Integrity

Integrity - Audio/Visual

Integrity

Then King Darius sent this message to the people of every race and nation and language throughout the world: “Peace and prosperity to you! I decree that everyone throughout my kingdom should tremble with fear before the God of Daniel. For he is the living God, and he will endure forever. His kingdom will never be destroyed, and his rule will never end. He rescues and saves his people; he performs miraculous signs and wonders in the heavens and on earth. He has rescued Daniel from the power of the lions.” So Daniel prospered during the reign of Darius and the reign of Cyrus the Persian. (Daniel 6:25-28)

The public arena is not an easy place to start from scratch in an effort to become a person of integrity. One reason is that, in our culture, like Daniel’s, it’s not always true that when we do wrong we will be punished, and when we do right we’ll be rewarded. At times the reverse actually seems to be true, challenging our commitment to do what we know is right. In fact, in Daniel’s case, doing the right thing was not rewarded, but was punished, instead. However, just when the situation looked absolutely hopeless, Daniel was delivered from death “because he believed in his God.” (Daniel 6:23) What he was in private — a committed follower of God — was ultimately revealed in public.

This had been quite a night, as Daniel found himself in the company of a bunch of hungry lions. He had been thrown into their den, but apparently slept like a baby in their midst. Duped by Daniel’s enemies to sign a decree that mandated what appeared to be Daniel’s death sentence, Darius had stayed up all night, pacing back and forth in confusion and concern. At dawn, however, he rushed to the lions’ den, cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted, “Daniel, servant of the living God! Was your God, whom you serve so faithfully, able to rescue you from the lions?” (Daniel 6:20) The king was amazed and relieved to hear Daniel’s response.

Daniel stirred, probably rubbed his eyes, stretched out his arms, let out a yawn, wiped the lion fur from his head where he had pillowed it, and answered, “Long live the king! My God sent his angel to shut the lions’ mouths so that they would not hurt me, for I have been found innocent in his sight. And I have not wronged you, Your Majesty.” (Daniel 6:21-22)

The king’s question of Daniel is the question our culture is asking us today: Is the God whom we serve able to deliver us?

Daniel had kept his faith in God, a mark of true integrity that was rooted deep in his private world. And it always follows that integrity is ultimately revealed in the public world for God’s glory and our good. And I think there’s a lesson here. Daniel was in the lions’ den not because he had done wrong, but because he had done right. And we all know of people who, like Daniel, have paid a great price for actually doing what was right. But, when all is said and finally done, God — who will never abdicate His throne — will right all wrongs. What we see in Daniel’s experience is that, in the final analysis, our integrity will be revealed in the public square as a testimony to our faith and our God.

Upon being delivered from the lions’ den, Daniel’s integrity was now on public display. But Daniel didn’t take credit for his deliverance. He was quick to say, “My God sent his angel to shut the lions’ mouths so that they would not hurt me.” (Daniel 6:22) People of integrity do not take personal credit for something they did not do.

In response, Darius made this startling decree to the people of every race and nation and language throughout the then-known world: “Peace and prosperity to you! I decree that everyone throughout my kingdom should tremble with fear before the God of Daniel. For he is the living God, and he will endure forever. His kingdom will never be destroyed, and his rule will never end. He rescues and saves his people; he performs miraculous signs and wonders in the heavens and on earth. He has rescued Daniel from the power of the lions.” (Daniel 6:25-27)

Even a lost culture will stop and take notice of a person of integrity when their integrity is revealed in public. And from Daniel’s experience in the midst of the lions, we learn that our integrity must be rooted in our private life. And if Daniel is an example, prayer should be our number one priority. In Daniel’s own value system, his private time alone with his God was his highest priority.

We learn, too, that integrity is reflected in our personal lives. How we respond and react in our personal relationships with those who know us best is directly correlative to the strength of our own private life with the Lord, and can always be reinforced in our professional, or working lives. Integrity is crucial in today’s marketplace. Unfortunately, many professing believers are not influencing our culture because their lives Monday through Friday aren’t much different from the lives of those with whom they work. The best place to engage and transform our culture is not the place where we spend our Sunday mornings, but where we spend most of our days, Monday through Friday.

