Some thoughts as I prepare for Sunday’s sermon on I Peter 1…

We see all around us things that fade.  History describes to us the rise and fall (fading away) of nations and temporary dominance, either regional or global of the same.  We live in a world where all things are transient, but within each soul there lies a fallow ground that breeds dreams of permanence, stability, and the warmth of the home hearth.  Life can, in moments, be defined by this valiant struggle to hold on to what stability can be gleaned out of this passing experience.  Into this milieu steps the Author and Finisher of our Faith and proclaims that we are to step up because he went up.  We are to live with total abandonment because everything concerning us is determined, established, signed sealed and delivered! “Set your hope on the grace to be given you when Jesus Christ is revealed!” The worn out cliché, “Too heavenly minded to be any earthly good,” is used to shame us into thinking on a base profane level.  I would rather stand with C.S. Lewis when he wrote in Mere Christianity the following: If you read history you will find that the Christians who did most for the present world were precisely those who thought most of the next. It is since Christians have largely ceased to think of the other world that they have become so ineffective in this. The Apostles themselves, who set on foot the conversion of the Roman Empire, the great men who built up the Middle Ages, the English Evangelicals who abolished the Slave Trade, all left their mark on Earth, precisely because their minds were occupied with Heaven. It is since Christians have largely ceased to think of the other world that they have become so ineffective in this. So, show me a “Christian” who has no impact on his community and I will name him a faithless man who dabbles only in religion.  Show me a “Christian” who is more interested in establishing man’s kingdom (or his own) rather than the Kingdom of Heaven and I will quote some verses about thunder clouds that never give rain and only provide splendiferous entertainment through wind storms.  Jesus called them whitewashed walls!

Today as we sat over a lunch of “to die for” enchiladas suizas, David, Andrea and I wondered if the Rabbi wandered in and sat down with us if he would begin to discuss paint colors with us or commend us for following after Him.  I must ask myself these tough questions.  When I do (ask the questions), I am confronted.  Is Jesus calling me to go down the road of rewriting American history so I can argue without shame my fear of loosing my place in the top 3% of the world?  Or am I instructed to pray, “Your Kingdom come, Your will be done on earth as it is in Heaven”?  Maybe God’s plan includes a strong America in the future, and maybe it doesn’t.  Does that change anything for me?  I am taking my time on my answer because I have a sense that it is vital that I live out my answer.  Am I willing to move purposefully into my community living out the Salvation story, no matter what place my earthly nation occupies in the world order?

"The Last of All, The Servant of All"

“The last of all, the servant of all”…Jesus’ very own words to his quarreling disciples reach us today with startling simplicity.  These words capture our attention and we desire to live them, but once again we often fall so short.  In frustration we wonder, what does it really mean?  How are these words lived out in our culture today?  Are there any living examples?  Often we settle on the term “servant leadership”.  We like its sound, especially the leadership part.  It has a ring of authority expressed in a very likeable fashion.  It warms our hearts, but it does not fill or satisfy our deepest longing and need.  This is especially true when we encounter a lack of true leadership in our own church or place of ministry and experience the wounds and heartache that come as a result. 

How did Jesus live out this radical saying?   His entire life was an example of his words, but we must choose a few examples.  Remember with me…Someone should have thought about the need for washing dirty feet after a long day of walking in the dust.  Someone was responsible to take care of this detail.  Someone should have been aware that he forgot and that he should do something.  Someone should have realized that this was a special moment in the life of the Master.  Someone failed, and bless his heart, we don’t even know who it was!  How many times do we ask the question, “who was supposed to do this”?  “It’s not my responsibility”! How much time is wasted looking to place the blame on poor old Someone?  The servant of all gets up dons the uniform of the servant and begins to wash nasty dirty feet.  No questions asked and no blame is assigned.  A service needed to be rendered and position would never impede Jesus from doing any task however low.  I wonder who was responsible.  Jesus knew and he simply served.  But, I still wonder who was responsible…and perhaps that is one reason that I know so little about being the last of all and the servant of all.

