Easy

Easy

All things have been committed to me by my Father. No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal him. Come to me all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. (Matthew 11:27-30)

Jimmy and his son, Davey, were playing in the ocean down in Mexico while his wife, daughters, parents, and a cousin sat on the beach. Suddenly, a rogue wave swept Davey out to sea. Jimmy immediately started to do whatever he could to help Davey get back to shore, but soon he, too, was swept away by the tide. He knew that within minutes, both he and Davey would drown. He screamed for help, but his family couldn't hear him. Now Jimmy's a strong guy – an Olympic decathlete – but he was utterly powerless to prevent the tragedy now looming only minutes, or maybe even seconds, away.

Meanwhile, his cousin, who understood something about the ocean, saw what was happening and walked out into the water where he knew there was a sandbar. He had learned that if you try and fight a riptide, you’ll die trying. So, he walked to the sandbar, stood as close as he could get to Jimmy and Davey, and then lifted up his hand and said, "You come to me. You come to me." They did – and they survived.

Frankly, this passage from Matthew has always baffled me. It’s one of those verses that sounds really nice and, for a while, I get a lot of comfort from it. But then, when things get pushed too far, I realize I have no idea what it means and, worse yet, that it doesn’t even seem to be true – at least as far as I can see. Because if we say that Jesus’ yoke is living in obedience to God as Jesus did, then we’re way up the proverbial creek without a paddle. I mean anyone who has actually devoted themselves to following God’s instruction figures out in pretty short order that God is forever asking people to do things which are hard, if not impossible.

Abraham, leave your home and your family. I’ll tell you where you’re going later, but just go now. (Genesis 12:1)

David, take a small rock and go kill that giant. (1 Samuel 17:40)

Hosea, marry that woman who’s going to cheat on you and redeem her with your love. Oh, yeah, and make sure everyone knows about your humiliation so they can see a model of my love for them. (Hosea 1:2-10)

Jesus, give up your glory to live among the fallen and then let yourself be tortured and killed. (John 17:1-5)

Paul, you just keep on preaching until they kill you. And when you’re whipped bloody and imprisoned, be sure to count it all glory. (Romans 8:18)

God’s ways are many things, but easy and light? Uh, not so much. So what’s Jesus talking about?

Well, recall that Matthew, a Jewish tax collector (writing to a thoroughly Jewish audience), tells us throughout his gospel that Jesus spoke frequently about Jewish law and tradition. So, Jesus’ comment about his yoke being easy was, in one sense, a capstone to his Religion 101 class found earlier in the Sermon on the Mount. (Matt. 5:1 – 7:29) But from a broader perspective, this same discourse was really his commentary on the Torah (the first five books of the Old Testament), and the whole of Jewish law.

For instance, in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus emphasized the need for forgiveness, reconciliation, and charity since his teaching was actually an expansion of God’s command in Deuteronomy 6:4-5 to “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength,” referred to as the shema. But Jesus goes on to state that not only are we called to love God unequivocally, but to love our neighbor as well, whether friend or enemy, since they’re made in God’s image, too. (Matt. 5:38-48)

So, when Jesus uses the yoke analogy, he’s commenting on Jewish law and tradition which uses the term “yoke" at least 40 times in the Old Testament. For instance, according to Jewish tradition, to be in a right relationship with God was to accept the yoke of heaven. But the prophets Jeremiah and Isaiah also tell us that to be burdened with sin is to live under the heavy yoke of slavery. In other words, for first-century Jews, the yoke of the law was actually a double-entendre: in its best sense, it was an acceptance of the shema. But in its negative context, it was the obligation to scrupulously obey all of the minor details of the Levitic and Deutoronomic Law, as interpreted by the Scribes – some 620 Talmudic commands in all!

It’s no wonder, then, that Jesus openly railed against the Pharisees and their interpretation of the law as recorded by Matthew in Chapter 23:2-4: The teachers of the law and the Pharisees sit in Moses' seat. So you must obey them and do everything they tell you. But do not do what they do, for they do not practice what they preach. They tie up heavy loads and put them on men's shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to life a finger to move them. However, to suggest, on the other hand, that Jesus is simply arguing that his approach to the faith is easier than the Pharisee’s approach to the law is an over-simplification.