Daniel’s story also reminds us that integrity will ultimately be revealed in our public life. Everything King Darius knew about God he learned by observing Daniel’s public life of integrity. Think about that. We are being watched, and our world still wants to know, “Is your God able to deliver you?” They will never know the answer to that question unless we are men and women of integrity.

Our culture brings new challenges to our Christian faith with each passing day. New assaults on religious liberties, cherished for centuries, are happening with increasing regularity. And Daniel would be able to relate. Like many of us, Daniel grew up in a culture built on biblical truth and centered in traditional family values. And then he found himself living in a culture that was hostile to everything he had ever known. His value system, his truth claims, and his moral compass were challenged repeatedly at every turn. His world was suddenly a world of pluralistic thought. But Daniel had a different spirit about him. He was a man of integrity who not only engaged his culture head-on, but was used by God to transform the culture in which he lived.

It seems that with every new court decision, rule or regulation, our twenty-first-century culture tests our Christian values and truth claims, challenging them as “alternative facts.” And those of us who once knew a Judeo-Christian culture have suddenly found ourselves living in a culture as hostile to what we believe as Babylon was hostile to Daniel’s closely-held beliefs.

Our world is evolving into one of massive pluralism with an encroaching paganism attached to various belief systems. Our nation — our culture — is in need of men and women whose integrity is rooted in their private lives, reflected in their personal lives, reinforced in their professional lives, and then ultimately revealed in public. May we all rise up and be counted.

Daniel left us his template for engaging and influencing his culture. It was, at its core, founded upon his personal integrity. And if we’re going to find our way through a culture that has lost its own, we must do the same. So be a person of integrity; let it have its genesis in prayer and then, like a mirror, let it be a reflection of your personal life that, once revealed, will answer the question of a culture who desperately wants to know if your God is able.

Integrity. Don’t leave home without it.

Grace,

Randy

Homesick

Homesick - Audio/Visual

Homesick

Since you have been raised to new life with Christ, set your sights on the realities of heaven, where Christ sits in the place of honor at God’s right hand. Think about the things of heaven, not the things of earth. For you died to this life, and your real life is hidden with Christ in God. And when Christ, who is your life, is revealed to the whole world, you will share in all his glory. (Colossians 3:1-4)

For all we don’t know about Holden Howie, there’s one thing we do know – he knew his birds would find their way home. Several times a day the square-bodied, gray-bearded New Zealander retrieved one of his pigeons from his Auckland aviary. Securing the feathered courier with one hand, he affixed the correspondence with the other. Some birds carried as many as five messages at a time, each one written on cigarette paper. Mr. Howie then released the bird into the South Pacific sky. It flew straight as a string to its nest on Great Barrier Island.

Between 1898 and 1908, Mr. Howie delivered thousands of messages. His birds were speedy. They could travel in two hours the distance a boat would spend three days to achieve. Storms rarely knocked the pigeons off course, and they never called in sick. Most notably, they were accurate. They could find their nest. Why else would we call them homing pigeons? Other birds fly faster. Other birds are stronger. Other birds boast larger plumes or stronger claws. But none have the navigational skill of the homing pigeon. We’re not exactly sure why, but homing pigeons have an innate home detector. And so do you.

What God gave pigeons, he gave to you. Not bird brains, but a guidance system. You were born heaven-equipped with a hunger for your heavenly home. Need proof? Consider the questions we ask. Questions about death and time; significance and relevance. Animals don't seem to ask those questions. Dogs howl at the moon, but we stare at it. How’d it get there? How’d we get here? Are we someone's idea, or something's accident? Why on earth are we on this earth? We ask questions about war. Can't conflict go the way of eight-track tapes and telegrams? And the grave. Why is the dash between the dates on a tombstone so small? Something tells us this isn't right, good or fair. This isn't home.

Where do these questions come from? Who put these thoughts in our heads? Why can't we, like my dogs, just be happy with long naps and the occasional dog treat? Because, according to Jesus, we aren't home yet. And probably his best-known story follows the trail of a homeless runaway. Jesus doesn't give us his name, just his pedigree: rich. As in Rockefeller rich. Spoiled rich. Trust-fund baby rich. And rather than learn his father's business, he disregarded his father's kindness, cashed in his stock, and drove his Mercedes to the big city. And as fast as you can say “dead broke,” he was. No friends; no funds; no clue what to do. He ended up in a pigpen of trouble. He fed hogs, slept in the mud, and grew so hungry he gave serious thought to licking the slop. That's when he thought of home.

