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Comment by Chris S Heinz on September 3, 2008 at 12:40pm

Pitching a Tent

“The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us” (John 1.14).

There are two kinds of people in the world: campers and non-campers. Recently my wife and I discovered we are non-campers. Not that this surprised us (our daughter thinks that getting out of town is going to the Hyatt), but it was confirmed. The first clue was when I drove to the wrong campsite. After waiting in line for 20 minutes to check in, I was kindly advised that we were at the wrong place, needed to drive 8 miles to the right one.

The second clue was when we arrived at our campsite, when we met Joe and Pam and their seven kids. Don’t get me wrong – Joe and Pam and their seven kids are all nice enough, but we thought camping was about silence and solitude, not becoming best friends with your new neighbors. It’s easy to become best friends when you’re practically lying on top of each other, when the next campsite is mere feet away.

The third clue was setting up our tent. It’s not easy pounding stakes into the ground when the ground is 1 inch rocks (another indication that camping is not for us). And it’s not easy setting up a tent when you previously disassembled parts that were never meant to be disassembled the last time you camped out in the backyard. Seeing our difficulty, Joe and Pam and their seven kids each took turns asking if we needed help. This was a kind gesture, but on the fifth or sixth round, you stop being nice.

The fourth clue was making a fire. On the drive up, we had bought firewood on the side of the road. Why didn’t anyone tell us that earlier in the day there was a torrential downpour, which had soaked the wood? By the time we came by (look at those suckers!), there was no evidence that the wood could actually be wrung out like a wet dish cloth, so we bought a bundle. Alas, we had a pretty short campfire that night.

The fifth clue was no wireless internet (I know, can you believe it?). The brochure had said all campsites come with wireless internet, so when I realized that Michael Phelps would be swimming his 100 butterfly during our camping trip, and that he probably couldn’t change his schedule, I didn’t fret. I would bring my laptop, connect to the wireless internet connection and be set. But the connection didn’t reach that far. I texted my friend to find out what happened, but there was no cell phone coverage.

The sixth clue was sleeping. We had borrowed mats from our friends (not Joe and Pam and their seven kids, but friends from home), laid them on the tent floor, on top of the 1 inch rocks, and settled down for the evening. After a long and restless night, I checked the mats and asked my wife, “Hmm, what are these valves for?” Hint: Do not ask this question after your wife has had no sleep because you forgot to put air in the mats.

So, instead of staying two nights, we stayed one. We packed it up – the tent we had pitched and our deflated mats and my useless computer – and we left early. This camping world was too strange for us and we weren’t into it. Can you relate? Have you ever packed up and left because you weren’t into it?

I’m glad that Jesus didn’t pack up his tent. The Bible says that the Word (Jesus) made his dwelling among us. This word “dwelling” means to “pitch a tent.” So literally Jesus pitched his tent among humanity, although he was a non-camper: although the world was created thru him, the world didn’t recognize him; although he came to his own, they did not receive him; although he brought light to the darkness, the world didn’t understand the light. But did he leave early? No, He did not. He kept his tent pitched, remained involved, stayed in it. Praise be to Jesus.

Let’s be more like Him.

Comment by Chris S Heinz on August 27, 2008 at 12:55pm

Your First Church

“These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up” (Deut. 6.6-7).

Sometimes when I drop my child off at Sunday school, I wonder what’s really going on. Don’t get me wrong – it’s a great church with a great children’s program. There are whimsical characters painted on the walls, shelves full of toys, boxes of crafts, reams of Bible curriculum. There is a check-in and check-out process so parents leave with the right child. And there are lots of people who love our kid – from the director of the program to the shift supervisor to the man who counts the attendance, right down to the teacher and her helper. I trust every one of them. But still, I wonder what’s really going on.

What’s happening with my daughter? What does she think church is? A building? A Bible lesson? A playtime? What?

I could explain to her what I believe: Church is not a building or a lesson or a playtime; church is so much more. I could tell her this, but would it sink in?

I could use a flannel board with sticky people and a sticky building to make my point. I would ask, “What is church?” and after she points to the building, which is how most kids would answer, I would rip the building off the flannel board, tear it in two, and then point to the people, who are all smiling and holding hands, and I would say, “No, church is not a building, church is people.” Then I would feel satisfied that I contributed to my child’s spiritual development. But I don’t think she’d be better off.

Church is a living organism, the Body of Christ. I can’t just tell her about church; I need to show her, let her experience it. But how? By being the church to her. By inviting her to take part. By treating our family as her first church.

I mean “first” in two ways: first as in earliest, meaning our family is the earliest church she’ll know; and first as in primary, meaning our family is the most important church she’ll know.

