Dad's Easter, Cambodia, God's Presence, Romans

How was your Easter? Ours started out pretty good. Dad joined Denise and I for a great Easter service at Eugene First Church of the Nazarene. Okay, let's pause for a second. Not that I'm a staunch Calvinist, but I've leaned in that direction for several years now. So what am I doing attending an Arminian/Wesleyan church? Well, let's just call it a leap of faith.

We've been fellowshipping with those "noisy Nazarenes" (as Dad calls them) for about five months -- and so far so good. They emphasize lively worship and the work of the Holy Spirit. Frankly, for

Mary Haag: OMF missionary in Cambodia

several years I've minimized the "experiential" aspects of the Holy Spirit in my life. My focus has been learning about God through my mind and not so much with the heart. Not that the mind is bad. God definitely wants us to use our minds when we study scripture and theology. But there's a whole other side of the Christian coin, and that's what I'm investigating.

After church we had a nice Easter dinner and then Dad fell and broke his left hip. In the old days, hip fractures were a death sentence for elderly folks. Not so much anymore. The next day, the docs put a titanium ball in Dad's 87-year-old hip joint and now he's recovering at the Marquis in Springfield. He's motivated, has lots of energy and should heal up fine. Please pray for him, that he'll do what the doctors and nurses say. We don't want any more falls.

On Wednesday, Mary Haag had dinner with Denise and me at our home. Afterwards, she gave a slide presentation to a small group about her work in Cambodia. But first let me talk about the dinner. Mary is an "experiential" Christian, who freely talks about her intimate relationship with God. As the three of us ate salmon, she described a coastal retreat she recently attended. It was a silent time where the participants mostly kept their mouths shut and listened to God. So I asked Mary if she frequently felt God's presence. She paused and probed me with her eyes. Keep in mind, she's a psychological counselor and likely sensed I

My dad, Ray Nash

was up to something.

She basically answered yes, with explanations, including an illustration about the difference between floating and swimming. She wrote in a followup email, "The floating/swimming picture is helpful in picturing the walk with Him, and how am I living my life right now? Am I swimming, in that I am striving on my own? Having willfulness to make my own way, do it my way? This awareness enables me to learn to let go and float…letting go the striving to surrender into His plans, His hands. Yes, this is communing with Him, but more like resting."

What about experiencing His presence? "I've done solitude (having time daily alone with Him) for years, but learning how to add silence, time with Him, and listening to Him has moved me into a more intimate relationship with Him. It's a relationship, back and forth, not just me thinking of Him or knowing about Him."

Mary continues her work in Cambodia, a country with a tragic history of war and genocide. She counsels the traumatized and teaches native Cambodians to be counselors. Please pray for Mary Haag and consider supporting her. Contact OMF International: www.omf.org/us.

Mary was a guest speaker for what normally would have been a Romans Bible study. We're a tiny group of five and have room for a few more people. The Romans study involves discussion, but for those who prefer just listening, that's fine. For more info on this fellowship, see www.homegroupleaburg.blogspot.com. Why not pray and ask God if this group is for you? But after you ask, be silent and listen.

Blessings,
Tom

Groovin' on the Gospel: Romans 1:1-17

Other than reading the newspaper, listening to the PBS News Hour, and watching the big flat screen at night, my recent focus of study has been the apostle Paul's epistle to the Romans, especially chapter one. Denise and I recently started a discussion group that focuses on the Romans epistle. I was bit nervous while facilitating the first meeting, but had a good time listening as each person shared their thoughts on Romans, faith, and life on this planet. We have room for a few more people, so if it sounds like something you might be interested in, feel free to contact me on FB Messenger or by phone (we're listed in the phone book).

Young Martin Luther as an Augustinian Monk

I'll postpone the Doing Church memoir series and instead write about my thoughts and impressions on Romans. In a way, it was rather nervy of me to take on a discussion of such a weighty epistle. I've heard that ordained ministers can be apprehensive about teaching Paul's masterpiece. It contains some complex and controversial passages. So who am I, a mere layman, to think I could do justice to this work? Well, actually, I can't do justice to it.

