Month: October 2017

The stark headline on the front page of the October 15th Sacramento Bee declared: “Hell on Earth.”

Below it was a large picture of devastated buildings, followed by an update on the horrendous wildfires raging across California, especially in the northern half of the state. The sheer numbers are staggering: some 20 different simultaneous fires burning 200,000 acres, leaving 42 dead, 53 missing, and 100,000 evacuees. The fires are ravaging seven counties and have destroyed 6000 homes, many businesses, a hotel, and even a hospital. As the flames spread, evacuation centers had to be evacuated as the fires closed in on them. Firefighters were working triple shifts, and planes dropped an average of 500,000 gallons of fire retardant per day for the past week.

Tragedies are not found so much in the numbers themselves, as in the individual lives affected, ruined, or taken by this disaster

The fiery devastation, and the human efforts to contain it, have been beyond comprehension. But the tragedies are not found so much in the numbers themselves, as in the individual lives affected, ruined, or taken by this disaster: an elderly disabled couple who died together in their home, a firefighting driver who took a wrong turn and dead-ended (literally) on a blocked road and was engulfed by flames, missing and unaccounted-for family members, and shell-shocked used-to-be homeowners who stare at the smoking cinders of what used to be their homes.

While the fiery images in the papers and the gripping videos on TV do recall biblical descriptions of hell, the same levels of death and destruction have also recently been caused elsewhere in our country by other forces. Hurricanes and tornadoes have devastated sections of Texas, Florida, and all of Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands. The death tolls from the three hurricanes stands at 209, and most of the island of Puerto Rico is still without power or basic services. So, whether it’s fire or it’s wind and water, the results have been equally hellish in terms of human suffering, of anguish, injury, property loss, displacement, and death.

Whenever such large-scale tragedies occur, we find ourselves asking questions beyond the practical issues (“What could have been done better to reduce the damage?”) or the political issues (“Who could have done their job better?”). We seek answers about the meaning of such events. Why did they happen? Why did God allow them? Did God send them as a message or punishment, like a modern-day Great Flood? We want the events to make sense, and not just be random, meaningless events that ruin so many lives which themselves do have meaning.

We want the events to make sense, and not just be random, meaningless events that ruin so many lives

I can’t say I have all the answers to such legitimate questions, but let me offer some of my thoughts:

1. The Bible teaches that we live in a fallen world that was cursed by God due to our sinful rebellion (Genesis 3). With two notable exceptions, Enoch and Elijah, (both of which begin with an “E” just like Eddy; I’m just saying . . .), all humans, and indeed all living things, are terminal. As we read in Hebrews 9:27, “it is appointed for man to die once . . .” Therefore, whether it’s due to a fire, a hurricane, a blizzard, a war, a crazed sniper, or “natural causes” such as a heart attack, a stroke, or cancer, we all face an end to this life. Ecclesiastes 3:1-2 rightly proclaims, “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die.”
2. Though death (like taxes!) is inevitable, when and how it comes to each of us makes a big difference. A great-grandmother sleeping her way into the Father’s arms while surrounded by her descendants is a far cry from a baby girl being aborted in the womb. A young concert-goer struck down by a bullet or run over by a terrorist is much different from the person who gets to say goodbye to his family after a full and active life. Someone who sacrifices his or her life to save others has experienced a more noble death than the guy who overdoses on heroin. I could go on, and you can probably think of even more stark contrasts, but the point is that there are some means and timings of death that are just wrong.
3. God’s Word makes it clear that human life is of supreme importance and is precious to God. We were made in God’s image (Genesis 1:26-27), murderers (and animals) are condemned for taking human life because we were made in God’s image (Genesis 9:5-6), and murder is prohibited by the Fifth Commandment (Exodus 20:13 and Deuteronomy 5:17). We read that the death of God’s people (his saints) is precious in his sight (Psalm 116:15). He does not desire anyone to perish (2 Peter 3:9). But most of all, we know that our lives are important to God because he gave his only Son to die for us that we might have eternal life (John 3:16, etc.).
4. Even though death is inevitable, we are still commanded by God to save lives when and where possible. We are to love and care for each other, including fighting diseases, binding up the injured, protecting the defenseless, and practicing safe and healthy lifestyles. Romans 13 tells us that God gave the authority of the sword to rulers in order to restrain evil, that is, to protect people from harm. It is a sign of our love for God that we love and care for others, including improving and prolonging their lives.