He remembered lasagna and laughter at the dining room table. His warm bed, clean pajamas, and fuzzy slippers. He missed his father's face and longed to hear his voice. He looked around at the snorting pigs and buzzing flies and made a decision. "You know, I'll just make this pigpen my home."

So, he took out a loan from the piggy bank and remodeled the place. New throw rug over the mud. A La-Z-Boy recliner next to the trough. He hung a flat screen on the fence post, and tied a ribbon on a sow's head and called her honey. Quickly enough he'd made a home out of the pigsty and settled in for the good life. Well, okay, maybe not. But don't we? Don't we do our best to make this mess a home? Revamp and redecorate. We face-lift this; overhaul that. And in time, the place isn’t half bad. We actually feel at home. But then the flies come out. People die, earthquakes rumble, and nations rage. Families collapse, and children die of hunger. Dictators treat people like, well, like pigs, and this world stinks. And we have a choice. We can pretend this life is all God intended, or we can come to our senses. We can follow the example of the prodigal son “… and go back to my father." (Luke 15:18)

Don't you love the image of the son setting out for the homestead: rising out of the mud, turning his back to the pigs, and turning his eyes toward the father? This is Jesus' invitation to us, too. Set your hearts on your home. "Seek first the kingdom of God." (Matthew 6:33) In his plan it's all about the King and his kingdom. "And this is [God's] plan: At the right time he will bring everything together under the authority of Christ – everything in heaven and on earth." (Ephesians 1:10) The journey home is nice, but the journey itself isn’t the goal.

For instance, think of yourself on an airplane. As you look around at your fellow passengers, they all look pretty content. Thanks to books, pillows and crossword puzzles, they pass the time quite nicely. But suppose at 30,000 feet an announcement came over the loudspeaker, "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking, and I would like to inform you that this flight is your final destination. We will never land. Your home is this plane, so enjoy the journey." Passengers would mutiny. They’d take over the cockpit and seek a landing strip. No one would settle for such nonsense. The journey is not the destination. The vessel is not the goal. Our hearts tell us there’s more to this life than this life. Like E.T., we lift bent fingers to the sky and we may not know where to point, but we know not to call this airplane our home. "God . . . has planted eternity in the human heart." (Ecclesiastes 3:11)

Mr. Howie released his pigeons from Auckland, and God released his children from the cage of time. Our privilege is to keep flapping until we spot the island. Those who do will discover a spiritual cache, a treasure hidden in a field, a pearl of great value. (Matthew 13:44 – 46) Finding the kingdom is like finding a winning lottery ticket in the sock drawer, or locating the cover to a jigsaw puzzle box. "Oh, so that’s how it's going to look." In God's narrative, life on earth is but the beginning: the first letter of the first sentence in the first chapter of the great story God is writing with your life. Your biggest moments lie ahead of you, on the other side of the grave. So "seek those things which are above, where Christ is, sitting at the right hand of God." (Colossians 3:1)

Scripture uses kind of a starchy verb there. Zeteite ("to seek") is to "covet earnestly, strive after, to inquire for, desire, even require." Seek heaven the way a sailor seeks the coast, or a pilot seeks the landing strip, or a missile seeks the heat. Head for home the way a pigeon wings to the nest, or the prodigal walked determinedly to his papa. "Think only about" it, and "Keep your mind" on it. (vs. 2) "Set your sights on the realities of heaven," and "Pursue the things over which Christ presides." (vs. 1) Obsess yourself with heaven. Don't settle for pigpens on earth.

I said something similar to my kids many years ago. I had taken them to the San Diego Zoo, a perfect place for kids to spend a summer Saturday afternoon. By this time a veteran kid-guide, I knew the path to take. Start small and end wild. We began with the lowly, glass-caged reptiles. Next we took in the parrots and pink flamingos. We fed the animals in the petting zoo, and tossed crumbs to the critters in the pond. But all along I kept telling them, "We're getting closer to the big animals. Lions and tigers and bears are just around the corner." Oh my.

