“When you came to Christ, you were “circumcised,” but not by a physical procedure. It was a spiritual procedure—the cutting away of your sinful nature. For you were buried with Christ when you were baptized. And with him you were raised to a new life because you trusted the mighty power of God, who raised Christ from the dead.” (Colossians 2:11-12 NLT)

When I was young my grandmother Combs would always get each of the grandchildren an Easter basket. One of those Easter mornings still lingers in my memory because each of us discovered a live colored chick in our basket. I couldn’t believe it. The candy and chocolate bunny were great, but a little chick… all warm and cuddly… well, that was really something! My chick had soft, red down. He was wiggly and made little “peep” sounds. My brother Barry’s was blue and my cousin Larry got a yellow one (Please, no remarks from the peanut gallery on our names… Our parents were poets.).

We put our chicks down on the floor and watched them. We nearly giggled our heads off at their “chicken” behavior. It was hard to go to church that day and leave our chicks behind.

Our joy was short lived however. Both mine and Barry’s chicks died during the first night. I don’t know why. Perhaps it was the dye they injected into the eggs before the chicks hatched to give them their unusual color. Perhaps they got too cold. We found their little, still bodies the next morning.

But Larry’s chick lived on. Although, he didn’t stay yellow for long. He grew up to be a big, white rooster. The fine down of the baby chick was replaced by the white feathers of an adult. I don’t remember what happened to him. We may have had him for dinner one Sunday. If so, I’m sure that grandma Combs didn’t tell us.

That Easter was a confusing mixture of joy and sadness for me. I suppose Easter can be like that for a lot of people today too. Not because they got Easter chicks that died, but because they don’t know how to handle all the confusion that this world holds. They don’t know what to do with all of the suffering and all the death. They don’t see how Easter can change our confusion into understanding, our sorrow into gladness, our dying into life.

This coming Sunday we celebrate the resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. We will sing and worship. We will preach and hear the Word. And we will witness four new Christ followers obey Christ’s command to be baptized.

I think baptism is a better way to celebrate Easter. Better than a basket full of colored chicks. The dye of their down soon wears off and their true colors are seen. But the change that takes place in the one who identifies with Christ’s death, burial, and resurrection is real and lasting.

The one who is baptized in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit has made public their commitment to follow Christ. Baptism is an outward sign of their inward commitment.

Baptism and Easter go well together. Both involve dying. Both involve being raised to newness of life. Jesus gives each this meaning.

Jesus defeated death and won the victory. His resurrection changes everything.

"Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God." (Hebrews 12:2 KJV) 

On our way to Dr. Johnson’s office in my dad’s big Buick, Dad glanced across at me, momentarily diverting his attention from the road and said, "If you promise not to cry, I’ll take you to Hi Lo Burger afterwards and buy you a big, strawberry milkshake."

"OK, Dad." I responded, with a hard swallow. My throat nearly swollen shut by my infected tonsils.

I hated going to the doctor because I always got a penicillin shot for tonsillitis. This was back in the day when they reused the needles and I’m telling you… it hurt! Dad always tried to give me something positive to focus on. He tried to get me to look past the pain to some sort of reward on the other side of the suffering.

As Dr. Johnson had me lay face down on the bed, the white paper made a "krinkly" sound as I scooted down. He pulled down the top of my briefs and inserted the needle into my hip. White hot pain shot through my whole body as my eyes searched for my father’s eyes and my hand searched for his hand.

"Just look at me son, and squeeze my hand as hard as you can." My Dad whispered while leaning close to my ear.

I squeezed as hard as I could and stared into my father’s eyes. In a moment, it was over. As the nurse swabbed some alcohol on and put a Band Aid in place, joy flooded my being. My mind immediately moved to the trip home and the strawberry milkshake that awaited.

"Good job, Son." My father said.

"You’re a brave boy." Dr. Johnson agreed, while offering me a lollipop.

This week as I’ve been reflecting on how Christ suffered for us on the cross, my mind went back to that time in my childhood.  Everyone encounters suffering, even children. But it helps when your suffering has purpose. It helps when it is shared and there is someone there to encourage you.  And it helps when your suffering has a season to it, with a goal and a reward after its completion.

