“No, you will never wash my feet!” said Peter when Jesus knelt at his feet to wash the dirt from his feet. The thought that the Messiah would serve Peter as a slave would serve his master was repugnant to him. It was inappropriate; it was outrageous; it was unthinkable. Yet, Yeshua said, “If I do not wash you, you have no inheritance in me.” (see John 13:6-10)
    If you read this chapter closely, you will see that Yeshua was not talking about physical dirt nor ritualistic washing. He tells them that they are already clean, but not all of them are so – indicating that there was a spiritual uncleanness being identified here which was only being illustrated by the obvious lesson. Peter didn’t understand. Most people don’t. If Yeshua was referring only to the ritual cleaning traditionally done by non-Jewish servants, then Judas would not have been identified as being different from the eleven. Remember, Judas also had bathed for Pesach Seder (and/or the day of preparation for Shabbat, depending how you read this account.)
   What Peter would come to understand later … much later … was that even though he had been cleansed by his Master, he would need washing again and again. For in walking through this world, he would continually find the need to be washed by his Lord. Perhaps he came to understand that in the courtyard of public trials when Yeshua looked at him with compassion and love following Peter’s denial and cursings.
    Sometimes, after we have fallen short, failed, turned away, sinned, denied Yeshua – whatever you choose to call it – we, like Peter, cannot abide the thought of the Lamb kneeling at our feet to wash us. He is too high.  He is too glorified to be kneeling as a servant at the feet of one so unworthy as we. We can acknowledge his glorification and Lordship, but we cannot fathom His serving us  in so lowly a way – especially us. But when the light comes, we remember that this is why He came. To wash us again and again and again even though we have been washed before. Sometimes, we must learn to see the Son of God, not on the cross, but at our feet – making us clean again.
Father, Do not let pride nor shame take this inheritance from us.

“The man’s a sissy,” I thought. His words and demeanor seemed too sweet, artificial, affected. I didn’t like him from the first moment he opened his mouth to talk to me. You know how some people seem to be putting on piety and it shows? Well, that’s how Ken Maurer affected me. I just didn’t like him.

Yet, the Lord was going to use this man to help shape my life from that first encounter onward.

Over the course of the next year, I would come to learn that his piety was not artificial, his demeanor was not saccharine, and this man was no sissy – not by any stretch of the imagination. He was a man of God, a man of faith and had an unyielding devotion to his Saviour. He was as genuine as salt. I would come to learn that it was my own impoverished, cynical soul that made me see him the way I did on our first encounter. I grew to have an enormous respect for this intelligent and caring human being. I would take every course he offered, and some I would take twice (without credit) just to glean as much as I could from him.

Dr. Kenneth Maurer was the Dean of Evangelical Theological Seminary. He founded the school, single-handedly kept it afloat for years, served as its President and Chair of its History Department. There were times he even served as its janitor. He was President of the American Association of Church Historians for over twenty years. He was a man of vision, and nothing stood in the way of his fulfilling the task the Lord laid on his shoulders – not sickness, not finances, not work, not the most demeaning of tasks. Nothing.

His fingerprints are on my life, in my mind, on my soul, and all over my faith. He taught me the value of knowing my roots and my fathers’ history. He brought his beloved Scripture to life and instilled an appreciation of the scripture’s vitality in his students. The longer I live and study my Sovereign and His word, the more I realize that Yeshua used this man to help mold me, my faith, my ministry, my life.

It occurs to me that there have been others, too – some I recognize and some I don’t.  But I have come to appreciate the gift that the Lord gave me in Ken Maurer. And, as I considered that notion, my mind followed the rabbit trail to others who were used to help shape this old George. Some did it with kindness, some with meanness; some with wisdom and some with ignorance; some with grace and some with abuse.

But, they all made a deposit in me which God has used and is using to help mold my life. Many of the experiences have been very pleasant and many have been very painful. But in it all, God has been the potter. Now, in my autumn years, I am just beginning to learn how to be thankful for both.

Thank you, Lord, for your fingerprints left on us through other people’s fingers and the way you used them in our lives.

Last year was no different.

I guess I should have expected that.

It was October, and I had spent the past several months in limbo about a major decision in my life. I had battled for months and I was begging God for some much needed clarity. “I want answers,” I told Him. “Even if it’s not what I want to hear, just tell me already.”

Several friends had mentioned they thought God would give me clarity about the decision during an upcoming trip to Africa, but I had my doubts. I had been praying for months and had found no clarity, no confirmation, no clues.

