“They do not know what they are doing.” Luke 23:34 Thirty-seven years old. Thin, almost frail. Balding and bespectacled. An electronics buff. Law-abiding and tired. Certainly not a description you would give a vigilante. But that didn’t bother the American public. When Bernhard Hugo Goetz blasted four would-be muggers in a New York subway, he instantly became a hero. It’s not hard to see why. Bernhard Goetz was an American fantasy come true. He did what every citizen wants to do. He fought back. He “kicked the villain in the nose.” He “clobbered evil over the head.” This unassuming hero embodied a nationwide, even worldwide anger: a passion for revenge. People are mad. People are angry. There is a pent-up, boiling rage that causes us to toast a man who fearlessly (of fearfully) says, “I ain’t taking it no more!” and then comes out with a hot pistol in each hand. We’re tired. We’re tired of being bullied, harassed, and intimidated. We’re weary of the serial murderers, rapists, and hired assassins. We’re angry at someone, but we don’t know who. We’re scared of something, but we don’t know what. We want to fight back, but we don’t know how. And then, when a modern-day Wyatt Earp walks onto the scene, we applaud him. He is speaking for us! “That-a-way to go, Thug-buster; that’s the way to do it!” Or is it? Is that really the way to do it? Let’s think about our anger for just a minute. Anger. It’s a peculiar yet predictable emotion. It begins as a drop of water. An irritant. A frustration. Nothing big, Just an aggravation. Someone gets your parking place. Someone pulls in front of you on the freeway. A waitress is slow and you are in a hurry. The toast burns. Drops of water. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Yet, get enough of these seemingly innocent drops of anger and before long you’ve got a bucket full of rage. Walking revenge. Blind bitterness. Unharnessed hatred. We trust no one and bare our teeth at anyone who gets near. We become walking time bombs that, given just the right tension and fear, could explode like Mr. Goetz. Now, is that any way to live? What good has hatred ever brought? What hope has anger ever created? What problems have ever been resolved by revenge? Yet, what do we do? We can’t deny that our anger exists. How do we harness it? A good option is found in Luke 23:34. Here, Jesus speaks about the mob that killed him. “Father forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” Have you ever wondered how Jesus kept from retaliating? Have you ever asked how he kept his control? Here’s the answer. It’s the second part of his statement: “for they do not know what they are doing.” Look carefully. It’s as if Jesus considered this bloodthirsty, death-hungry crowd not as murderers, but as victims. It’s as if he regarded them not as a militant mob but, as he put it, as “sheep without a shepherd.” “They don’t know what they are doing.” And when you think about it, they didn’t. They hadn’t the faintest idea what they were doing. They were a stir-crazy mob, mad at something they couldn’t see so they took it out on, of all people, God. But they didn’t know what they were doing. And for the most part, neither do we. We are still, as much as we hate to admit it, shepherdless sheep. All we know is that we were born out of one eternity and are frighteningly close to another. We play tag with the fuzzy realities of death and pain. We can’t answer our own questions about love and hurt. We can’t keep ourselves out of war. We can’t even keep ourselves fed. Paul spoke for humanity when he confessed, “I do not know what I am doing.”1 Now, I know that doesn’t justify anything. That doesn’t justify hit-and-run drivers or kiddie-porn peddlers or heroin dealers. But it does help explain why they do the miserable things they do. My point is this: Uncontrolled anger won’t better our world, but sympathetic understanding will. Once we see the world and ourselves for what we are, we can help. Once we understand ourselves we begin to operate not from a posture of anger but of compassion and concern. We look at the world not with bitter frowns but with extended hands. We realize that the lights are out and a lot of people are stumbling in the darkness. So we light candles. As Michelangelo said, “We criticize by creating.” Instead of fighting back we help out. We go to the ghettos. We teach in the schools. We build hospitals and help orphans…and we put away our guns. “They do not know what they are doing.” There is something about understanding the world that makes us want to save it, even to die for it. Anger? Anger never did anyone any good. Understanding? Well, the results are not as quick as the vigilante’s bullet, but they are certainly much more constructive. For more of Max Lucado’s insights, see upwords.com

Pandemonium means bedlam, chaos or confusion . Does that sound like Sunday morning at your house? If you know your Greek, pandemonium means daemonium (demons) and pan (all around). No matter where you are in your Christian journey, Satan is always ready to wreak havoc in your life just at the moment God is ready to do great things. Don’t go naked to church, or anywhere else for that matter. Be alert. Don’t get caught with your pants down. On our first Easter Sunday morning in our very first church, pandemonium filled the parsonage. Roger, my young preacher-husband, was raring to go. He prayed for God to rain down fire from heaven. He practiced his sermon in the bathroom mirror until he was hoarse (hand gestures and all). He’d scraped dog poop off the bottoms of his brown wingtip dress shoes, and he flossed twice for good measure (no bacon bits hanging from his molars for Easter, a pastor’s “Superbowl Sunday”). Then my hero scurried off to the kitchen to grab a powdered-sugar donut on his way to church (an unwise move-the sugar residue resembles dandruff). That’s when pandemonium ensued. Our two pudgie Dachshunds, Bootsie and Brother Barrier, eagerly greeted their Daddy, plastering him with four sets of gummy, muddy paws. Perturbed beyond belief, Roger raced to the sink, pulled out a blue SOS pad and frantically began to scrape the muddy pawprints from his cream polyester pants. Now his pants were bluish brown. This did not bode well for the morning ahead. Roger, screaming my name (not in a good way) noticed piles of green feathers littering the kitchen linoleum. Bootsie and Brother had obviously scarfed down Budgie, our pet parakeet, for breakfast while we were still sawing logs. Roger grabbed a nearby sponge to mop up Budgie’s remains and realized his garish green-feathered pants now resembled a Las Vegas show girl costume (only much more modest, of course). The pants had to go, so I threw some navy dockers on his behind, spritzed a little Calvin Klein to cover up the doggie smell and pointed him toward the door. Our pandemonium had only begun. As Roger flung open the screen door to the carport, Bootsie and Brother exploded outside making a beeline into oncoming traffic. I sprinted after the errant wieners, lickety-split, completely forgetting I was wearing my quilted blue robe and electric rollers covered in toilet paper. Oh, yeah. And I forgot the white face cream. Classic. Most Sunday morning forays into the neighborhood would go unnoticed. But we lived on the main drag-a four lane boulevard three blocks from the church parking lot. All of our parishioners were giggling and waving at us, like we were the opening act for the service. Everything went downhill from there. Two blocks later we captured our demon dachschunds and limped toward home. I heard the organist pumping out his version of “Up from the Grave He Arose” as Roger hightailed it across the church parking lot to slide into the service and catch his breath. Instead of quiet anticipation of God’s presence, pandemonium hit the fan. Our first Sunday skirmish was nominal compared to the sieges that were to come. Hopefully, we learned to be better prepared. So don’t go naked to church, or anywhere else for that matter. Get prayed up. Suit up in your spiritual armor. The more God gets ready to bless your efforts, the more you will experience satanic interference. Don’t go blind into battle. Surround yourself with prayer warriors and stay alert. If you walk humbly before God, He will enable you to make peace out of pandemonium, create order out of chaos, and do mighty miracles in His name!

