Joy to the World
A Pageant Devotional
2003
This devotional guide was written to support the cast and crew of the 2002 Heart of America Christmas Pageant. It's retained here, because otherwise I'd probably lose it for all time. You can scroll the hole thing or jump to a particular part of the document.
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Preface—The Prayer Prescription
We can do pageant. We have the technology. There are musicians, actors, electricians, carpenters, and a host of other talented folks in our midst. Hand this same group a script for Les Miserables or My Fair Lady and they’d do an admirable job of staging a production that wouldn’t embarrass us even if it fell just short of professional standards. We are, after all, pretty good at this whole theater thing, aren’t we?
We’re certainly better today than when we began. We’re better today than when I got involved in 1997. Hopefully we’re better than even last year. But in the end, our professionalism, our talents, and our improvement mean next to nothing.
If you don’t believe that Satan can and will attack people during the pageant season, then it must be your first year. If you don’t think that Satan would love to make us less effective, less loving, and less focused on Christ than we should be, then you haven’t had to contend much with Satan.
This devotional guide is provided to help each of us train our eyes directly on Jesus—not the “pretend” Jesus who walks on our stage, but the eternal one who lives in our hearts. As you commit to preparing to fulfill your duties in pageant this year, I pray that you will prepare yourself spiritually to make the most of our opportunity as we proclaim God’s gift of Joy to the World.
--Mark Browning
November 6 Luke 2:10
The 40th Day of Purpose
Joy to the World! If you hadn’t heard it yet, that’s the title of our pageant this year. We give the production a name every year. We sing different songs and cast different people. The framing story involves different characters with their different problems each and every year. This shift in the script surprises some of our admirers. They assume that the pageant is essentially the same year after year.
But of course, to some degree, the pageant remains the same each year. Year by year, we produce our choir of angels at the beginning and end of the production. We always fill our stage with a mass of choir members. Every year we have Jesus born, ministering, crucified, and raised from the grave.
That’s the crux of the matter: Jesus crucified and risen. In the swirl of the next six weeks, you will often run the risk of letting the secondary eclipse become the primary. You can worry too much about voice parts, about lighting cues, about parking arrangements, and a hundred other details. You can allow the irritating choir member who sings off key in your ear to get the better of you. You can see those people streaming in to fill our auditorium as simply recipients of programs and takers of seats.
But whatever happens over this span of time, we have to make sure to keep the main thing as the main thing. We have to realize that those details of music and technical support are not the main thing. These notes, these words, these cues and assignments are our mission, our calling, our temporary assignment toward the propagation of the gospel. That irritating choir member might be off key, but the words he sings are the very stuff of life, and those people who form our audiences include many who have eternal appointments in which we get to assist.
What is pageant? It’s nothing if it doesn’t lift Jesus high. Joy to the World!
Pray for the overall pageant project and your part of it.
November 7 John 14:6
According to Emily’s doctor, I’m supposed to become a grandfather sometime around now. Look for me at rehearsals and I’ll almost certainly have some silly tale (and probably some photographs) to share about our new addition. Although I’d like to claim that child as the most perfect new creature to grace the earth in years, my better sense knows that he or she is not (or will not be) perfect.
The psychiatrists like to claim that a child is like a blank slate, a tabula rasa, onto which just about anything can be impressed. Such a theory would suggest that my grandchild might just as easily be an evangelist or an axe murderer depending on the events and stimuli that shape this newly-begun life. In reality, however, we know that the blankness of the slate is limited. As much as I hate this fact, I know that my grandchild has been born into a sinful world to sinful parents and sinful grandparents.
All too often we get lulled into looking at babies and thinking that they really are innocent, pure as the driven snow. In reality, however, babies will sin at the first opportunity. We all do it.
Try as they might, Emily and Chris won’t be able to keep their child from joining the sinners. They’ll do their best, take the child to church, teach him/her to sing “Jesus Loves Me,” and all of those nice things, but it won’t matter. They have a better chance of avoiding gravity than of avoiding sin.
Wouldn’t it be neat if we could demolish sin and avoid it forever? Wouldn’t it be great if there were a twelve-step program to kill off sin? It would be great, but there is no such program. If there were, our pageant would be just a show. Instead, we’re showing people—including my grandchild—the only way to overcome sin.
Pray for Gene Calhoun
November 8 Proverbs 14:12
It was Thanksgiving of my junior year of high school when I abandoned myself to being chubby. Having struggled through two years of wrestling—and seeing the ceiling of far too many area gymnasiums in the process—I faced a grim crossroads. I could starve myself through the Thanksgiving holiday at my sister’s house in order to have some outside chance of making weight for our first match, or I could surrender myself to my appetite and quit the wrestling team. In the end, it was no decision. Turkey and dressing won in a heartbeat.
Since that day, I’ve fought with weight. Never so overweight that I felt completely out of control, I could never get control sufficiently to feel really healthy. I’ve tried many combinations of diet and exercise over recent years, but I’ve always fought to stay with a good thing.
In recent days, Penny and I decided to give the popular Atkins Diet a try. For a week, Atkins seemed great. We ate omelets every morning, while slathering cheese onto meat at dinner. This was living, and it worked. I dropped eleven pounds during that first week.
In the backs of our minds, however, Penny and I didn’t feel good about this diet. We felt that all that fat and protein couldn’t be good for us in the long run. Before long, we reverted to a low-fat, vegetable-rich diet. Amazingly, the weight has continued to come off of us.
It seems as if there are always two ways to go in life: God’s way and the world’s way. The problem with the world’s way is that it seems like a great idea. It seems to work fine. That was how we found ourselves feeling about our diets. I wouldn’t presume to suggest that the Atkins Diet is some sort of Satanic plot to clog American arteries, but it just didn’t seem right to us. We must be careful to follow God’s way in all that we do.
Pray for Judy Hastings and her assistant directors
November 9 Matthew 6:24
Some of you might remember my old house, the geodesic dome that sits on five acres a few miles north of the church. You might not be aware that, back in May, we sold that place and shifted our domicile to a smaller, older ranch house on a perfectly ordinary lot. Gone was the capacious master suite. Gone was our soaring living room ceiling. Gone was the lovely office that I grabbed when Emily got married. What kind of sense does this make?
Buying down in real estate doesn’t seem to have a big following aside from seniors who are headed toward John Knox and the like. What sense does it make for a forty-year-old whose income is headed up to buy a smaller house?
Penny and I really enjoyed the dome house. We liked the property and wondered if we would be able to have close neighbors again without going crazy. But we also recognized that the old property was eating up too much. It ate up our money as we dedicated far too much of our monthly pay to the mortgage and to pay for the tractor that we used to mow the grass. It ate up hours of our time as we kept up with maintenance and the grass. It ate up our attention and our future plans. In short, that house and ground had begun to own us rather than the other way around.
We can be owned by other things as well. I used to know a guy owned by his guitar collection. I know people who are owned by their Christmas decorations or their cars. I’ve seen people owned by their golf games or their careers. We all, to a greater or lesser extent, allow this to happen.
But in all that we do, we need to remember that while it is fine for us to own things—even very nice things—it is wholly inappropriate for us to be owned by anything. We have been bought at a price.
Pray for the set construction team
November 10 Isaiah 51:11
Many of you know Ron Gipfert. You might remember him as a drunken Roman from the opening scene of last year’s production. He was the one who pulled a servant girl—his wife—onto his lap as the scene closed. I’m here to tell you today that Ron is a complicated fellow.
On the first side, Ron is a serious guy. You wouldn’t know it from watching that scene, but he is properly serious. He’s serious about his work on the job and at church. He takes parenthood seriously. His three kids show every sign of turning out okay. That’s a credit to any parent.