Again, in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus interpreted the Law. But he actually went a bit further than that: Think not that I have come to abolish the law and the prophets; I have come not to abolish them but to fulfill them. (Matthew 5:17) So, in our passage, Jesus is asserting two messianic claims: first, only the Son can reveal the Father (Vs. 27), and that his yoke is easy. (Vs. 30) In other words, Jesus is explicitly interpolating himself as the “yoke” – the way, the path, or the avenue to the Father.

But then Jesus takes the yoke analogy one step further. Since God is known through the Law (Romans 2:17-18), when Jesus says his yoke is easy he’s actually saying, “I am the Law, but the law that I impose is not a heavy burden” because although “… the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Christ Jesus.” (John 1:17) In other words, the yoke is not the law. The yoke is his grace and the truth of his divinity.

OK, but then you begin to wonder if you’re crazy thinking that it could be that simple. And it doesn’t help when people come up to you with those sad, puppy-dog eyes asking in tones usually reserved for the infirmed, “How are you doing?” “Fine,” you reply with a smile. “No, really. It must be so hard. It’s OK not to hide behind a strong face all the time.” “Um, well I have my moments, but really, I’m doing well. I’m just trusting God, I guess.” “Sure. Well, if you ever need to talk ….” And then they pat you on the hand, say “God bless,” and walk away. And that’s a best case scenario.

So you begin to wonder. “I thought I was OK. Actually, I’m pretty happy. But maybe I’m just kidding myself. Maybe I’m subjecting myself to some weird form of self-induced brainwashing when really I should be majorly depressed and planning a trip to the doctor for some happy pills. What if it’s not really God and I’m just CRAZY? Ahhhhhhh!” Well, that’s what you say to yourself if you’re me.

The fact of the matter is that we struggle with the yoke because it’s easy and light. We’re like oxen who’ve been trained up under too much weight – always having to lean into it, tug and pull and huff and puff at the exertion of carrying this heavy yoke. And then Jesus comes along and gives us His. But it just feels wrong. “Trust? Really? Grace? Are you kidding me? That’s too easy and too light. It can’t be right.” So we go back to our old, heavy yokes. They’re painful, but hey, at least they feel like they fit.

And then all of us who’ve taken back our yokes (if we ever actually took them off in the first place) sit up at night and worry just like everyone else. And we live just like everyone else, because God can’t really think I’d be able to go there or do that – He knows what an unreasonable burden that would be. That’s for saints and missionaries, not for everyday Christians like me who’re just trying to stay out of trouble.

So here’s one last thought. Jesus says that he is going to take away one burden in exchange for another. But how does that help? I mean, a yoke’s a yoke, right? Well, the word “yoke” is an interesting one. It can mean several things, like we’ve discussed. It can mean “oppression,” or it can mean “being under the authority of something or someone.” But a yoke is also something that joins together, like two animals together to plow the field.

If you go to the actual Greek, the word “yoke”’ is ζυγός which means a coupling (figuratively), or servitude (as to a law or obligation). It derives from the root word ζεύγνυμι, meaning to join, which appears in Mark 10:9 where Jesus says, … what God has joined together, let no man put asunder. Sound familiar? Yeah, we hear that all the time at weddings.

So, read Matthew 11:30 again – that to be yoked with Christ is to be united with Him in the same way in which a husband and a wife would be united to each other. In other words, taking on the yoke of Jesus means to be united with Him. And in that sense, the yoke of Jesus is our union with him.

Now that’s easy.

Grace,

Randy

Faithful

Faithful

Remember always, as the center of everything, Jesus Christ, a man of human ancestry, yet raised by God from the dead according to my Gospel. For preaching this I am having to endure being chained in prison as if I were some sort of a criminal. But they cannot chain the Word of God, and I can endure all these things for the sake of those whom God is calling, so that they too may receive the salvation of Jesus Christ, and its complement of glory after the world of time. I rely on this saying: If we died with him we shall also live with him: if we suffer with him we shall also reign with him. If we deny him he will also deny us: yet if we are faithless he always remains faithful. He cannot deny his own nature.
(2 Tim. 2:8-13)

Thomas Obadiah Chisolm had a difficult life as a young adult. In fact, his health was so fragile that there were times when he was confined to his bed, completely unable to work. Between bouts of illness he would have to push himself to put in extra hours at various jobs just to make ends meet. But despite his difficulties, Thomas found great comfort in the Scriptures, particularly in the fact that God was faithful to be his strength in time of illness and weakness, and to provide for his needs.