“All flesh is like grass, and all its glory like the flower of grass. The grass withers and the flower falls, but the Word of the Lord will stand forever.” 1 Peter 1:24,25. NIV Our earthly bodies are like grass. When you walk out and see grass or you see a flower, you must ask yourself, “How long is that flower going to last?” It’s going to start wilting quickly. That happens to us. View yourself like a plant. Don’t take yourself so seriously. You’re not going to look good for long. And it’s going to get expensive to look good. When you’re born, you’ll spring up like a seedling. You’ll have your glory days, but it’s going to be over. Peter says that there is only one thing that’s going to last. The Word of the Lord will last. The Word of the Lord is unique. When you are gone, God’s Word will still be here and it will still be true. When God says something, it’s always going to be true. His Divine Truth will never be obsolete when we die and go to heaven. God doesn’t say “Now, I take that back.” We have to be people that have to learn how to love His Eternal Word. Nowadays we have podcasts of preachers all over the world, we have all sorts of Christian books, devotionals and videos, but it can’t replace God’s Word. There is something that happens when you are reading God’s Word. It totally changes you. This Word is “…the Word that is preached to you.” In chapter two of 1 Peter, Peter describes young Christians as spiritual infants longing for spiritual milk. We have all heard babies that didn’t get their bottle. You always hear the babies crying who didn’t get their bottle and the mom is frantically looking for it. Nothing works. No pacifier, nothing will shut that kid up besides the bottle. We should be like newborn infants longing for His Word. Nothing else will satisfy us. I can never read too much scripture in a sermon. That’s what the world wants these days. Sound bytes. We need His Word. It’s our life. Remember, “If you indeed have tasted that the Lord is good…” When we read and pray, communing with God, we have a unique relationship that is not obtained simply from relating with other people. Intimacy with God is irreplaceable. Invest your life in the God-moments. From “Texting God” by Francis Chan, 2009.

Celtic Christians called the Holy Spirit An Geadh-Glas or the Wild Goose. A wild goose can’t be tracked or tamed. Unpredictability or a hint of mystery or an element of danger surrounds the wild goose. In a sense, if you take the leading of the Holy Spirit out of life, life is boring. But if you add Him into the equation of your life, you never know who you are going to meet, where you are going to go, what you are doing to do, all bets are off. Now let me state a personal conviction. I think what is most lacking in the church is not education. Let’s keep learning but we are all educated beyond the level of our obedience. And I don’t think what’s most lacking is resources. Let’s keep giving, but we are the most resourced church in the most resourced country the world has ever known. You want to know what I think is the most lacking in the Christian church today? Guts. Good old-fashioned guts, to live by faith, to climb the cliff, to engage the enemy. We must realize that we are involved in something that is a matter of life or death and that we are called to live courageously, even dangerously for the cause of Christ. Now, the good news is, I don’t think in most scenarios, our lives are on the line. But passivity is not an option, and I think God is calling us to play offense, and this story inspires me. It tells me that the will of God is not an insurance plan, it is a daring plan. Jonathan’s plan to rout the Philistines was bold and daring. In 1 Samuel 14:1-15, Jonathan said to his young armor-bearer, “Come, let’s go over to the outpost of those uncircumcised fellows. Perhaps the Lord will act on our behalf. Nothing can hinder the LORD from saving, whether by many or by few.” “Do all that you have in mind,” his armor-bearer said. “Go ahead; I am with you heart and soul.” It is tough to psychoanalyze someone who lived thousands of years ago, but I think it is safe to say that Jonathan did not let his fears dictate his decision. Jonathan’s desire to advance the kingdom, so to speak, was greater than his fear of failure, and his attraction to gain was greater than his aversion to loss. Jonathan was not playing defense. He was playing offense. He courageously climbed the cliffs at Micmash, and picked a fight with the entire Philistine army. This has to be the worst military strategy I’ve ever heard of. If you read the next few verses, you discover that Jonathan’s plan is basically this. Let’s expose ourselves to the enemy in broad daylight and concede the high ground. Then he comes up with a sign. Verse 9; “If the Philistines say to us, ‘Come up to us,’ we will climb up, because that will be our sign that the Lord has given them into our hands.” Ok, I’m sorry but if I’m making up the signs here, I’m doing the exact opposite. If they come down to us, that’ll be our sign. Or better yet, if they fall off the cliff, that’ll be the sign that the Lord is giving them into our hands. I think more often than not, the will of God will involve a daring decision, a difficult decision, sometimes a dangerous decision. But one daring decision was enough to shift the momentum, create a tipping point. I Samuel 14:23 says: “So the Lord saved Israel that day.” Because one person made one move. One person did one thing that made a difference. Can I suggest that the church needs more daring people with daring plans? When did we start believing that God wants to send us to safe places to do easy things? Where did we get that? I think we made a false assumption about the will of God. I think we’ve assumed that it should get easier the longer we follow Christ. I don’t believe that it gets easier, I think spiritual growth prepares us for more dangerous missions, to do more daring things for the cause of Christ, and it shouldn’t get less adventurous, it ought to get more adventurous. Perhaps the Lord will act in our behalf. Can I suggest that many Christians seem to operate with the exact opposite modus operandi? What a study in contrast! I think what Saul didn’t do is just as significant as what Jonathan did do. His son is climbing cliffs engaging the enemy, Saul is sitting under a pomegranate tree on the outskirts of Gibeah. I see him just popping pomegranate seeds into his mouth, maybe a little fan action, chillin’ out on the outskirts of Gibeah. What’s wrong with this picture? The Philistines control the pass at Micmash, and as the leader of the army of Israel, Saul should have been fighting back instead of kicking back. But he is on the sidelines instead of the front lines, and you know what? It is not the only time, he let David fight his battles for him too didn’t he? Saul was head and shoulders taller than anybody else in Israel, Saul should have been the one out on that battlefield fighting the kingdom’s battles, but he was a spectator. I think, instead of playing to win, Saul was playing not to lose and he was content with letting others fight his battles for him. Too often we spend our entire lives at the foot of that cliff, we just don’t have the guts to climb it, because what if God doesn’t act on our behalf? Well, nothing exciting is going to happen and I wonder if that is why a lot of us are bored with our faith. The bottom line is this – I think there is a little of Saul in each of us. There is part of us that wants God to defeat the enemy while we are on the outskirts of Gibeah under pomegranate trees. If Jonathan hadn’t climbed the cliff, engaged the enemy, picked a fight, the status quo was going to remain. We’ve got to take that little step of faith. From “The Cage of Fear” by Mark Batterson, National Community Church, Washington, D.C.

