Abraham and Isaac; Shotguns and Sacrifice

I had an Abrahamic experience in the last few months.
When I was sixteen my Dad gave me a fine shotgun, it was a Spanish made double. It was just what I had ask for, the kind of gun that I had read that Nash Buckingham used to shoot ducks or a fine eastern gentleman would use to hunt grouse along the stone walls and thickets in New England. I truly treasured this gun; it holds so many fond memories. There were dove shoots where the barrels were hot to the touch and not many birds to show for the heat. There was the last time I hunted with Dad over a bird dog that was better than I deserved, Dad killed a beautiful cock bobwhite, what a beautiful day that was and I never fired a shot. This gun became a part of me, the more I shouldered the gun the more it was a part of me. Rail, Snipe and Quail all fell to this gun but more than a fine gun, was the memories it led me to create. Dad truly hit the ball long and far with this gift. He taught me to hunt and shoot and then gave me a tool to pursue the craft of be a sportsman. I once made the “perfect” shot on a pheasant in South Dakota; it was something out of a Gene Hill story, all because Dad gave me a fine gun. I have had many adventures in the field all made a bit more special because of this gun.
Now to Abraham and Isaac; Shotguns and Sacrifice.
After Dad passed away this summer I planned a Memorial Shoot to celebrate Dad’s life and to raise money for a young couple going to Spain to do missions work? Dad enjoyed Spain and I thought this was a great way to celebrate. I prayed “God how do, I make this event a success?” God answered “how much do you love me?” “Give your gun away as “the prize””. I was OK with that the gun was stuff and stuff is just stuff. About a week ago I got the gun out to clean it and have it ready for its new owner, as I picked up the gun and felt it in my hands memories of long ago flooded my memory, the smell of the steel and the feel of the smooth walnut in my hands. I took a picture of the gun cradled in my hand and then put it away as tears filled my eyes. I knew and was comfortable with giving it away, I knew and believed that it would help to promote the shoot and also raise money for the cause of spreading the Gospel; which is my purpose as a Christian and wow I am giving back to God, an offering that had a cost and it felt good to be obedient to the point of sacrifice. I cherished the memories that I had made in the field with this gun but the gun itself is a tool, right? I had thought I will get a gun to replace this one in the spring after I saved some money, but this fall no hunting for me this fall, I could take the kids and teach them this year, but I was just an observer this fall.
Abraham took his son to the mountain and told his servant that they would be back after they worshipped and gave a sacrifice. As they walked away Isaac asked “Dad we have no lamb to sacrifice”, Abraham responded “God will provide”. Isaac was then bound and placed on the alter and God said “STOP”, just as Abraham was preparing to sacrifice his son. God provided a lamb for the sacrifice. I am not saying that giving up a gun is the same as your son, but what I am saying is can you give something up that you cherish? If you can, can you trust God not only to replace what is sacrificed but to reveal Himself as a Great God? Can you glorify Him in the sacrifice? Do you trust Him to be the God of His promises? Do you realize His power and trust in it? I did so, but at times reluctantly, just ask my wife, although I was OK giving away my gun I was sad and frustrated about the situation. I remember complaining to Susan “how can I teach the kids to duck hunt if I don’t have a gun” or “we have a sporting tradition in this family and it is important to pass that down to the kids”. As I looked around our back room at pictures of 4 generations of sportsman I thought to myself “God what are you teaching me?” It was to answer those questions of trust and resting in the promises He has given me. Did I trust in His power? I did, but I could not for the life of me figure out how He would replace what I was giving Him, wow I must be really proud of myself “what I was giving Him”. I guess in the end I felt alone in this, my lovely wife understood at some point but I missed Dad and now I was giving away the only object he had given me that I cherished. I knew it was the right thing to do and I serve an infinite God but how was this going to be right in the end. My boys asked “Dad why are you giving away your gun?” and I responded “it is the right thing, God gave up His Son that we might have eternal life and because of that we will see Pop again and a gun is just stuff.” I knew that in my heart but my head kept trying to figure out the details. God had a plan though, one that I could not have conceived of even if I lived to be five hundred.
Sunday at church a man, I have known for a relatively short time and I were chatting and then he said “can we talk?” I said “sure” and we stepped off to the side and he looked me in the eye and said he was thinking about the memorial shoot I was hosting and he had heard that I was giving away my gun. I told him that I was and I thought that it would be a big draw and help earn the money we want to earn. He told me that he had sold a couple of older guns that week and purchased a new over and under for the shoot and he had decided to give it to me to give away so that I could keep my gun. I was stunned and speechless. I open my mouth to thank him and no words came, only tears. As the tears streamed down my face he hugged me like a brother and then walked away. I stood there stunned by the love this man shown, it was the love of Christ. Christ through this man had shown me mercy and love and provided a “lamb” to me. This man proved that God loves to give good gifts.
My sacrifice had taught me not to doubt and to have faith in my God, don’t try to figure it out just trust. His power is unexplainable and when I try to figure things out I am doubting, I will say that again when I am trying to figure it out I am doubting! Praise God for this gift. I realize to most this whole story may not make too much sense, it is just a gun and I could have gone and bought a new one. I agree but I also believe God knew that I was willing to give it up and He only wanted my obedience not my gun. I think that is all He wants is our willingness and availability. Do I think He may ask for something or everything in the future sure, but my God is enough and I would give it up, but the next time I will not try to figure it out, at least I hope I don’t? Thank you for showing God’s love to me this week. God thanks and praise be to you for loving me enough to prove yourself and give me a good gift.