Here are ten reasons for the family as the first church:

Shaping of worldview – A worldview is the way a person interprets the world and interacts in it. In his research George Barna found that worldview starts developing as early as age two and is pretty well solidified by age thirteen (1). Instead of letting it shape haphazardly, parents can pass their worldview down to their children in an intentional manner. Shouldn’t church shape worldview?

Identification of influences – Although parents are measured among the most influential in a child’s life, there are other powerful influence agents such as media, friends and the Internet. Practically speaking, parents are in the best position to know what their children are watching and listening to and who they’re hanging out with. Shouldn’t church identify influences?

Participation in Christian community – There is no better place to learn how to live in Christian community than in a family. It’s easy to practice character when you’re at a church service, but what about at home when the kids are fighting or the furnace breaks? In a family, all members have the opportunity to participate in Christian community, up-close and personal. Shouldn’t church be about this?

Testing ground for ministry gifts – God has given ministry gifts to every believer. Like flowers, these gifts bloom if given the right environment. For example, if your daughter is concerned about people in need, she might have a gift of mercy. As a family, you can serve in a soup kitchen, expose her to needy people, and see if the mercy gift develops. How exciting and safe to discover and mature your ministry gifts together! Shouldn’t church be a testing ground for ministry gifts?

Demonstration of real-life faith – When your family is your first church, you’ll live your faith every day, out-loud, in front of your children. When you’re struggling and you pray as a family, your kids will learn the power of prayer. When the beauty of the sunset overwhelms you and you praise God, your kids will learn about worship. When they see you reading your Bible, they’ll pick up on the importance of the Word. Most of all, they’ll learn that faith is something they take with them everywhere, anytime. Shouldn’t church demonstrate real-life faith?

Understanding of authority – God instituted authority in order to pass down blessing from a “greater” to a “lesser.” We first learn about authority in our families. The trend in parenting is to emphasize independence over obedience (2). But parents can go against the flow by providing true authority, leading to lifelong blessing. Shouldn’t church teach authority?

Representation of God – Parents represent God to their children. We often picture God according to our mother or father. If the example is right, we embrace the image. If it is wrong, we reform the image. Parents who are cognizant that they represent God will hopefully act to form a healthy image. Shouldn’t church represent the right image of God?

Obedience to God – Simply put, God commands parents to direct their children in the ways of God: “These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up” (Deut. 6.6-7). Shouldn’t church obey God?

Care for the spirit – As a parent, you take care of your child’s physical needs: you feed him, clothe him, give him shelter, bandage his wounds, etc. You put a lot into taking care of his body. Well, when he dies, he’ll leave his body behind. It’s his spirit that will remain. Shouldn’t the church care for the spirit?

Intimacy as a family – When you make your family your first church, you’ll grow in intimacy as a family. Now this is quality family time!

So put down the flannel board and start being church. Your family is your first church!

Chris S. Heinz
http://www.weeklyword.net

Comment by Greg Outlaw on August 26, 2008 at 1:31pm

Very thought provoking! Well done devo Chris!

Comment by Chris S Heinz on August 21, 2008 at 7:41am

Welcoming a Child
Audio Version


“[Jesus] called a little child and had him stand among them. And he said, ‘Whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me.’” (Matthew 18.2,3,5)

Last night I took a child with me to hike a mountain. There’s a boy I know, Caleb, whose father isn’t around, and he would benefit from the presence of a male in his life. Seeing this testosterone gap, I of course stepped in: I could offer the amount of manliness that was needed in this critical juncture of this boy’s life. And years from now, after he’s won Mr. Universe, Caleb would point back to this hike and say, “That is what did it for me.”

We were still driving to the base of the mountain when Caleb started asking questions. He continued his questions the whole way up the mountain and didn’t finish until we pulled into his driveway at the end of the evening. Seriously, I didn’t know I should have read up on everything before spending time with him. We covered a lot of territory: he asked if mama termites raised their babies; what would happen if lightening struck lava; if God laid down the hiking path Himself; if there are pee pee bees like there are sweat bees; where the sun goes when it sets; who would win if a spider and caterpillar got into a fight; and so on.

We didn’t make very good time. Caleb kept stopping to look under rocks, investigate fallen trees, and look around for animals. He was convinced he saw a bobcat, but who am I to think otherwise – I had failed to read the bobcat entry in Wikipedia before I left my house: “You’re probably right, Caleb, you did see a bobcat.” He found a pile of droppings and asked what kind of animal they belonged to. He desperately wanted them to belong to a bear and for them to be steamy, meaning the bear was nearby. I didn’t have the heart to tell them they were probably from a poodle, who deposited them last week, who was now primped and coiffed and comfortably laying on her feather bed at home.