YOU HAVE one. A sack. A burlap sack. Probably aren’t aware of it, may not have been told about it. Could be you don’t remember it. But it was given to you. A sack. An itchy, scratchy burlap sack. You needed the sack so you could carry the stones. Rocks, boulders, pebbles. All sizes. All shapes. All unwanted. You didn’t request them. You didn’t seek them. But you were given them. Don’t remember? Some were rocks of rejection. You were given one the time you didn’t pass the tryout. It wasn’t for lack of effort. Heaven only knows how much you practiced. You thought you were good enough for the team. But the coach didn’t. The instructor didn’t. You thought you were good enough, but they said you weren’t. They and how many others? You don’t have to live long before you get a collection of stones. Make a poor grade. Make a bad choice. Make a mess. Get called a few names. Get mocked. Get abused. And the stones don’t stop with adolescence. I sent a letter this week to an unemployed man who’s been rejected in more than fifty interviews. And so the sack gets heavy. Heavy with stones. Stones of rejection. Stones we don’t deserve. Look into the burlap sack and you see that not all the stones are from rejections. There is a second type of stone. The stone of regret. Regret for the time you lost your temper. Regret for the day you lost control. Regret for the moment you lost your pride. Regret for the years you lost your priorities. And even regret for the hour you lost your innocence. One stone after another, one guilty stone after another. With time the sack gets heavy. We get tired. How can you have dreams for the future when all your energy is required to shoulder the past? No wonder some people look miserable. The sack slows the step. The sack chafes. Helps explain the irritation on so many faces, the sag in so many steps, the drag in so many shoulders, and most of all, the desperation in so many acts. You’re consumed with doing whatever it takes to get some rest. So you take the sack to the office. You resolve to work so hard you’ll forget about the sack. You arrive early and stay late. People are impressed. But when it’s time to go home, there is the sack—waiting to be carried out. You carry the stones into happy hour. With a name like that, it must bring relief. So you set the sack on the floor, sit on the stool, and drink a few. The music gets loud and your head gets light. But then it’s time to go and you look down and there is the sack. You drag it into therapy. You sit on the couch with the sack at your feet and spill all your stones on the floor and name them one by one. The therapist listens. She empathizes. Some helpful counsel is given. But when the time is up, you’re obliged to gather the rocks and take them with you. You get so desperate you try a weekend rendezvous. A little excitement. A risky embrace. A night of stolen passion. And for a moment the load is lighter. But then the weekend passes. Sunday’s sun sets and awaiting you on Monday’s doorstep is—you got it—your sack of regrets and rejections. Some even take the sack to church. Perhaps religion will help, we reason. But instead of removing a few stones, some well-meaning but misguided preacher may add to the load. God’s messengers sometimes give more hurt than help. And you might leave the church with a few new rocks in your sack. The result? A person slugging his way through life, weighed down by the past. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s hard to be thought¬ful when you’re carrying a burlap sack. It’s hard to be affirming when you are affirmation-starved. It’s hard to be forgiving when you feel guilty. Paul had an interesting observation about the way we treat people. He said it about marriage, but the principle applies in any relationship. “The man who loves his wife loves himself” (Eph. 5:28). There is a correlation between the way you feel about yourself and the way you feel about others. If you are at peace with yourself—if you like yourself—you will get along with others. The converse is also true. If you don’t like yourself, if you are ashamed, embarrassed, or angry, other people are going to know it. The tragic part of the burlap-sack story is we tend to throw our stones at those we love. Unless the cycle is interrupted. Which takes us to the question, “How does a person get relief?” Which, in turn, takes us to one of the kindest verses in the Bible, “Come to me, all of you who are tired and have heavy loads, and I will give you rest. Accept my teachings and learn from me, because I am gentle and humble in spirit, and you will find rest for your lives. The teaching I ask you to accept is easy; the load I give you to carry is light” (Matt. 11:28—30). You knew I was going to say that. I can see you holding this book and shaking your head. “I’ve tried that. I’ve read the Bible, I’ve sat on the pew—but I’ve never received relief.” If that is the case, could I ask a delicate but deliberate question? Could it be that you went to religion and didn’t go to God? Could it be that you went to a church, but never saw Christ? “Come to me,” the verse reads. It’s easy to go to the wrong place. I did yesterday. I was in Portland, Maine, catching a flight to Boston. Went to the desk, checked my bag, got my ticket, and went to the gate. I went past security, took my seat, and waited for the flight to be called. I waited and waited and waited—finally, I went up to the desk to ask the attendant and she looked at me and said, “You’re at the wrong gate.” Now, what if I’d pouted and sighed, “Well, there must not be a flight to Boston. Looks like I’m stuck.” You would have said to me, “You’re not stuck. You’re just at the wrong gate. Go down to the right gate and try again.” It’s not that you haven’t tried—you’ve tried for years to deal with your past. Alcohol. Affairs. Workaholism. Religion. Jesus says He is the solution for weariness of soul. www.maxlucado.com . Used by permission.

If you think your trouble-filled life is bad, this guy had it worse. Separated from people, a crazed maniac, in constant torment, crying out and cutting himself with stones to feel something else other than the despair he was feeling. This man lived a life of oppression by demons. Underneath that oppression was a wonderfully gifted person, loved by God, created in His image and placed on this planet with a unique destiny to fulfill…but one that would never be realized until the oppression could be lifted. He not only had a demon, but this demon was named Legion, signifying lots of demons. A Roman legion was about 6000 troops—that’s a lot of demons. This man’s oppression is symbolic of so many today around the world who also face oppression that covers over dignity, destiny, and hope–People oppressed by war, poverty, hunger, racism, lack of clean water, slavery, all forms of injustice. In a land of freedom and prosperity, we can look at the billions of oppressed people around the world and naively think, “Why don’t they just change it? Why don’t they just take responsibility for themselves and get out of that situation?” It’s a modern version of “Let them eat cake,” conceived by people who are out of touch with reality. Those forms of oppression drain all initiative, all dreams, all hope. Until the oppression is lifted, those things stay covered over. For this man, this was clearly the case. It makes you wonder who tried to help the man. We know they tried to tie him up unsuccessfully, but who tried to help him? Did anyone? Maybe, maybe not—but in his case, the reality is that they could not have done much any way. They needed a power beyond themselves. They needed the power of God, the power of the gospel—not just good intentions. He needed more than temporary help. He needed eternal hope. In this man’s life, this demon-oppressed person, he was without hope up until this story. We don’t know if anyone ever tried to help him or not, but what we do know is that Jesus decided to. The fact that Jesus did so is remarkable. The passage says that he went across the lake to the region of the Gerasenes, which was not normal. Good Jews stayed away from this region for two big reasons. First, the region was populated by Gentiles, non-Jewish people that they looked down their noses at. Second, the region was known for raising pigs. Pigs were considered unclean, so you never saw a good Jew down at Red, Hot, and Blue eating a pulled-pork sandwich. This region raised pork to feed the Roman soldiers garrisoned in various places in Israel, and it was a despised region. The fact that Jesus decided to purposely travel to the Gerasenes was a big deal in itself. Good Jews like the disciples would have never done that. But I love the quote I got from Zan Holmes said “Bridges are just walls turned sideways.” Zan then said, “Jesus never saw a wall that he couldn’t turn into a bridge.” Jesus is a wall-builder, and he just shows up where the needs are the greatest. He does so now through us, but in this story, he builds a bridge to the Gerasenes. And the story simply says he sailed in and then just as quickly sailed out after this man was released from the oppression. Did Jesus come all this way for this just one guy? Maybe. We don’t really know. Yet, he did come. He lands, and the demoniac comes to him. This man who was isolated from everyone, living among the tombs, comes all the way to the shore to greet Jesus. Notice what he does, he then falls on his knees before Jesus and shouts out, “Jesus, son of the Most High God? Swear to me that you will not torture me?” Who’s doing the talking? Not the man but the demon. Demons are angels who joined the angel Lucifer, now Satan, in rebellion against God. As created beings, Satan or any of the demons are not God’s equals. They can only do what they do underneath God’s sovereign control. The demon, or in this case demons, know that this is Jesus, and they beg not to be tortured, likely asking that Jesus not send them early into the eternal torment reserved for them. Jesus simply orders them to come out of the man and asks the demon to state his name. The demon answers with the Legion answers, and begs Jesus not to be sent away but instead to be able to inhabit the pigs. Jesus obliges their request, and they go into the pigs, 2000 of them, who then quickly charge into the lake and drown. But forget about the pigs and remember the person. This man was released from his oppression. The love of Jesus transforms a life. This man is now completely released from this horrific oppression. But notice something in the passage. How do the people respond? How many do you see celebrate this amazing life change? No one. Zero. The man is transformed, but that is not what people are focused on. Instead, what do they do? They beg Jesus to leave their region. Why? Because of the 2000 pigs! Their economy just got slammed. They just lost 2000 pigs from their herds. If Jesus stays around, what might happen next? They are fixated on the pigs. How much is one man’s life worth? Not 2000 pigs! Maybe one or two, but 2000? They just want Jesus out of there. They don’t want their lives disrupted any more than they already have been. They beg him to leave. And here is where this story challenges the heck out of me. How much is one life worth to me? How much disruption am I willing to introduce into my life in order to help release someone from oppression, whose life is covered over by hunger, poverty, slavery, or injustice? How much am I willing to disrupt my way of life, my own economics, my own comfort, to see lives transformed?

