How and to whom should I give to help those hurting in Moore?

Probably, like me, you were moved in your heart to want to do something to help following the tornado and its destruction in Moore yesterday. I always wonder who can I give money to that will help the most. If I know of a sound church in the area I try to give through them. The reason I do so is because I think this best fits the New Testament pattern.

We see physical and practical needs being met through the church.

Jesse Johnson gives this biblical summary that I find really helpful.
“When there were poor in the church, the elders organized a system to care for their needs (Acts 6:1-7; 1 Tim 5;9). Believers obeyed Jesus’ command and sold their excess goods to care for one another, but they didn’t give the money to outside groups; they gave it to the church, through the church.

The early church met the physical needs of other believers by giving their money to their church (they literally laid it at the Apostle’s feet), and then they allowed the elders to identify the must urgent needs to meet. And when there was famine or desperate poverty in distant lands, the strategy stayed the same. Believers pooled their money and gave it to their churches, who in turn passed it along to churches in need (Rom 15:25-26; 1 Cor 16:1-3).

The wisdom of this approach is obvious. How could a church in Galatia possibly know the most effective way to minister in Jerusalem? How could they really discern between those truly in need, and those whom charity would only further enable? Obviously they couldn’t possibly be expected to know those things. But the elders of the church in Jerusalem would, so Paul wanted to collect the money and give it to the church, who would then give it to the poor.

The same is true today. Take the tragedy in Oklahoma yesterday. Do you want to help? That is good, and a sign of godliness. But how can you know who is in need? If you give to a secular organization, you are trusting your money to a group that obviously does not share your goal of reconciling the world to God through preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ. How do you know which homeowners have insurance, and which don’t? How do you know who is in desperate need? How do you possibly know who to give your money to?

The answer is simple. The procedure Paul described in Romans 15 and 1 Corinthians 16 is still effective.”

I am not familiar with any of the churches in Moore. I know one of the pastors as an author but don’t know anything about their church.

So I have given some money through an organization I trust called “Children’s Hunger Fund (CHF)”. They are one of the world’s largest Christians charities, and they distribute their resources through a network of like-minded churches. This network is already established globally, and the churches who are part of it have been trained on how to respond in times of crisis. CHF has as one of its main principles that the resources they give out go to churches, and that the local churches then take the lead on how to use/distribute them. I have met the leadership personally and believe they have genuine integrity in how they handle donations. They have a legacy of maximizing their resources to strengthen affected churches, while furthering the advancement of the gospel.

CHF sure isn’t the only good organization to give to but it is one. Thanks for loving people and praying for the gospel to be advanced through this tragedy.

There is no one like Jesus – and no book like the Bible

I believe Charles Leiter tells some of the story of Arthur Katz’s conversion in his book “The Law of Christ”. I don’t think this account comes from that book but I am not sure. I know I copied it but am not sure of the source.

Regardless, I want to share it with you.