But Ron isn’t just a serious guy; he’s Godly. You can meet a lot of serious characters who aren’t particularly Godly. I know a fellow with twin daughters. He’s seriously serious. He has those girls scheduled like army recruits. They jump from basketball practice to violin lessons. But where is God in all of that? You can’t miss God when you talk with Ron. Ron has a heart for the unsaved masses of this world. Just watch the guy worship sometime and you can see that his heart is aimed like a laser beam for God.
When I think of Ron, though, I’ll always see him as Wally the Nerd from Uncle Phil’s Diner or as his character “Uncle Cecil,” a sort of deranged Jerry Lewis knock-off. When Ron gets into those modes, he is seriously funny. Throughout the rehearsals for Uncle Phil, Ron kept us all in stitches as he brought Wally to life. At Children’s Camp, Uncle Cecil brings down the house whenever he appears.
In the end, though, Ron is really not that complicated. His love for God overflows to make him take seriously the serious things of life and to take joyfully the joyful things of life. It is, after all, okay to be a Christian and happy. Ron can help us all learn how.
Pray for Timothy Chin and the finance team
November 11 Colossians 3:23
Over the next week, I’d like to share with you some ideas that I’ve gleaned through knowing David Stark over the past six months. Dave, who a few of you might know, can do just about any sort of home repair, remodeling, or construction work that you might throw his way. Back in May, I hired Dave to perform major surgery in the basement of our new house, providing a bedroom, closet, and bathroom where, until then, there had been just a lot of rather dismal empty space.
For a variety of reasons—some his fault, some my fault, and some nobody’s fault—Dave’s estimated thirty-day completion target came and went long ago. By the time you read this, Dave should be on to some other project, but today, as I write this, he is still framing the closet.
One of the things that makes Dave work more slowly than some contractors arises from his perfectionism. The man has installed valves at just about every conceivable junction (and some inconceivable ones) in my plumbing system. He outfits attic fans with timers and on/off switches and thermostats! He spends gobs of time cutting every piece of framing or sheetrock to Space Shuttle precision.
There have been times as I have watched him work that I have wanted to scream, “Dave, you don’t have to be so obsessed with precision. Just get it done!” I wanted to do that, but I know there’s no point to it. Dave insists on doing things to a level of perfection that usually proves unnecessary. Despite that, I know that whenever something important comes along, he’ll have done the job right.
Sometimes, as we prepare for pageant, we should remember Dave’s quest for perfection in my basement. When Judy struggles to place people at just the right spot or Bruce agonizes over some subtlety of sound that you can’t even hear, remember Dave trying to create a basement for hundred years of use at my house.
Pray for the angels as they memorize those complicated moves
November 12 Colossians 4:2-3
Sometime back in the summer, Dave erected a wall that now separates our laundry area from our downstairs bathroom. For what seemed like weeks, the man hovered around the same small space of our basement running a variety of lines hither and thither. Inside that wall, he explained, we’d have both 110 and 220 electrical service, gas for the dryer, the water supply for both the laundry and the bathroom, and the drain for the laundry. “You can’t rush these things,” I reminded myself. I also reminded myself that I couldn’t do this work effectively.
Imagine my surprise one day, then, when I left the house for all of about an hour only to find the wall finished when I returned! Before I left, all we had seen there was some studs and a tangle of pipes and wires. But now, he had sheetrock on both sides of the wall with the first layer of joint compound already in place. Wow! We suddenly had a wall.
I commented on the progress when I saw Dave, but he seemed unimpressed. “When you get all of the preparatory work done right, the finishing work goes really fast,” he explained as he moved some of his tools to the next battleground. Then he turned to me and said, “There’s a sermon illustration for you.”
Dave, of course, is absolutely right. When we prepare for just about anything with care and forethought, the actual deed usually goes quickly and smoothly. I mention this today since some of us might be getting a bit weary of rehearsals. And if you aren’t, you will be when Crunch Week rolls around after Thanksgiving. But what we are doing now is the measuring, the framing, the wiring, and plumbing necessary to build a pageant worthy of the King of Kings.
Dave could rush his work and cut corners, but that wouldn’t do justice to the homeowner – me. We need to perform our preparations with the owner of the pageant in mind.
Pray for all of the soloists and understudies
November 13 Ephesians 1:18-22
Shortly after he began working in my basement, Dave gestured toward the house’s breaker box. “I’d really like to replace that for you.” He explained that the box, while adequate when the house had been built nearly fifty years ago, was now overtaxed and beyond capacity. Circuits had been doubled up and two add-on boxes—one for the stove, one for the dryer—had been piggybacked onto the box.
I must confess that I’m an electrical idiot. I don’t know an amp from a volt, so I asked a rather foolish question. “How can we get more power into the house just by changing the breaker box?”
Dave explained that we had access to virtually unlimited power. After checking into it, he assured me that the electrical line coming into our house could provide far more juice than all of our lights, appliances, and other electrical gizmos could ever drink up. “The problem,” he explained, “is that you have a bottleneck here at the breaker box. There’s all sorts of power available to you, but you’re limiting yourself with these breakers.” What a concept: unlimited power! Now we can run the microwave and the George Foreman grill at the same time without tripping the breaker.
As I considered Dave’s power solution, I realized that we all too often limit the power we have available to ourselves from God. He provides a 100 amp line for us, but we take advantage of only a small portion of that. We content ourselves with an antiquated breaker box crammed with overloaded circuits, while God wants us to live with all the juice we can handle. As you prepare for pageant, I’d like to encourage you to tap into the power available through prayer, through the Word, through meditation, worship, and fasting. Use the power that God has available for you.
Pray for Donna Baiotto and the prop team
November 14 Ezekiel 40:4
The man is obsessed. At last count, Dave has six tape measures, four levels, a plumb bob, and three big squares. The weakness that I have for books, Dave has for measuring tools. You’ve heard the old carpenter’s rule—“Measure twice and cut once”—haven’t you? Dave probably measures four or five times for every cut he makes. He told me this morning that the new windows that he just installed at his house were one-sixteenth of an inch smaller than the opening that they needed to fill. One-sixteenth of an inch? Have you ever looked at a ruler to see how small that is? Yes, Dave likes to measure things.
This obsession, however, is not an irrational one. Dave knows that when you start playing fast and loose with measurements, when you don’t make things square and level, you’ll find the problems compounding down the road. That quarter inch error that came from eyeballing something today inflates to an inch and a half—and a real problem—when extended over the length of a sheet of drywall. Measuring is important.
Now if you’ve read very many of my devotions, then you might have already guessed the turn that I might take here. I could talk about measuring up to the script, sticking to the score, tuning your oboe properly, and so forth. Those things are important, but that isn’t what I’m wanting to harp on today.
There’s one measuring tool that Dave owns but that he doesn’t leave lying around my house. That tool provides the ultimate standard for our lives. In the course of preparing for pageant, various people measure various things: decibels, inches, pitches. But as we do those measurements, we can never forget to hold ourselves up to the measure of the scripture. We only know the details of this man, Jesus, who we proclaim in our pageant, through the pages of scripture. Let’s work on measuring up better to his standard.
Pray for your top performance, whatever your job
November 15 1 Corinthians 12:1-6
I just read my “Breaker Box” entry for Dave as he measured (obsessively) the sheetrock behind me. As I finished reading, he pointed out another direction that the electrical system might have taken us. To fully make this point, I should explain that the computer on which I am working right now is plugged into an extension cord. That cord runs through a hole in an interior basement wall, makes a hard left turn, runs behind the furnace to the other end of the basement where it is plugged into a wall socket. That isn’t the end of the story however. Some great craftsman, in the house’s history, installed that outlet on the wall but, rather than tying it into an existing circuit, equipped it with a two-prong plug. Yes, I have an electrical outlet that has to be plugged in.