Christians often justify their decisions by saying, “I have a peace about it.” Is that a cop-out? Is God’s peace subjective? “Peace” is one of those Christianese terms that is sometimes used in the context of decision-making as a test for God’s will. Often when a Christian says, “I have peace about this or that,” they mean that they take that particular thing to be God’s will for them. Every Christian I’ve gotten to know over a length of time, no matter what country or culture they are from seems to have this universal catch-phrase in common. “Peace” is used as a barometer to determine the right thing to do in a given situation. Many go so far as to say, “God has given me a real peace about it.” (As opposed to him giving a false peace?) In my Christian experience I’ve sometimes taken to using the peace barometerto aid decision-making. Rather, I should say that I used to do that. I don’t do it anymore because, uh, well, because… I don’t have a peace about it. In all seriousness, as a Christian when you say you “have peace” about something it means nothing more than you “feel good” about it or there is an absence of emotional conflict. Some Christians refer to a “supernatural peace” taking their cue from Philippians 4:7, “The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” This is a comforting passage, but one that is often mistakenly called upon when trying to determine God’s will. This is a mistake because the scripture never gives us instruction to use “peace” as a barometer for determining God’s will—rather, the scripture uses conviction. Peace can be a byproduct of an already-made choice, but not always. “Peace” from a biblical view is first “peace with God” (Romans 5:1), meaning that our enmity with God has been erased by the atoning working of the Lord Jesus on the cross. Because of Jesus, God is no longer in conflict with those who have received him. We are “at peace” with him. Second, biblical “peace” is a lack of internal conflict, or perhaps we shall also call this internal enmity, with ourselves about something. In both cases this kind of peace does not proceed or coincide with a decision to do something, rather it is a byproduct of an already-made decision—sometimes. I’ll explain that qualifying “sometimes” in a moment. Take a close look at the book of Philippians for the context in which Paul was speaking when he briefly, almost in passing made his reference to the “peace of God which surpasses all understanding.” First look at when Paul said what he said, as it will aid our understanding of Paul’s context. Paul wrote this epistle while imprisoned by Rome awaiting judgment by Caesar for his evangelism activities (1:7). This was equivalent to a charge of political treason, punishable by death. Paul had peace about what he was doing and about what he would suffer because he had already made a decision—in advance—that it was right for him to set his face toward imprisonment and suffering. How many of us would have peace with that kind of decision? Paul’s imprisonment is fascinating since he deliberately set out on a mission that he knew beforehand would get him arrested. Let that sink in. I think I’ll go to jail and be executed. Yes. Ah, yes, I have peace about that. Paul’s imprisonment was no accident. He intentionally worked in such a way as to keep himself in Roman custody after he was arrested. During Paul’s time in Ephesus he set his face to go to Jerusalem knowing full well that if he preached Jesus while there (and being Paul he could not avoid it) he would be confronted and arrested. Look carefully at Paul’s words to his Ephesian brothers. “I am going to Jerusalem, constrained by the Spirit, not knowing what will happen to me there, except that the Holy Spirit testifies to me in every city that imprisonment and afflictions await me. But I do not count my life of any value nor as precious to myself…” (Acts 20:22-24). Did you notice that phrase, “constrained by the Spirit?” This is Paul’s way of saying, “I’m not really sure I like this idea, but God is moving me in this direction so I must do it regardless of my personal feelings.” Now, does this sound like Paul used “peace” to make his decision about God’s will? Not at all. Paul didn’t need supernatural peace for the decision-making process, he used conviction provided by, as he said, the Holy Spirit. Upon his arrival in Jerusalem Paul attempted to appease an angry mob of Jews that God had given the same blessing of salvation to Gentiles (Acts 22:21-22). At every step making his defense over a period of years Paul upped the ante saying things to his prosecutors and accusers that were all but assured to get him into further trouble. It was as if Paul was orchestrating things so that he could get to Rome, under Roman guard, to force a hearing for Christianity before the Roman emperor himself (Acts 25:11-12, 26:31-32, 28:18-20). In fact that is exactly what one late professor of theology taught Paul was doing. “[Paul’s] appeal to Caesar brought Christianity directly to the attention of the Roman government and compelled the civil authorities to pass judgment on its legality. If it was to be allowed as religio licita , a permitted cult, the persecution of it would be illegal, and its security would be assured. If, on the other hand, it was adjudged to be religio illicita , a forbidden cult, then the ensuing persecution would only advertise it and offer an opportunity for a demonstration of its power” ( New Testament Survey, Merrill C. Tenney, “Results of the Pauline Imprisonment,” page 329). Whether Paul would be executed or set free it was a win/win situation for Paul and a lose/lose for Rome. If Rome had simply ignored Paul and sent him on his way, Christianity would have remained in further obscurity. Paul’s strategy would either bring greater freedom to Christians to advance their faith, or cause greater suffering for the church at large. Some might have asked, who was Paul to make such a decision for the whole church? It was in this environment of difficult, sacrificial, painful choices and imprisonment that Paul wrote to his Philippian brothers, urging them to sacrifice themselves for one another, writing that his own life was nothing apart from Christ, even noting his suffering and many sacrifices to get to where he was. Isn’t that an interesting notion? I’ve sacrificed a lot to get to prison where I can suffer and be mistreated for the sake of Jesus, and possibly cause you more suffering. In the midst of all of this, when Paul knew that great suffering awaited him still, then and only then does Paul refer to the “peace that surpasses understanding.” In fact, Paul went on in the same chapter to describe how to attain that peace: “What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, practice these things and the God of peace shall be with you” (4:9). What example did Paul set for his Philippian brothers? He was an example of a man who lived godly as he embraced suffering and imprisonment with both arms for the sake of the Church and the sake of Christ. It was in that context that Paul wrote about peace – a context where Paul intentionally chose to intentionally suffer though he could have if he wanted, intentionally avoided it. By chance, do you see a pattern here? In