At first these questions and slowed pace were cute – he was really getting into the hike But then, when I could hardly catch my breath because I was answering so many questions, and I realized how many times we were stopping, I started to get a little annoyed: Can’t we just enjoy the hike in silence, I thought.

That’s when a little Bible verse hit me over the head like a fallen pine: “Whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me.” I had read, even studied this verse months before and now on this hike, away from the safety of my office, its meaning finally showed itself. I spent the rest of the hike reflecting on this verse, that is of course, in-between answering questions I had no business answering.

In the original biblical language, the word “welcomes” means to receive by deliberate and ready reception what is offered. In this verse, what is offered, as a gift, is an experience with a child. On the hike, what was offered, as a gift, was an experience with Caleb. I finally got it: It wasn’t that I had everything to offer – the example of my masculinity, a fun time hiking, answers – no, it was that he had things to offer to me, an example to impart to me.

Caleb reminded me to ask questions, to maintain wonder, to keep thinking.

Caleb reminded me to slow down, to look around, to enjoy the journey.

That is why Jesus wants us to welcome children with a ready reception. Because they are a gift and have much to teach us, things we need to learn. What is your attitude toward children? Do you welcome them or rush them away? I’m not just talking about your own children.

Thank you, Caleb for hiking with me.

Chris S. Heinz
http://www.weeklyword.net
© 2008 Chris S. Heinz, All rights reserved

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Comment by Chris S Heinz on August 13, 2008 at 12:39pm

I'd Rather Stand
Audio Version

“Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God. They are brought to their knees and fall, but we rise up and stand firm.” (Psalm 20.7-8)

Writer’s conferences are interesting events. I went to one last week. You’ve got to be strong and steady at these events or they could break you. You bring your writing, set it before the judges (editors, literary agents and fellow authors) and then hear what they have to say about it. You don’t have to be a writer to understand what’s involved here. Just imagine setting your baby on the table and asking the judges what they think. You tell them to be honest because you can take it, and so they are, brutally honest:

“We’re sorry, ma’am but your baby is ugly.”

That’s kind of what it’s like. I brought my baby with me – a proposal for a book – and I waited for the judging to begin. But even before editors looked at it, someone else asked to read my work.

I was at lunch, harmlessly eating my salad (okay, maybe it wasn’t a salad), when the woman next to me asked about my writing. We started talking, sharing backgrounds, etc. Turns out she was a best-selling, award-winning author, and she would like to read my writing, to see my baby. I agreed, pulling out the proposal, and she cleared her plate out of the way. As she started reading, I tried to avert my eyes. What are you supposed to do when someone’s reading your work? Watch her read? Look away? I didn’t know, so I alternated between both, like a big barn owl.

All of a sudden she let out this loud whoop of a laugh, so loud that other people turned. Then she continued laughing, except for when she said things like, “This is really good!” “I really like this!” “This is great!” By the end, many eyes were on her as she reacted to my writing. Yes, she had drawn a crowd—rather we had drawn a crowd. I felt good as I moved to my appointment with an official judge – a book editor from a major publisher. My new best friend, a best-selling, award-winning author, had liked it and so would the editor.

But he didn’t like it. He didn’t even look at my baby, rattling off some policy about not publishing unknown authors. Didn’t he know that famous authors – well at least one – would buy my book? Guess not. And so went the conference: highs, lows, this one liked it, this one didn’t, if this were a real book, this guy would read on, but this one wouldn’t. I heard so many different things and it was hard to know what to believe. I found myself on shaky ground: Who do I trust? What do I trust?

Have you ever asked those questions? Wondered who or what to put your confidence in? Realized that your once strong and steady ground is crumbling beneath your feet?

Psalm 20.7-8 says, “Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God. They are brought to their knees and fall, but we rise up and stand firm.”

I suppose there are all sorts of things to trust in: personal talents, opinions of others, the stock market, career development plans, diets, Olympic dreams, educational goals, teachers, mentors, political candidates, your dream home, retirement, physical fitness, correct theology, new technology, your therapist, family planning, vacation planning, your looks, your lover, your children, your baby. In short, chariots and horses. But even they are brought down.

I’d rather stand. How about you?

Let’s put our trust in the LORD.

Chris S. Heinz
http://www.weeklyword.net


© 2008 Chris S. Heinz, All rights reserved

Announcing iTunes

The Weekly Word is now on iTunes! Click here to subscribe to the Weekly Word Podcast.

By subscribing, you’ll automatically receive the new podcast into your iTunes library every week.