Then, the week before I left for Africa, the congregation prayed with me for my trip. After church a woman I rarely speak to approached me. She gave me a hug and wished me luck. And then she whispered a remarkable thing into my ear. God’s going to answer your questions in Africa…..

This is not a woman who knew me or my struggles well. My mouth dropped open. How did she know I had questions! I concluded that perhaps God was using her to confirm what others already thought might be true. After months of silence, God was about to show up in my life and make things very clear. Well, I thought to myself, I’d better be ready for my answers.

Throughout the first day of my trip, a theme began to resonate in the conversations that surrounded me. A new widow who was traveling with me, talked about the difficulties of the path she was being called to walk with the recent loss of her husband. She also emphasized the faithfulness of God in that difficult place.

Over and over it began to show up in every one of my conversations: an unsolicited, but eerily similar message. God is faithful. God is good. God wants what is best for you. Trust Him in the hard times. He won’t call you to walk out something that isn’t possible or beneficial. HE LOVES YOU!

It became extremely apparent what God was confirming in my life. It also became apparent that I had known the truth for a while, but instead had cried out in feigned ignorance, I can’t hear you God…why won’t you answer me, all the while keeping my fingers tightly plugged in my ears to block out His voice because I was afraid. One missionary I interviewed told me, “what type of father would God be to ask us to do His will, and then not tell us what His will was.”

“I’ve found that the times I haven’t heard God’s voice in my life,” she said, “were the times I’d actually just blatantly told him ‘no, I refuse to obey you.’”

I was starting to see this had been the case in my own life.

But God, in His amazing patience and wisdom, spent an entire week showing me His character through these conversations. He revealed His promises and truths to me, which would serve as a life raft for the storm He was asking me to walk through.

Still, despite the amazing clarity, I continued to question him further. During one particular church service in a mountain village, I sat praying during the sermon. I didn’t understand the tribal language and the missionary traveling with me only spoke French.

I pondered all the things people had said to me over the past few days. God, I prayed quietly, what do you want me to do?

Immediately the missionary beside me leaned over and whispered, “He says, be obedient. Only then can God pour his blessing out in your life.” I almost peed my pants right there. Apparently, as I was praying, the pastor had unknowingly switched from his tribal tongue to French for one sentence, which the missionary had been eager to translate for me. The timing was uncanny. And the theme continued to match the small voice I was trying so hard to ignore.

I’d like to say I’m a quick study and I eagerly jumped on the obedience train. But I’ll admit, I fought with God for the remainder of my trip. I held up hoops for him to jump through, made demands, and asked for more signs.

At one point, I emailed two trusted friends about the situation with the vague message. “I feel God is giving me an answer. Pray about it and tell me what you get.” My hope was for conflicting advice so I could write off everything as a coincidence. The next day both friends wrote me back individually with the same message. “I feel like God is telling me that you already know what to do,” they said. Well great. That blew that plan.

Looking back, I have to laugh at the lengths I went in an attempt to get out of what God was asking me to do. I can’t believe the patience and love He showed me in the process-sometimes I’m surprised that there wasn’t a big fish in one of the African rivers waiting to “help convince me to go to Nineveh already!”

The most amazing thing is that once I conceded to obey God, He moved in and gave me grace more abundant than I could ever imagined. So much so, that the decision that had held me captive for so many months, was almost a non-issue. I was able to walk through the difficulty with peace and strength. And something that days earlier I was sure would be the end of me, became a source of victory, and even joy, in my life.

It had taken me months to walk away from God’s calling in this area of my life. But it only took one hesitant, but obedient, step towards Him to bring me right back into His loving arms.

I pondered all the things people had said to me over the past few days. God, I prayed quietly, what do you want me to do?

Immediately the missionary beside me leaned over and whispered, “He says, be obedient. Only then can God pour his blessing out in your life.” I almost peed my pants right there. Apparently, as I was praying, the pastor had unknowingly switched from his tribal tongue to French for one sentence, which the missionary had been eager to translate for me. The timing was uncanny. And the theme continued to match the small voice I was trying so hard to ignore.

I’d like to say I’m a quick study and I eagerly jumped on the obedience train. But I’ll admit, I fought with God for the remainder of my trip. I held up hoops for him to jump through, made demands, and asked for more signs.

At one point, I emailed two trusted friends about the situation with the vague message. “I feel God is giving me an answer. Pray about it and tell me what you get.” My hope was for conflicting advice so I could write off everything as a coincidence. The next day both friends wrote me back individually with the same message. “I feel like God is telling me that you already know what to do,” they said. Well great. That blew that plan.