I've noticed from reading a few commentaries, that conservative evangelical scholars differ in their interpretations of several sections of the letter. Fortunately, these differences concern minor points of doctrine. I'll often refer to these experts. They really are quite good, so you won't get much original thought out of me.

Who was this apostle Paul (also called Saul) who wrote Romans? Prior to becoming a Christian, he was an up-and-coming pharisee, a Jewish religious leader and expert in the Law of Moses. He also persecuted Christians, arresting them and giving his blessing to their executions. Then, as he traveled north to capture Christians in Damascus, Paul supernaturally encountered Jesus Himself, who said, "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?" Paul was literally blinded by the light and experienced a dramatic conversion. Then, after a few years of spiritual growth, he became a great leader of the early church and wrote most of the New Testament. Tradition has it that he was martyred in Rome.

When he wrote the epistle to the Romans,  from Corinth in about 57AD, Paul likely had in mind a largely Gentile (non-Jewish) Christian audience, though some Jewish Christians in Rome would also have read the letter. A sub-theme of Romans has to do with the place of Jews and Gentiles in the Christian church. There was likely division between these two camps, the Gentiles coming from a pantheistic, lawless background -- and the Jewish Christians coming out of a religion that placed great emphasis on strict rules and the Law of Moses. So, Paul wanted to reconcile these two groups by explaining such things as the purpose of the Law and how "justification by faith" was something that also existed in the Old Covenant.

At this point, you may want to get out a Bible and turn to Romans 1.

What is the main theme of Romans? Paul mentions the word “gospel” (from Greek euangelion, which means "good news") and the pronoun “it” (referring to the gospel) in verses 1, 9, 15, 16 and 17. How does he describe the gospel in these passages? I see the following:

• The gospel is of and from God (v. 1)
• It was promised through the prophets of the Old Testament (v. 2)
• It concerns and is about Jesus (v. 3, 4 and 9)
• Descended from David
• Declared Son of God in power
• Jesus Christ our Lord
• It is preached (v. 15)
• The gospel is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes (v. 16)
• In the gospel, “… a righteousness of God is revealed, a righteousness that is by faith from first to last, just as it is written: “The righteous will live by faith.”

Scholar Douglas Moo concludes that, while the theme of Romans is the gospel,  Jesus is the heart of the gospel. Says Moo, “Paul shares with his Roman audience the conviction that Jesus is the heart of the gospel. He is the promised Messiah of Israel (“seed of David”), the Son of God, the Lord.”

Verses 16-17 form the thesis statement of Romans:

"16For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek. 17For in it the righteousness of God is revealed from faith for faith, as it is written, 'The righteous shall live by faith.'"

Notice the terms righteous and righteousness  in verse 17. These words appear over and over in the epistle. They are closely related to the words justify and justification, which also appear frequently in Romans. In the original Greek, all four words begin with the same root: dikai-.

Righteousness can be interpreted in a number of different ways. Verse 17 is a prime example. In the early 16th century, a reinterpretation of this passage ignited the protestant Reformation. The following quote is from the great reformer Martin Luther, as he recollects his conversion from a guilt-ridden Augustinian monk into a joyous born-again Christian:

“I had indeed been captivated with an extraordinary ardor for understanding Paul in the Epistle to the Romans. But up till then it was not the cold blood about the heart, but a single word in Chapter 1[:17], “In it the righteousness of God is revealed,” that had stood in my way. For I hated that word “righteousness of God,” which, according to the use and custom of all the teachers, I had been taught to understand philosophically regarding the formal or active righteousness, as they called it, with which God is righteous and punishes the unrighteous sinner. Though I lived as a monk without reproach, I felt that I was a sinner before God with an extremely disturbed conscience. I could not believe that he was placated by my satisfaction. I did not love, yes, I hated the righteous God who punishes sinners, and secretly, if not blasphemously, certainly murmuring greatly, I was angry with God, and said, “As if, indeed, it is not enough, that miserable sinners, eternally lost through original sin, are crushed by every kind of calamity by the law of the Decalogue, without having God add pain to pain by the gospel and also by the gospel threatening us with his righteousness and wrath!” Thus I raged with a fierce and troubled conscience. Nevertheless, I beat importunately upon Paul at that place, most ardently desiring to know what St. Paul wanted."  (Luther's Works, Volume 34, P336-337).