Jesus suffered for us. He endured the cross as one who despised its shame, yet he overcame it for the "joy that was set before him," that is our salvation.

While my father held my hand and invited my eyes to lock onto his, God the Father averted His from the suffering of His Son. I’m sure the pain was horrendous, but I believe that the worst agony was when His Father turned away. The righteous God could not look on the Son who had become sin for us.

Jesus cried out in a loud voice, "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?"–which means, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (Mark 15:34 NIV) 

Suffering entered this world with sin. It is the human condition. Jesus, the Christ, changes this. His suffering means that ours will soon end. In the meantime, it gives our suffering meaning. His willingness to suffer and be separated from the Father for us has resulted in our healing and reconciliation.

Now when I suffer, I reach towards His hand and look for His eyes. Because Jesus knows and He cares and great is His reward to those of us who believe.

"Fear of man will prove to be a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is kept safe" (Proverbs 29:25 NIV).

Some years ago, when I was young and foolish (or should I say more foolish) I found myself standing on a tall cliff overlooking South Holston Lake with a couple of my best buddies. We had already found the courage to jump from the cliff once, but on our second climb to the top we began to discuss the possibility of diving.

As we stood overlooking the lake, the wind whistled in our ears and the lake seemed to loom below at a greater distance than we imagined even after our first jump. My friends and I began to banter back and forth.

"OK Gary, you can do this man. It’s no big deal. You’re a good diver. Just don’t think about it. Just dive!" encouraged my friend Copey, as he gestured with his hands.

"Yeah Gary! No problem right? Just go for it!" Added my friend, Gordon.

"I mean, after all, you’re not afraid are you?" Questioned Copey, a wry smile forming at the edge of his lips.

That last comment/question did it! No self respecting member of the clan of boys that I ran with could answer that with anything but a resounding "No!" No I am not afraid!

Plus, I should add that a float boat of young women had appeared at the base of the cliff during our diving debate. We could hear these bikini-clad beauties talking among themselves as they peered up at us.

"Oh no. I think he is going to jump!" One of them exclaimed, as they turned off the motor on their boat.

"He could be killed." Another offered with obvious fear in her voice.

"You’re not going to jump are you?" Their unified voices drifted skyward towards us like a soprano choir.

"Yes." I heard myself say. I say that I heard myself say it because I remember thinking, "Was that me speaking?"

Continuing in this out-of-body experience, I felt myself, leaping into the air. I don’t remember deciding to do this, I just remember leaving terra firma and launching myself skyward, allowing gravity to do its work. For a moment it was perfect. I felt my arms outstretched. I pictured the most beautiful swan dive in my head. I bent at the waist and straightened as the water came into view. But "Noooo…!" I had over rotated. I had miscalculated the distance. As I tried to correct my error I began to kick my feet and flop my arms. I’m sure I looked like a wounded bird falling from the sky

When I hit the water it felt like concrete. I later discovered that I had bruised my face, my eyelids, my thighs, and various other areas. It really hurt.

Of course, I couldn’t show it. After all, the guys on the cliff and the girls in the boat were watching. As I slowly floated to the surface, I offered a put-on smile and a valiant thumbs-up to their questioning eyes.  Then I whispered a breathy "Help me." to my friend Bruce who was in our boat. Bruce was the one guy who had enough sense not to join us. He was the one I trusted to get me out of the water that day. I knew that I could trust him to help me and at the same time preserve what was left of my dignity.

This past summer I took my family boating on another lake. We found some cliffs there too. Soon, I heard my sons bantering back and forth about diving. They challenged each other with taunts and questioned one another’s manhood until they all stood atop a cliff ready to jump.

It made me flashback to my own cliff diving experience. It occured to me that the fear of being rejected by my friends or brothers was greater than my fear of heights. In other words, fear of the one outweighed the fear of the other. In either case, fear was the motivator. The other thought that occured to me is how the fear of man is related to the desire to impress. I wanted to impress the girls in the boat.