Dave assured me, when he started running wiring, that I wouldn’t have to hunt around like that for an electrical outlet in my new bedroom. Indeed, along a twenty-foot stretch of wall that he has finished behind me, he sited five receptacles. That provides room for a lot of reading lamps. I’m planning on selling all of my extension cords at my next garage sale.
While those five receptacles might be overkill, the principle is a sound one. Although my home now has a plentiful power supply available, that power is largely useless if I can’t get to it. What had been a supply problem has now become a distribution problem.
Within the church, we sometimes see similar problems with distribution. We might have buckets-full of talent but struggle to distribute that talent where it is needed. One of the great lessons of pageant is that we must work together, each doing whatever is asked, to make the show go on. We can’t all sing that great soprano solo, play first violin, or run the spots. Like an out-of-the-way electrical outlet, we all have a valued place and job to do.
Pray for Larry Jones
November 16 1 Corinthians 12:7-11
Had you come down into my basement when Dave started to work on it, you might have noticed a wall running the length of the house and then turning to the left and enclosing the semi-finished portion of the downstairs. Although the paneling that lined that wall bore some pecks and mars from years of moving furniture and playing kids, by all accounts it looked fairly good. Only when you went around to the back side of the wall would you notice something out of the ordinary. If you’ve ever done any framing for a house, you probably know that the studs holding the wall up will normally go in at sixteen-inch intervals. That’s the ideal.
When Dave walked behind this wall for the first time, he chuckled and pulled the tape measure from his belt. “Hmm . . . forty-eight-inch centers. You don’t see that every day!” he said. Indeed, the studs on this wall stood a full four feet apart, as far apart as they could possibly be and still hold the paneling in place. Dave stepped back and shook his head at the sight. “It’s a wonder that wall is still standing.”
For a moment I wondered about his assessment, but then I thought about that wall. According to my best information, this wall, with its all-to-infrequent studs, had stood here in the basement for some thirty-five years. I pushed on the wall at a seam, and it didn’t budge. However, when I pushed into the middle of one of the panels, it bowed backward several inches. I could have easily broken through the wall.
How many of us cover ourselves with a smooth veneer, while behind the scenes we are weakened because we have left out the supports that God intended for us to have. I can look respectably “Christian” while ignoring prayer and Bible study. Perhaps I can carry on this way for years, but in the end, we know that the wall is weak and ready to fall.
Pray for Jerry Sheridan who provides that wonderful custard for our dinner
November 17 1 Corinthians 12:12-13
As Dave approached the end of the work on our house, he pointed out a few other tasks that could usefully be done around the place. We still had galvanized pipe serving the half bathroom in Tom’s room. Our water heater remains a 90-pound weakling and takes up far too much room where it now stands. Then there are those other two basement windows that have rusted into near uselessness. If I were more of a skeptical person, I would have accused Dave of trying to provide for his own job security, but having gotten to know him, I realize that he’s simply doing what comes naturally to him. Home problems are a disease, and he sees himself as the cure.
Part of me wants to bask in a gorgeous new bedroom, a large and well-designed closet, new bookcases, and a six-foot-long Jacuzzi tub. Part of me wants that, but the rest of me, the part that Dave was talking to recently, knows the truth of home ownership. The work is never done. We’ll get all of those projects finished one of these days, but then we’ll want to hit the landscaping trail or build a deck. We’ll probably want to refurbish the kitchen cabinets some day. Penny just announced yesterday that she’d like to put siding on the place when it next needs painting. And then there is the roof and the trees and air conditioner.
Wouldn’t it be nice if the work ever ended? Wouldn’t it be nice if the church could just sit back and say, “There, we baptized our quota for the rest of eternity. Now we can just play cribbage!” That would be nice, but that sort of rest will only come when the Lord brings an end to the present age. I mention this today since we’re getting close to the busy portion of the pageant season. Some day soon you’ll want a rest, but you can’t have one. I’m sorry about that, but it’s the way God designed us. Keep pushing forward.
Pray for all of the orchestra members
November 18 1 Corinthians 12:14-20
We throw around the word “Joy” a great deal at Christmas season. Every year the pastor dismisses pageant performances with a verse of “Joy to the World.” This year we even took that title as the title of the pageant itself. My wife Penny has a sister named Joy, so she has a relatively low tolerance for the word. “Joy, joy, joy!” she’ll blurt out, sounding like the girl from the Brady Bunch with “Marsha, Marsha, Marsha!”
Have you ever looked out at the faces of people singing “Joy to the World” at the end of a pageant performance? Some of them look like they’ve just about had their fill of joy. They look as if they’ve been sitting in one place too long and rather than thinking of the real import of the words, they’re planning the quickest escape from the parking lot. Of course, if we admit it, some of us on the stage can do much the same thing. Our mouths are saying “Joy to the world,” but our minds are thinking, “I wonder if we get Sheridan’s Custard?” or “Will I get on the first bus over to the parking lot?”
Is it possible to “get over” the incarnation. Think about that for a second. God, the creator of the entire universe, the being without whom existence is absolutely inconceivable, became a man. God didn’t become Superman. God became a baby. God somehow implanted himself into a teenage girl so that he could develop, live, suffer, and face temptation just like we do.
For us to truly know God is as inconceivable as for Ebenezer Scrooge to know Charles Dickens—that is, unless Charles Dickens were to write himself into A Christmas Carol. Dickens didn’t do that, but God did write himself into the story of human existence in the person of Jesus Christ. Now that’s a cause for joy!
Pray for Lynn Lewallen and everyone else who plays a keyboard for us
November 19 1 Corinthians 12:21-26
Adore Hymn? Well, isn’t that about the cutest little title for a song that you’ve ever heard? Randy Vader, the lyricist who took an old French folk song and turned it into the worshipful backdrop for our second scene this year, must have felt a tinge of guilt or embarrassment when he wrote that title over this song. I can imagine Mr. Vader showing that title to his editor and wondering, “Will he think that’s the corniest title he’s ever seen?” I’ve had titles and whole approaches to projects that I handed over sheepishly to an editor, wondering if they’d scoff at the approach and hand it right back.
I wonder if the shepherds felt sheepish—pun fully intended—when they came into the stable on that first Christmas night. I know that they found the appearance of the angels to be suitably amazing, but don’t you imagine that they could have felt a bit foolish after the singing stopped and they headed into town. Maybe they knew an awkward moment when they found Mary and Joseph admiring their new baby. “Excuse me, but did you just give birth to a savior in here?” they might have asked. Or maybe not. Maybe their experience with sheep, their lowly position in society made them incapable of being sheepish. Perhaps that explains the angels appearing to them.
Sometimes we find ourselves embarrassed as we come before the Lord, especially when we do it in the presence of others. Sometimes the boldness that we experience when we’re standing amidst a thousand worshipers evaporates when the spotlight hits us. The best of intentions during a rousing missions sermon fades to the background once the service ends. But as performers, we have to put that embarrassment away both on the stage and away from it. O come, let us adore him.
Pray for Paula & Trudy Buehler as they distribute tickets
November 20 1 Corinthians 12:27-31
We do it every year. Every year three—and sometimes more—“kings” or wise men from the east, parade through the worship center, followed by an entourage of minions and attendants, most of them dressed in truly fancy-looking pajamas. Every year these characters make their way, with great pomp and circumstance, to the stable, where they present containers meant to represent gold, frankincense, and myrrh to the Christ child. We do this every year. People who wouldn’t give a second thought to us omitting John the Baptist or the arrest, would be completely flummoxed were we to leave out this scene. I think that it must be required in order to get your pageant license or something.
Our third scene this year, of course, presents this required processional. When Gene introduced the music to the choir a few months back, he suggested that this time we were really doing the king scene differently. Sorry Gene, but this isn’t all that different. I’ve been to a production of Romeo and Juliet where all the actors were bald. That’s different!