That’s right. One quick and easy click to subscribe and that’s all you have to do. And if you like what you hear, you can write a review.

If you don’t have iTunes, you can still listen to the audio version. We’ll continue to post a link underneath the title of the Weekly Word.

Comment by Chris S Heinz on August 4, 2008 at 3:01pm

The Knowledge of the Unknown
Audio Version

“Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.” (Psalm 139.6)

I know more than I did five years ago. This fact probably isn’t surprising, not in an information age, in which we have more access to information than ever before. But what is surprising is what I learned in these last five years. Here are two zingers, both of which caught me off guard:

First, gas pumps. This one was really surprising. You know the different numbers at gas pumps like 87, 91, 93? Well, these numbers are not the year, which is what I thought. I know – shocking. They’re actually octane ratings. I’m still kind of recovering from this new knowledge. When I pump gas now, I have to consciously remind myself that I’m not pumping gas from 1987, but rather that I’m pumping gas with an 87 octane rating. It’s hard to think differently because I “knew” something else for so long.

It always confused me why the lowest number of gas was the cheapest. I expected gas to work like wine – the older, the more valuable. The gas from the 1987 reserve should have been more expensive than the gas from the 1993 reserve. If a man really wanted to impress his lady, he would fill up the car with the good stuff, the 87. Then she would know how he felt toward her. Instead of gassing up before the date, he would gas up during the date so she would know. And she would say,

“Oh, honey, you’re going with the 87 – you really do love me!”

But it doesn’t work this way. I know differently now.

The second zinger—birds—was another shocker. In the dead of winter, I looked outside and saw a bird. Astonished, I said, “Look, a bird!” My wife was like, “Yeah, a bird.” I blurted out, “He didn’t fly south for the winter!” I was about to run outside and place a little wool coat around him, and then find him a low-fare airline ticket to the south. The poor bird, he didn’t get the memo, I thought. But before I could do any of this, she answered, “Chris, not all birds fly south for the winter.” Who knew?

I’m sorry I didn’t study ornithology in college, bird lady. How do you know so much about birds? Are you sneaking out at night and taking bird classes? Looking online when I’m at work?

Was I the only one who thought that all birds flew south for the winter? (You don’t have to answer that.) Am I the only one who still looks twice when I see a bird in the winter? (Don’t answer that.).

In one moment I “knew” that gasoline was offered by the year and that all birds flew south for the winter. The next moment I knew something different. I didn’t really know what I thought I knew.

Moments like these are many in life, so we might as well get ready for them. We think we know one thing, and we’re pretty sure about it, and then suddenly that knowledge is dismantled, giving way to something else. We didn’t really know what we thought we knew.

In a universe created by a God who is higher than us and other, it is appropriate to expect that we’ll be surprised by the knowledge we don’t possess or can’t attain, not even by our cleverest of methods. Simply put, though God makes himself known to our world, the unknown is nevertheless a part of our world. And where there is the unknown, there will be surprises.

The knowledge of the unknown (we know that we don’t know) ought to lead us to two things: humility and curiosity. Humility because we don’t know it all, and what we do know, well some of it can be changed in an instant. Curiosity because we can pursue and discover what we don’t know. In the end though, we might not discover what we don’t know because that might be too lofty or wonderful to attain. This is appropriate in a universe created by a God who is higher than us and other…

the knowledge of the unknown.

Chris S. Heinz
http://www.weeklyword.net

Comment by Chris S Heinz on July 31, 2008 at 8:40am

Heaven On Earth, Man Willing

“Going a little farther, [Jesus] fell with his face to the ground and prayed, ‘My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.’” (Matthew 26.39)

One of the most stunning moments of Jesus’ life is in the Garden of Gethsemanee, right after he dines with his closest friends, but before he’s arrested by Roman soldiers. The arrest would lead to his torture and death—his naked body nailed to a rugged cross, his lungs gradually emptying themselves of air until there is none, his head slung forward in silence. We know how the story turns out (and that it’s more than a story), but in this moment, in this single stunning moment at Gethsemanee, the outcome isn’t certain.

Jesus hasn’t chosen it yet,
the world hangs in the balance.

It didn’t have to turn out the way it did, you know. Jesus could have chosen differently. He could have passed the cup that was being passed to him. He could have avoided the cross, done something else, I dunno, started a discount furniture outlet, found a nice lady and settled down. And who could blame him? He’s just getting started in life – only 33 years old, only 3 years in public ministry, gaining a following. This is not the time to make an exit. You leave when your ratings are down, not when they’re up. And they’re up, at least with the people he came for.