As I have grown to manhood I have often deluded myself into believing that I’m not a fearful man. I disdain any phobia in myself and have expressed my impatience for it in others, especially my sons. I want them to be brave and courageous.

But I have discovered a blind spot… the fear of man. I want too much to be liked. I desire too much to be respected. I love the spotlight and care for the applause of man too much.

I fear being rejected.

Nearly 25 years after I dove from a cliff I saw my sons doing the same. Watching them was great! They’ve become amazing and fearless men. But I pray that they don’t struggle like I have with the fear of man.  This fear is more insidious and harder to spot. I pray that they overcome it early rather than late. I pray that they know freedom from fleshly fears.

I think Jesus has a dislike for man’s fear too. He warned us about it. He was rejected by man, but He was not afraid.

Jesus said, "The Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, chief priests and teachers of the law, and he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life." (Luke 9:22 NIV). 

I want to care less about impressing people. I want to care more about pleasing Jesus.

For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities–his eternal power and divine nature–have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse. For although they knew God, they neither glorified him as God nor gave thanks to him, but their thinking became futile and their foolish hearts were darkened. …Furthermore, since they did not think it worthwhile to retain the knowledge of God, he gave them over to a depraved mind, to do what ought not to be done. (Romans 1:20-21, 28 NIV) 

While I was thinking about thinking, I came across this promo for an upcoming movie that I want to see. It looks like a very interesting expose on the closed mindedness of the scientific elite when it comes to allowing a debate concerning Darwinism and the possibility of Intelligent Design.

Since college I’ve been intrigued by this topic. Of course, the prevailing doctrine of evolution is the foundational belief for nearly every "ology" and "ism" in the university today. After all, as one prominent atheist has said, "Darwin made atheism respectable."

There was a time when Theology (the study of God) was considered the "Queen of the Sciences." No more. It has been relegated to a subset of the school of philosphy. Science without God is supreme. There is no room for divine explanation when the worldview is materialistic and closed to anything beyond or above nature (Supernatural).

To me, the humanity we see today is not the result of evolution. No, it’s more like de-volution. We have fallen from God’s original intent. The image of God has fallen. We are not getting better, we are getting worse. Our minds are not growing wiser. They are becoming ever more "futile" and "foolish" in their thinking.

The university system, that was founded by a generation that believed that knowledge and knowing were from God, has become unhinged. It is adrift without any connection to the Intellect that produced man’s intelligence.

The mind that seeks Truth has been "expelled."

“Come now, let us reason together,”says the Lord. (Isaiah 1:18 NIV).

“Daddy, why is the sky blue? What is glass made of? Why do the clouds move? How much longer before we get there?”

I remember asking these questions of my father as we traveled along the highway in his big Buick. My seven year old mind was filled with questions. It burned with an insatiable curiosity. Traveling along at 60 MPH, my mind raced as I scanned the images passing by. My father never disappointed with his answers.

“Sunlight bouncing off of air molecules, sand, wind, and five minutes less than when you asked before.” He answered patiently, his eyes making contact with mine via the rearview mirror.

Of course, his answers only provoked more questions and sometimes doubts. After all, my dad sometimes liked to joke with me. So, I had to make sure.

“Sand? Come on Daddy. Glass is made of sand? Are you trying to trick me?”

“No, son. It’s made from lots of sand that’s been heated at great temperature and poured into a mold.”

“OK, Daddy.” I said, as I thought of a dozen more questions to ask.

A couple of years later I was chosen to represent my school on a TV game show for third graders called “Kiddie Kollege.” Our school team was in a close match when we were given an extra hard question during the “huddle round,” a round that we could get advice from our team members. The question was asked of a little blond on our team named Becky. The question: “What is glass made of?”

As we huddled together I whispered to my teammates “Sand, glass is made of sand.”

The looks that my fellow third graders gave me were incredulous. “Are you kidding?” Their faces shouted.

Becky was so perturbed that she looked at me and asked aloud “Glass???”

To which the game show host immediately shouted, “You’re right! Sand is the main material used in glass making. That’s for 50 points and you win the game!”