Remember with me…The people were making a mockery of God’s house of prayer, the temple.  They were buying and selling which always implies cheating and robbing.  There was no respect, no worship, and the picture was all wrong.  Can you see and smell the scene?  Bawling cattle, birds crowing, animal waste and food confront you at every turn. The sounds and smells must have been almost suffocating for the few worshipers who dared run the gauntlet.  If anything was ever wrong, this was it.  This was a desecration of all that was holy.  Where were the authorities?  Why did they not act?  Into this mass of sin and disdain moved the last of all and the servant of all.  With anger he threw down the tables, grabbed up a whip and began to force these merchants of greed right out of the temple.  Can you see the disciples?  “Oh my goodness, he has gone and done it now!”  “He is going to get into trouble.”  A sinful situation needed to be confronted and fear would never impede Jesus from doing any task however daunting.  I am sure that the disciples were worried about their own skins and I must say that I would probably be trembling with them…and perhaps that is one reason that I know so little about being the last of all and the servant of all.

Remember with me…He was bound and had been beaten in a most horrible fashion.  Complete fools had laughed at him, made fun of him, and even had spat on him.  Now he stood before the one man who had the power to free him.  How laughable since he knew that with one simple thought the power of almighty heaven would fall down with awesome destruction never seen before by man.  Jesus had at least two options for release.  He could speak to this man or to The Man and the nightmare would end.  The servant of all stood before his accusing creation and said nothing in his own defense.   The servant of all chose to give all of himself so that all of humankind could know peace and hope.  The future of all of life was on the line and death itself would not impede Jesus from giving his life however painful it was.   I wonder what Pilate thought in that moment.  Why doesn’t this man speak up?  How can he desire death?  I live my whole life with the sole purpose of avoiding death…what is wrong with this man?  These are the same questions we grapple with today…and perhaps that is yet another reason why we know so little about being the last of all and the servant of all.

The thread that runs through each of these scenes in the life of Jesus is that of selflessness.  The conscious putting aside of oneself to give to others is not something bred into the human soul, rather, it is something imparted by the Creator.  To be the servant of all and the last of all I must decide to put others first confronting the suffocating “meism” of our day.  It seems that many of our problems within the church stem from this desperate need to have everything work out for me and mine.  We become shoppers looking for the bouncing smiley face of better deals for newer “stuff”.   Jesus really isn’t sufficient for me when I go looking for the perfect spiritual setting to meet all my needs the way I want them to be met.  It would seem that to truly be the last of all and the servant of all I will have to not only put aside my own demands for comfort, but also insist on a consistently deepening walk with Jesus as my ultimate need.  Selflessness means that I understand that my value is not found in what I do, but rather, in whom God determines me to be.

A Parable (sort of)

Caged Lion Watching

Why don’t I tremble in fear while watching lions pace toward me at the zoo?  Safety is the simple answer.  I know (at least experience has taught me) that the lion cannot get out of his enclosure.  The zoo authorities reassure me that this wild beast cannot do me any harm and so I am free to simply observe. Standing there in my semi-expensive water repelling shorts, my cool flip-flops, nice (un-ironed shirt), while sipping on my designer coffee I can watch the lion pace back and forth.  If I concentrate enough I can even begin to marvel at his beauty and incredible power. I might even comment to someone near by or surreptitiously listen in on another’s inspired comments. The first few times of observing the king of the beasts brings me joy enough; for it seems worth the money and the time.  After a while it just gets a bit boring, this non-olympic event called “observing”, and so I look for a tad more action.  Maybe we can feed the lion and watch it tear the meat to shreds, or what if we put a lion tamer in the cage? Now something like that would be worth my while. Overall I want to be in a safe place, and I feel reassured when I hear the Zookeeper say, “you are in a safe place”.  I know that the Zookeeper is under quite a bit of pressure to make this viewing of the lion appealing enough for me to return, but as long as it is the best show in town, I guess that I will keep going.  Don’t ask me to be more than a paying observer.  Make sure that I am always safe. Keep me interested or I may start going down the road to the aquarium because I hear that the sharks are pretty amazing, a little scary, but still safe…

What if the Lion could get out of the enclosure?  Can He? Do I really want Him to get out?