Looking back, I have to laugh at the lengths I went in an attempt to get out of what God was asking me to do. I can’t believe the patience and love He showed me in the process-sometimes I’m surprised that there wasn’t a big fish in one of the African rivers waiting to “help convince me to go to Nineveh already!”

The most amazing thing is that once I conceded to obey God, He moved in and gave me grace more abundant than I could ever imagined. So much so, that the decision that had held me captive for so many months, was almost a non-issue. I was able to walk through the difficulty with peace and strength. And something that days earlier I was sure would be the end of me, became a source of victory, and even joy, in my life.

It had taken me months to walk away from God’s calling in this area of my life. But it only took one hesitant, but obedient, step towards Him to bring me right back into His loving arms.

January, the month named for the Roman God, Janus, is so named because the month looks back over the previous year and forward to the coming year. In Roman mythology, Janus (or Ianus) was the god of gates, doors, doorways, beginnings and endings. He is most often depicted as having two faces or heads, facing in opposite directions. Thus, he observes past and present, passing and coming. This morning, I am a little like Janus because I, too, am looking back and forward as I sit at the end of 2009 and the emergence of 2010.

I am recalling the faces of people in our congregation and times when they have stepped forward to serve their brothers and sisters, their church and their community. Truthfully, there has been much service done this year, and it was completed most graciously. Kitchen crews for Women’s Brunch, Stay-4-Lunch, and covered dish events, sound room staff, decorations, youth leaders, musicians, service leaders, overhead projector operators, newsletter mailing, coffee fellowship bakers and workers, tape mailers, nursery attendants, Children’s Church teachers, hospital visitors, noon meals cook and servers, Elders and Deacons, vocalists – the list goes on and on.

To all of you, I want to express the thanks and sincere appreciation of a congregation well served. You have done well and you should feel good about it. There are many who talk of following the Lord, but too few who wrap themselves in their towels and wash feet willingly, joyfully, and quietly. To all of you, I say, “Thank you for service well done to your Savior and to your brethren.”

I also wish to thank the Consistory and Calvary fellowship for the way in which they have taken care of Suzie and I all these years. Salaries and benefits have been provided, study materials, and even assistance in purchasing a new car which is much needed. The Lord’s provision which has come through your hands has sustained us comfortably these many years, and I want you to know that it is much appreciated.

Also, your prayerful and loving support of us in our ministry has been a God-send for us. Your expressions of encouragement, while not often received as graciously as I might have wished, have done much to edify me along the way. (I am working on learning to accept kind words – a necessity inherited from experiences of years gone by.)

Suzie and I have often said publicly and privately, here and elsewhere, that we serve an unusual and outstanding church fellowship here at Calvary. You excel in so many ways that they are difficult to enumerate. Your worship, your prayers, your willingness to accept and strengthen each other and assist others along the way is remarkable.

I am thankful for your endurance, your faithfulness, your legendary generosity, your compassion, your devotion, your kindness and your testimony of faith. They are a credit to you and to the God we serve.

2009 has been a good year – a hard, but a good year. With our faith in tact, our eyes set on the goal of our high calling in Christ Jesus, I look forward with expectant anticipation to 2010. And, it pleases me that we may get the opportunity to walk it out together.

Suzie and I were walking along the beach in South Carolina last week, and, as usually happens whenever we do that, my mind slipped back more than just a few years. In reverie, I was a young father who was walking along a similar beach in Florida with my eldest child walking beside me. She was on a quest. She had set her mind to build a collection of thirty sets of shells, each with the same selection of varieties. They were for her first grade classmates whom she had left behind in the wintery north while we vacationed with Grandma and Grandpa Smith.

“Daddy,” she said, “we only have two sand dollars. We need twenty-eight more to complete the sets.” It was our last day to go beach combing. We were to leave Florida early the next morning. “Maybe we’ll just have to do without the sand dollars, honey.” I could see the disappointment on her face. We had been searching all week, and now we had been walking for over an hour and had seen none – not one sand dollar.

“Isn’t this God’s ocean, Daddy?” Her question made me stiffen for I knew where she was going with this line of questioning. I was the realist adult and I didn’t want her to be hurt, to have her young faith challenged so hard.

“Yes, it is.”

“Why don’t we just ask God for some sand dollars?”

I thought the lump in my throat must have been visible, it seemed so large. “We can, Honey, but remember, God doesn’t always give us what we want.” I was trying to brace her for the disappointment I was sure was coming.