We won that game and appeared on TV for three straight weeks. That night when I got home from the WCYB studio, I called my Dad on the phone. He wasn’t able to attend in person because he was in the hospital.

“Hey Daddy, did you see me on TV?” I asked.

“I sure did, Son!” He answered with pride in his voice.

“Did you hear the question about glass?” I wondered.

“Absolutely, and I’m glad you were there to help that little girl get it right. Son, I’m so proud of you.” He said.

“Thanks Daddy. But if it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t have even known the answer.” I said.

It was only a few weeks later that my dad went to be with the Lord. He died of cancer at the age of 39. I was eight.

I still miss my Dad sometimes. He was never afraid of my questions. He seemed to genuinely enjoy talking to me. Even though he was a grown up and much wiser, he always made me feel smart. He never made me feel as though my thoughts or questions were beneath him. That was such a gift.

I think God is like that. He isn’t afraid of our questions. He genuinely enjoys talking with us. He doesn’t make us feel unworthy of His fellowship. He is patient and wise. He really desires to have a meeting of the minds with us.

I don’t believe that following Christ is intellectual suicide. Quite the contrary, I think God lifts our minds up and increases our wisdom. I understand Kierkegaard’s idea that we can’t discover God through reason, that we must take a “leap of faith.” But I prefer C. S. Lewis’ view that Christianity is more than a ” blind leap of faith,” that it is a reasonable response to the revelation of God through His Word and supremely through His Son, Jesus Christ.

Jesus said that the greatest commandment is to love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength.  He says that we are to love God with our minds.

I’m glad that my father taught me that it was fun to think and ask questions. I loved talking to my Dad.

I’m even more pleased that my Heavenly Father invites me to come reason with Him. He invites me to think aloud with Him and to express my love for Him with my thoughts.

The more I think aloud with Him, the more I have His mind on things.

“For… we have the mind of Christ.” (1 Corinthians 2:16 NIV) .

"O God, you are my God, earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water" (Psalm 63:1 NIV).

Did you know that motorcycles don’t have gas gauges?

Last Saturday afternoon I took my new bike out for a ride in the country. I really needed to get out and clear my head after a very busy week. I’ve found that riding my Honda down some two-laned road can really do the trick. I can see and smell the world as it passes by. I feel the wind on my face. It’s good.

But it’s not so good when the bike starts sputtering and stalling out in the middle of nowhere. One minute I was going 50, the next I was coasting and looking for a place to pull over. Have you ever noticed that most country roads don’t have a decent shoulder for you to pull off?

As the hum of the motor was replaced by the sound of the bike’s tires coasting down the road, I noticed a car riding right on top of me in my rear view. At the same time I was desperately trying to shift the gas lever below the tank from "on" to "reserve." But to no avail. The motor wouldn’t reignite. I had to find a place to land.

I stood alone on the side of the road next to my quiet bike (the car riding my bumper never even paused as they accelerated past). I tried to start it several times, but it obviously wasn’t getting any fuel.  I took off my helmet and gloves and reached for my cell phone. I hated to admit it. But I was going to have to call for help.

Before I called I thought what if it’s not the gas? I’ve already switched to reserve and it still won’t start. Maybe, I should wait a little longer. Maybe it takes awhile for the gas to get from the reserve tank to the engine.

I was right. After about a five minute (seemed longer) wait, the motor started right up. I put my gear back on and headed home, determined to never let my bike run out of gas again. I was glad I had reserve fuel to get me to the gas station, but I really didn’t want to have to use the reserve ever again. It’s too scary being on the highway when you lose all power.

After filling up, I decided to start setting the odometer to zero. Motorcycles don’t have fuel gauges, but they do have odometers. By thinking back to the last time I had gased up, I was able to compute that my bike could go about 130 miles on a tank of gas.

"Now," I told myself. "I will remember to get gas way before that odometer hits anywhere near 130 miles!"

The human soul has something in common with motorcycles. The soul has no fuel gauge, but it does have an odometer. It’s called the week. And every seven days God has told us that we need rest. We need a Sabbath.

We don’t know that our souls are on empty until they start sputtering and running out of power. But we can start watching our spiritual odometers. We can start recognizing the need of our souls for weekly nourishment and rest that only God can give.