Finally we reached the Africa section. For full effect I told them to enter with their heads down and their eyes on the sidewalk. I walked them right up to the lion enclosure. And just when I was about to tell them to lift their eyes, one of the boys made a discovery. "Look, a roly-poly!" "Where?" "Here!" He squatted down and placed the pellet-sized insect in the palm of his sister and began to roll it around. "Let me see it!" his brother chimed in. I couldn't lure them away. "Hey, guys, this is the jungle section." No response. "Don't you want to see the wild animals?" No, they were focused on the bug. There we stood, lions to our left, tigers to our right, only a stone's throw from the hippos and giraffes, and what were they doing? Playing with a bug. Don't we all?

Myriads of mighty angels encircle us, the presence of our Maker engulfs us, the witness of a thousand galaxies and constellations calls to us, the flowing tide of God's history carries us, the crowning of Christ as King of the universe awaits us, but we can't get our eyes off the insects of life: paychecks, gadgets, vacations, and weekends. Limit your world to the roly-poly bugs of this life, and you will be disappointed. Limit your story to the days between your birth and death, and brace yourself for a sad ending. You were made for more than this life.

Five hundred years ago, sailors feared the horizon. Sail too far and risk falling off the edge, they reasoned. Common wisdom of the ancients warned against the unseen. So did the monument at the Strait of Gibraltar. At its narrowest point, Spaniards erected a huge marker that bore the three-word Latin slogan Ne plus ultra, or "No more beyond." But then came Christopher Columbus and the voyage of 1492. The discovery of the New World changed everything. Spain acknowledged this in its coins, which came to bear the slogan plus ultra, or "more beyond."

So, why don't you chisel the “no” off your future? God has set your heart on home. Keep flying until you get there.

Grace,

Randy

Satan

Satan - Audio/Visual

Satan

How you are fallen from heaven, O shining star, son of the morning! You have been thrown down to the earth, you who destroyed the nations of the world. For you said to yourself, ‘I will ascend to heaven and set my throne above God’s stars. I will preside on the mountain of the gods far away in the north. I will climb to the highest heavens and be like the Most High.’ (Isaiah 14:12-14)

If I were the devil, I’d be ticked off seeing you reading a Christian book, thinking godly thoughts, dreaming about heaven and other blah-blah-blah. If I were the devil, I'd get busy. I'd assemble my minions and demons into a strategy session and give them your picture and address. I'd review your weaknesses one by one – like how you love to be liked and hate to be wrong, and how cemeteries give you the creeps and darkness gives you the heebie-jeebies. I'd brief my staff on my past victories. Remember your bouts with doubt? I all but had you convinced that the Bible was a joke. You and your so-called faith in God's Word. I'd stealth my way into your mind. I'd dismantle you with questions like, How do you know, I mean, truly know, that Jesus rose from the dead? Are you sure you really believe the gospel? Isn't absolute truth yesterday's news? You, a child of God? Really? Come on, man.

I might direct you to one of my churches; one of my "feel good, you're good, everything's good," kind of churches. Half Hollywood, half pep talk. Glitz, lights and love. But no talk of Jesus. No mention of sin, hell or forgiveness. I'd asphyxiate you with promises of pay raises and new cars. So I'd perch myself on every corner and stairwell of your world, clamoring for your attention. I'd flood you with e-mails and to-do lists. Entice you with shopping sprees, and the latest releases and newest styles. Burden you with deadlines and assignments. If I were the devil, I'd so distract you with possessions and problems that you'd never have time to read the Bible. Especially the story of Jesus in the wilderness. (Matt. 4:1-11)

Remember that encounter? Jesus was fresh out of the Jordan River. He’d just been baptized by John. At his baptism he had been affirmed by God with a dove and a voice saying, "You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased." (Luke 3:22) He stepped out of the waters buoyed by God's blessing. Yet he began his public ministry, not by healing the sick or preaching a sermon, but by exposing Satan’s scheme. A perfect place to begin, really. Because if I were the devil, I'd blame evil on a broken political system, or a crippled economy, or the roll of the dice, or The Wicked Witch of the West for that matter. I'd want you to feel attacked by an indefinable, nebulous force. After all, if you can't diagnose the source of your ills, how can you treat them?