We prayed. She asked. With less than a quarter mile left to walk before we arrived at the parking lot, we proceeded along the shore – looking as we went.

We went no more than 100 feet before we saw sand dollars rolling in with the surging tide. My daughter gleefully collected them as rapidly as she could, filling her quota and completing her collections …. all of them.

“Except ye become as little children.” “If ye have faith as a mustard seed.”

The simplest lessons are the hardest to learn, and my Daddy is still teaching me.

Do we always get what we want? No. But sometimes we receive not because we ask not, and sometimes when we do ask, we do not believe.

Navigation through life’s tempestuous waters can be an intimidating prospect and a daunting task. On those occasions when the Spirit is speaking to us, or the Lord seems to be piloting our small ship directly, we are confident and we feel secure.

But, like the ship at sea under heavy clouds, dense fog, or dark nights with stars clouded from view, we can find ourselves disoriented, lost, and on the verge of panic. You know what I mean – there are those times when we feel so small, so helpless and so alone. Our Pilot doesn’t appear to be with us, watching over us or talking to us. We can succumb to doubts which come with not knowing which course to steer. We call out for Him, but we hear only silence.

Let me share a purely anecdotal “George-ism” with you (watch out for those, they can be deadly!)

It has been my experience that most people have a verse, a series of verses, or a chapter which the Lord has strongly impressed upon them at some point early in their Christian walk. Again, you know to what I am referring. Sometimes, the Spirit speaks some specific Scripture into your very being. That Word seems always to be “yours” in a very special way. It becomes a favorite scripture. It is always alive for you. It becomes part of your spiritual consciousness from the moment He makes it alive to you and it never loses its ability to capture your attention. It is, as I say, yours.

Let me suggest something for you to consider concerning those verses. Let’s pick a spot on the globe, say …… Jerusalem. Ships and planes and caravans and pilgrims from all over the world travel to Jerusalem. Each one must steer a base line course to get there. Depending on the origination of the traveler, the base course (the bearing which needs to be traveled) varies from traveler to traveler. Although the destination is the same, the base course is unique to each traveler, because each started from a different place. However, if each stays on his base course, each will arrive safely in Jerusalem.

Well, our navigating life’s wide ocean is kind of like being one of those travelers. We are each bound for the New Jerusalem. We started in different places, under different circumstances with differing cultural backgrounds. We have different baggage to lose, and obstacles in our path, some uniquely ours. Sometimes we become disoriented. We lose our way. We wander off course. We find ourselves in the darkest of nights, under heavy cloud cover or in a dense fog. We don’t know which way to turn. We look for guidance, but it seems not to come. He has not left us, but we can’t hear His voice.

Remember that scripture the Lord planted in your soul so many years ago? It is likely your base course. Go back to that and begin again. Return to the base course He set for you early on. Be faithful to travel it, stay on it and return to it when you drift away, and you will soon find yourself emerging from the fog, the cloud, the night – on course and safe.

At the risk of sounding like a horrible – if not sacrilegious – cliché, I have to say that playing golf is very much like living the Christian life.  For those of you who play golf, you will have no problem understanding this; for those of you who do not, I hope you can at least allow yourselves to be amused by it.

I know of no other sport like golf that has such a high standard for “par.”  Only the best players consistently average par.  Most golfers, after a day of golf, will readily admit that the course was the winner.  In other sports, no matter what level one is, one can call himself a good player.  Par is subjective unlike with golf.  Likewise, in the Kingdom of God, the standard (Jesus) is set extraordinarily high.  No one calls himself a “good Christian.”  We all readily admit we are far below the standard.

Consistency is the “name of the game” in golf.  So, too, in the Kingdom of God.  You can do very well for 5 holes and then encounter disaster on the next hole.  You cannot become haughty about one good hole because the next one may humble you.  Every golfer knows that, in order to improve and attain consistency in golf, almost daily practice is required.  If that is required in golf, how much more in the Kingdom of God, since the standard is infinitely higher?  If we are not meeting with God daily and walking and abiding in Him, how can we make it in the Kingdom?  If we consider the standard in golf almost unattainable without constant practice, how much more must it be so with God’s standard?

One might say, with a standard set so high, how can we ever feel good about ourselves, since we never measure up?  Be encouraged!  Just like in golf, whereas one or two good shots encourage us and keep us coming back, so in God’s Kingdom, Jesus always encourages us, if we are listening, with timely words that pick us up and keep us going.