realize I learn things others won’t grasp. I’m learning to embrace the waves that push me to the rock–the Rock of ages. I suppose when I meet Him I’ll understand why it had to be so.

My hope is real. Heaven is home. My pain will be healed.

There is a language of heaven spoken, and those who have suffered speak a dialect of that. Just as someone from Georgia communicates English, their dialect is obvious. The same for those who live in pain. We speak the same, but differently.

Pain sometimes saturates our lives.

We live with something that is persistent, and our hope is a day when it’s all over. Psalm 88 becomes our Psalm. Nothing here is sugar-coated. It is raw and unabridged. It puts our pain under a microscope. That Psalm is entirely yours.

“For my soul is full of troubles, and my life draws near to Sheol. I am counted among those who go down to the pit; I am a man who has no strength,”

Psalm 88:3-4

“I am certain that I never did grow in grace one-half so much anywhere as I have upon the bed of pain.”

Charles Spurgeon

Punched in the Face

Once I was punched in the face while preaching. At the time I was an evangelist with SOS Ministries in 1987. I was leading a group to Haight/Ashbury St. in San Francisco. I remember it was really busy, and it was a good team, and they were excited to take their church to the streets.

Haight/Ashbury was the place the “summer of love” kicked off, it peaked in 1968. It has a certain sense of notoriety, and even in 1983 it still had a dubious reputation as a center of the counter-culture. “A cult a day is born in San Francisco,” a pastor friend once shared with me.

Normally the neighborhood where I took a team would direct me on how to preach. Tonight especially I focused on God’s love for sinful people.

That message seemed appropriate for this place, especially on this street. God loves these people very much.

A young man came forward. He told me that he was a backslidden Christian, and his father was an Assembly of God pastor. He had run away from home. Suddenly he began to weep. The entire team seemed to lean forward and I know they were praying earnestly for him. It seemed to me that he was teetering on the brink.

His punch however came unexpectedly.

His fist hit me square in the nose. My eyes began to water. Oddly enough he took a step back and began to really cry out. My team wasn’t quite sure how to respond, but I hoped they prayed even harder. I sort of gasped and tried to shake it off. Someone must have called the police.

The Holy Spirit was very much present, both convicting and comforting each of us.

One or two minutes went by and suddenly he stopped sobbing and he became really angry. He took a step and then tried to kick me in the stomach, but I dropped the mic and caught his foot. I was ready for him this time.

About 20 minutes went by before SFPD showed up and asked if I wanted to press charges. I thought for a bit, but deep down I knew that wasn’t the will of my Father. Maybe I should of, I don’t know. But I thought about my own sin and couldn’t judge no one.

The Father was reaching him while teaching me!

God loves His prodigal children very much, He understands the guilt and shame (and frustration) they feel. The Father however is always watching and waiting. He works through life’s circumstances to lead them home. Each belongs to Him. He continues far past what we think is possible. He will never give up.

“We know what real love is because Jesus gave up his life for us. So we also ought to give up our lives for our brothers and sisters.”

1 John 3:16

I suddenly saw a “wounded” brother, very confused and quite angry. Not with me, the team, or the music–but with God who created him, and died for him.

At that moment in time, I just happened to be God’s love for this prodigal.