Luther continues, “At last, by the mercy of God, meditating day and night, I gave heed to the context of the words, namely, [Romans 1:17] “In it the righteousness of God is revealed, as it is written, ‘He who through faith is righteous shall live.’” There I began to understand that the righteousness of God is that by which the righteous lives by a gift of God, namely by faith. And this is the meaning: the righteousness of God is revealed by the gospel, namely, the passive righteousness with which merciful God justifies us by faith, as it is written, “He who through faith is righteous shall live.” Here I felt that I was altogether born again and had entered paradise itself through open gates. There a totally other face of the entire Scripture showed itself to me.”  (Luther's Works, Volume 34, P336-337).

Don't you love ironies? Prior to his conversion, Luther interpreted God's righteousness as His judicial action of judgement against sinners. I don't want to sound contradictory, but there is truth to the idea that God righteously judges sin. God is perfectly righteous and His actions are righteous. However, Luther saw the light when he realized that God's righteousness is also something that can be imputed to a sinner as a gift, through faith.

Later in Romans, we will see that this gift of righteousness came at a great price -- the death of Jesus on the cross.

Doing Church: Teenage Years

Being painfully shy has its benefits. As a teenager, my social anxiety and introverted personality kept me out of a lot of trouble. I certainly wanted to do more bad things than I did, but fear restrained me. This means that my heart was far worse than my external behavior. That being said, I still participated in a moderate amount of visible badness. Such are the teenage years.

Patti, Mom, Pam, Jan, Cyrus, Tom  (June 18, 1973)

If it's common knowledge that the three U.S. presidents preceding Trump were known to have smoked pot in their youth, then why is it I'm so reluctant to publicly admit my indiscretions in that particular area? Hey, it was the seventies. My experimentation reached a peak in the eighth grade (1973-74). Some kids were getting high on a daily basis; a few stayed stoned all waking hours. For me, it was about once or twice a week for about a year. I'd have smoked it more, but had no connections (suppliers) outside of school. So I toked up with classmates when offered.

This is a milestone -- my first public confession of having smoked marijuana in my youth. Oh my. There goes any hopes for a successful career. Not all is lost, however. The U.S. presidency remains a viable option.

In a 2015 article by the American Psychological Association, Susan Weiss, PhD. said, "But there's a growing literature, and it's all pointing in the same direction: starting young and using frequently may disrupt brain development." So, just because cannabis is now legal in many states, doesn't make it safe.

I've experienced brain fog and a below-average memory all of my adult life. The only thing I can attribute this to is smoking marijuana as a teenager.

Here's Tommy! End of innocence for this 8th grader.  (Fall 1973)

Fortunately, my mother discovered a stash tucked in the back of my nightstand drawer. When I got home from school, Dad gave me an incredibly harsh chewing out. I lost privileges (TV, etc.) for a few months, along with the promise of worse repercussions if I were ever to be found using pot again.

I quit for about a year and rarely used pot the remainder of my teenage years. At that time I became a track and cross country fanatic. Distance running provided a motivation not to smoke dope. The evil weed is bad for the lungs and track runners need healthy cardiovascular systems. So alcohol became my drug of choice.

Back then, we started high school in the tenth grade. Sports kept me busy and mostly out of trouble, though I aimed to get drunk most weekends. This was my life for much of my sophomore year.