There was a man who felt the Spirit of God reveal the depths of his heart simply by reading a story in the Bible. I was so struck by this man’s story that I want to share it with you. It shows the power of God to reach the lost across time, simply by having them read His record of what His Son did long ago.
The man’s name is Arthur Katz. Some of you may be familiar with him. He tells some of his story in his book “Reality: The Hope of Glory.” Katz became an atheist and hardened cynic of life. Such cynicism leads naturally to despair. In the depths of his own such crisis, Katz found himself on a Greek ship, where a little book came into his possession that previously he would have scorned to read. But the deep crisis that then consumed his soul made him desperate enough to read that little book. It was a New Testament.
As he began to read it, in his own words, “things of unspeakable profundity began to break upon my heart; what shattering exclamations came at me from the mouth of Jesus.”
But, even though the Spirit of God spoke to him through the entire book, there was one episode in Jesus’ life in particular that penetrated to the depths of his soul: Jesus’ confrontation, in John 8, with the religious authorities over the woman caught in the act of adultery. Katz says, “My heart was pounding because I saw myself as one with her, caught in the sinful act, and I knew that I deserved what she deserved: the judgment of God–stoning, death.”
Katz describes himself at this point in his life as an atheist and cynic, who “did not know the meaning of the word ‘mercy’.” He then goes on to describe further what was going on inside him as he read the rest of this event in the life of Jesus. He had earlier read that Jesus had said that he came to fulfill the law, and Katz was quite familiar with what the law said about the situation: It demanded the death of the woman by stoning. If Jesus really meant to fulfill God’s law, he would have to call for her death. But that would mean negating all his message about love and mercy. Yet if he refused to do so, he would be guilty himself of breaking God’s law–he who said he came to fulfill it. One course of action would make him at least an accomplice to murder; the other a hypocrite and liar. There seemed no way out.
At this point, Katz closed the book, his heart pounding, his mind racing to find some way to deliver Jesus out of his moral predicament. There was none, no human way out, no answer.
Katz had found wanting the men of note that he had formerly looked up to: Karl Marx, Sigmund Freud, Albert Einstein. These former heroes had no answer for his questions; they had been gods who had failed. He re-opened the book with trembling hands, anxious to see what answer his new hero would give.
The description of the scene, as recorded in the Bible, burned itself into his mind: Jesus bent over, poking his finger into the dirt, while the self-righteous religious leaders watched him closely, eager to pounce on him whatever his decision. They had him trapped, they thought, with no way to escape.
In his mind’s eye, he saw Jesus arise, the tension reaching its maximum at that moment of decision for those attending that moment long ago–and also reaching its climax centuries later for one desperate to find truth. Here was a stark confrontation between those who knew only the letter of the law and its harsh demands, and One who knew the Spirit of that same law. What would Jesus do?
Breathless with anticipation, the modern-day reader let his eyes fall on the line of the page that would reveal all–and he read the words of Jesus: “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her” (Jn. 8:7).
Katz describes his reaction to Jesus’ verdict:
“When that line floated up off the page and passed through my eyes into my brain, my body began trembling violently. It did not stop in my head, where I thought my life was, but moved down to where the true seat of life is, in the heart. I was cleaved in two by the power of God; the word that had issued out of the mouth of Jesus had divided my soul and spirit asunder (Heb. 4:12). No mere human mind could have produced that divine wisdom. At that moment I knew with complete certitude, atheist that I was a moment before, that this was the Word of God.”
That was the moment that Art Katz, cynical atheist, came to know him who is God and Truth.
But before that moment arrived, God, who is timeless but sees the end from the beginning, had arranged for a time of preparation for that culminating moment. Only later, after returning from his trip on this Greek ship, did Katz learn just what that preparation was.
He was giving his testimony about his newly found faith at a small church near where he lived, and afterwards a woman came up to him and told him that her daughter had been a student of his in high school. This daughter knew that he was an atheist and a radical and would come home in tears, weeping over him. The mother went on to say that since that first time that happened, she and her daughter had been praying for him.
At those words, Katz says something exploded in his heart. His own words of reply seemed to him like a needle stuck on a record: “So you’re the one, so you’re the one, so you’re the one whose prayers have entered me into the kingdom of God.”
I have chosen these two incidents in the life of one man to illustrate the profound realities of how one comes to know Christ. It is the deepest experience a person can have, yet it has its roots in the common, ordinary things of everyday life: a class in school, a trip on a ship, reading a book that one has been taught to shun–and most of all, Truth seeing the true hearts of those who would judge others while their own hearts are filled with worse sins than those they judge. In all this I see the power of Truth, as He did not fall victim to the deception and insincerity and untruthfulness of those who do not love the truth, but exposed the true nature of their hearts to all who do love the truth–whatever the age in which they live. That is the timelessness of Truth and the power of God. I pray that all who read this or Katz’s book will experience this power in their own lives.

Redeemed Sexuality

Our family has been reading a very interesting and provocative book together. Below are a couple of the great quotes from the book.

“Too many young Christian fornicators plan that marriage will redeem their sin. Too many young Christian masturbators plan that marriage will redeem their patterns. Too many young Christian internet pornographers think that having legitimate sex will take away the desire to have illicit sex. They’re wrong. And the marriages that result from this line of thinking are dangerous places. I know, I told my audience, why over 50% of Christian marriages end in divorce: because Christians act as though marriage redeems sin. Marriage does not redeem sin. Only Jesus himself can do that.”

“…in Christ anyone can have a good marriage. Jesus is an equal opportunity Prophet, Priest and King: He equips, strengthens, forgives, comforts, and brings into fruition the reality of sanctification. Jesus can equip anyone— no matter how lost or broken— for godly living. I’m living proof of that.”
Butterfield, Rosaria (2012-09-06). The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert (Kindle Locations 1545-1548). Crown & Covenant Publications. Kindle Edition.

If you leave Him, at the end you will miss Him

Justin Taylor presented this blog post today about Charles Templeton. It is a healthy read.

