Steve’s Devotional - Be Afraid, Be Very Afraid

On Steve Brown Etc. we have interviewed a whole lot of people about the economy, the war, the environment, world poverty, politics (and the list goes on) and the general impression is that we’re all going to die!

There is a wonderful story in 2 Kings 6. The king of Syria was at war with Israel. Israel, though, had a powerful “secret weapon” in Elisha the prophet who kept warning Israel of the troop movements of Syria. The king of Syria was ticked and sent a large army to take out Elisha. When Elisha’s servant got up in the morning and went out, he saw the great Syrian army, panicked and then ran to Elisha, only to find Elisha calm, cool and collected. Elisha said to his servant that he should chill out because “those who are with us are more than those who are with them” (vs. 16).

It was then, I suspect, the servant figured out he was following a crazy man. Elisha prayed, “Lord, show him.” The text says, “So the Lord opened the eyes of the young man, and he saw, and behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha” (vs. 17).

If you’re worried, there is plenty to worry you. You could lose your job, you could lose your house, you could become homeless or you could get cancer from the carcinogens everywhere. The economy could tank. And if that doesn’t happen, you could freeze to death from global freezing, be cooked to death from global warming or starve to death from global famine.

The “all news-all the time” news channels pound us 24/7 with “news alerts” that tell us to be afraid…be very afraid. Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of it and I’m not going to take it anymore. I’ve asked God to let me see the armies.

In order to see the armies, you have to know the Commander of the armies “for from him and through him and to him are all things” (Romans 11:36). That would be pretty scary except for the joyous words of John 1: “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth…from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace…” (vs. 14,16) and “to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God” (vs. 12-13).

During every election, it seems like someone says, “It’s the economy, stupid!” I don’t even remember who first said that…but they are quite wrong. It’s not the economy or the wars or the terrorists or the fearsome specter of death and destruction. It’s about God, stupid! It really is.

Behind the surreal news, the surmise of “experts” who don’t know what they are talking about any more than we do, the silly atheists who say that we’re on our own, and the shallowness of what everybody says is important…there is a Commander of the armies who rules, sustains and works all things according to his will. If you forget about the Commander, it will drive you nuts.

But there’s more than that. If you want to see the armies of God, you have to thank him for them. Paul said to the Ephesians—whose situation was seemingly even more perilous than ours—that they ought to continue with their lives, “singing and making melody to the Lord with your heart, giving thanks always and for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ…” (Ephesians 5:19-20).

One of the advantages of being an “old white guy” is that I’ve watched the false prophets screw it up so often and so badly that I don’t listen to them much anymore. That doesn’t mean I’m silly or unaware of what they are saying. I’m a news junkie and fascinated by the seriousness and gloom of the “we’re all going to die” crowd. I’ve seen God’s circuitous ways so often in bringing “dry bones” to life, in removing pompous and arrogant leaders and replacing them only to replace the replacements, and in glorifying himself in the timeline of history, that I’ve decided it is all above my pay grade and “all things do work together” for those who are on the side of the Commander. “ So I’ve decided I’ll just thank him for the mess and then take a nap.”

I’ve decided to thank him for the mess. That, of course, doesn’t mean I’m going to necessarily like the way God works it out for me personally, for the nation of which I’m a citizen, or for the world. I’ve often told him that, if I were him, I would do it differently. But he has the armies and I don’t. He’s my Father and the Commander. So I’ve decided I’ll just thank him for the mess and then take a nap.

There is one other thing about seeing the armies. You have to act on the reality of the truth that has been revealed.

In Matthew 8, Jesus gets together a bunch of ragged, sinful, needy and confused followers. (I always thought he could have done better in his choices…but then I remember that I’m one of his weird choices too.) One of his choices says that he will follow Jesus, but he needs to first bury his father. It seems reasonable until one realizes that his father isn’t dead yet…not even close. So his excuse was an option to run.

Then Jesus said something that will haunt you if you think about it much, “Follow me, and leave the dead to bury their own dead” (vs. 22).

You can’t let the dead bury the dead unless there’s something better than the cemetery…and there is.

So I have this list where I ask myself what I would do, how I would act and what I would think if the Commander of the supernatural armies were my Father and if I trusted him to do it right. Then I act on the truth that I know.

I still get scared and listen to the wrong voices on occasion. I sometimes still hear the “harsh bark” of the con artists and become enamored by the bright wares of the trinket salesmen. But in my finer moments, Jesus comes and prays for me. He says to the Father: “Father, show him!”

What does it mean to you to have God as your “Commander of the armies”? In your fear, turn to God and trust him. After all, he’s sovereign and loves you. And he’s got you covered.

I think it's the zinger that comes at the end; very similar the great work of American liturature that follows...

Casey at the Bat

Ernest Lawrence Thayer

The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Mudville nine that day:
The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play,
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A pall-like silence fell upon the patrons of the game.

A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to the hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, “If only Casey could but get a whack at that—
We’d put up even money now, with Casey at the bat.”

But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
And the former was a hoodoo, while the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Casey getting to the bat.

But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despisèd, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred,
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.

Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It pounded on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.

There was ease in Casey’s manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Casey’s bearing and a smile lit Casey’s face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt ‘twas Casey at the bat.

Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt;
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance flashed in Casey’s eye, a sneer curled Casey’s lip.

And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped—
“That ain’t my style," said Casey. “Strike one!” the umpire said.

From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore;
“Kill him! Kill the umpire!” shouted someone on the stand;
And it’s likely they’d have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.

With a smile of Christian charity great Casey’s visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the dun sphere flew;
But Casey still ignored it and the umpire said, “Strike two!”

“Fraud!” cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered “Fraud!”
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn’t let that ball go by again.

The sneer is gone from Casey’s lip, his teeth are clenched in hate,
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate;
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey’s blow.

Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout,
But there is no joy in Mudville—mighty Casey has struck out.

https://www.google.com/search?sourceid=navclient&aq=hts&oq=&ie=UTF-8&rlz=1T4ADRA_enUS475US652&q=Casey+at+the+Bat.#q=Casey+at+the+Bat.&tbm=vid

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