by Tim Hall

Driving to my destination, I cross the county line. The county I have just entered has no ordinances prohibiting the sale of fireworks. Every mile or so a tent had been erected to take advantage of the few days on which fireworks can be legally sold.

It has been many years since I've visited such a stand, but I hear that demand for pyrotechnics runs high during this patriotic time of the year. I don't know what current prices are, but I imagine most of the fireworks are not cheap. Adding to my reluctance to shop is the short duration of the pleasure; in just a few moments, all the enjoyment has gone up in smoke.

As I drive past the tents stocked with Roman candles and bottle rockets, I wonder how much I could buy for $9, and how long the show would last. I chose that $9 figure for a reason; in the back of my car is a 50 pound bag of rice I purchased for that amount. The rice will be given to a family of refugees who have just come from a strife-torn country in Africa. The family, thankful to be in a safer place, will struggle for awhile. But that much rice will help feed them for several days.

There is nothing inherently sinful about spending one's money on fireworks. But sometimes I wonder what such purchases say about the way we view our possessions and our stewardship. "It's my money! I'll spend it however I wish." Do such statements come from hearts touched by God's grace? Is there compassion for the needs of others behind declarations like that?

James speaks clearly about the use of our possessions: "What does it profit, my brethren, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can faith save him? If a brother or sister is naked and destitute of daily food, and one of you says to them, 'Depart in peace, be warmed and filled,' but you do not give them the things which are needed for the body, what does it profit? Thus also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead" (James 2:14-17, New King James Version). John makes the same point: "But whoever has this world's goods, and sees his brother in need, and shuts up his heart from him, how does the love of God abide in him?" (1 John 3:17)

How does the love of God abide in me?

God has not commanded us to strip all pleasure from our lives. There's no inherent sin when we stop at the local fireworks stand to make a purchase. What we must ask, however, is this: Is this our usual pattern of stewardship? Do we also seek to imitate the Lord in using our blessings to bless those around us who are in greater need?

Just after dark on July 4th, I plan to be outside watching the city's fireworks display from my front yard. Like others around me, I'll be going "Oooh" and "Ahhh". But deeper down in my heart, I'll be savoring a more enjoyable sensation: the good feeling that comes when I pass along a little bit of the rich grace that God has shed upon me. That's the "bang" I'll enjoy most (and longest)!

by Tim Hall

One of the great truths about God that leads us to love Him is that He is a deliverer. When we are caught in the trials of life, we need only look to Him and He will deliver us. That hope burns within the hearts of many.

But is it really true? Will God always deliver us from our trials?

God is certainly capable of delivering His people from any trial they face. Many occasions of God's amazing power are recorded in the Bible: Bringing the people of Israel out of Egyptian bondage; rescuing Daniel from the lions' den; raising Lazarus from the dead. The list is long. God has often delivered His people in dramatic fashion. The song we sing is true: "He is able to deliver thee!"

However, the Bible does not assure us that God will always be willing to deliver us from the problems we face. And, no, it doesn't necessarily mean that we are guilty of some sin, that God is pressuring us to repent. Some of the most godly people in the Bible have had to endure suffering for long periods of time.

Think of the woman in Mark 5:25-34: She had a serious hemorrhage of blood for twelve years. Yes, Jesus healed her, but where had God been during those twelve years of suffering? Or think of the three young Jewish men in Daniel 3. Could God not have prevented them from being cast into the furnace? Their lives were miraculously spared, but imagine the terror the endured while in that inferno. Where was God? Why didn't He intervene? Paul is another case in point. Such a devoted servant, he was willing to endure incredible hardships in order to preach Christ to the lost. Then why didn't the Lord remove his thorn in the flesh (2 Corinthians 12:7-10)? Didn't God care?

The truth is that God was able to deliver each one of these, but in His wisdom and grace, He allowed a period of suffering. He saw a greater good to be served than merely relieving temporary pain. In the end, each of these people was stronger in their faith, and that condition served them well as they faced eternity. (Read James 1:2-4)

God is with us! He is always with us, even when it appears that He won't deliver us. Let our faith remain always strong in His good purposes, for His will toward us is not concerned only with our lives on earth -- but especially with where we will spend eternity.

by Tim Hall

Standing in that room that night, I felt very much like a foreigner. I was a foreigner. I was in this country for a few days, and things were so different from my home. The most frustrating fact was that I did not speak the language of the land. Only through the few who could speak English was I able to communicate.

The room we were in served as a meeting place for a new congregation of Christians. It was a small room; probably a maximum of thirty would fit here. But that was more than sufficient, for there were only four Christians in this large city. Occasionally others would visit. Those few Christians probably sometimes feel like foreigners, too.

The words the preacher had written on the marker board didn't mean much to me, since I couldn't read Spanish. I could, however, make out the last line: "the church = the family". The message was simple but clear. "How appropriate," I thought, "that the preacher is stressing this theme."

American Christians worshipping in America often lose sight of the significance of this clear message. We are in our comfort zones. Everything around us is familiar: the customs, the writing on the marker boards, the language spoken. "Going to church" is a social event, and we chat happily with one another. Then we go home.

Christ declared the church be a family. "Family" can be a very important concept at times. When tragedy strikes, we turn to our families. Illness and death make us long for the strength found only in our families. "Family" is made up of those who are closest to us, the ones who share our values, our dreams, our blood. When life looks dark and unfamiliar, we yearn for family.