this context what do we learn from Paul’s admonition of peace? It is that “peace that passes understanding” isn’t something that is given to make decisions. Where will I live, where will I go to school, what will be my job, who will I marry, etc.? Paul didn’t even use the peace barometer to make decisions about the persecution of the church. He used conviction. Feeling good or bad about decisions is not abnormal and does not require Paul’s “peace that passes understanding.” The peace that Paul refers to is supernatural because extreme circumstance require extreme conviction, and sometimes extreme encourageme nt. Feeling good or non-conflicted is not peace in the biblical sense. Peace in the biblical sense is that jaw-dropping, “how does he do that” sense of security and firm conviction in the face of absolutely overwhelming odds and opposition where no sense of sense makes sense to accept it. It is what the Apostle Peter had when he walked calmly to his own execution and begged to be crucified upside down because he felt unworthy of his Lord. It is what the early martyrs experienced when they smiled at the flames alight under their feat as the kindling began searing their flesh. It is what Paul experienced after he resolutely, firmly, and purposefully with deep conviction set his face to go toward imprisonment and suffering and embraced it at every step of his journey until the butcher’s axe severed his head from his neck. It is not to stand when the world demands you sit. It is the conviction to stand when the world cuts off your legs and greases the floor—and your conviction persuades others to stand with you. THAT is the kind of peace the Bible promises. Sometimes. Sometimes it’s a bit delayed. The night before the Lord Jesus was lead away to be crucified he prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane asking the Father to, “remove this cup from me” (Luke 22:42). Yet at the same time his resolution was set, “not my will, but yours be done.” Did Jesus have “peace” at this momentous moment of decision – the decision to embrace the cross? Not in the slightest. Look at the following passages: “And there appeared to him an angel from Heaven, strengthening him (22:43). Rhetorical question: Why would Jesus need strengthening? Answer: Duh! Look at the following verse, even more revealing: “And being in agony he prayed even more earnestly” (22:44). Jesus’ stress was so great that it brought about hematohidrosis, causing blood vessels around sweat glands to burst so that he “sweat drops of blood” (22:44). Was this a Jesus “at peace” or was this a Jesus resolute in his decision regardless of his feelings? Clearly, the latter. He was suffering great mental and emotional stress knowing what was to come. Yet remarkably he embraced the cross anyway. In stark, almost violent contrast Hebrews 12:2 paints the picture of Jesus’ kind of peace this way: “Who for the joy set before him endured the cross, despising its shame…” Jesus didn’t embrace the suffering of the cross because he “had peace about it.” He embraced the suffering of the cross for the peace it would bring us later. When you make decisions about what course your life will take remember that “peace” is not designed to help us make decisions. If that were the case then all of our decisions would be designed to run from suffering like children. Rather, peace is the byproduct of decisions that are pleasing to God, regardless of suffering or joy. Yet also remember the suffering of the Lord Jesus who did not experience peace in the immediate aftermath of his decision. Instead he set himself resolutely to go to the cross because of his conviction and love for us. “Peace” had nothing to do with it except for the peace he was making between God and men. Whom do you admire in the scriptures or in history the most? Chances are, like Jesus they are people who endured great suffering or turmoil, and either because of it and/or through it transformed the world around them. And they didn’t always feel good about it. In contrast to the worldview that runs from suffering, that makes it decisions through escapism, the scripture encourages times when we must embrace suffering, for out of it and through it great deeds are done, lives are transformed, and yes, even heroes are made. For there is nothing admirable about the man who embraces his personal peace at the expense of doing the right thing.

Our ICU nurses, donned in red and green scrubs, smiled and cheered as we entered the hospital ICU. Angie, Jessie’s precious “angel nurse” had crocheted a colorful Christmas stocking blanket for our dying baby. For the first time since she was born, Jessie raised her tiny arm toward us as if to wave hello. I remembered another miracle baby born in a stable so long ago. This Christmas was bittersweet. Day after day, Roger and I made the trek to the hospital, never knowing if our daughter’s tiny heart would fail before we arrived. Roger gleefully patted my burgeoning belly in anticipation for the birth of our first child. The nursery glowed with bubble-gum pink paint, the Christmas presents were bought and wrapped ahead of time. Caring for a newborn is an arduous job. My Mom and Dad flew from Dallas to Tucson to help with “rocking duty.” But when I went into labor, Jessie’s fragile heart began to fail. Dr. Raphael performed an emergency C-section. Our kind obstetrician sadly shook his head when our little one emerged from my womb. Jessie was blue and limp, three pounds at best. All of a sudden, our tiny treasure drew a breath, coughed and rallied. Her heart muscle pumped through her brittle skeleton. I was still sedated when my husband Roger heard the grim news. “God,” he prayed, “I am your servant. Why us? Why is there a nursery full of healthy babies, some that were even unwanted, and mine is born to die?” Later, Dr. Raphael gently clasped my hand and told me of Jessie’s fate. “Most Trisome 18 babies live only a week. She won’t last long. I’m so sorry!” Every part of her body created by her 18th chromosome was malformed. Her heart muscle was weak, her lungs were damaged, her little arms and legs were limp from lack of circulation. Roger placed her tiny form in my lap and we sobbed as we cradled her. Finally, we had to return her to Dr. Raphael. She was whisked away to intensive care. Jessica had to be fed with a gavage tube placed down her tiny throat because she was too weak to suck on a bottle. She lived in her “oxygen box” to make it easier to breathe. I went home, devastated, and we waited for the grim news that Jessie didn’t survive the night. And waited. We doggedly drove twenty miles to the hospital-terrified we were seeing Jessie for the last time. But every day she rallied. After two weeks, doctors and medical students came to study her. No Trisome infant had ever survived this long. The same supernatural power that formed Jesus in Mary’s womb sustained Jessie. God showed Himself mighty once again. The poet David penned these words in Psalm 139: For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. God knew Jessica’s future. No doctor could predict the impact her life would have. Answers to our prayers just kept coming. Jessie lived nine months longer than 99% of Trisome 18 babies. At the end of December, we