 

These points I’ve just presented are fairly “safe” statements with which most Christian would agree. But now we move on to two other, more difficult questions, the answers to which can be very controversial. (Can I stop my blog right here? No? Okay, here goes . . .)

1. Did God send the California fires (and/or the hurricanes) as a warning or judgment? My bold, well-thought out answer to this question is . . . I don’t know. Certainly, God could have done that, because he has the power to do so, and according to Scripture, he has done so in the past. He sent the Great Flood in Noah’s day, he stopped the building of the Tower of Babel, he poured out the plagues upon Egypt, and allowed the Assyrians, Babylonians, and Romans to punish his Chosen People for their idolatry and rejection of Christ. At times he brought judgments against individuals for their sins. Also, the Bible speaks of future, world-wide calamities that will accompany Christ’s triumphant return. So, what we have experienced is not beyond God’s power or right to do. But regarding these specific calamities? I have to say again, that I don’t know, because God has not revealed that to me or in his written Word. But because the disasters could be warnings or judgments from God, we need to examine ourselves to see if we have done anything deserving of such disasters (Note to theologians reading this: yes, I know we all have done things deserving of God’s punishment, but so did the ancients – and God used such calamities as corporate judgments on entire peoples for his purposes.). Usually God used such events to call his people back to himself; if nothing else, we need to examine our own lives and ask if we have been faithful to God in thought, word, and deed. Have we so shut him out of our lives that he needed to get our attention? Have we so strayed from his Word that it takes a disaster to remind us of our utter dependency on him? Has America so turned its back on God that God is allowing us to see what it’s like to live without his protection?
2. Were those hardest hit by the disasters the most deserving of God’s punishment? This one’s a lot easier to answer; the answer is: “No.” And on this point, I have Christ’s own words in Luke 13:1-5, where he spoke about two disasters that had befallen some Jews in Jerusalem. Listen to his words: “There were some present at that very time who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. And he answered them, “Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans, because they suffered in this way? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all likewise perish. Or those eighteen on whom the tower in Siloam fell and killed them: do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others who lived in Jerusalem? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all likewise perish.” His point was that the victims in both cases were not singled out for God’s judgment. Like the victims in our fires and hurricanes – or in the Las Vegas shootings – they were in the wrong places at the wrong times. Were they sinners? Of course. Were they worse sinners than the rest of us who weren’t affected? No. But Jesus goes on to warn that there is a judgment coming for all of us, and that we need to prepare for it by repenting of our sins. Therefore, as with the question of national judgment, we cannot look down upon other sinners as if they deserve God’s punishment more than we do; instead let us all examine ourselves, repent of our sins, and trust in Christ for forgiveness and deliverance from death – however and whenever it comes.

 

Disasters – natural and man-made – can be a real test of faith as we consider the magnitude of suffering – our own or that of others. We may not be able to make sense of it all, except to know that we have a loving God from whom no disaster can ever separate us. He will be with us no matter what. Our work is to love him in gratitude for the many who are protected and delivered from disaster, and to extend ourselves in prayer, giving, and serving those who have been harmed by the “hell on earth.” We must show them that there is a “heaven” to come.

May the Lord bless you and keep you, the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you, the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace. Amen.

Read: Luke 13:1-5,  Matthew 13:36-43, Revelation 20:7-15

In my previous blog post, (Ninety-Nine and Counting), I talked about my father and some of the influences he had on me during my childhood and youth which remain with me even today. I mentioned that he would have turned 99 this fall had he not passed away at the age of 94. After expressing my gratitude for having had the dad I did, I posed the obvious question,  “Okay, Rich, we get it about your father. But what about your mother?” I closed my post by saying, “. . . that’s another story. . .”

Well, it’s time for that other story. My mother would have turned 100 this past spring, if she hadn’t passed away in 1999 at the age of 82. One hundred years would have been a significant milestone in her earthly life, but as with my father, my mother’s story doesn’t end with her leaving this world. She also was a strong Christian in faith and life, so I have complete confidence that she is indeed still alive in Christ’s presence for “Ten thousand years and then forevermore” (from the song, 10,000 Reasons by Matt Redman). As did my dad, she had a profound influence on me, (besides the obvious fact that she bore me and brought me into the world!): on my faith, on my education, and on my worldview.