So with the world in the balance, Jesus enters Gethsemanee. He’s here to hash things out, to get clarity, to make a decision: will he carry his cross or won’t he? He goes to prayer. He falls on his face and cries out, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me.” He’d like to pass the cup, this proverbial hot potato that is about to land in his lap; he’d like to keep it going around the circle. I understand what he’s asking for because I’d ask for the same thing – a way out. You might too.

That’s what happens when you have a will of your own. Simply put, the choice is yours. You can do anything you want to: rescue the kitten from the middle of the road, offer a word of grace to your neighbor, shoot up the middle school. With the advent of the will comes the power of choice – for me, for us, for Jesus. We can bring hell to earth or we can bring heaven; it’s our call.

With the world in the balance,
Jesus chooses heaven,
and the world is saved.

That’s because Jesus chooses God. His prayer is not, “I choose the cross.” No, it’s “I choose your will, God.” And it happened to be that God’s Will was the cross.

When we will with God, we create a supernatural partnership, one capable of bringing heaven to earth. The reason we see so little of heaven here is because we so rarely choose it. We don’t seek God’s Will in things. We go our own way, which again, is our choice. God lets us.

But consider the event of aligning our will with God’s. When we don’t have to. When we can go our own way. When it’s our choice. It is absolutely supernatural when we use our will to choose God’s, when heaven comes to earth. It’s what Jesus did.

Now this is stunning, truly glorious.

The glory of man is man willing with God.

Comment by melanny manuputty on July 24, 2008 at 2:46pm

thank you my sister may God bless you
Melanny

Comment by Chris S Heinz on July 22, 2008 at 2:52pm

Building Something Together

“Shallum…repaired the next section with the help of his daughters. The Valley Gate was repaired by Hanun and the residents of Zanoah. They rebuilt it and put its doors and bolts and bars in place.” (Nehemiah 3.12-13a)

There is more joy building something together than building it alone. That’s what I learned from many of you. Three months ago we started a campaign called the Yes We Can Van Campaign. The point of the project was to raise enough money to buy a reliable, safe, somewhat new van for a family of six – one mother and five children. And you know what? You came through. I just signed the check and handed the keys over, watched as the salesman showed Lorraine the features of her new van. And I was filled with joy at what we did together.

It was a little what Nehemiah might have felt as he surveyed the new walls of Jerusalem, after they had been rebuilt. You see, the beloved city’s walls were broken down by wars – destroyed and burned-out. Nehemiah thought he should do something. So he rallied the entire community to rebuild the walls. And they did it together. If you read the book of Nehemiah, you know what I mean that they did it together. I don’t know how many individuals are mentioned by name, but it’s a lot. Each adds his or her own part: Shallum and his daughters, they repair one part of the wall; Hanun and the people of Zanoah, they attach the doors and bolts and bars (You know the old saying – Get your hardware from Zanoah, don’t you know – ah); and others, well, they do their part to complete the wall.

So while we didn’t build a wall, we built a van, many of us.

Of the 57 donors, 49 are individuals, three are businesses and five are non-profit organizations. We come from ten different states and even Canada. We are professors and programmers, students and salesmen, baristas and book worms, golfers and grannies. Some of us work from home; some of us don’t leave the office; some of us are unemployed. We’re preparing to marry, preparing to travel, preparing to homeschool, preparing to study. Some of us are rich and not very old while others are old and not very rich. A bunch are in-between. But it doesn’t matter. Point is we built a van – together.

I think it’s more satisfying this way – 57 donors total – than if one person wrote a big check. Sure, that would have been cool and it would have been quick, but we would have missed out on building together. The story would have gone like this:

Daddy Warbucks bought a van.

Whereas the story we wrote is more like this:

John wheeled in the four tires while Kasey draped the seat belts around her neck like a scarf. Following close behind was Nick, who gripped the spark plugs tightly, knowing he couldn’t lose them. Delivering her part with Olympic flair, Maggie made discuss-throwing motions with the steering wheel. Todd, he hoisted the engine with a crane, ready to lower it into the body. Heather stood nearby to cover the naked form with color as soon as every part was added. And when it was complete, everyone let out a loud “Hooray,” which was heard three or four counties away, because together they had built a van.

Which story do you want to be part of?

There is more joy building something together than building it alone.

What should we build next?

Comment by mary jones on July 17, 2008 at 5:02pm

i read this verse and i cant find it at the moment (could anyone tell were it is) IF YOU SEE YOUR BROTHER SIN A SIN THATS NOT UNTO DEATH YOU CAN PRAY TO YOUR FATHER TO FORGIVE HIM AND HEAL HIM AND HE WILL)

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