were able to take Jessie home. She was now a whopping five pounds. She never grew past that weight. I dressed her in ruffled doll clothes because baby PJ’s were too big for her delicate frame. She was too weak to cry, so she’d raise her tiny arms when she was hungry. We fed her formula through a gavage tube every two hours. Roger and I surveyed the colorful nursery where she slept, shell-shocked that our tiny girl was still with us. As the days dragged on, we grew more and more exhausted. Roger kept up his pastoral duties and preached his socks off Sunday after Sunday. I taught piano to make ends meet. I kept Jessie in a bassinette next to my piano bench. One cold Saturday night, Roger and I slumped drained and discouraged in each other’s arms. The constant feedings left us sleep-deprived, and the stress of never knowing if she would be alive when we peered over her cradle left us frazzled and despondent. We prayed earnestly for strength. As Roger said “amen,” we immediately heard a knock at the front door. Fourteen smiling church ladies filled our porch. Were they here to bring us goodies? No. They gave us the most incredible, selfless gift. Joy Artus grinned. “Roger and Julie,” she said. “We are the Mom Squad. Every night at ten o’clock, one of us will be at your door to stay up all night with Jessie so you can sleep.” We were speechless! Our families lived a thousand miles away, so we had no help with our ailing child. Mom Squad ladies were doctors, nurses, university administrators, grandmothers, teachers…and in the nine months of Jessica’s life, they NEVER missed a night. When church members love you like that, they become your FAMILY. God had sent us our very own angels to comfort us in the darkness of our desperation. Jessica Lynn Barrier went to be with Jesus in July. We kissed her cold little forehead and said, “Hello, Jessie. We’re your Mommy and Daddy. We can finally tell you how much we love you as you smile down on us from Jesus’ lap.” We wept at her homegoing. I still cry when I remember that first Christmas with her. Many years later, I tearfully put my pen to paper to write what I would say to Jessie today. “Dear Jessica, My precious little girl with Jesus, I can hardly remember how it felt to hold your delicate frame in my arms. I thought I would forget you, but you’re with me every day. There are so many questions I want to ask you as I look heavenward. Do you miss me? I wish I’d known you as a grown-up girl-my dearest confidant and friend. The longer I live, the grayer the line between here and hereafter. There’s my indomitable father-full of faith and cheating death at least twice every year. Just when he thinks he’s headed toward Home, God turns him around, marches him back to us and tells him he still has more to do. No matter what disaster or physical challenge he faces, he simply finds another more creative way to express his love for you. The consummate artist, he finds beauty where others fail to look. And then there’s your Daddy. His earthly heart may not be strong, but it beats with a passion and power that few men have. He always sees heaven before him, and he’s never been afraid to go there. But like the Good Shepherd, I think he is still here because he’s so good at taking care of everybody else. Your sister Brianna has seemed to walk so precariously through this world, touching heaven and fighting for breath day in and day out. She spends her waking moments serving God tirelessly, but the more God uses her, the more she seems to suffer. But that doesn’t surprise you, does it, Jessie. I weep for her agony. I wish you could have shared some face time with your baby sister Bronwyn while you were here. Although I know you watch her, her antics and her puppies must make you giggle. The anguish she has suffered is deep and crue. Yet she sees the world most clearly and loves so honestly and deeply. Her pain has made her real. Her pain has made her strong. Earth-dwellers live in a fierce battleground, and those who don’t see it are simply looking the other way. Suffering must look so differently to you from heaven’s parapet. Hannah Hurnard in Hind’s Feet on High Places wrote that her protagonist, little Much Afraid, could only reach the high places by grasping the hands of Sorrow and Suffering. You see the glory side, don’t you Jessie? As I ponder life and death and love and such, I long to see through your eyes. What must it be like to look upon Jesus’ face every day? How wonderful must it be to never have unanswered questions, to fear nothing and no one? At times, brief moments during my day, I catch a glimpse of that shining place where you live and feel oddly homesick. Save me a place by your side. I’ll see you soon. Dear Jessie, My precious little girl with Jesus, I can hardly remember how it felt to hold your tiny frame in my arms. I thought I would forget you, but you’re still with me every day. There are so many questions I want to ask you as I look heavenward. Do you miss me? I wish I’d known you as a grown-up girl-my dearest confidant and friend. The longer I live, the grayer the line between here and hereafter. There’s my indomitable father-full of faith and cheating death at least twice every year. Just when he thinks he’s headed toward Home, God turns him around, marches him back to us and tells him he still has more to do. No matter what disaster or physical challenge he faces, he simply finds another more creative way to express his love for you. The consummate artist, he finds beauty where others fail to look. And then there’s your Daddy. His earthly heart may not be strong, but it beats with a passion and power that few men have. He always sees heaven before him, and he’s never been afraid to go there. But like the Good Shepherd, I think he is still here because he’s so good at taking care of everybody else. Your sister Brianna has seemed to walk so precariously through this world, touching heaven and fighting to stay here day in and day out. She spends her waking moments serving you tirelessly, but the more God uses her, the more she seems to suffer. But that doesn’t surprise you, does it, Jessie? Earth-dwellers live in a fierce battleground, and those who don’t see it are simply looking the other way. Suffering must look so differently to you from heaven’s parapet. Hannah Hurnard in “Hind’s Feet on High Places” wrote that her protagonist, little “Much Afraid” could only reach the high places by grasping the hands of Sorrow and Suffering. You see the glory side, don’t you Jessie? I wish you could have shared some face time with your baby sister, Bronwyn while you were here. Although I know you watch her, she must make you laugh. The pain she has suffered is the deepest and cruellest of all. Yet of all my girls, she sees the world most clearly and loves so honestly and deeply. Her pain has made her real. Her pain has made me strong. As I ponder life and death and love and such, I long to see through your eyes. What must it be like to see Jesus every day? How wonderful must it be to never have an unanswered question, to fear nothing and no one? At times, brief times during my day, I catch a glimpse of that shining place where you live and feel oddly homesick. Save me a place by your side. I’ll see you soon.