That spring (1976), someone invited me to a Young Life All-Area Club meeting. "Sure. Why not?" I may have said. It took place on a Friday or Saturday night in a large auditorium. High school kids from Young Life clubs all around the Eugene-Springfield area filled the place. There was a lot of energy, singing and good vibes. Then a fellow stood at the podium and spoke. The precise content of his message slips my mind, but he was clearly encouraging teens to accept Christ as Savior and Lord. I didn't turn to the Lord at the meeting, but the event impacted me deeply. I knew what I'd heard was true and that I needed to change.

When I arrived home that night, I entered my bedroom and prayed sincerely for God to enter my heart, save me and do something with my life.

That Monday at lunch, I sat next to a senior, Duane Swafford, who I knew was a Christian. I told him what happened at the Young Life meeting and how I prayed that night in my room. I asked Duane if there was something else I needed to do to become a Christian. He responded with a big smile, saying something like, "Praise God, Tom! You're saved! You've already said the right prayer!"

Though technically I had rededicated my life to Christ that night, I treated it as a first-time conversion. The weekend beer binges ceased and I plugged into the Thurston High School Young Life events. Besides the upbeat, weekly meetings, there were coastal outings, Bible studies, camps, etc.. The leader, Ron Sauer, became a significant, positive influence in my life. We hung out a lot, usually on long runs. He often worked out with the Thurston distance runners. Ron impacts me to this very day.

One particular Young Life small-group meeting stands out. It likely took place within a month of my rededication. The group had finished watching a Christian video and then began praying. I distinctly felt God's presence in the room. Others must have felt Him too, because some kids were weeping -- as in tears of joy. This was significant, because, prior to that, I had never experienced God in such a personal, intimate way. He was real and He loved me.

My first airplane flight -- piloted by Fred Brandenfels.  (August 12, 1976)

This experience, along with an overall spiritual well-being, marked my life during those first few months. I think this was the "witness of the Spirit" indicated in Romans 8:16-17, "The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs -- heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him."

It's interesting how that verse begins with a lofty spiritual peak and transitions to a low point -- suffering. After a few months, my spiritual high ended and I began to experience doubts, along with spiritual dryness. It felt as if God wasn't with me anymore. At the time, I didn't realize this shift from high to low was a common experience for young believers. In his lecture series, Spiritual Formation, Dr. John Coe analyses this phenomenon, mentioning how Christian thinkers ranging from St. Augustine (4th-5th century) to St. John of the Cross (16th century) wrote about these highs and lows. St. John of the Cross likens the new believer's spiritual high as an infant who derives pleasure and satisfaction from its mother because of her caresses, nursing and loving care. The infant becomes deeply attached to (loves) its mother because of the pleasure the mother gives him/her. This corresponds to a baby Christian loving God for pleasure's sake. God grants feelings of spiritual pleasure because this is what the new convert needs...for awhile.

The "dark night of the soul" soon arrives for the young Christian. The feeling of God's presence goes away. In fact, all spiritual pleasure vanishes. Worse yet, the pleasure is replaced by negative emotions and thoughts that flood the soul. This may involve demonic attack, where doubts about the faith bombard the mind. Eventually, the dark night goes away, replaced by more natural, down-to-earth feelings.

According to St. John of the Cross, God allows the dark night to occur so the infant will grow up. If the spiritual high continued forever, the Christian would remain selfish, only loving God for pleasure's sake. The ultimate goal, which takes a lifetime, is to love God for God's sake. The mature saint loves God for who He is, not for the pleasures and benefits received from Him. I'm definitely not there yet!

Dr. John Coe mentions the Jesus People movement of the 1960's and 70's. Many of these young people came out of a culture of drugs, sex and hedonism. They understood pleasure. Spiritual highs (from God, not drugs), were common to hippie converts. God knew they were babies developmentally, so He met them where they were at. When the inevitable dark nights came, some people grew up and others fell away.