Later in life, while away on a mission’s trip, Thomas wrote several letters to one of his good friends, William Runyan, a little-known musician at the time. Occasionally, Thomas would include one of the poems he had written along with the letter. Runyan found one of Thomas' poems so moving that he decided to put it to music. The hymn got very little recognition, however, until it was discovered by a Moody Bible Institute professor who loved it so much, and requested it sung so often at chapel services, that the song became the unofficial theme song of the college. But it was not until 1954, when George Beverly Shea began to sing Great is Thy Faithfulness at the Billy Graham evangelistic crusades, that the hymn was heard around the world – some 31 years after its composition.

Fortunately, God’s faithfulness has never depended upon the faithfulness of his children. He is faithful even when we aren’t. When we lack courage, he doesn’t. In fact, he’s made a history out of using people in spite of themselves.

Take the feeding of the five thousand, for example. It’s the only miracle, aside from those of the final week of Jesus’ life, that’s recorded in all four Gospels. (Matt. 14:13-21; Mark 6:31-44; Luke 9:10-17; and John 6:5-15) So, why did all four writers think it worth repeating? Maybe because they wanted to show how God doesn’t give up even when His people do.

That particular day began with the news of the death of John the Baptist, and it continued with the return of the disciples from a short-term mission’s trip. Following the disciples were five thousand men and their families. Jesus tried to get away from the crowd by crossing the Sea of Galilee (about 8 miles wide) to a little fishing village, Bethsaida, only to find the crowd waiting for him there. He wanted to mourn the news of John the Baptist in solitude, but instead he was surrounded by people. He wanted to spend time with just the disciples, but he got a crowd instead. He wanted time to think, but he had people to face.

So, he spent time teaching them, and then he turned to Philip and asked, “Where can we buy enough bread for all these people to eat?” (John 6:5) Keep in mind now that Philip, along with the other disciples, had just come back from casting out demons and healing the sick. (Mark 6:13) So, you’d expect him to be kind of optimistic. A little bit of faith would seem entirely appropriate. After all, he’s just spent several weeks seeing the impossible happen right before his very eyes.

But how does Philip respond? Well, he indentifies the problem alright, but has absolutely no clue how to solve it. “We would all have to work a month to buy enough food for each person to have only a little piece,” he groans. (John 6:7)

In other words, he can cite the stats, but he can’t see how to help. He can crunch the numbers, but he can’t construct the answer. And even though the very answer to prayer is standing right in front of him, he doesn’t even think to pray.

Equally disturbing is the silence of the other disciples. Are they optimistic? Well, read their words and see for yourself: “No one lives in this place and it is already very late. Send the people away so they can go to the countryside and towns around here to buy themselves something to eat.” (Mark 6:35-36)

Come on, guys. How about a little faith, huh? Maybe something along the lines of: “You can do it, Jesus. No challenge is too great for you. I mean, we’ve seen you heal the sick and raise the dead. So, feeding this crowd? That’s a clown question, bro.” But that’s not what they said. In fact, if faith were a candle, these guys had entirely flamed out.

Apparently, it never occurred to the disciples to turn the problem over to Jesus. Only Andrew came close, but even his faith was small. “Here is a boy with five loaves of barley bread and two little fish, but that is not enough for so many people.” (John 6:9)

Andrew at least comes to Jesus with an idea. But he doesn’t come with much faith. In fact, you’d be hard pressed to find much faith on the hill that day.

Philip was cynical; Andrew was doubtful; and the other disciples were negative.

Look at them: they aren’t praying; they aren’t believing; they aren’t even seeking a solution. If they’re doing anything, they’re telling Jesus what to do! “Send the people away.” (Mark 6:36) A little bossy, don’t you think?

Thankfully, God is greater than our weakness. In fact, our weaknesses reveal just how great God is. He told another struggler, the apostle Paul, “When you are weak, my power is made perfect in you.” (2 Cor. 12:9) And the feeding of the five thousand is a perfect example of this principal. In fact, the scene answers the question, “What does God do when his children are weak?”

But if God ever needed an excuse to give up on people, he had one here. Surely God is going to banish these followers until they learn to believe. But is that what he does? You decide. “Then Jesus took the loaves of bread, thanked God for them, and gave them to the people who were sitting there. He did the same with the fish, giving as much as the people wanted.” (John 6:11)

When the disciples didn’t pray, Jesus prayed. When the disciples didn’t see God, Jesus sought God. When the disciples were weak, Jesus was strong. When the disciples had no faith, Jesus had faith – and he thanked God.