He had always loved those who were his own in the world, and he loved them all the way to the end. (John. 13:1) Give thanks to the Lord because he is good. His love continues forever. (Ps. 136:1) Moms, I have a question: Why do you love your newborn? I know, I know, it’s a silly question. Indulge me. Why do you? For months this baby has brought you pain. She (or he) made you break out in pimples and waddle like a duck. Because of her you craved sardines and crackers and threw up in the morning. She punched you in the tummy. She occupied space that wasn’t hers and ate food she didn’t fix. You kept her warm. You kept her safe. You kept her fed. But did she say thank you? Are you kidding? She’s no more out of the womb than she starts to cry! The room is too cold, the blanket is too rough, the nurse is too mean. And who does she want? Mom. She didn’t even tell you she was coming. She just came. And what a coming! She rendered you a barbarian. You screamed. You swore. You bite bullets and tore the sheets. And now look at you. Your back aches. Your head pounds. Your body is drenched in sweat. Every muscle strained and stretched. You should be angry, but are you? Far from it. On your face is a for-longer-than-forever love. She has done nothing for you, yet all you can talk about are her good looks and bright future. She’s going to wake you up every night for the next six weeks, but that doesn’t matter. I can see it on your face. You’re crazy about her. Why? * * * * * * * * God, I have a question: Why do you love your children? I don’t want to sound irreverent, but only heaven knows how much pain we’ve brought you. Why do you tolerate us? You give us every breath we breathe, but do we thank you? You give us bodies beyond duplication, but do we praise you? Seldom. We complain about the weather. We bicker about our toys. We argue over who gets which continent and who has the best gender. Not a second passes when someone, somewhere doesn’t use your name to curse a hammered thumb or a bad call by the umpire. (As if it were your fault.) You fill the world with food, but we blame you for hunger. You keep the earth from tilting and the Arctic’s from thawing, but we accuse you of unconcern. You give blue skies, and we demand rain. You give rain, and we demand sun. As if we knew what was best, anyway. We give more applause to a brawny ball-carrier than we do the God who made us. We sing more songs to the moon than to the Christ who saved us. We are a gnat on the tail of one elephant in the galaxy of Africa’s and yet we demand that you find us a parking place when we ask. And if you don’t give us what we want, we say you don’t exist. As if our opinion matters. We pollute the world you loan us. We mistreat the bodies you gave us. We ignore the Word you sent us. And we killed the Son you became. We are spoiled babies who take and kick and pout and blaspheme. You have every reason to abandon us. I sure would! I would wash my hands of the whole mess and start over on Mars. But do you? I see the answer in the rising of the sun. I hear the answer in the crashing of the waves. I feel the answer in the skin of a child. Father, your love never ceases. Never. Though we spurn you, ignore you, disobey you, you will not change. Our evil cannot diminish your love. Our goodness cannot increase it. Our faith does not earn it anymore than our stupidity jeopardizes it. You don’t love me less if I fail. You don’t love me more if I succeed. Your love never ceases. How do we explain it? The answer is found in the eyes of the mother. Why does she love her newborn? Because the baby is hers? Even more. Because the baby is her. Her blood. Her flesh. Her sinew and spine. Her hope. Her legacy. It bothers her not that the baby gives nothing. She knows a newborn is helpless, weak. She knows babies don’t ask to come into this world. And God knows we didn’t either. We are his idea. We are his. His face. His eyes. His hands. His touch. We are him. Look deeply into the face of every human being on earth and you will see his likeness. Though some appear to be distant relatives, they are not. God has no cousins, only children. We are, incredibly, the body of Christ. And though we may not act like our Father, there is no greater truth than this: We are his. Unalterably. He loves us. Undyingly. There is nothing that can separate us from the love of Christ. (Rom. 8:38, 39) Had God not said those words, I would be a fool to write them. But since he did, I’m a fool not to believe them. Nothing can separate us from the love of Christ. But how difficult to embrace this truth. You think you’ve committed an act which places you outside his love. A treason. A betrayal. An aborted promise. You think, he would love you more if you hadn’t done it, right? You think he would love you more if you did more, right? You think if you were better, his love would be deeper, right? Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. His love is not human. His love is not normal. His love sees your sin and loves you still. Does he approve of your error? No. Do you need to repent? Yes. But do you repent for his sake or yours? Yours. His ego needs no apology. His love needs no bolstering. And he could not love you more than he does right now.

A few years ago, I learned a lesson about the faithfulness of God, a lesson that I will probably never forget. I would like to be able to tell you it was due to something earth-shakingly significant, but it was actually quite mundane. That was the beauty of it. I had a clock radio that I used to get up to every morning. At one point, the alarm function ceased working, but it wasn’t really a problem because I would generally wake up in time to get to work by 9:30, and I worked flex-time. But one evening I realized that I needed to get up early the next morning (no later than 6:00) and had no alarm clock. The clock part still worked fine, but the alarm didn’t work. And at that time, there was no place in Rolla Missouri to buy an alarm clock at 11:00 p.m. In desperation, I told God that I really needed to awake at 6:00, and asked Him to wake me. My faith made mustard seeds look gargantuan. The next morning, when my eyes opened, I was looking directly at the clock radio, and it said 6:00 on the money. The alarm had not gone off, but there I was wide-awake. Hmmm! Pretty neat, I thought, but was it for real? So over the next few days, I performed an experiment. Each night, I would ask God to wake me at a particular time the next morning. To make the experiment more robust, I would randomly vary the time I wanted my wake-up call. Each morning, when I awoke, I would look at the clock, and it was exactly the time I had requested. This went on for several months, and every morning, I would awake at the exact time I had requested the night before. I didn’t always get up at that time, but without fail, I would wake up at the exact time I asked for Him to wake me – until one day. It was a late Saturday night, and I asked God to wake me at 6:00 the next morning. I had to finish my class lesson, and was leading worship that morning, so I needed to get to church early to get ready for that. So I went to sleep, confident that He would wake me at 6:00. When I awoke, I rolled over and to my horror saw that it was 7:00 instead of 6:00. I was shaken, and in my panic to get ready quickly, I skipped breakfast and rushed up to church, the whole time wondering why He had not awakened me as before. I ran up to the church door, grabbed the handle, and pulled against the locked door. Stunned, I stood there confused. The whole morning had been totally disorienting, but why was the door locked? Then it hit me. I sank to the door-step, sat down and began to laugh. If any one had driven by just then, I’m sure they would have called the rubber truck – I was totally in stitches. I had forgotten to reset my clock for the change from daylight savings time, but God had not forgotten the time change. Since that day, I have remembered that as the day God showed me just how faithful He is. I no longer need to have Him awaken me, but many mornings as I awake and look at the clock, I smile and wonder at the faithfulness of a God who remembers to reset the clock when I don’t.