Whenever we see a scene or hear a story year after year, we run the risk of losing its significance. As I look at the story of the kings, I notice that it holds many of the elements of the gospel story in a sort of shorthand form. Think about it. The wise men knew that Jesus was somebody special, but they didn’t fully understand his identity. They brought gifts that probably enabled Joseph to take his family to Egypt, but the wise men also brought about the actions of Herod that made Joseph need to take the family to Egypt. The wise men, it seems, forced the issue. Before they showed up, Jesus’ arrival remained a local matter, but after they appeared in Jerusalem, the Jesus question grew much larger.
Like Herod, we cannot remain ambivalent to the knowledge of Jesus. Hopefully, though, we all respond more wisely than did Herod.
Pray for the men in the choir
November 21 Luke 3:1-22
What did John the Baptist do? Jesus referred to John as the greatest of all prophets. When I was young, I couldn’t imagine how a guy who hadn’t written any of the books of the Bible could be the greatest of prophets, but today I recognize that it only took one sentence to make John the greatest: “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world!” With that sentence, John the Baptist said clearly what every other prophet at only alluded to. Some of them, Isaiah for instance, got quite descriptive and specific, but only John the Baptist could point to the person of Jesus and say, “Behold.”
Yesterday I suggested that the wise men, without really trying, forced Herod and others to make some decisions regarding how to respond to Jesus. John did the same sort of thing on purpose. John called people to task. He declared sin to be sin. He let it be known that everyone had strayed from God’s standard. He called them to repentance but, most importantly, he called them to follow Jesus.
To a large degree, John could be the poster child for our pageant. Our pageant, regardless of how the script shifts from year to year, always tells the same story, and it isn’t just the story of Jesus’ life. You see, as marvelous as the story of the life of Christ is, what I find most remarkable is how that life affects my own. I can read about the life of Martin Luther, Socrates, Gale Sayers, Daniel Boone, or any of a thousand other historical figures, but none of those lives forces me to make a decision. None of those lives intersect in any meaningful way with mine.
John told people that Jesus did affect their lives. He declared his hearers as sinners and pointed to the only relief from the penalties of sin. I pray that’s what we accomplish just a few days from now.
Pray for the women in the choir
November 22 Matthew 5:3-12
“Blessed are the poor in spirit.” What does that mean? As a kid, I learned the Beatitudes, beginning with this one. I could spill them off, one by one, with great ease at one time. I don’t think I can do it any more. However, as easily as I could recite those words a few years back—okay a few decades back—I never did really understand that first one.
As the years went by, I tried to figure these words out. After all, Jesus placed these words right at the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount. How could a person hope to understand those three chapters of the most significant teachings of the Master without understanding the first sentence?
The future English teacher in me tried to decide whether “in spirit” modified “the poor” or “blessed.” In other words, was Jesus saying “The poor are blessed in a spiritual way” or did He mean, “People who are poor in spirit are blessed.” When I finally figured out that this latter meaning was correct, I still found myself confused. What on earth does it mean to be “poor in spirit”? Only after listening to several rather silly interpretations did I learn that Matthew Henry had defined the term quite nicely some 400 years ago: “But this poverty of spirit is a gracious disposition of soul, by which we are emptied of self, in order to our being filled with Jesus Christ.” To be “poor in spirit” then, would seem to be the opposite of being spiritually full of oneself.
We run the risk, at a big, successful church, of becoming “rich in spirit.” We can look around at our facilities and equipment, listen to our marvelous musicians, gasp at our awe-inspiring devotional writer, and suddenly think that we have something to do with all of the blessings that flow from First Baptist Church of Raytown. When those thousands of people stream in next weekend, we need to remember to be poor in spirit.
Pray for Dan Quesenberry,, who is playing Josef
November 23 1 John 4:4
Back in January, I spent a week in Nashville at LifeWay. Part of that time I spent with a representative from the International Mission Board whose job is to help get IMB information into LifeWay materials. At some point, this fellow told us about a dead baby in China. Now before you start thinking me dreadfully morbid, let me tell you as much of the story as I know. According to this IMB guy, a church in China experienced an incredible—that is, unbelievable—level of healing. A baby, definitely dead, was brought back to life in response to prayers of faith. I’m afraid that’s all the details I know.
The reason that I share this information is not so much to glorify God’s ability to work miracles. We’ve all seen plentiful miracles in our own lives and in those of our friends. No, my reason for sharing this lies in my response. My gut reaction to this claim was midway between “You’re out of your mind” and “How can you believe that?” Only later, as I reflected on these thoughts, did I realize the foolishness of my response.
Did I really believe that God could turn the hearts of hardened sinners so that their lives are utterly changed? Did I believe that God had cured people in response to prayers? Did I believe that God had blessed me and my family in countless amazing ways? Yes! But then why would I dismiss the Chinese dead-baby story so quickly? Does God have some sort of limit to His miracles? Did the back-from-the-dead miracle expire with the apostles?
The gospels suggest that God’s miracles at least sometimes depend on the faith of God’s people. In the coming weeks, we hope to witness hundreds of back-from-the-dead miracles as people dead in their sins receive new life in Christ. I certainly don’t want my lack of faith to be any sort of impediment to those miracles.
Pray for Rosemary Hoover, who is playing Devorah
November 24 Psalm 51
I was drunk, lying on the couch in my parent’s living room when it happened. That night had seen me, as many nights did, running around the Plaza area, swilling beer and acting foolish with a small knot of friends. I returned home that night to the empty house, flipped on the TV, and flopped onto the couch. The messages of a world that I knew all too well told me that I should be happy now, having indulged in all of those things that make life worth living: friends, fun, food, and drink. But I couldn’t shake the vestiges of misery that skulked around on the edges of my awareness, ready to pull me back down into despair.
What was wrong with me? I’d graduated from high school and entered the University of Missouri. I had a car to drive and a girlfriend for the first time in my life. More friends filled my life than I’d ever enjoyed before or since. So why did I feel so crummy as I lay there on the couch that night.
Picking up the remote control, I flipped through the channels, searching for something to take the edge off of my pain. My thumb clicked down several times and then paused in the strangest of places. Images from nature were flashing across the screen as an instrumental rendition of “Amazing Grace” played in the background. “Amazing grace,” I thought to myself. “That’s what I need.”
Although I’d been baptized as a nine-year-old, I had never really surrendered myself to Jesus. That night, lying on that couch and listening to the strains of “Amazing Grace,” I heard the call of the Holy Spirit and answered. The God-sized hole in my heart was filled.
That’s my testimony. It’s not as dramatic as Mary Magdalene’s in scene 7, but it’s mine. That’s the reason I’m here today.
Pray with thanksgiving for the blessing of God on your life
November 25 Psalm 40
Think for a moment about the character of Josef of Arimathea in our production this year. I have to believe that Judy saw a measure of Tevye, the singing milkman from Fiddler on the Roof in this character. Josef struggles with a world that seems to have gone mad. Like Caiaphas and the Jewish religious culture, Josef faced the question of how to integrate Jesus into their worldview. Each of them saw what the man did. They had heard about Lazarus rising from the dead. They had encountered a man born blind but now able to see. They had heard teaching that showed extreme wisdom. They saw the same man and faced the same question.
For Caiaphas, Annas, and the other unnamed members of the Sanhedrin, Jesus, despite the miracles and the insight, posed simply a threat to the established order. They looked at the question and swept aside the evidence to determine that Jesus had to be eliminated.
But Josef, a member of the Sanhedrin, a respected and apparently traditional man, couldn’t ignore the evidence. In our play, Josef differs from his colleagues because of the influence of his daughter, but the Bible doesn’t tell us how Josef came to his faith. It just tells us that he did come to a different answer than the others.