If I were the devil, I'd keep my name out of it, too. But God doesn't let him get away with that by telling us his name. The Greek word for devil is diabolos, which shares a root with the verb diaballein, which means "to split." The devil is a splitter, a divider, a wedge driver. He divided Adam and Eve from God in the garden, and has every intent of doing the same to you. Blame all unrest on him. Don't fault the plunging economy or a raging politician for your anxiety. They are simply tools in Satan's tool kit. Satan is not absent from, or peripheral to God's story at all. In fact, he’s kind of at its center. The truth is, we can't understand God's narrative without understanding Satan's strategy since "the reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the works of the devil." (1 John 3:8)

Nothing thrills Satan more than the current skepticism with which he’s viewed. When people deny his existence or chalk up his works to the ills of society, he rubs his hands with excitement. The more we doubt his very existence, the more he can work without any interference. Jesus didn't doubt the reality of the devil. The Savior strode into the badlands with one goal, to unmask Satan, and made him the first stop on his itinerary. "Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil." (Matthew 4:1)

Does God do the same with us sometimes? Might the Spirit of God lead us into the wilderness? If I were the devil, I'd tell you “No.” I’d want you to think that, on occasion, I can actually fool heaven. That I catch God napping. That I sneak in when he isn't looking and snatch his children out of his hand. I'd leave you sleeping with one eye open. But Scripture reveals otherwise. The next time you hear the phrase, "all hell broke loose," correct the speaker. Hell doesn’t break loose. God uses Satan's temptation to strengthen us. Times of testing are actually times of training, purification and strength building. You can even "consider it pure joy . . . whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance." (James 1:2-3) God loves you too much to leave you undeveloped and immature. (Hebrews 12:10-11) Expect to be tested by the devil. So watch for his tricks. And you can know what to expect because "we are not ignorant of his schemes." (2 Corinthians 2:11)

When General George Patton counterattacked Field Marshal Rommel in World War II, Patton is reported to have shouted in the thick of battle, "I read your book, Rommel! I read your book!" Patton had studied Rommel's Infantry Attacks. He knew the German leader's strategy and planned his moves accordingly. We can know the same about the devil. We know Satan will attack our weak spots first.

For instance, forty days of fasting had left Jesus famished, so Satan began with the topic of food, i.e., bread. Jesus' stomach was empty, so Satan started there. And where are you empty? Are you hungry for attention, craving success, longing for intimacy? Be aware of your weaknesses. Bring them to God before Satan brings them to you. Satan will tell you to turn stones into bread. (Matthew 4:3) In other words, he will tell you to meet your own needs, take matters into your own hands, leave God out of the picture. Whereas Jesus teaches us to pray for bread (Matthew 6:11), Satan says to work for it.

He’ll also question your identity. Make Christians think they have to prove their position with rock-to-bread miracles. Clever. If Satan convinces us to trust our works over God's Word, he has us dangling from a broken limb. Our works will never hold us. Jesus didn't even sniff that bait. Three times he repeated, "It is written . . ."; "It is also written . . ."; "it is written . . ." (Matt. 4 vs. 4, 7, 10) In Jesus’ book, God's book was enough. He overcame temptation, not with special voices or supernatural signs, but by remembering and quoting Scripture. As a result, Satan regrouped and tried a different approach, and this one may surprise you – he told Jesus to show off in church.

"Then the devil took him to the holy city and had him stand on the highest point of the temple. 'If you are the Son of God,' he said, 'throw yourself down.'" (verses 5-6) Testing isn't limited to the desert; it also occurs in the sanctuary. The two stood on the southeastern wall of the temple, more than a hundred feet above the Kidron Valley, and Satan told Jesus to jump into the arms of God. Jesus refused, not because he couldn't, and not because God wouldn't catch him.

He refused because he didn't have to prove anything to anyone, much less the devil. Neither do you. Satan is going to tell you otherwise. In church, of all places, he will urge you to do tricks: impress others with your service, make a show of your faith, call attention to your good deeds. He loves to turn church assemblies into Las Vegas extravaganzas where people show off their abilities, rather than boast in God's. Don't be suckered.

Satan's last shot at Jesus started with a mountain climb. "The devil took him to a very high mountain." (verse 8) Another note out of Satan's playbook: promise them the heights. Promise the highest place, the first place, the peak, the pinnacle. The best, the most, the top. These are Satan's favorite words. The devil led Jesus higher and higher, hoping, I guess, that the thin air would confuse Jesus’ thinking. He "showed [Jesus] all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. 'All this I will give you,' he said, 'if you will bow down and worship me.'" (verses 8-9) Oops. Satan showed his cards. He wants worship. He wants you and me to tell him how great he is. He wants to write his own story in which he is the hero and God is an afterthought. He admitted as much. (Isaiah 14:13-14; see the text.)

