Once in a
while preaching actually pierces into my thick, addle-pated, clod-filled brain
and works its way from there into the dark recesses of my heart. Today, March 4, 2014, chapel at Southern
Seminary was one of those moments.
The
preacher, Vance Pittman, from Las Vegas by way of northern Alabama, was new to
me. His name meant nothing to me. I have never seen him before, heard him
before, or heard of him before. This is
part of the absolute beauty and thrill of the message he preached. His name, his reputation, his background, his
story, brought no expectation. As a
result, I was free to see and hear Jesus preached directly, succinctly, and
persuasively because He was, in fact, talking in that moment.
You see, as
a lawyer who has seen and delivered many opening and closing statements and
arguments, I know good delivery when I see it and hear it. Pastor Pittman delivered excellently. But he wasn’t eloquent in the way most people
would define eloquence. No, he talked of
an old agricultural metaphor Jesus used to explain to his disciples, and by
extension, to us, how we are to live in order to bear fruit. Jesus the vine, the rest of us as branches. I listened, shocked and dismayed. Shouldn’t I be doing all kinds of stuff in
order to bear fruit? What about my
efforts, my plans, my . . . yeah, my plans, not His plans. Pittman, not knowing the callousness of my
heart, stabbed at it again, and again, and again with one simple word: abide.
So it turns
out the Christian life is much more like a roller coaster than the bumper
cars. I get to strap in and hold on while
Jesus provides the power, the seat, the safety harness and the rails. I can’t avoid the twists and turns, but I can
abide – I can be there in a position to enjoy the ride. I don’t have to drive myself; I don’t have to
try to avoid others bumping into me; I don’t have to watch my back. Best of all, I get to enjoy how every moment
of that ride brings glory to God. In the
peaks and valleys, I get to abide.
You know,
oddly enough, some people ride the bumper cars so they can avoid getting
hit! There’s no abiding in that
place. It’s dull, boring,
uninspiring. Yes, you are in control of
the ride, but there is no thrill, no joy, no glory. Even those who do bump into each other still constantly worry about who is coming from what direction and
whether they will or will not get struck.
Mostly, it’s a ride designed for us to try to control our situation
completely – and the reality is we never do.
We either join in the mess in the middle and get bounced around, often
by strangers, or we ride on the perimeter and don’t really get the true
experience. Either way, control remains
illusory and unsatisfying.
So I find
Jesus telling me to abide – to hang on to him as if . . . no, wait . . . because my life depends on it. I hear Jesus say "if
you love me, you’ll obey my commandments" and see from a blindingly clear perspective it is not a demand for obedience because
I love Him. Rather, it’s like Jesus
saying “shucks, if you love me, obedience will come along for the ride.” In light of this, suddenly the admonition
that his yoke is easy and his burden light makes sense. Who wouldn’t want to love a guy who died in
their place but who makes it so accessible?
Fortunately, there is no line to wait in, no sweaty teenager checking
your seatbelt, and, best of all, there is love enough for everyone who gets on.
Thanks,
Vance Pittman. Not because of you, but
because of who spoke through you. Thanks
for abiding so you could speak those words today to help me abide.
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