Why don’t more Christians ask questions?

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It’s time we stop

Hey, what’s that sound?

Everyday look — what’s going down?

                    Stephen Stills

Yesterday I had a great session with Arnold. I had read him yesterday’s Catch about the cross, which he really liked, and then he asked, “Why don’t more Christians talk like this?” I think he was referring to the fact that I talk about biblical truth from the standpoint that I, myself, am struggling to understand it. I usually don’t have the final word on a subject; I’m in process, and I’m letting others in on the process and asking them questions to get them engaged.

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He did it all for love

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Down the Via Dolorosa called the way of suffering

Like a lamb came the Messiah, Christ the king

But He chose to walk that road

Out of His love for you and me

Down the Via Dolorosa, all the way to Calvary

                     Words and music by Billy Sprague and Niles Borop

 

Blood. Pain. Sorrow. Death. What does it all mean? Why was it necessary? Can we fully understand it? Will we ever?

The cross of Christ is the central event in the Bible, and, indeed, in human history, yet much of it remains shrouded in mystery. Even those of us who have known about the cross all of our lives still find ourselves sometimes staring at the familiar images and wondering why. We know that sacrifice solves the problem of sin. Somebody has to pay. If it’s not the perpetrator, then it’s someone else liked a bull or a ram or a lamb or a goat. But why?

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Good dad. Bad dad. My dad. “Abba Dad.”

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Good dad.

So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, you received God’s Spirit when he adopted you as his own children. Now we call him, “Abba, Father.” Romans 8:15

In reading your comments on Father’s Day, I came up with the following conclusion about fathers and Father’s Day: There are good dads. There are bad dads. There is my dad. “Abba Dad.”

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Day after Father’s Day

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Father’s Day turned out to be a travel day for us, but with some time with my daughter in Hawaii before leaving, well-wishes from Christopher and Elizabeth on my phone, and Chandler picking us up late at the airport, I got a chance to enjoy something from all of my kids. Father’s Day is a time to be appreciated regardless of the job you have done. As Marti always says, you only have one father and that makes him the best one in the world, because he’s yours. And last night, which was really early this morning, I received a final text message from Annie which read, “I wouldn’t be me without you.”

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Love in action

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It was a bizarre idea. A wildly impulsive good deed. Something that doesn’t happen except for maybe once or twice in a lifetime. But in smaller ways, it could be emulated in a hundred different ways as long as it is some kind of action carried out on behalf of another.

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Perfect people and perfect places

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Why isn’t my life perfect? Why don’t things turn out the way I want them to? Why, when I hear the simple truth of the word of God, can’t I do the thing it is asking me to do? Why isn’t my life easier? Why isn’t it easier to please God? Why is it so hard to change? Why do I keep falling in the same ruts? Why can’t I draw on the Holy Spirit when I need Him most? Why am I so comfortable with mediocrity? Why is it sometimes so hard to do what God is asking me to do?

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Pomp and Circumstance

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Well, it’s a done deal. Chandler is officially graduated. By the skin of our teeth. He got to the location, throwing on his cap and gown less than 5 minutes before they called his name. Knowing how Chandler feels about pomp and circumstance, I was holding my breath the whole way.

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Graduation Day

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It’s amazing how much you forget. Chandler is eighteen years old and about to walk across a lawn and receive a high school diploma. I’m trying to remember when he was 3, and 4, and 5, and 6…. These are whole years gone by so rapidly as to leave only a blur in my memory. What did we do? I know we spent a lot of time together during those years. Those are some of the best years for parenting, especially for Dads. Dads haven’t gotten to be dorky yet. I must have taught him how to ride a bicycle. I don’t remember his first time up on his own (it didn’t take long, I’m sure; he’s so coordinated), but I can remember hours of riding behind him watching him zip and whiz all over town — his helmet bobbing up and down, side to side, through back alleys, dirt roads, and roads I didn’t even know were there.

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‘Welcome to my world’ — God.

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The sun throws itself across the entrance to Angels Stadium and dances on our happy faces. A dear friend’s gracious generosity has gifted us with excellent seats for the ball game. We have our red on. We’re ready. The weight of the world can lift for an evening. That’s what games are for. They’re not a diversion as much as they are a respite. Anne and Christopher can appreciate this respite enough to at least humor me with a ball game. Chandler and Marti do not hide their boredom well. They will come when properly coerced by my birthday or Father’s Day, so last night, with two tickets and my daughter’s surprise visit home, Anne was the logical sidekick.

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June 7, 2018 is going to be a special day

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I have fought the demons of my own dark night

Finding only shadows in the dawning light

From the song “Time for You” on the album “Casual Crimes” by John Fischer

This is a big week in the Fischer household. On Thursday we will witness what many thought was not possible: Our youngest son, Chandler, will be graduating from Fusion Academy with a high school diploma and a 3.5 GPA. There have been professionals who have told us at one point that Chandler would never be able to read. We have watched him defy that and many other proclamations made on his behalf that predicted sadder outcomes than the one we celebrate this week.

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