Chapter 2 Radical “The Gift”

Fishing has not happened since the last post although I am almost finished building a new fly tying table and cabinet.
Chapter 2 Radical “The Gift”
When I was a boy my youth pastor, Doug Pogue, gave us a taste of a secret church. We attended a church that was at least a hundred years old, so in the mind of a nine year old it was a bit creepy at night to say the least. We were doing an all nighter at the church. About midnight or 1 AM Doug led us in to the far corner of the basement, into a small room. He turned no lights on as we entered the basement and by the time we made it to the small room in the corner it was complete darkness. We entered the small room and with a click of the latch the door closed behind us and no one said a word. A small candle was lit and cast an eerie glow in the room. Our eyes adjusted and we could see that Doug had taken out a Bible and began to read from it. About that time we heard boots pounding down on the pavement outside past the small dirty window above our heads, we could see the beam of a flashlight. Wwwhhheeeewww and out went the candle, “ssshhhh be quiet or they will find us”. My heart is racing now as I think about the emotions this evoked, we were in the mist of the cold war and we knew they, the USSR, hated God. Thirty years later I still recall that evening and remember the fear that was evoked by just having God’s word out in the open. A secret church is an act of love and devotion.
When was the last time we just read God’s Word? No commentaries, no slick new book talking about the latest thought on Christianity, no internet blog of thoughts on a passage. You read it just because you love the Word. I know that I have read and reread love letters and notes that my wife has sent me. Why don’t we treat God’s love letter to us that way? We read it, but out of a sense of duty or because we need to so we can lead a bible study or maybe in a time of trouble for comfort. Should we not just want to hear words of affirmation and love? I want to love the Word more and love Him more but as I stated last week there are too many distractions in my world. Peace is hard to come by to share moments with God’s Word, no different than find that intimate time with my wife. It takes planning, divine intervention and determination to make it a priority. What is your priority? Can you determine to have a time of intimacy with the Word this week?