The question is an important one and not an easy one. The question is, “What shall we do about Jesus?” And it’s a question that each of us must face. For Josef and Caiaphas, the decision tended toward an extreme. A middle position didn’t present itself for these men. Similarly, although we might want to adopt a “moderate” position toward Jesus, we don’t have that option. What will you do about Jesus? Will you stand with those who accuse, mock, and condemn Jesus, or will you take your place with Josef, even when standing with him seems so foreign to the world that you know? Don’t rush. It’s only the most important question you’ll ever face.
Pray for Carrie Harris, who is playing Suzanna
November 26 Psalm 100
A few months from now, thousands of people will descend into the city of New Orleans to celebrate Mardi Gras, or Fat Tuesday. For us Baptists, the ideas behind Mardi Gras remain a bit vague. Fat Tuesday stands one day before Ash Wednesday, the day that marks the beginning of the Lenten season. During that season, of course, many Catholics will observe the season by abstaining from red meat and other indulgences in order to focus their minds on their own sins and upon the sacrificial death of Christ.
The problem with the “celebration” of Mardi Gras comes in the fact that most of these celebrants will see Ash Wednesday more as the day to hit the road back home rather than as a day to turn their minds onto Christ. That’s the problem with many celebrations: they aren’t backed up by anything of any substance.
We often celebrate birthdays, but doesn’t a birthday simply mark another year of life? What’s the big deal? People often celebrate a sporting team’s victory in a manner completely out of proportion with the importance of that win. Many people “celebrate” for no reason at all. In fact, for most of the people in New Orleans next spring, Mardi Gras will be simply an excuse for a wild party rather than a celebration of anything.
Every pageant portrays the triumphal entry, a time of celebration. But we know that many of those people who shouted “hosanna” and waved palm branches before Jesus were probably just caught up in the spirit of the moment. Certainly none of them fully understood the import of the moment.
Today, while we can’t be in Jerusalem to see Jesus enter, we do understand just what it meant that he did. We have something in Christ that is truly worth celebrating. He is more than a Super Bowl, more than a presidential election, more than a great new job. Consider this your call to celebration!
Pray for Matt Calhoun, who is playing Jacob
November 27—Thanksgiving Psalm 103:1-6
“Dear Jesus, thank you for our food. Thank you for Mom and Dad and Grandma and Grandpa. Thank you for my toys, and thank you for my puppy. Amen.”
If you’ve been around a child, you’ve probably heard that sort of prayer. As naïve as they are, those prayers are beautiful. They come from the heart, and I have to believe that God has a special channel dedicated to bringing such prayers straight through to Him. Nevertheless, such prayers are naïve. They sound lovely from the mouth of a small child, but they should embarrass us when they come from adults. Today is Thanksgiving, a day on which a person should be able to be thankful, yet often we’re not thankful for the right things.
What are you thanking God for this Thanksgiving? This year I can thank God that my income has been reduced by about forty percent. I can thank God for my smaller house and for taking me out of a nice new car and into a creaking 1988 Toyota with no windshield wipers. I can truly thank God for all of those things, because those things are ultimately good for me and for my family.
But of course that’s not all I thank God for. I should thank God for the sabbatical that has reduced my income, the grass I don’t have to mow at the old house, and the fact that my daughter is in college with my car. I can thank God for allowing me to exercise my gifts in new and exciting ways.
In the end, however, I have to start by thanking God for something truly marvelous, the sacrifice of Jesus that made everything else in my life trivial. Let me encourage you today to begin your thanksgiving with praise for the Lamb of God slain from the foundation of the world. Hallelujah, praise the Lamb!
Pray for Gary Harden and Doug Dalton, who are playing Jesus this year
November 28 Exodus 15:1-8
Roughly 3,500 years ago, God delivered the people of Israel from their bondage in Egypt. The grip that Pharoah had upon the twelve tribes roughly equated the grip of the United States upon Iraq. The people of Israel couldn’t hope to escape slavery through force. Instead, the people of Israel needed a miracle. That miracle came in the form of the death angel, passing through the land of Egypt and killing every firstborn, a blow so fierce that it utterly took the breath away from the Egyptian leaders. The breath, however, remained with the people of Israel. They had painted the blood of a lamb onto their doorframes, ensuring that God would spare them and “pass over.” This cluster of miracles continue to be celebrated by the Jewish people today after all of these years. For some of them, the spiritual power has been lost, but for many, the miracle is real today.
Roughly 35 minutes ago, God delivered some pitiful sinner from his or her bondage to the shackles of sin. The grip of sin upon the frail human soul is a powerful thing. It’s something that we could equate with . . . well, I’m not sure there’s really anything on earth that can compare with the grip of sin on the human heart. The sinner needs a miracle.
Thirty-five minutes ago, somewhere, that miracle came in the form of the grace of God. Some abject sinner fell to the floor and prayed something like this: “Have mercy on me, O Lord, a sinner!” That miracle, while it goes unnoticed by the world should take our breath away each and every day. That miracle is the miracle of God sacrificing his Son, the Lamb of God, so that the angel of judgment would “pass over” those who claim his sacrifice. This miracle of miracles should be celebrated each day by this sinner and by every other sinner.
Pray for all of the children participating this year
November 29 Psalm 8
This is it, our last day of freedom. It’s Saturday and tomorrow starts “Crunch Week,” the week of daily rehearsals leading up until opening night. How interesting it is, then, that this day should happen to fall on the day I’m supposed to write about scene 12, “The Garden.” I’m always drawn to the Garden of Gethsemane, because that represents the last moment of clear liberty that Jesus had. Once the mob came to arrest Jesus, he couldn’t get out of the agony of the cross.
Of course inevitability is really not all that common. We have to know that Jesus, being God incarnate, would have had no problem escaping the cross. Similarly, any of us could simply quit today and never have to worry about Pageant again. (Please don’t! Gene and Judy would never forgive me!)
On the other hand, liberty isn’t really as free as we make it out to be. We say that Jesus could have simply walked away. In fact we had a song by that title a year or two back. Theoretically, Jesus could have walked away, but then theoretically I could have disowned my children at some point in the past. But in reality, Jesus put himself on the path to the cross back in that stable in Bethlehem. Jesus could not have simply walked away any more than Len Dawson could start cheering for the Oakland Raiders.
I mention this today, because it’s possible that at some point in the coming week, you’ll find your body sore, your mind tired, and your throat scratchy. You’ll be tempted by the possibility of simply walking away, even if just for one day. Obviously you could do that if you really chose to, but before you make such a move, be sure to remember the commitment that Jesus made for you.
Enjoy your liberty today and remember Who you have to thank for it.
Pray that our rehearsals this week might be productive and effective
November 30—Dress Rehearsal Mark 14:51-52
For all the talk that Judy does about making the pageant true to life and faithful to the Bible, there’s one aspect of the gospel accounts of the arrest of Jesus that I have yet to see portrayed upon our stage. Here’s what the gospel of Mark has to say in 14:51-52:
Now a certain young man, having a linen cloth wrapped around his naked body, was following Him. And they caught hold of him. But he left the linen cloth behind and ran away naked.
Now tell me, why does that scene not warrant portrayal on our stage? I just don’t understand it!
Okay, I do understand it, but I don’t understand that little piece of scripture. Why on earth did John Mark, operating under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, choose to include this little detail that none of his three gospel-writing cohorts decided to include? Who was this naked guy, who saw fit to head to Gethsemane in nothing but his bed linens?
Commentators and interpreters have offered all sorts of strange interpretations of this account. Some people suggest that the naked guy was John Mark himself, writing himself into the scripture. Others simply say that this seemed a strange enough occurrence that Mark selected to include it. One book even claims that Mark was consciously paralleling Homer’s Iliad and that explains the account.