Dear Roger, Please explain to me how quantum mechanics explains the reality and existence of God? Sincerely, Julie Dear Reader, Julie didn’t ask the question quite like that—just sort of. Let me summarize what happened and my answer to her. I hope you find my thoughts stimulating, intriguing and assuring. “I can’t believe how much I enjoy reading physics books and thinking about how God organized and created the universe,” I said to Julie as we lay in bed one night. I was reading another book about quantum mechanics, and she was hoping that I would soon turn off the light so she could go to sleep. “I’ve read about ten books on the subject and I think I am starting to understand it just a little bit,” I said to her. “In fact, I think that I’ve figured out how quantum mechanics verifies the existence of God.” “That sounds exciting. Tell me about it.” “Well, I am not really sure that I can. It’s too complicated. “You are good at making things simple,” she said, “try me.” So, I did. Let’s start with Isaac Newton. Alexander Pope entwined: “Nature and Nature’s laws lay hid in night: God said ‘Let Newton be! And all was light.” Newton’s laws explain how the world works in the physical realm in which we live. From the orbits of planets to measuring force, mass and acceleration Newton’s laws explain it all. Then, along came Albert Einstein to upset the physics apple cart with his general theory of relativity. The general theory explains how gravity curves space as illustrated by the bending of light photons as they pass near a massive star. When his theory was actually verified experimentally it became obvious to many physicists that Newton’s Laws simply didn’t work on the macro level—like the size of the universe. For example, scientists must factor in general relativity in plotting satellite orbits if they have any intention actually putting an object in the proper orbit. It they were to depend on Newton they would miss the proper orbit every time. Newton’s laws are now known to be simply approximations—on every level. On the other hand, Quantum Mechanics explains the behaviors of atoms on the micro level. Newton’s laws don’t work on this level either. The energy of an atom was found to change only by a discrete quantity named a “quantum”. In other words, you can’t have half of a quantum. They either come whole or not at all. Einstein used Max Planck’s work that explained the glow of hot bodies to suggest that light was a stream of discrete particles. Each particle had the energy level of one quantum. Quantum Mechanics explains how the sun shines; how TVs produce pictures; why grass is green and the big bang eruption that brought our universe into existence. Computers, game boys, iPads and lasers all depend on the application of quantum mechanics. Without quantum mechanics none of the things mentioned above could be understood or applied. What makes quantum mechanics so difficult to understand is that everything about it goes against our every day experiences and common sense. J.B.S. Haldane marveled: “Quantum theory is not only queerer than we suppose. It is queerer than we can suppose.” Niels Bohr said, “Anyone not shocked by quantum Mechanics has not understood it”. Here are some counter intuitive truths about Quantum Mechanics. Remember that everything I am about to share has been experimentally verified. In fact, no part of Quantum Mechanics has ever been shown to be inaccurate or false. QM tells us that an observation of one object can instantaneously influence the behavior of another greatly distant object even if no physical force connects the two. QM tells us that observing an object to be some place causes it to be there. It wasn’t there before you observed it. If we observe an atom to be someplace, it was our looking at it that caused it to be there. QM tells us that an object can be in many places and many states at once. QM denies the existence of a physically real world independent of someone’s observations of it. It is not common sense that one object can be in two far apart places at once. Common sense tells us that there is a “real world” whether or not we look at it. But, that is not true. Nothing is real until someone observes it. A photon of light—or an atom—is either a wave or a particle depending on what we want it to be. Objects can exist in multiple places and only become real and localized when an observer expects it to be somewhere and actually looks for it there. Einstein struggled with accepting quantum theory and its implications. “I cannot seriously believe in quantum theory because … physics should represent a reality in time and space, free from spooky actions at a distance.” “Spooky actions at a distance” means that two objects speeding away from each other at the speed of light are still instantaneously connected. Fiddle with one particle and the other is fiddled exactly the same even though no one is fiddling with it. In other words, Einstein wanted things to be real and separate from each other whether someone was looking or not. However, QM reveals that matter is not real and separate—it is unreal while being completely intertwined with everything in existence. If a tree falls in the forest, does it make any sound? No, of course not. The falling tree produces air waves, not sound. Sound only occurs when a human ear is near enough to process the moving air waves into electrical signals that we “hear” in our brains as “sounds.” It should be obvious by now that the implications of quantum demand an encounter with human consciousness. Eugene Wigner declared: “It is not possible to formulate the laws of Quantum Mechanics in a fully consistent way without reference to the consciousness.” I think that it is safe to say that many physicists ignore the implication that objects in a physical world can actually be directed and influenced by human consciousness. physicists utilize the mechanics and mathematics of QM but most refuse to acknowledge the consciousness enigma (By the way, QM does not support the ideas of mysticism, ESP, etc. for reasons we won’t take time to engage with now). That evening in bed I was pondering something Einstein said when I had my “eureka” moment. Einstein once said, “I’d like to think that the moon was there even when I was not looking at it.” Then it hit me. Einstein may not be observing the moon at some particular moment—but God is. His observation makes it real! We live in a world with substance and reality because God is presently observing everything on earth as well as all in the universe surrounding us. From our perspective we live on a big earth in a big universe. We might do well to consider a broader perspective. Maybe our universe is more like the sphere dangling from the cat collar in the movie, “Men in Black.” The sphere was dazzling. Look really closely and see that what hangs around the cat’s neck is actually an entire universe. Hebrews 11:3 is my Biblical outline of quantum mechanics: “By faith we understand that the universe was formed at God’s command, so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible.” In Genesis 1:1-31 the Bible describes God as thinking and speaking the universe into existence: And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. … And God said, “Let there be an expanse between the waters to separate water from water.” And it was so. … And God said, “Let the water under the sky be gathered to one place, and let dry ground appear.”… And it was so. … Then God said, “Let the land produce vegetation: seed-bearing plants and trees on the land that bear fruit with seed in it, according to their various kinds.” And it was so. … And God said, “Let there be lights in the expanse of the sky to separate the day from the night, … And it was so. … And God said, “Let the water teem with living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the expanse of the sky.” … And God saw that it was good. … And God said, “Let the land produce living creatures according to their kinds … And God saw that it was good. Then God said, “Let us make man in our image,” … God saw (observed) all that he had made, and it was very good. John 1:1-3 reveals that God the Son, Jesus Christ, was the One Who carried out the actual creation to make something out of nothing: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made”. When I finished my explanation to Julie, she said, “That was really good. Why don’t you make it an Ask Roger answer for next week?” So I did. Love, Roger

Share 0 Hi Roger, I have a small group I am teaching, actually three of my best friends, one a Catholic, one a Lutheran, and one an alcoholic. They really need the Lord; however, the alcoholic says she doesn’t believe in God, what do I say? She drinks even at our study and I am torn about how to proceed or if I should. Name Withheld” Dear Name Withheld, I am sorry about your friend; alcoholism usually ends in tragedy not only for the alcoholic but for everyone around them. The devastation spreads like the ripples of a stone tossed into a pond. I understand both your pain and your concern for her wellbeing. You would do most anything to help her get help, wouldn’t you? Of course you would. The obvious answer is Christ is greater than any addiction. Your friend’s salvation is the key to deliverance. But few find victory instantaneously. What can you do—really? The person has to be ready. The denial mechanism is so strong that most alcoholics have considerable difficulty both seeing the oncoming destruction and doing anything to avert the tragedy. But, the situation is not hopeless. Consider talking to her family and close friends about arranging an “intervention” for her. An intervention occurs when family and close friends all get together for a surprise confrontation with their alcoholic friend. Sometimes the shock of experiencing so many close friends and family sharing their concern for her will cause the alcoholic to surrender to treatment. Unfortunately, this process is usually not successful; however, fortunately, sometimes, it does work. It is important to have planned in advance which treatment center he/she will go to that very night. The move to treatment must occur immediately following the intervention, otherwise he/she will soon change their minds and the intervention will be for naught. It is wise for you to work out with the family and other friends a treatment plan for when the alcoholic finally reaches “bottom” and is so broken that they will surrender for help. Regarding the non belief and/or need for the Lord among your friends, my suggestion is to continue focusing on your daily walk with Christ. Nothing pushy, just authentic. No rational arguments, just the indwelling life of Christ that you enjoy. The picture of Christ is beautiful to behold and desirably attractive for people whose lives are a mess. I believe that the advice Peter gave to wives about winning their non-Christian husbands is applicable in every situation where we are longing to lead a friend or loved one to Christ: Wives, in the same way be submissive to your husbands so that, if any of them do not believe the word, they may be won over without words by the behavior of their wives, when they see the purity and reverence of your lives. Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight (1 Peter 3:1-5). Of course, prayer can change things. So we add a dose of prayer to our endeavors. While your friend has free will to make any choice she wants, you may pray for Jesus to place her in circumstances which might pave the way for her surrender to the Person and Lordship of Christ. By the way, remember that coming to Christ always involves a spiritual battle. Pray against the spiritual blindness Satan imparts to souls in hindering their coming to Christ. Paul gave us insight into this behind-the-scenes battle over the souls of men and women: The god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. For we do not preach ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake. For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ (2 Corinthians 4:4-6). I hope that my answer helps to give some positive direction for a difficult situation. Love, Roger