Satan wants to take God's place, but God isn't moving. Satan covets the throne of heaven, but God isn't leaving. Satan wants to win you to his side, but God will never let you go. You have his word. Even more, you have God's help. “For our high priest [Jesus] is able to understand our weaknesses. When he lived on earth, he was tempted in every way that we are, but he did not sin. Let us, then, feel very sure that we can come before God's throne where there is grace. There we can receive mercy and grace to help us when we need it.” (Heb. 4:15-16) The last two Greek words of that verse are eukairon boetheian. Eukairos means "timely," or "seasonable," or "opportune." Boetheia is a compound of boe, "to shout," and theo, "to run." Nice combination. We shout, and God runs at the right moment. God places himself prior to our need, and just before we encounter that need, he gives us what we need.

You don't have to face Satan alone. You know his schemes. He will attack your weak spots first. He will tell you to meet your own needs. When you question your identity as a child of God, that’s Satan speaking. If you turn church into a talent show, now you know why. Even more, now you know what to do. Pray. We cannot do battle with Satan on our own. He’s a roaring lion, a fallen angel, an experienced fighter, and an equipped soldier. He’s angry – angry because he knows that his time is short (Revelation 12:12), and that God's victory is sure.

The wonderful news for the Christian is that Christ reigns as our protector and provider. We are more than conquerors through him. (Romans 8:37) Arm yourself with God's Word. Load your gun with Scripture and keep a finger on the trigger. And remember, "Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms." (Ephesians 6:12) If I were the devil, I wouldn't want you to know that, either.

Grace,

Randy

Diversity

Diversity - Audio/Visual

Diversity

John said to Jesus, “Teacher, we saw someone using your name to cast out demons, but we told him to stop because he wasn’t in our group.” “Don’t stop him!” Jesus said. “No one who performs a miracle in my name will soon be able to speak evil of me. Anyone who is not against us is for us.” (Mark 9:38-40)

John has a dilemma. He and the other disciples ran into someone who was doing a great work. The guy was casting out demons – something the disciples had trouble doing just a few verses earlier. This man was changing lives. And, what's more, he was giving the credit to God. He was doing it in the name of Christ. Everything about him was so right. Right results. Right heart. But there was one problem. He was from the wrong group. So the disciples did what any able-bodied religious person would do with someone from the wrong group. "We told him to stop because he wasn’t in our group."

John's not being cocky here. He genuinely wants to know if they did the right thing; he's confused. So are many people today. What do you do about good things done in another group? What do you do when you like the fruit but not the orchard? I've asked that same question. I am deeply appreciative of my heritage. It was through a small, Southern California Church of Christ that I came to know the Nazarene, the cross and the Word. The congregation wasn't a mega church, maybe two hundred on a good Sunday. Most of the families were like mine, middle class working types. It was a loving church. When our family was sick, members visited us. When we were absent, they called.

But through the years, my faith has been supplemented by people from other groups. A British Anglican by the name of C. S. Lewis put muscle in my faith. A Presbyterian, Frederick Buechner, taught me about God's passion. A Catholic, Brennan Manning, convinced me that Jesus is relentlessly tender. I'm a better husband and parent for having read James Dobson, and maybe a better communicator because I listened to preachers like Chuck Smith, J. Vernon McGee and Max Lucado.

So, what do you do when you see great works done by folks from other groups? Not divisive acts, not heretical teachings, but good works that give glory to God? Well, go back to the conversation between Jesus and the disciples. But before you consider what Jesus said to John, pay particular attention to what he didn't say. Jesus didn’t say, "John, if the people are nice, they’re in." Generous gestures and benevolent acts aren’t necessarily a sign of a disciple. Just because a group is distributing toys at Christmas doesn't mean they’re Christians. Just because they’re feeding the hungry doesn’t mean they’re the honored ones of God.