I have heard that people used to go watch the Lion at the Zoo because that was just what you did.  It was a matter of discipline rather than entertainment value.  It seems to me that whatever the reason might be, the core problem remains the same.  It is how we view the Zoo; we see it as a zoo. Caged lion watching is safe.  The Lion is not…safe, that is.

What if there was a place where I could go and walk with the Lion?  What if there was a place that I could hear His voice?  I would surely tremble.  I would fall on my face and plead with Him to not consume me. I would cringe as His terrible velvet paws gently wiped away tears and sorrow. I might even say something like, “woe is me, for I am a man of unclean lips.”  What I can tell you for sure is that Caged Lion Watching would seem utterly empty and perhaps irreverent?

Stephen F. Scarrow
August 8, 2012

Another Poem

If you have never visited Tijuana from the Mexican side you may miss the deeper meaning of this one.  We lived in Guadalajara for 12 years and when we visited this city (several occasions) we always sensed something very different in the heart and soul of the people.  This something we did not find in Guadalajara and I always struggled to put my finger on it, until the morning I stepped out onto the balcony of the hotel, where we were doing the Marriage Encounter event, and could look across Tijuana, across the border to the smoky hills east of San Diego. There is a haunting longing and a sense of unfulfilled plans and dreams in this place that cries out for fullness, completeness, and joy that can only be found in Creator...Father...loving Savior.

Tijuana Morning

Calm seems the morning hour

Mist rising over smoky hills.

A slowly awakening chorus

Of sights and sounds takes shape.

A haunting sense of distance

Oh so near to the very fiber of life.

Smoky reflections dance in the light,

A sense of long time sleepiness.

Tones and hues of life over playing,

Moving, always looking…longing.

Something better, something beyond,

Something lost…

Stephen F. Scarrow

8 November 2003

On the occasion of the 1^st Marriage Encounter in Tijuana

“You were designed for this.”

My son cannot understand how I drive around without the radio on.  It’s just that so often when I drive I have these great conversations with God, and here lately it seems that He is enjoying this as much or more than I do.

So…last Saturday afternoon I was pulling out of a driveway to return home when I heard that unmistakable voice once again. Get the picture…I had been asked by a pastor friend of mine (one of 15 pastors in our community that pray together every Thursday morning) to baptize a lady related to one of the members of his church.  This elderly lady had gone through a severe medical challenge and through this experience had encountered life! New life in Jesus radiates in her like I have only seen a few times in my life.  She is bound to a wheelchair and yet determined that she would be baptized at a family gathering in a family pool!

Are you getting the picture?  Thirty plus people are gathered around a homemade pool which I would call a “cement pond” to watch wife, mother, grandmother, and great grandmother lowered into the water in her wheelchair.  She gave a joyous testimony, very loudly, and a louder shout of joy with upraised arms when I brought her up out of the water. At that moment she floated out of her wheelchair and I told her that I figured she must have been filled with the Spirit! Once out of the water she challenged everyone in her family to be saved and to get baptized!  I waited patiently in the water as I looked each one in the eye. Many lowered their heads and looked away, but a more clear testimony could not have been given to them all.

I quietly greeted folks and then withdrew realizing that the reactions would be mixed.  For some they may have been relieved to see the “preacher” go.  While others may have been glad for my presence, I was very aware that my role was not as the principal.  I simply felt privileged and full of joy despite the blinding heat.