Here are some of the events and situations involving my mom which I remember most, and which helped to make me who I am today:

1. The first event actually took place before I was born, while my mom was still carrying me in the womb. She told me how one day she was standing on the concrete back steps of their apartment building, when she suddenly felt a push that propelled her headfirst down the steps. There was no way to stop or catch herself, but at the last second she felt a hand against her chest that caught her and set her (and me!) safely down on one of the steps. If that hadn’t happened, one or both of us would have certainly been injured or even killed. Of course, in my own prideful thoughts, I figured God wanted to save me, but even if it was only my mom he wanted to rescue, and I was just collateral “un-damage,” that’s okay with me!
2. During my early grade-school days in Detroit, my mom and I would go downtown to see some movies. I especially remember seeing “The King and I” starring Deborah Kerr and Yul Brynner. Some of my memories were of my mom singing along with the movie’s songs with her beautiful voice (unfortunately I got my dad’s genes in that area. . .). But the song I remember the most was “Getting to Know You.” Besides the tune being catchy, the song taught about learning other cultures and appreciating people who are different from you. My mom not only sang that song enthusiastically, she also talked about the theme in ways that a little boy could understand.
3.  My mom’s acceptance of others was more than a nice idea; it carried over to real-life relationships. She was friendly with the Chinese couple that lived next door, and with a Japanese family that went to our church. Later, after we moved, and our small all-white Methodist Church merged with a same-size all-black Methodist Church in the mid-1960s, she enthusiastically encouraged the merger to show we could be united in Christ. She later supported keeping the black minister and getting rid of the theologically-liberal white one, and encouraged my decision to join the all-black (except for me) Gospel Choir. She even supported me after I botched a solo in church one Sunday morning with that choir, giving me a hug and saying, “At least you tried!”
4. She also supported me the day I trimmed our cat’s whiskers. I had just gotten a haircut myself, and decided the cat needed to get one, too. A  lot of moms would have panicked or shrieked to see what I did, but my mom was impressed that I had neatly laid newspapers on my bed to catch the whiskers – a fact she never forgot and often cited even decades later.
5. My mom was sentimental in many ways, especially when it came to patriotism. She loved our country, and was proud of the good things in our history. She would get a little teary-eyed and choked up when seeing a patriotic movie or hearing certain national hymns. I learned from her about our history, and was encouraged by her to show my patriotism to others.
6. She also had a soft heart for things English, and loved finally getting to go there with my dad after his retirement. Which isn’t surprising, considering she was Virginia Elizabeth, named for England’s “Virgin Queen,” Queen Elizabeth I. (Just as I was named for King Richard the Lion-Hearted; see my previous blog about that . . .) We even went and saw Queen Elizabeth II when she came to Chicago soon after her coronation.
7. My mom put a high value on education, making sure I had good opportunities to learn at school and at home. She supported my going into our school district’s advanced academic program, and showed up to defend me before a teacher who had criticized my homework. She celebrated and attended academic awards ceremonies, and watched my TV appearances on a high school academic-challenge quiz show. She and dad sacrificed and made sure I could go to college, even though I passed up our less-expensive local state university. She set a high bar, since she had read a lot and had a gifted memory; even in her later years she could still recite poems she had learned in grade school, such as Old Ironsides by Oliver Wendell Holmes.
8. My mom loved languages and had what the actor John Carradine called, “a love affair with the English language.” She studied Latin and German in school, and though I didn’t learn German at home, she would sometimes throw out phrases such as “Guten Morgen! Hast du gut geschlafen?” (Good morning! Did you sleep well?) and “Gesundheit!” (Gesundheit!). She also would play on my dad’s name by saying to him, “Ich liebe Dick” meaning “I love Dick,” instead of the correct “Ich liebe dich,” (I love you). She instilled that enjoyment of language in me, especially when she would make puns in English: one of her favorites was, “Use incongruous in a sentence: In Congruous they pass many laws . . .” She would also order Sanka beverage in a restaurant, and then say to the server, “Sanka very much!” when the drink arrived.
9. As you can tell, she had quite a sense of humor (?), which she passed on to me. She would get laughing so hard sometimes she couldn’t even talk; we had to wait to find out what had struck her as so funny. She enjoyed comedians such as Carol Burnett, Tim Conway, and Red Skelton, but could find humor in life situations as well.
10. Finally, like my dad, she was strong in her faith in Christ, and showed it by word and action, She was active in church choirs and circles; she worshiped faithfully and read her Bible; she sewed cloth pads for cancer patients; and she was a generous giver, often writing letters in response to charity solicitations, explaining why she couldn’t send more. She was a faithful wife and mother, fulfilling those calls in her life, including raising me, her favorite son (Okay, her only son). And she supported me going to seminary, sacrificing and then proudly placing the red stole over my shoulders at my ordination. (Though, on the way out from the service, she said, “It’s too bad you couldn’t have become a Methodist minister!” She was not joking.)