C.S. Lewis, in The Screwtape Letters, focuses on a young Christian who is being targeted by a demon named Wormwood. Wormwood is mentored by an experienced demon named Screwtape. In a letter to Wormwood, Screwtape explains that the Enemy (God) will soon allow the young man to undergo a "disappointment or anticlimax" in his new faith. Screwtape describes this as follows:

 "Desiring their [new Christians] freedom, He [God] therefore refuses to carry them, by their mere affections and habits, to any of the goals which He sets before them: He leaves them to 'do it on their own.' And there lies our opportunity. But also, remember, there lies our danger. If once they get through this initial dryness successfully, they become much less dependent on emotion and therefore much harder to tempt."

Remember, the above quote is from a demon who understands, and attempts to thwart, many of God's strategies. Screwtape is describing a crisis of faith common to young believers. This is a huge spiritual battle, a matter of life or death to the soul. If Christians pass the test, they grow. If they fail the test, they may reject Christ and fall into the clutches of a demon. I survived the initial doubts and dark nights of my soul, and continued to plug away at the faith.

So what about church? As a high school sophomore, I had no connection with any local churches, and had long ago rejected Presbyterianism. Young Life filled the gap perfectly. Young Life is considered a parachurch organization. They aren't under the umbrella of any particular denomination, but try to work with local churches, gently encouraging kids to plug into some kind of larger fellowship that involves all age groups. For those who criticize Young Life for "stealing" kids from local churches, I respectfully and fervently disagree. Not only does Young Life fill an (otherwise) unmet need, but it provides a great way for kids of differing denominations to fellowship with each other. I highly endorse Young Life as a supplement to local churches.

It seemed right that I look for a "real" church that met on Sunday mornings. My parents still attended the Walterville Presbyterian church, and I reluctantly accompanied them on rare occasions. Ron Sauer attended the Eugene Faith Center, a Four Square church pastored by the late Roy Hicks. I asked Ron if I could tag along sometime. He obliged and so began my on-again, off-again journey with this vibrant church that practiced the supernatural gifts of the Holy Spirit -- which included speaking in tongues. Faith Center didn't overemphasize tongues and gifts, but I sure found the whole charismatic phenomenon interesting and exciting.

I'll backtrack a bit to my sophomore track season. As a newly-committed Christian, my faith was strong. I was even somewhat zealous, witnessing to a few classmates and even wearing a t-shirt with a bold message printed on the back that read: I RUN FOR CHRIST. I'd wear this t-shirt over my singlet at track meets while warming up, peeling it off just before the start of races. However, I felt really self conscious wearing it. An internal dilemma emerged. Was I really running for Christ or running for my own glory? Looking back, I was likely motivated by both. However, as a high school kid, I couldn't reconcile these competing aims. I may have stopped wearing the shirt before the end of the track season.

The whole topic of motivations is complicated and I could write several blog posts about it. Suffice it to say, we are a mixed bag, full of both noble and ignoble purposes. The good news is that God offers complete forgiveness for all our selfish motivations, whether obvious or subtle. I don't think I understood this back then. I experienced a lot of guilt feelings over my selfish motivations and other sins.

Is Coach DeWayne Cantrell trying to smile? The Thurston High School cross country team celebrates
 after running well at the district meet. We qualified for the state championships!  (November 1, 1977)

My faith remained strong until about the spring of my junior year, when I began to backslide. Weekend beer binges resumed, along with occasional pot smoking. My language became foul, especially in the locker room. It's hard for me to pinpoint just why I fell away. Certainly my relationship with God had become weak from neglecting daily prayer and Bible reading. I don't recall practicing any kind of consistent quiet time with God. Spiritual disciplines (even the easy ones) were foreign to me. That leaves one vulnerable to temptations and demonic attack.

By the start of my senior year of high school, I wanted nothing to do with God, Christianity or healthy Christians. Weak Christians were okay to hang out with.

I'll end this blog post on a positive note: for over twenty years I've been strong in my relationship with Jesus and I'm certain God will sustain me the rest of my earthly life and throughout eternity. Happy New Year!