“You were designed for this.” O.k. so this time I was not so surprised to hear Him speak, but I was confronted with the content.  I had been struggling with my role as a pastor in general and in this community specifically. I am becoming more and more long term as each day goes by and this is happening by submission rather than by personal design.  Personally, I have always felt that I would function best in some large Latin American city and yet here I am in a small town U.S.A. setting.  “You were designed by me to shepherd my sheep.  I did not give them the names they have (Baptist, Methodist, Roman Catholic, etc) I never expected my shepherds to limit themselves by man’s definition.  Shepherd my sheep wherever you find them and where you have found that I have placed you.  And Steve, enjoy yourself!  You were designed for this.”

I guess I’ll just keep riding around without the radio on…

Steve Scarrow

FAC, Moultrie, GA

Just a couple of poems to share...just like art, they are shared with great trepidation as one reveals inner layers of the soul.

Be Silent!

Manicured lawns can not compare

With designed disorder.

Manufactured silence is a sham

Revealed in Creator’s playfulness.

True silence is active amazement.

Full concentration rendered as love

Returns as a warm breath stirring my soul,

A gentle Father’s hand on my shoulder.

Steve Scarrow

College of Prayer

September 22, 2006

Lake Louis, GA

Spirit Filled

Gently applied oil, penetrating comfort brings.

Deepest longing met with warmth.

Fearful doubting crushed by assurance.

Empty wandering filled with Presence.

Like a deep sigh Spirit fills.

Missing parts come out of darkness.

A gentle earth shattering roar.

In the oil…the smell of Jesus.

Steve Scarrow

College of Prayer

September 22, 2006

Lake Louis, GA

I’m a bit slow at times….

Nothing new is how my friends and family would respond, except of course that I am now just catching up on that news flash.  But I wasn’t driving slowly this past Sunday morning as I made my way in the early hour to the church building.  I was pushing…ummm…(not a good idea to confess in print), and many thoughts were rushing through my head as I had a particularly heavy Sunday coming my way.  For many reasons Sundays are usually a non-stop 10 to 12 hour day for me and I have gotten quite used to the mad rush and the accompanying stress.

And then it happened…

“Hey!!!!”  I was shocked on many levels.  That was clearly the voice of my Lord as I have experienced it before, but this was really loud.  It broke through all my racing thoughts.  I thought, “does God say hey?”  He just did.  “Slow down!!”  “So my wife has been right all these years, I do drive too fast” said my tumbling thoughts. “Slow down, I want to talk with you!”  I slowed down all the way to 54 mph, a speed which always causes me stress when driven by the slowpoke in front of me. “Take a deep breath.”  “Sounds like my mother,” responded my braking thoughts.

Then He said it…

“I love you!”

There it is.  It stands alone perfectly on its’ own two feet.  It shook me right to the very core of my being.  Two days later I am still basking in the glow of that moment.  I am startled and shaken.  I can hardly put my thoughts out before me.  I have a stupid grin on my face.  When I close my eyes and remember tears well up.  I feel rather foolish, but I like it.  I like it!!! 

A few weeks ago Andrea and I rediscovered a cassette tape which was recorded by my son and Andrea when he was about to turn three.  I was traveling away from home for eight weeks preaching in various churches in the Vancouver, B.C. area.  Stephen and Andrea recorded over the span of a few days all the songs and nursery rhymes that Stephen had memorized.  I remember receiving that tape in the mail and playing it in my Walkman (if you don’t know what that is, well…) as I ran or walked.  I will never forget when I heard my son’s whispered voice say to me, “I love you daddy!”  Andrea asked Stephen what he had said because she couldn’t hear him.  Stephen then proceeded to shout into the microphone, “I love you daddy!!!!!!”  Those words have always moved me deeply.

For fifteen minutes on Sunday, I drove under the speed limit, crying for joy as I listened to my Father tell me he loves me.  It changed the whole course of this past Sunday (ask anyone who was there).  I believe it is changing the course of my life.

I did tell you that I am a bit slow at times?