Comments on Radical Chapter 1 and a little fishing report

For those of you new to my blog there is always fishing, hunting, and paddling updates first. DRY! Fishing slow on the Big Walnut ½ of rain in 8 weeks with 90+ temperatures means no flow. We added a new canoe to the list of gear and early goose season came and went with no outings.
Thoughts on Radical by David Platt Chapter 1
The way to render a man happy, is to engage him with an object that will make him forget his private troubles. - Pascal
Hence what the American Dream does…distract, distract, distract. In this first chapter of Radical my thoughts were driven to our culture and how we have made Christianity American. Look at the pictures of Jesus we grew up with, we refer to Him as “Surfer Jesus” and the flannel grams were Abraham and Isaac really white wearing blue clothing. We were deceived from an early age. Not out of malice, I think it was more out of a feeling of fear and to make it (the gospel) comfortable. If we presented the Bible and even more over the Gospel in its true grittiness, we then have to realize that it will be offensive, dangerous and tough. As a parent I think our parents also realized if they presented the Gospel the way that Christ presented it then their children (us) would leave and go to dangerous places and not live out their dreams or maybe their dreams for us.
The American Dream. I used to understand this concept. I thought; work hard, buy a house, get married, have 2 kids, get a dog and a minivan and I would have arrived. I got there but decided not to stay. Sold the van, got another dog, chickens and rabbits, a big garden, live in a rural town not the suburbs and had three kids.
We choose to rest on Sunday and not go out to eat or play organized sports. My wife and I reach out to those around us, not as much as we should but as we change our focus from ourselves to others we do more and more reaching out. We try to see others through the eyes of Christ, not with the filter of “America”. It might mean we have a couple over that is struggling with something we find distasteful or give an item that we cherish to a couple to help them make it through.
The Gospel and the American Dream don’t match. I am not saying that is wrong to have “stuff”, I am saying that “stuff” complicates things. I look at my great grandparents same couch for forty years and never thought twice about it. Now new furnishings every few years and a big vacation to boot is what we consider normal and modest as long as it is not so extravagant that people will talk. My grandfather told me the story of sharing a quart of ice cream after the war with the family across the road, five kids and everyone got some and they were all happy, now we each want our own quart.
In our Church we are all basically the same 98% white, 70% upper middle class (although I suspect some of those still don’t think they have enough “stuff”), that makes it tough to understand the world Christ lived in, a world of diversity and strife. When was the last time any of us shared a meager meal with a family from a different socio-economic group? I had the opportunity to share a meal with some great folks a while back; it was a good lesson in humility. I was invited by them not the other way around. It was simple fair at a simple place but it was good, the gospel was shared and discussed and seeds were planted. I wish I would have been the instigator and not the guest. Christ was always the instigator, He always put himself in position to be the one who brought up the topic or served the meal.
Did you ever notice the environments Christ put Himself in, it was definitely NOT a church program. In Death by Suburb David Goetz states “Suburban religion, its programming, and the need for warm bodies to “advance the kingdom of God” seem only to contribute to my problem. It seems like more stuff to feel guilty about.” Christ was our example of advancing the Kingdom of God and He had no program. He didn’t even have a big church with a gym and bookstore. Christ wasn’t interested in numbers of bodies but in but in the temperature of the bodies serving.

just time and silence

I wrote this after reflecting about my Dad’s death.
In the darkest of the day my memories flow like a river over the stones of time. And now all of the words have been said and there are no fences to be mended. Soon it will be fall and the colors of a flame will be ever present on the maples. There are no answers and there are not even questions, just time and silence. The quiet is that of a late summer morning before the sun has started to turn the sky pink. There is just the faint hum of an occasional insect in the distance mourning the end of the night. It is as if you are in a skiff that is slipping over the horizon. I could see you smile and wave as you do so. When I see you again I will be smiling and waving at my family as I slip over the horizon and there you will be with the One, the One that I long to see. And so life moves forward. Did life change? No. Did our lives change? Yes, but not of sadness or a sense of loss but a sense of hope that at some time in the future we will meet again at the gate and we will be joined together because of sacrifice. Not your sacrifice or mine, not the hardships we endured but the sacrifice of the One who looked like all the others and walked the dirt roads of a far away land. He suffered for each of us that in the end we would be reunited at a gate like no other, we will not only be with one another but with Him the ONE that sacrificed all for each of us.