Charles Templeton: Missing Jesus

Charles Templeton (1915-2001) first professed faith in 1936 and became an evangelist that same year. In 1945 he met Billy Graham and the two became friends, rooming and ministering together during a 1946 YFC evangelistic tour in Europe.

But by 1948 Templeton’s life and worldview were beginning to go in a different direction than Graham’s. Doubts about the Christian faith were solidifying as he planned to enter Princeton Theological Seminary. Less than a decade later (1957), he would publicly declare that he had become an agnostic.

In his 1996 memoir, Farewell to God: My Reasons for Rejecting the Christian Faith, Templeton recounted a conversation with Graham in Montreat prior to entering seminary:

All our differences came to a head in a discussion which, better than anything I know, “explains” Billy Graham and his phenomenal success as an evangelist.

In the course of our conversation I said, “But, Billy, it’s simply not possible any longer to believe, for instance, the biblical account of creation. The world was not created over a period of days a few thousand years ago; it has evolved over millions of years. It’s not a matter of speculation; it’s a demonstrable fact.”

“I don’t accept that,” Billy said. “And there are reputable scholars who don’t.”

“Who are these scholars?’ I said. “Men in conservative Christian colleges?”

“Most of them, yes,” he said. “But that is not the point. I believe the Genesis account of creation because it’s in the Bible. I’ve discovered something in my ministry: When I take the Bible literally, when I proclaim it as the word of God, my preaching has power. When I stand on the platform and say, ‘God says,’ or ‘The Bible says,’ the Holy Spirit uses me. There are results. Wiser men than you or I have been arguing questions like this for centuries. I don’t have the time or the intellect to examine all sides of the theological dispute, so I’ve decided once for all to stop questioning and accept the Bible as God’s word.”

“But Billy,” I protested, “You cannot do that. You don’t dare stop thinking about the most important question in life. Do it and you begin to die. It’s intellectual suicide.”

“I don’t know about anybody else,” he said, “but I’ve decided that that’s the path for me.”

Their trajectories had been chosen.

Fifty years later, Lee Strobel had an opportunity to interview Templeton, who had just a couple of more years to live. He was in his 80s and suffering from Alzheimer’s, but still a clear conversation parter. In A Case for Faith, Strobel recounts the ending of their wide-ranging conversation.

“And how do you assess this Jesus?” It seemed like the next logical question—but I wasn’t ready for the response it would evoke.

Templeton’s body language softened. It was as if he suddenly felt relaxed and comfortable in talking about an old and dear friend. His voice, which at times had displayed such a sharp and insistent edge, now took on a melancholy and reflective tone. His guard seemingly down, he spoke in an unhurried pace, almost nostalgically, carefully choosing his words as he talked about Jesus.

“He was,” Templeton began, “the greatest human being who has ever lived. He was a moral genius. His ethical sense was unique. He was the intrinsically wisest person that I’ve ever encountered in my life or in my readings. His commitment was total and led to his own death, much to the detriment of the world. What could one say about him except that this was a form of greatness?”

I was taken aback. “You sound like you really care about him,” I said.

“Well, yes, he is the most important thing in my life,” came his reply. “I . . . I . . . I . . . ,” he stuttered, searching for the right word, ‘I know it may sound strange, but I have to say . . . I adore him!” . . .

” . . . Everything good I know, everything decent I know, everything pure I know, I learned from Jesus. Yes . . . yes. And tough! Just look at Jesus. He castigated people. He was angry. People don’t think of him that way, but they don’t read the Bible. He had a righteous anger. He cared for the oppressed and exploited. There’s no question that he had the highest moral standard, the least duplicity, the greatest compassion, of any human being in history. There have been many other wonderful people, but Jesus is Jesus….’

“Uh . . . but . . . no,’ he said slowly, ‘he’s the most . . .” He stopped, then started again. “In my view,” he declared, “he is the most important human being who has ever existed.”

That’s when Templeton uttered the words I never expected to hear from him. “And if I may put it this way,” he said as his voice began to crack, ‘I . . . miss . . . him!”

With that tears flooded his eyes. He turned his head and looked downward, raising his left hand to shield his face from me. His shoulders bobbed as he wept. . . .

Templeton fought to compose himself. I could tell it wasn’t like him to lose control in front of a stranger. He sighed deeply and wiped away a tear. After a few more awkward moments, he waved his hand dismissively. Finally, quietly but adamantly, he insisted: “Enough of that.”