For what? The crowds? The pandemonium? The weariness? The faithless disciples? No, he thanked God for the basket of bread and two little fish. He ignored the clouds and found the ray of sunshine and thanked God for it. And look what he does next. “Jesus divided the bread and gave it to his followers, who gave it to the people.” (Matt. 14:19)

In other words, rather than punishing the disciples, he employs them! There they go, passing out the bread they didn’t request, enjoying the answer to the prayer they didn’t even pray. If Jesus would have reacted according to the faith of his disciples, the multitudes would have starved. But he didn’t. And he doesn’t. God is true to us even when we forget him.

God’s blessings are dispensed according to the riches of his grace, not according to the depth of our faith. Like our text states, “If we are faithless he always remains faithful. He cannot deny his own nature.” (2 Tim. 2:13)

Why is that important to know? So we won’t get cynical. I mean, just look around you. Aren’t there more mouths to feed than there’s bread available? Aren’t there more wounds to heal than physicians can possibly mend? Aren’t there more who need the truth than those who’re available to tell it? Aren’t there more churches asleep than there are churches on fire?

So what do we do? Throw our hands up and walk away? Tell the world we can’t help them? That’s what the disciples wanted to do.

No, we don’t give up. We look up. We trust. We believe. And our optimism is not empty, or hollow. Christ has proven worthy. He has shown that he never fails even though there is nothing but failure in us.

God is faithful even when his children aren’t. That’s what makes God, God.

Grace,

Randy

Oxymoron

Oxymoron

     

      Early the following spring, in the month of Nisan, during the twentieth year of King Artaxerxes' reign, I was serving the king his wine. I had never before appeared sad in his presence. So the king asked me, "Why are you looking so sad? You don't look sick to me. You must be deeply troubled."
     Then I was terrified, but I replied, "Long live the king! How can I not be sad? For the city where my ancestors are buried is in ruins, and the gates have been destroyed by fire."
     The King asked, "Well, how can I help you?"
     With a prayer to the God of heaven, I replied, "If it please the king, and if you are pleased with me, your servant, send me to Judah to rebuild the city where my ancestors are buried."
     The king, with the queen sitting beside him, asked, "How long will you be gone? When will you return?" After I told him how long I would be gone, the king agreed to my request. (Nehemiah 2:1-6)

        An oxymoron (from the Greek word, ὀξύμωρον, meaning "sharp dull") is a figure of speech that combines contradictory terms. (Since when has a word been defined by the word? Now that’s an oxymoron!) But here’s a few examples: original copy; jumbo shrimp; pretty ugly; found missing; definite maybe; only choice; freezer burn. Oh, yeah, here’s another: short prayer! “Short prayer?”

Really, is there any such thing as a short prayer? Because when you think about prayer, what comes to mind? Yeah, I know – the kind of prayer that goes on for hours and hours, says the same thing over and over again, and throws in a lot of "thee's" and "thou's" for good measure just to impress the crowd. Frankly, I don't know the last time I've heard one, much less said one.

Sometimes, however, we make too much of prayer by making it far too complicated. Here’s what I mean. God’s our father, we’re His kids, and you can talk to your dad any time about anything you want. Sometimes you talk to Him for a long time, sometimes you just give a little shout out, “Hey, Dad.” You know, just a quickie. Sometimes you pour your heart out to God through tears. Then again, sometimes you just say, “Thanks.” There are all kinds of prayers: long prayers, short prayers, in-between prayers.

Our man, Nehemiah, prays throughout the book repeatedly, and it’s one of the great threads that weaves the whole book together. And in our particular passage, Nehemiah offers up a quick little prayer because, well … you know, certain decisions in life, even certain opportunities in life, are strategic. If you miss it, it’s gone. For instance, are you going to an important job interview? Pray. Taking a test? Definitely pray. She’s cute, you’re scared and hoping she’ll go out with you? Pray – a lot! So, here, Nehemiah sends up a prayer, something along the lines of, “God, give me the right words, give me the right spirit, give him the right attitude, and please don’t let him kill me. Amen.” A quick little prayer.

But who’s this Nehemiah character, anyway? Well, the first chapter of the book bearing his name provides some pretty important details. The year is 446 B.C., and Nehemiah is living in one of the Persian capitals, Shushan. Artaxerxes is the king of the Persian Empire, and Nehemiah is on the state payroll: he’s a cupbearer. (Oh, I see. So he just kind of hung out and threw a few back with the King?) No, not really.