In the end, I don’t know. But I can see a symbolism there. When the arrest for sin comes, only one man, Jesus, can stand against the accusations. All of the rest of us have no hope but to scurry away naked and unprotected. We have no hope, except that we stand behind the Christ, his innocence carrying away our guilt and clothing us in robes of righteousness.
Remember this as you rehearse tonight. But keep your costume on!
Pray for Pamela Smith and the backstage crew
December 1—Dress Rehearsal Psalm 1
It was better than sixty-five years ago that my father, who would have been eighty-six today, walked into Mt. Washington Baptist Church and read this poem printed in the bulletin:
I bargained with life for a penny,
And life would pay no more,
However I begged at evening,
When I counted my scanty store.For life is a just employer,
It gives you what you ask,
But once you have set the wages,
Then you must bear the task.I worked for a menial’s hire
Only to learn, dismayed,
That any wage I had asked of life,
Life would have gladly paid.
My dad lived his life by that poem’s message. In the end, he got a marvelous marriage, pretty decent kids and grandkids, a very comfortable living, and an eternal retirement plan that can’t be beat.
At the trials of Jesus, Caiaphas and his ilk bargained with life and then had to bear the task that their wages brought. They had the choice between life, their Messiah, and death, Barabbas. Unfortunately, they chose badly. Some thirty-five years after their choice, Jerusalem lay in ruins and the Jewish people were scattered to the winds. More significantly, those who chose badly lost out on God’s grace.
Let’s never cease to pray that those who witness our pageant will choose the best wages that life can offer.
Pray for Bruce Rosenbaum, Jim Stephens, Stan Shepherd and the entire sound team
December 2—Dress Rehearsal Revelation 1:18-20
Today—as I write this—it’s the third day of purpose. So far, I’ve kept up with my reading both with Penny and with the kids. Hopefully I won’t mess up in the remaining thirty-seven days. Two days ago, on Sunday, we kicked off the program in worship. Perhaps you remember the service. The choir and congregation sang a medley including “Show Your Power.” That song came to my mind as I learned my role for this year’s pageant: Caiaphas. My best (or most evil) line for this production has me mocking a man who is being crucified. Isn’t that something to take pride in?
All along the way from Pilate’s condemnation to the brow of Calvary, Jesus must have heard people urging him to “show his power.” Some of them, like the Caiaphas crowd, said it in a mocking way. Having finally defeated Jesus—so they thought—they rubbed salt in the wounds and taunted him. Some others along the way believed that Jesus could have done something about this situation. They wanted him to show his power and put an end to the abuse.
In reality, though, Jesus did show his power by refusing to put an end to the abuse. As I’ve noted in these pages in years past, it always blows my mind to think of the creator of the universe spending all of those hours, fully able to end the suffering and not doing it. That’s power. The power that Jesus showed that day was the power of forbearance and, for our benefit, the power of love.
The song includes a line that sticks with me. “We ask not for riches but look to the cross, and for our inheritance give us the lost.” That’s a marvelous prayer for those who benefited by Jesus’ show of power on the road to Calvary. That’s my prayer for us and our audiences.
Pray for the lighting crew
December 3—Dress Rehearsal Romans 5:1-2
Look down into the orchestra pit tonight (but not when Gene and Judy are watching you). More than likely, when your eyes scan the middle of the pit, the part nearest to the stage, you’ll see the back of Kevin Hubbard, the grooving doctor of First Baptist Raytown. While watching Kevin beat the skins the other night, I realized that two parts of his life illustrate the spiritual truths that we can gain from scene 16, as Jesus hangs on the cross.
Kevin is a drummer. What’s his job? His main job is to keep the rhythm of the music going. Yes, Gene and Larry establish the rhythm, but Kevin makes it audible. I’ve played guitar with enough drummers to know that when the drummer is messed up on the rhythm, the song just sounds wrong. Occasionally—very occasionally when Kevin plays—the rhythm of our orchestra will run slightly askew. When that happens, you’ll see the conductor begin to beat the time more deliberately while looking over to the drums. What does that have to do with scene 16? Hold that thought for a minute.
In his professional life, Kevin Hubbard fights cancer. Healthy patients don’t spend much time with him. Instead, he dedicates his time to treating and attempting to cure people of cancer. That seems a pretty far distance from playing the drums but they’re really not as different as they might seem.
Kevin, whether he is drumming or doctoring, is dedicated to preserving the natural rhythm of things. Behind the drums, he preserves the beat, while at the hospital, he tries to set cells right. Kevin is good in both cases, but he has his limits. Jesus hung on that cross, not just to set a good example or to inspire us. Jesus submitted himself to torture and death in order to restore the rhythm of life with God and to defeat the cancer of sin. You could share that with Kevin, but it would probably mess up his rhythm.
Pray for the production team who is putting together the video
December 4—Final Dress Rehearsal 1 Corinthians 3:6-9
Tonight we finish sowing the seeds for our performances. By now Gene and Judy will let the show run. In fact, tonight, we will probably have a few hundred people scattered throughout the auditorium. There’s an air of expectancy in the house tonight, but the applause and the response will be limited. The reactions, the looks on the faces of the people, will be minimal. But tomorrow will be different.
If you’re a gardener then you understand the process. You go to the nursery and buy packets of seeds. You dump those seeds out into your hand and they look so puny and worthless. You’ll see a dried up kernel of corn or a shriveled pea or just some strange brown speck of nothing. It looks like nothing, but then, a few weeks or months later, an amazing plant, loaded with vegetables if all goes well, springs from the earth. Nobody who didn’t know what to expect could have predicted that sort of result.
The difference between tonight and tomorrow is similar. Tonight’s rehearsal will be kind of cool, but the reaction of the people tomorrow—Lord willing—will take our breath away. Even more amazing will be the responses in people’s hearts as the Holy Spirit uses our performance as the site of His work of redemption.
Think about these things tonight as we run through the burial of Jesus. Imagine those disciples, those friends and followers who placed the beaten, bloody, and limp body of their teacher and friend to a borrowed tomb. They had no idea of the amazing produce that their planting would yield just three days later.
Whether our production looks really impressive or really dreadful tonight, let’s remember that the meaningful growth will not be realized in dramatic and musical excellence. We can plant and cultivate, but God will bring the increase.
Pray for the ushers who will assist our audience
December 5—Performance Psalm 119:1-8
It’s opening night! After months of preparation and an exhausting week of every-day rehearsals, we find ourselves with an auditorium abuzz with hundreds of people. It’s show time!
If you’re at all like me, then you’re coming into the building with some butterflies tonight. Maybe you headed home from work early so that you could get ready. You got to the church in good time and parked across 350 like a good team player. When you saw some of the others, a few of them dressed in their costumes already, you started to get really excited. Downstairs, you put on your makeup. If you were with the men, you listened to and probably made a few cracks about how lovely you looked in your makeup. I don’t have a clue what you ladies do. Then you found yourself listening to last-minute instructions and a brief pep talk. Somebody prayed. And then the overture began. This is what we came here to do.
On the first Easter Sunday, before anybody knew that they should write “Easter” on their calendar, Jesus blew the stone from in front of the tomb and walked out in a glorified, resurrected body. He’d spent thirty-three years on earth preparing for that moment and had endured a very rough few days, three of them dead. But now He walked out of the tomb. The overture had played and the drama had been resolved. This is what He came here to do.
As you take the stage tonight, as you settle into the orchestra pit, the lighting positions, behind a mixing board, or wherever else you might be serving, pause for a moment and reflect on the climax that has already taken place for our story. Yes, the performance might be great or middling tonight, but in the end, the story is perfectly complete. All we have to do is present it faithfully.