Jesus doesn't issue a call for blind tolerance, any more than he endorses blanket rejection. If unanimity of opinion were necessary for fellowship, this would have been a great time for Jesus to say so. But he didn't. Jesus didn't hand John a book of rules and regulations by which to measure every candidate. Were such a checklist necessary, this would have been the perfect time to give him the list. But he didn't. Look at what Jesus did say: "Don’t stop him! No one who performs a miracle in my name will soon be able to speak evil of me." (Vs. 39)

Jesus was impressed with the man's pure faith (". . . in my name") and his powerful fruit (". . . who performs a miracle"). His answer offers us a crucial lesson on studied tolerance. How should you respond to a good heart from a different religious heritage? First, look at the fruit. Is it good? Is it healthy? Is he or she helping or hurting people? Production is more important than pedigree. The fruit is more important than the name of the vineyard. If the person is bearing fruit, be grateful. A good tree cannot produce bad fruit (see Matt. 7:17), so be thankful that God is at work in groups other than your own.

But also look at the faith. In whose name is the work done? Jesus was accepting of this man's work because it was done in the name of Christ. So, what does it mean to do something "in the name of Jesus"? It means you are under the authority of, and empowered by that name. For instance, if I go to a car dealership and say I want a free car, the salespeople are going to laugh at me and then call law enforcement. If, however, I go with a letter written and signed by the owner of the dealership granting me a free car, then I drive off in a free car. Why? Because I am there under the authority of, and empowered by the owner. The Master says examine the person's faith. If he or she has faith in Jesus and is empowered by God, grace says that's enough. And that’s an important point to remember.

There are some who do not work in God's name. They present a salvation of works rather than a salvation of grace. They’re not working in the name of God; the truth is, they don’t think they actually need God. They’re working under the banner of human-merit self-righteousness. And just as Paul was intolerant of self-salvation, we must be as well. But there are believers in many different heritages who cast their hope in God's firstborn Son, and put their faith in the cross of Christ. If they, like you, trust Jesus to carry them to the father's throne, don't we share a common Savior? If their trust, like yours, is in the all-sufficient sacrifice of Christ, aren't we covered by the same grace?

You mean they don't have to be in my group? No. They don't have to share my background? They don't. They don't have to see everything the way I do? Does anyone? What’s important is their fruit and their faith. Later, a much more tempered Son of Thunder would reduce it to this: "Whoever confesses that Jesus is the Son of God has God living inside, and that person lives in God." (1 John 4:15) Ironic. The one who challenged the simple answer of the Master eventually rendered the simplest answer himself. And it should be simple. Where there’s faith, repentance, and a new birth, there is a Christian.

When I meet a man whose faith is in the cross and whose eyes are on the Savior, I meet a brother. Wasn't that Paul's approach? When he wrote to the church in Corinth, he addressed a body of Christians guilty of every sin from abusing the Lord's Supper to arguing over the Holy Spirit. But how does he address them? "I beg you, brothers and sisters." (1 Cor. 1:10) When the church in Rome was debating whether to eat meat that had been sacrificed to idols, did Paul tell them to start two churches? One for the meat-eaters and one for the non-meat-eaters? No. On the contrary, he urged, "Christ accepted you, so you should accept each other, which will bring glory to God." (Rom. 15:7)

Is God asking us to do anything more than what he’s already done? Hasn't he gone a long way in accepting us? If God can tolerate my mistakes, can't I tolerate the mistakes of others?

If God allows me, with my foibles and failures, to call him Father, shouldn't I extend the same grace to others? In fact, who can offer grace except those who are securely in its grip. If God doesn't demand perfection, why should I? "They are God's servants," Paul reminds us, "not yours. They are responsible to him, not to you. Let him tell them whether they are right or wrong. And God is able to make them do as they should." (Rom. 14:4)

God's house is a grand house. And just as a mansion has many rooms, so God's kingdom has room for many opinions. But just as a house has only one foundation, God's kingdom has a common ground, too – the all-sufficient sacrifice of Jesus Christ.

So, pray with me for the day when Jesus' prayer is answered. Pray with me for the day when the world is won because the church is one. Pray with me for the day when we can come out of our rooms and stand together to salute the owner of the house. A day when clusters cease, when cliques call it a day, and the chorus commences. Jesus' final prayer before the cross was for the unity of his followers. Do you think he would offer a prayer that couldn't be answered?

Me either.

Grace,

Randy