My mom blessed her family even in her passing, by which she showed how a Christian should die: at peace and ready to go to heaven to be with the Lord. I was proud to conduct her funeral service sharing about her faith and our Christian hope even in times of loss.

But her final blessing was reserved for someone else: one of my sister’s friends came to the funeral, heard about my mom’s faith and the promises of scripture, and left the service telling her husband that she also now believed in Jesus Christ and the promises of eternal life she had heard. Her husband called my sister a week later to tell her that his wife had suddenly died. But he was at peace, knowing that his wife had come to faith. Who knows how many other people she had similarly blessed over her 82 years? Who knows how many you may affect similarly!?

And now, may the Lord bless you and keep you, the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you, the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace. Amen.

Read: Psalm 22:9-10; Proverbs 1:8-9

About two weeks ago would have been my father’s 99th birthday. I say it would have been, because he passed away in the Spring of 2013, at the age of 94. My dad was also named Richard Eddy, though he usually went by the nickname, Dick. I could not have chosen a better person to be named after (other than Jesus, but that just isn’t done in Anglo cultural tradition). Neither did they name me after Martin Luther, because, well, my parents were Methodists, not Lutheran. I think they would have found “Marty Eddy” a little awkward, too. They could have named me after the founder of Methodism, John Wesley, but the last guy to be named after him was John Wesley Hardin, and he turned out to be a vicious, gun-slinging outlaw. So they had to settle with naming me after my dad – though I used to fantasize that I was really named after England’s King Richard the Lionhearted (refer to my Anglo background).

It’s common for a child to esteem, or even idolize, his or her parents. They seem so much bigger than life, they know and can do so much, and their loving commitment to their family can make us very proud of them (“My dad can lick your dad!”). In my case it was easy: my dad did know a lot, was strong and wiry, spent his off-work time doing things with or for the family, and was a faithful Christian gentleman who humbly worked as a YMCA director for 40 years and served as a lay leader in every church to which he belonged. He and my mom were married for 57 years until the day he laid her to rest, after caring for her in her final months at home. Yeah, I loved and admired my dad, and followed in his footsteps in my faith, in my college choice (his Alma Mater), and in my first career as a YMCA youth director.

It would be easy to go on and on about my dad, but I can best describe him by relating a few special incidents that illustrate his character. My purpose is not to put him up on a pedestal or even to idolize him, but to share some thoughts about how faith in Christ can impact how we live. So, here goes . . .