Actually, the cupbearer was an officer of high rank in the Egyptian, Persian and Assyrian empires. In those days, one of the best ways to get rid of a king was to poison him. So, to prevent a catastrophe from happening, the cupbearer would taste the wine before the king drank any of it. That way, if the wine had been poisoned, the cupbearer would die instead of the king. It was a very admirable, but risky, profession. (Think of it like test-driving a Merlot without any brakes) Because of the constant fear of plots and intrigues, a person had to be regarded as thoroughly trustworthy to be a cupbearer. And because of the job’s close relationship to the king, it was often a position of great influence.

So, Nehemiah’s life was centered on serving and pleasing the king. Still, as a Jewish man living in exile, Nehemiah’s thoughts were on home. We know this because, at the very beginning of the book, we see Nehemiah asking about the state of Jerusalem, including the condition of those who remained. The report was pretty grim: the survivors were seriously depressed, and the wall around Jerusalem was nothing but charred rubble. In other words, the most precious monuments of Nehemiah’s homeland had been completely destroyed, and many of his friends and family murdered. Making matters worse, Nehemiah was some 800 miles from home when he got the news. Think of it this way. It’s September 11, 2001, and you’re living in California, some 2,800 miles away from ground zero when you witness the complete annihilation of the twin towers. And with it? The loss of 2,740 American lives. That might have been a lot like Nehemiah’s thinking, who sat down and cried for days after getting the news.

But can we relate to his response after receiving the bad news? You see, Nehemiah not only wept and mourned, but he also fasted and prayed. And, as we’ll see, Nehemiah was prepared to do more than just pray; he was prepared to act. Here’s an example.

There was this guy who prayed each week, for years, asking God to help him win the lottery. In exchange, the man promised God that he would give a lot of his new-found wealth to the church. After months of praying, he began to question if God would ever answer his prayer. So he cried out, “Lord, aren’t you going to help me out here?!” To which God responded, “Hey, you’ve kind of got to meet Me half-way on this, OK? If I’m going to answer your prayer, you’ve got to purchase a lottery ticket.” Not great theology, but the point is that there’s an intersection between God’s sovereignty and human responsibility. Let me explain.

God doesn’t need us to carry out His will. Really, He doesn’t. It’s not as if God is somehow handcuffed by our lack of participation. And yet, although God doesn’t need our participation, He honors it. In fact, the Bible reveals a God who loves to respond to his creation when they’re engaged in action. This is important to note since we’re prone to move between one of two opposite extremes.

To our right is the extreme that believes God is sovereign and doesn’t need our help. But this extreme generally leads to the wrong conclusion that since God is sovereign, we shouldn’t bother God with our petty little requests. Stated differently? God will do whatever He wants to do regardless of whether or not He’s asked. Now, if this had been Nehemiah’s theology he probably would have said in response to the news about Jerusalem something like, “Well, that stinks, but hey, don’t worry! God will fix things before too long. So, let’s just get back to business as usual here in Shushan. There’s no need to lose any sleep over it. God will act when He’s good and ready.” Now, it’s perfectly appropriate to think of God as being sovereign because, well …. He is. But, we blow it if we allow that kind of thinking to lead to a sense that our involvement is inconsequential. That’s called “fatalism,” or “determinism.” It’s not good theology.

On our left, however, is the other extreme that says that prayer, in and of itself, changes things. With that kind of mindset, we can get to the point of thinking that everything hinges on our prayers. If this had been Nehemiah’s theology, he probably would have said, “Oh, this is all our fault! If we’d only prayed harder for our home boys, Jerusalem wouldn’t be all messed up. But it’s not too late. We can fix this if we just pray hard enough. Then, God will do what we ask.” This kind of thinking leads to the conclusion that God is no longer sovereign, we are, and that, somehow, our prayers coax God into doing something that He didn’t want to do in the first place. But now that we’ve gone and pestered Him to death …. well, He’s gotta act! Now don’t get me wrong. I believe in persistency, but this kind of thinking carries matters to an extreme. Nehemiah, on the other hand, regarded God as both utterly sovereign and willing to respond to human action.