That’s why the Psalmist David said, "My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from him" (Psalm 62:1 NIV).

See you at the gas station… this Sunday. Don’t wait. You might already be on "reserve."

“Hey, you Mr. Combs?” announced a big fellow in a Federal Express uniform as he entered the church office.

“Yes.” I replied.

“With Wilson Community Church?” he continued.

“Yes, that’s right.” I said.

“Well, I got your hot tub here. Where do you want it dropped off?” He asked.

“Hot tub? I don’t think… Wait a minute. Let me see your invoice.” I asked. “This is not a hot tub. It’s our portable baptismal!” I said with a laugh.

“Ohhh.” He said. “Now, that makes better sense.”

“We think it does too.” I replied.

Our portable baptismal arrived this week. We went in together with two other portable churches to share the cost of this $3400 “hot tub.” In the past we’ve waited for warm weather to hold our baptism services, but we wanted to start letting people follow in obedience as quickly as they committed. Plus, we thought it would be great to have the baptisms during our regular Sunday services.

This baptismal is really cool. It holds 400 gallons of water, has a pump, and a water heater. It has room for 2 or 3 people at a time. And it’s easy to assemble and take apart and fits in a closet for storage.

Discovery Church in Greenville will be “baptizing” our baptismal on Sunday, February 17th. Since they’re going to use it first, we’ve asked them to figure out the best setup/take-down procedure. They also will be building storage cases for us to transport and store it in.

“As they traveled along the road, they came to some water and the eunuch said, “Look, here is water. Why shouldn’t I be baptized?” And he gave orders to stop the chariot. Then both Philip and the eunuch went down into the water and Philip baptized him.” (Acts 8:36-38 NIV)

We already have five people waiting for baptism. Now, we can tell them, “Look, here is water! Why shouldn’t you be baptized?”

“Come, follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will make you fishers of men” (Mark 1:17 NIV).

The Apple Corporation has caught a cultural wave. Complexity is out and simplicity is in. Their “i” products have captured the art of simplicity: iPod, iMac, iPhone, iTunes, etc. The “i” probably started out to symbolize “internet,” but it has come to mean “i” can handle this. “i” can use this simple, yet powerful product.

We make Christianity too complicated. In this complex and chaotic world that we live, we are all looking for simple. Well, good news (It is the Good News by the way)! Following Jesus is simple. He simply says, “Follow me.”

This coming Sunday we conclude our 4-part series entitled: “iChurch: How Three Simple Commitments Make Big Changes.” This has been a powerful time for our church. We’ve seen many decisions to become Christ-followers. We’ve seen many deepen their commitment to celebrate their relationship to God through regular worship attendance and daily Bible reading and prayer.

This past week two brand new Community Groups were started in homes as people made the commitment to connect.

Now, this Sunday we will conclude with the importance of making the commitment to contribute. Jesus wants us to be more than consumers. He calls us to be contributors.

It’s amazing how three simple commitments to …

1. Celebrate God by giving Him the first day of every week and the first part of every day.
2. Connect to God’s people by meeting weekly in homes to devote themselves to the apostle’s teaching, to the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer (Acts 2:42).
3. Contribute to God’s Kingdom by offering Him your time, talent, and treasure.

… Can produce such powerful results!

“And now God is building you, as living stones, into his spiritual temple” (1 Peter 2:5 NLT).

“Jesus replied, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by man, but by my Father in heaven. And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it” (Matthew 16:17-18 NIV).

It took a year and a half to plan, build, and photograph this spectacular “Lego Church.” Over 75,000 lego pieces were used to produce this 7 foot tall, 5 1/2 foot long, by 3 foot wide model. It seats nearly 1400 lego “people.” This Lego church represents a ton of human effort and expense.

If only building a real church were so easy.

Then again, I guess it wouldn’t be so hard if we would remember who the true builder is. If we would submit to being the “living stones” (or legos), then the Master Builder would do the building. If we would “be” the church, then Jesus would “build” the church.

I want to be part of a church that Jesus builds.