1. There was the baseball incident. As youth director of the Racine, Wisconsin YMCA, my dad was responsible for the youth sports leagues the Y sponsored. So it was that when he drove me to one of my games, and learned the umpire hadn’t shown up, he stepped up to the plate – no, actually, to behind the pitcher’s mound since he had no protective face mask with him – to call the game. It was I who stepped up to the plate. The pitcher wound up and threw: “Strike 1” as I swung and missed! The pitcher threw again, but this time the ball came right at me. I instinctively backed away, my bat and hands held horizontally in front of me. The ball clipped my knuckles (a knuckle ball?), then grazed my chin, and finally bounced off my collar bone. I got up, dusted off, and was halfway to first base when I heard my dad call out, “Strike 2!” Everyone, even the other team, looked at him in shocked surprise. He explained, “I heard the ball hit the bat. That makes it a foul ball and therefore, strike 2.” I went back to the plate, and proceeded to miss again for my third strike. I still couldn’t believe that my own dad had called a strike when no one in the world would have questioned him sending me to first base. But as time went on, I came to appreciate that call, and even praised it at his retirement dinner. It’s true that no one would have questioned him sending me to the base, but my dad was certain he heard the ball hit the bat, and that made it a strike. He had to do what was right, even at a cost to his own son (me!). That show of integrity stuck with me much longer than any bump in my meager sporting life. He always felt bad for that call, but I assured him it was right, especially when I later learned that if a pitch hits a hand that is holding a bat, it technically is a foul ball. So dad was right all along . . . and he taught me something about integrity in the process!
2. There was Indian Guides. Back when it was cool to honor Indians by dressing up and learning about them (before cries of “cultural appropriation”), my dad and I were members of several Y-Indian Guide tribes. We were in the program for six years – twice as long as usual – because my dad was the Y staff member who led the program at the Y’s where he served. So I got to go with him to the meetings, on canoe trips, and on camp-outs. I enjoyed being Running Deer to dad’s Walking Deer, partly for the cultural interest, but also because the program helped fulfill the purpose of its founders: to help dads and sons spend time together and develop life-long bonds of love and respect. I was “Pals Forever with my Dad,” and was honored by him that he spent what could have been free time, with me.
3. There were the haircuts. Some of the special times we spent together were under the guise of him cutting my hair. He did it to save money (and probably to make sure I didn’t let my hair get too long!), but to me those times we spent together were very enjoyable. He would put on some old 78 rpm records and we’d listen while he trimmed – usually some humorous songs, but sometimes a patriotic tune like “The Ballad of Rodger Young.” We sang “O My Darling Clementine” and “She’ll Be Coming ‘Round the Mountain” together, and listened to Burl Ives sing about the “Big Rock-Candy Mountain.” (Yes, I am dating myself.) We would talk while his often-malfunctioning electric trimmer clipped away, but mostly I enjoyed his made-up stories. People talk about “quality time” but I think “quantity time” is just as important, if not more. Though he never charged me for the haircuts, there was a price to be paid: all the way through high school I always had a crew cut.
4. There was the “off to college” incident. It was the day my family prepared to take me to college. As my dad and I loaded up the family car with my essentials, he took me aside for a little fatherly advice. He basically said two things. First, he said, “I’ve had 18 years to teach you about what’s right and wrong, and how to live. If you don’t know by now, nothing I say today will make a difference. But I trust you will do what is right.” It was nice to hear his vote of confidence. But, then he said something that really stuck with me. It went like this: “As you face situations in your life ahead, you’ll want to know what God would have you do. We want to hear his direction loud and clear, but I’ve found God usually works more quietly in leading us.  When Elijah encountered God, it wasn’t in the wind and the fire and the earthquake that God spoke to him, but rather in a ‘still, small voice.’ Son, listen for God to guide you with that still, small voice.” I always appreciated his advice, and found over the years that God often directed in quiet, intimate ways that I would have missed had I looked only for the spectacular.
   
5. There was the 50th Anniversary surprise. Our family gathered in greater Chicago for my parents’ 50th Anniversary celebration. That was where they had met and married and first lived (and where I was born). Many of my mother’s family still lived there, so it was an appropriate venue for the event. We ate a nice dinner, and then the family shared stories and congratulated the folks on their accomplishment. During that time, a man – a stranger – walked in on the party, and asked to say something. As I said, none of us knew him, but it was obvious he had somehow learned about the party and had felt the need to address us. He said he had come to thank my dad for teaching Sunday School some 50 years earlier. He said that it was during one of those classes that my dad prayed with his students, and this man had given himself to Jesus Christ during that prayer. He had always wanted to thank my dad for leading him to Christ, and would be eternally grateful for it. I don’t remember any of the other testimonials or gifts given to my parents that day, but that man’s joy and gratitude, I will never forget.

 

Like I said, I could go on for hours talking about my dad. He was very special in many ways, but his greatest legacy for me is my faith in Christ. I saw the difference it made in his life of humble service and faithful family leadership, and heard it in the words of faith he shared with me. There was no hypocrisy, only faith lived out with a dependence on the Lord for strength now and eternal life to come.

Why did I title this post, “Ninety-Nine and Counting,” when my dad passed away at the age of 94? I did so because I believe he is with the Lord in whom he deeply believed and for whom he lived. And like the song, “10,000 Reasons,” (which I played at his funeral service), he will be alive with the Lord for “10,000 years and then forevermore.” So 99 years is just a warm up for the main event. Thanks to my dad for all his loving service, and to our Lord, Jesus Christ for giving me the dad I had and for reconciling us to our heavenly Father above.

 

About now, you’re ready to ask, “Okay, Rich, we get it about your father. But what about your mother?” Well, she would have been 100 this past Spring. But that’s another story. . .

And now may the Lord bless you and keep you, the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you, the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace. Amen.

Read: 1 Kings 19:9-13 (“Still, small voice” in the KJV = “sound of a low whisper” in the ESV)