We don’t have to read too many verses before we see that God responds to Nehemiah’s prayer, but some three months later! And this is an important detail for all of us who expect God to instantly move mountains when we pray. Even if we cite scripture assuring us that God will answer our prayers, the Bible is replete with examples that God will, in fact, answer our prayers, but at a time and in a manner of His choosing. Prayer’s not some sort of magical incantation that produces instantaneous results. So, approximately three months after hearing the news of Jerusalem’s desperate circumstances, Nehemiah has an encounter with the king. In fact, the king is quite concerned about Nehemiah since, apparently, Nehemiah had some sort of hang-dog look on his face and was looking pretty down in the mouth. “Waz up, Nehemiah? Why the long face?” Nehemiah’s response? “Why shouldn’t I look this way when my hometown is a smoking hulk?”

Apparently sympathetic to Nehemiah’s situation, the king says, “So, how can I help you?”And what follows the king’s question is striking, maybe even profound, because rather than immediately answering the king, Nehemiah …………….. prayed.

Now, get the picture. Nehemiah’s standing in front of the monarch of the strongest nation on the planet, and seated next to him is his wife no less. Compounding this is the fact that Nehemiah is absolutely terrified. He’s just standing there with cup in hand, eyes like saucers, knees knocking, hands shaking, palms sweating, heart racing, head throbbing and …….. he prays. I’m thinking it wasn’t a very long prayer. In fact, the king probably didn’t see his lips move or even notice the slight hesitation in Nehemiah’s response. It was just long enough for Nehemiah to call upon the God of the universe for help.

I can remember a time in elementary school when a comment would frequently show up on my report card – something along the lines of “Randy needs to think before he speaks.” (Yeah, I know. Pretty funny, huh? Problem is – it still plagues me) But Nehemiah does one better: he prays before he speaks. How many of us can say that? Too often, we think of prayer as some sort of scheduled time on the calendar to talk with God. But that’s not the model of prayer demonstrated by Nehemiah. Nehemiah shows us that God was often on his mind, and that no time was the wrong time to pray; no time was too short a time to pray to God. In other words, he didn’t need a long prayer to get God’s attention.

However, Nehemiah did more than just pray; he was ready to act. Nehemiah had asked the king for a leave of absence in order to go back to Jerusalem and personally oversee the rebuilding of the city of Jerusalem. Nehemiah even had the nerve to request that letters be written by the king so that he could show them to the various governors with whom he’d come into contact along the way so that he could travel freely. These letters would also secure the supplies necessary for the extreme makeover in Jerusalem. And the king’s response? “The king granted them to me because the good hand of my God was on me.” Wow! Ever feel the hand of God on you?

Do you see the intersection between human responsibility and God’s sovereignty? Nehemiah prayed because he knew that the remedy to his problem was completely beyond his control. Nehemiah prayed because he understood that his success depended on God’s hand being on him. But Nehemiah also understood that he was not inconsequential to the process. He didn’t just pray; he readied himself to personally participate in the rebuilding of Jerusalem.

OK, but what does all this mean? Well, I think it means two things. First, we must pray. Whatever our predicament, we need God’s hand to be on us if we are to succeed. But secondly, we’ve got to do more than just pray. We’ve got to be willing to roll up our sleeves and participate in what we’re praying for. For instance, are you praying for your church? Wonderful, but are you capable of doing more? If not personally involving yourself in the church’s various ministries, are you able to write letters of encouragement to those who are? How about praying for growth in attendance at Sunday’s worship services? Again, that’s terrific, but when was the last time you invited a friend?

We’ve got to commit ourselves to a high standard of prayer. But that doesn’t mean lengthy, flowery, King Jamesy prayer rants. Shorties will do, too. I mean look at Nehemiah. His prayer lasted maybe all of 1.9 seconds but it was effective, wasn’t it? But it was effective not only because it was said, but because Nehemiah was ready to do more than just pray. True worship always results in service.

A well-known Christian leader was once approached by a preacher who complained that he needed more workers in order to maintain the various ministries at his church. The Christian leader disagreed: “You don’t need more workers.” “Oh, yes we do,” the preacher responded. “No, you don’t. What you need are more worshippers, because wherever there’s worshippers there’s workers. I’ve never met a true worshipper who was unwilling to work.”

You know, on second thought, maybe a “short prayer” isn’t an oxymoron after all. Fact is, we may have the shortest prayer on record in the Bible and look what happened? But then again, maybe “answered prayer” is an oxymoron of sorts, since wishing has never been a substitute for prayer.

Grace,

Randy