Paul wrote to the Christians at Thessalonica, noting that they had been thrown into a period of affliction and suffering. What might happen to Christians in such a situation? ". . . that no one should be shaken by these afflictions . . ." (1 Thessalonians 3:3, New King James Version). The suffering is not what we expected. When our faith is the cause of our suffering, we are tempted to throw in the towel. We are shaken.

So what can be done to help keep Christians from being shaken? Paul wrote about how he had "sent Timothy, our brother and minister of God, and our fellow laborer in the gospel of Christ, to establish you and encourage you concerning your faith" (1 Thessalonians 3:2). That's family in action! Timothy, one who cared deeply about his spiritual brethren in Thessalonica, went to them to strengthen and encourage them. His objective was to keep them from being shaken.

Who will come to us if we're not part of a family?

Not all churches seek to be the families Christ meant for them to be. Some think that teaching correct doctrine is the extent of their charge. Teaching correct doctrine is extremely important; we do not seek to minimize that goal. But a church that stops short of building family ties among its members is not rising to the standard Christ set for His church. (Read and contemplate Philippians 2:1-8 if that message is not yet clear in your mind. Or perhaps John 13:35.)

From my brief meeting with the preacher of this small church in a distant land, I suspect he has not had very much formal education. But when I saw the message at the bottom of the marker board -- "the church = the family" -- I knew he had been educated by the Lord!

by Tim Hall

Don't ask me why, but I've always been fascinated with bridges. There's just something about their design, perhaps, or maybe it's their function. For whatever reason, though, I enjoy bridges -- walking across them, gazing at them (or writing about them!).

The most impressive bridge I've personally observed is the New River Bridge in West Virginia. Built as part of Interstate 77, it sits high above the New River; so high, in fact, that people parachute off that bridge at the annual Bridge Days Festival. Before its construction, I'm told, it took a very long time to go from one side of the river to the other. Now, one crosses the gorge in a matter of seconds.

The largest gap in need of spanning is the one we each create between ourselves and God. Isaiah wrote of this gap in Isaiah 59:1,2:

"Behold, the Lord's hand is not shortened, that it cannot save; nor His ear heavy, that it cannot hear. But your iniquities have separated you from your God; and your sins have hidden His face from you that He will not hear" (New King James Version).

If we had tried, we could not have created a more impassable gap than we have dug by our thoughtless sins. It is a chasm so deep that man is incapable of crossing it alone.

There is One, however, who has built a bridge to reopen the access to God that we so desperately need. Paul spoke of this feat, accomplished by Jesus Christ, in Ephesians 2:17,18:

"And He came and preached peace to you who were afar off and to those who were near. For through Him we both have access by one Spirit to the Father."

Thanks to Jesus, we no longer must stand on one side of the chasm, wishing for a way to cross over to God. We are now given that bridge which, according to Jesus, is the only one of its kind: "I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me" (John 14:6).

I don't know the materials needed to construct the New River Bridge; I'm confident the list was substantial. The materials needed for our bridge back to God was considerably simpler - three nails and two boards - but so much more durable (and expensive). Praise God for caring enough to build the bridge!

("Three nails, two boards, one bridge" - thanks to the anonymous author of these words for setting my thoughts in motion.)

by Tim Hall

By now most of us have heard the story. A hiker out west was trapped by a boulder. His arm was caught, and he could in no way free himself. After days of waiting for the rescue team that never came, the man knew the situation was dire. With his pocketknife he amputated his own arm, thus freeing himself so he could walk to safety.

"I could never do such a thing!" many of us have thought upon hearing the story. Could we not? Very few of us have been in such life-threatening situations as this hiker. If it came down to the same choice he faced, we might just find it within ourselves to do such a drastic thing. It's impossible to say what we would do until we come face to face with life or death dilemmas.

I said in that last paragraph that very few of us face such decisions. Actually that's not true. According to Jesus, we are all faced with tough choices. The question becomes, How badly do we want to live?

"If your right eye causes you to sin," said Jesus in Matthew 5:29,30, "pluck it out and cast if from you; for it is more profitable for you that one of your members perish, than for your whole body to be cast into hell" (New King James Version). He went on to repeat the point. If our right hand causes us to sin, He advised, "cut it off".

The hiker surely must have considered the ramifications of cutting off his arm. Never again would he have the use of that limb. Life would be forever changed. He would need to learn new ways of doing the routine tasks of life, and some activities would have to be abandoned altogether.

But the choice was clear: Did he want to live or not? Keeping the arm would mean death in the wilderness. To live would require leaving the arm behind.

Do we want to live or not? Sometimes we have to make hard choices. Something that has been a part of us all our lives is keeping us from total devotion to God's will. Can we find it within ourselves to "cut it off"? Or will we die in the wilderness of sin with our imperfect self intact?

This is not to say that Jesus' words are to be interpreted literally. Actual removal of a physical limb or organ may not have been what the Lord had in mind. But severe pruning of our desires is absolutely the point!

Do we want to live? Then sooner or later we're going to have to decide - Am I willing to cut "it" off (whatever "it" may be)? "He who finds his life will lose it, and he who loses his life for My sake will find it." (Matthew 10:39)