Pray for the security of our building and our people
December 6—Performance Psalm 119:9-16
Are you ready? I don’t mean are you ready to perform. I think that we established that this year. Hopefully everybody has demonstrated their readiness already. Hopefully Dan has created a convincing Josef, Carrie has proven an able Suzanna, Robyn has performed all the up-bows and down-bows at the right place, Dave has pointed the spotlights at the right spots, and Jim has kept the sound sounding terrific. Knowing these and dozens of others to be very professional amateurs, I have no doubt that we were ready last night. That’s not what I’m talking about.
What I’m talking about is the final scene of this year’s pageant. Every year we end the show in the same vein. Jesus came, Jesus went back to heaven, and Jesus is coming back. What an astounding thought! Two thousand years ago, the disciples stood on the Mount of Olives, their mouths hanging open and their faces turned toward the sky. You’d have done the same thing if you’d just watched your resurrected leader float upward and disappear in the clouds. I don’t care how many Matrix movies you see, flying people will leave you speechless.
As that crowd stood there gaping at the sky, angels appeared to them. The angels promised that Jesus would be returning. The promise of that return has probably faded a great deal for many of us. After all, by the time Peter wrote his epistles, people were already complaining that Jesus was slow in returning. And now we’re looking at a day 1,900 years later. But Jesus is returning, maybe today.
It’s easy enough, as we get into the flow of performances, to grow complacent. It’s easy not to do our best. But what would we think if tonight, in the middle of a mediocre effort, Christ were to split the skies and grab all of us believers up to be with Him. Wouldn’t you want your last earthly effort to be for Him and your best? Are you ready?
Pray for the nice people who feed us between shows
December 7—Performance Psalm 119:17-24
Tonight, as you take your position to present our production yet again, I’d encourage you to look down into the orchestra pit. Standing amid a flotilla of drums, chimes, cymbals, and other hittable stuff, you’ll most likely find Joe DeShon, one of the orchestra’s most dedicated members. In the years before we had an orchestra, Joe sang faithfully in the choir. When the orchestra got started, Joe volunteered to help. But Joe is a pianist. His college degree is in music—piano performance, as I recall. So what is Joe doing sitting back there and playing percussion? If you ask him, he’ll probably explain that while he’s a good pianist, we have a lot of good pianists. But we didn’t have a lot of good percussionists when the orchestra began, so Joe has turned himself into what the orchestra needed.
We can say a lot of good things about Joe DeShon. He’s apparently a devoted and loving father. His son is about the cutest and brightest kid I’ve been around in ages. Joe plays a mean tympani, and he can not only direct but rehearse the orchestra when Larry is absent. Besides all of that, Joe performs ably in providing computer guidance to the sales department at Sprint. Talk about a Renaissance Man!
But here’s what impresses me about this man. He could have gotten himself into a snit when he didn’t get the opportunity to play the piano very often. He could have said, “I’m a highly trained musician, so I should get to play.” But Joe doesn’t do that. He puts on his servant’s cap. He puts the mission of the orchestra, the mission of the church, the mission of the gospel, and the glory of God first and checks his ego somewhere behind. Interestingly, I think he’s happier for that choice. We can learn something from Joe.
Pray for the response team as they contact those who have made decisions
December 8 Psalm 119:25-32
One of our new neighbors came strolling down the street the other day, shouting “BB!” Seeing us standing in front of the house, she asked if we had seen BB, her white poodle. Resisting the temptation to think of a white poodle as something better off lost, I went around to the back yard and did a quick search for this dog named after a pellet. When we couldn’t turn up her dog, the woman left her phone number and then continued down the street calling the dog.
I’ve been where this lady was before. I’ve had my dog run off. In fact, a couple of years ago, my six-month-old Brittany Spaniel came home with a couple of BBs lodged in her hindquarters. We’ve searched for dogs, found dogs, and lost a couple of dogs over the years. It’s frustrating business.
As intelligent as dogs have to be, sometimes they don’t show good sense. Why would you run away from a place where you get fed and watered and have a warm bed? We don’t mistreat our dogs, yet still our dogs will get loose from time to time and leave us wandering the neighborhood calling them.
Of course to understand this tendency we have to understand dogs. Dogs will run off with other dogs. They’ll follow some enticing scent and completely forget about home. They’ll chase cars, bikes, and low-flying airplanes. It’s not that our dogs are ungrateful. It’s just that they are easily distracted. That’s why they stray from the yard and home.
In short, dogs just aren’t the brightest critters God put on this earth. But before we start feeling too superior, we have to realize that, to God, we must look a lot like a wandering dog. Even when we know we have a good thing, a warm bed, and plenty to eat, we can still be found wandering off in pursuit of some intriguing odor. Today, let us commit ourselves to being loyal dogs, staying right by our Master’s side.
Pray for those who tend the parking lot
December 9 Psalm 119:33-40
Last spring, Alyson announced that she would be going on the mission trip to Budapest, Hungary. She didn’t say she wanted to go or ask what Penny and I thought. She just informed us that she’d be going. The prospect of getting Aly out of the house for ten days rather excited me, but I did see one potential roadblock to her going: Money.
“How do you propose to pay for this little adventure?” I asked her, using my look that my kids know means “I can’t help you out very much on this.” We found ourselves in the midst of moving, going on half pay for a year’s sabbatical and preparing to pay for tuition at SBU. I couldn’t very well plunk down $2,000 for a trip to Eastern Europe.
Alyson didn’t miss a beat. “I’m going to write letters and ask people for help,” she replied. True to her word, Aly first penned a letter that would make an English-teacher father proud. She then made a list of people who should receive the letter.
As I scanned over the list, I marveled at the girl’s memory and audacity. She seemed to be asking everybody from the mayor to the garbage man for help. “Alyson, you can’t ask all of these people for money,” I protested. I knew that many of these would reject her out of hand.
She wouldn’t hear any of it. She addressed her envelopes and sent out the letters. Then the funniest thing happened. Money started coming in for her account. Some of you who are reading this were some who sent in funds. Some people sent $10 or $25. Some, people who I didn’t want her to ask in the first place, sent $100. In short order, Alyson had her entire trip covered and helped to pay for some of the others.
The lesson that I take from this is simple. Never sell short the grace of God or the graciousness of God’s people.
Pray for the pit choir
December 10 Psalm 119:41-48
Today I’d like to tell you about Kelly LaGrant, one of our seventh-grade girls. Kelly is special. You just ask her and she’ll leave no doubt. “I’m special,” she says at the slightest provocation. Kelly lives just a few blocks from me, close to Sarah Livengood Park in Raytown. Frequently we’ll pass Kelly on the road as she walks toward the park. You will never see her alone on those walks. Instead she’ll be surrounded by a half dozen neighborhood kids. Apparently they know that she’s special as well.
What makes Kelly special? I’m not entirely sure what it is. She’s got a certain measure of charisma, but there are certainly people who can charm others more readily. She’s nice looking but not gorgeous. (Sorry, Kelly.) To the best of my knowledge Kelly does not challenge Tom Hilton as a pianist or out-sing Lorna Frojd. She’s not a world-class gymnast, nor is she headed off to Harvard Law School as their first thirteen-year-old student. So what’s so special about Kelly?
After long and careful study, I think I have this question figured out. Kelly recognizes herself as a child of God—no more and no less. She doesn’t have to be the best at anything, although she might get there someday. It doesn’t matter if she’s a valedictorian, a varsity this-or-that, or a member of the National Somebody Society. She doesn’t have to walk down the red carpet in a $10,000 dress. She’s already been clothed in robes of righteousness. Why should she care about how she dresses otherwise?
Kelly is special, and so am I. And so are you. We’re not special because of anything unique or wonderful within us. We’re special because God became a man to die the death that we deserved. We’re special because God says that we’re special, because God makes us special. Anything beyond that is simply window dressing. Isn’t that special?
Pray for a blessing of salvation or inspiration on each audience member
December 11—Performance Psalm 119:49-56
I auditioned for a part last Sunday. By the time you read this, I’ll have memorized whatever part Judy and Gene saw fit to give me, but as I pen these words, I have no idea of what that will be. It’s not that I don’t know what part I want. I just don’t know what I got yet. Ever since discovering what marvels lay in wait beneath the Christmas tree ceased to be the axis on which my year turned, awaiting the cast list for pageant has become the most hotly anticipated annual event in my life.
I’ve now auditioned for six pageants. Over the first five of those years, I have always had a certain part in mind. In each of those five years, I got something other than what I had wanted. The year that I wanted to be Joseph of Arimathea, I was Caiaphas. Last year, I wanted to be Marcus (although I knew it was a major long shot). Instead, I was cast as Marcus’ friend Flavius. So over the history of my auditions, I’m zero for five. Perhaps this year reversed that trend, but I’m not holding my breath.
Please don’t take this all as sour grapes. I’m not complaining. You see, over those five years of getting a part other than what I really wanted, I have never had a complaint about how things worked out. Had I been Joseph of Arimathea, I wouldn’t have been able to run from the soldiers with Tom, one of the great bonding experiences of my life. Had the brain trust been so dim as to cast me as Marcus last year, we wouldn’t have gotten to hear Dan Hurst sing those marvelous songs.
God has a way of placing us exactly where we need to be. All we have to do is learn to accept God’s providence and flourish in it. That isn’t always easy, but it’s always best.
Update: I didn’t get the part again, and it took me 10 minutes to get over it.
Pray for the many child care workers who watch our little ones
December 12—Performance Psalm 119:57-64
I don’t the guy’s name. I’d like to know his name. I’ve heard it before, and I’ve talked to him every year I’ve been in pageant. I head into the microphone room—known the remainder of the year as Steve Cowart’s office—and I get my microphone on. I joke with this fellow every night. I’ve gotten to know his daughter a little bit and remember the year his son decided to play the guitar. But I don’t know his name.
A few minutes ago, I thought about calling the church and asking somebody what this guy’s name was, but I realized how silly it would sound to say, “Hey Steve, who’s that guy who sits in your office during pageant and passes out the mics?” Steve would have answered, but he’d have needled me over it for weeks, so I’m just calling him the unknown mic-man.
Pageant is all about unknown workers. Do you know those people who feed us over the weekends? There’s one guy I’ve seen for several years, but I don’t know his name. I walked in the Triumphal Entry with adults and kids who I don’t know. I have no clue who’s working the parking lot, since Vince comes in to be Judas. I don’t know the second shepherd from the left or the last disciple on the right. But it doesn’t matter.
If you ever looked through the pageant program searching for your name in print, you were undoubtedly disappointed. Unlike most school programs, we don’t feel the need to list everybody. If you ask them, I’m pretty sure that the leaders who are listed will say that they really don’t care if their name is there or not.
That guy in the mic room doesn’t have a glamorous job. He’d be the first to admit that most anybody could do it. But the important thing is that he shows up and he does that simple but essential job to the glory of God. Can anyone of us do more?
Pray for all of the non-speaking cast members who swell our scenes
December 13—Performance Psalm 119:65-72
The August bank statement showed up in the mail yesterday, so I had the privilege of sitting down to the monthly chore of balancing the check book. This process used to be so simple. All I had to do was enter the checks and the deposits to ensure that I hadn’t left anything out or made a math error. Today, even though I can use the “Reconcile” function in Quicken, the balancing project is much more complicated. By the time I throw in the ATM withdrawals, the debit card purchases, and the direct withdrawals from eBay and the like, I find that I have my hands full. After I finished the entries for the August bank statement, I found, much to my distress, that Quicken claimed I had $400 more than the bank statement admitted.
I’d been through this drill before. First you go through to be sure that the deposits were recorded properly. Then you verify the amounts on the checks. Finally, you wade through the ATM and debit-card transactions, hoping to find something that will account for the discrepancy. After double-checking everything this time, however, I still had that $400 difference before me.
It took me about twenty minutes to find my error. Somehow, rather than entering the closing balance from the checking account, I had entered the amount for the savings account. I quickly fixed that problem and voila, the problem was solved.
As I slipped that bank statement into the file, it occurred to me that we could all learn something from this error. When we start from the wrong place, we’ll end up in the wrong place even when we don’t make any further errors. As we move slowly through our pageant preparations, let’s be sure that we’re starting from the right place, from a dedication to the glory of God and a burning love for Christ. If we can manage this, then our accounts will surely overflow in the end.
Pray for the shuttle drivers
December 14—Performance Psalm 119:73-80
Turn out the lights, the party’s over. Today is a bittersweet day, our last day of performance. By 6:00 pm tonight, we’ll be tearing down the set and turning our “theater” back into a church. As I look toward that day, I think over the emotions that come with it. I’m reminded of moving a few months ago.
Some of you visited my old house, the geodesic dome. It was a neat place complete with a barn, five acres, and a pond. For a couple of our seven years there, we kept chickens until the neighborhood dogs proved that they wanted to kill the chickens more than we could manage to protect them. That house gave me an excuse to live out every red-blooded man’s dream to own a good-sized tractor. I liked that house.
The day that we moved out of that house, I remember sitting in the downstairs bedroom that had been transformed from Emily’s bedroom into my office. Everything sat loaded in the van, but I had to take one more look. I sat there and cried.
I didn’t cry because I didn’t want to move. I cried because my oldest daughter had chased crawdads on the day we moved in and now she was helping us move out, along with her husband. I cried because my only son had crawled into the house but had driven the tractor around the pasture before we moved. I cried because of the campouts, the fireworks, the great neighbors, the hard work, and the little triumphs that we had experienced there
That’s how a pageant or anything we do for God should be. We should be ready to move on, but there’s nothing wrong with looking back and seeing what happened along the way. As you help cart props and dismantle stage today, reflect on the fun, the friendships, the lessons learned, and the opportunities seized. God is certainly good to let us do this thing!
Pray for the spiritual growth of those who accepted Christ these weeks
December 15—Aftermath Psalm 119:105-112
For most of us, the work of pageant is done. A few will spend many hours this week tearing down the set and putting away props. The costume ladies will chase after our togs for the next couple of months. (Wouldn’t it be nice of us to have them all washed and back in the costume department before the end of the month?) Timothy Chin has probably already started concocting new ways of financing next year’s effort, and Gene is probably wondering when it all stops.
Some year, Gene will stop producing the pageant. Some year, Judy will pass the director’s clipboard to someone else. Bruce Rosenbaum will someday stop doing sound. Doug Dalton will not play Jesus forever, and Rick Henks will not always lend his trumpet to the orchestra. As much as we appreciate these good and faithful servants, we have to realize that their efforts will not go on forever and that they need not go on forever.
The pageant—this year’s version or the whole twenty-four year saga—is only a brief chapter in the great multi-volume set of the church’s work of propagating the gospel. As important as we might feel when we hear “Hallelujah, Praise the Lamb” resound throughout the auditorium, we have to realize how tiny we are in the grand scheme of things.
As we head away from this year’s effort, let’s remember that what we have done over the past months has not been about Brother Paul or Gene. It’s not about First Baptist Raytown or “Baptist Work.” Our pageant is not me playing a role, you singing one, technical excellence, or spiffy set design. If you need a reminder of the point of this effort, then look ahead ten days. God, the creator of the universe, became a helpless baby in order to die for your sins. May God bless each of you and your families this holiday season as you keep Christ at the center of your Christmas and your life.
Pray that you can keep Christ at the center of your family’s life.