Doing Church: Preadolescence

My own conversion experience may or may not encourage the reader. The good news is that for the last twenty-plus years I've been certain of my salvation. But really, the whole "assurance of salvation" thing has never been a huge issue for me. For many Christians, especially new converts, the doubts can be overwhelming.

When I was a young Christian, my concern wasn't so much whether or not I was saved, but whether or not Christianity was true. I'm happy to proclaim that for over two decades I've been certain that Biblical Christianity is not only true, but the only way to find one's ultimate meaning and purpose in life.

During late childhood, I was a fairly curious kid. Age-appropriate science books fascinated me and I loved building things, such as plastic model ships, balsa airplanes, rockets and even a replica of the gallows used to hang the conspirators in Abraham Lincoln's assassination.

 Lee and Ray Nash families (June 20, 1972).  Standing L. to R.:  Ray, Betty, Jan, Patti,
 Aunt Grayce, Uncle Lee, cousin Murray.   Sitting L. to R.:  Pam, cousin LeAnn, Tom, cousin Torrey

Really, my mind was all over the place. Occasionally I'd even ponder the things of God. I remember asking Dad some run-of-the-mill tough questions, such as "How do you know God exists?" or "Why doesn't God show himself plainly?" Kids start asking these types of questions as soon as they become self aware. But I must confess, I wasn't overly curious about God.

Dan Fisher, my best friend during my late childhood and teens, was a real blessing. We both shared a passion for building things and he ultimately became an engineer. I ended up with an English degree. Ha!

Dan was reared in an evangelical Christian home that differed significantly from the sleepy Presbyterianism that I was raised with. It was through him that I learned about faith in a personal God who is real and near. I also learned that I needed to make a decision for God -- to believe and convert. The details of all this hadn't sunk in, but it slowly became clear.

My father had made an effort to make the Faith relevant to our family. There was a time in my late childhood when Dad decided to lead weekly family devotionals (I think Sunday evenings) where he shared Christian truths with us. That may have been what inspired my testy questions about God. These family times lasted less than a year. I'm not sure how excited my sisters were about these family devotionals, but my own lack of enthusiasm may have discouraged Dad. Captive audiences are no fun. Nevertheless, I'm glad he made the effort.

Tom, Dan Fisher and Cyrus (April 22, 1972)

When I was about eleven years old (1970 or 71), Dan Fisher invited me to go watch the movie The Cross and the Switchblade, starring Pat Boone as the reverend David Wilkerson and Erik Estrada (of CHiPs fame) as the young New York street gang leader, Nicky Cruz. I really looked forward to seeing the movie because I'd heard there was a lot of graphic gang violence depicted in the "rumbles." I hadn't thought much about the plot, which involved pastor Wilkerson being called by God to minister to the street gangs.

Mom drove Dan and me to an Assembly of God church on 19th Street in Springfield, located just a few blocks from the Presbyterian church (demolished a few years earlier) of my early childhood. The Assembly of God church had been promoting The Cross and the Switchblade, which they were showing in their sanctuary. I remember enjoying the movie and being somewhat relieved that the violence was less graphic than expected. The courage of Wilkerson impressed me, as well as the dramatic conversions of the gang members.

When the movie ended and the lights came on, a man walked on stage. I assume he was the Assembly of God pastor. I wasn't expecting an altar call, but that's what happened. It didn't seem all that strange to me. I'd probably seen Billy Graham crusades on TV, so I was aware of altar calls. The pastor shared a few things (which I don't remember) and concluded by urging people to believe and accept Christ as Savior and Lord. It's possible that the actual prayer of salvation occurred while the audience was still seated. Then, after the prayer, we were asked to walk to the stage. And yes, I did recite the sinner's prayer and I did walk forward.

From the stage, the new converts were directed to a side room, where we filled out cards, prayed and talked with councelors. I remember only a small amount of counseling, but a lot of praying. I think we were told to confess our past sins to God and repent. My list was fairly short, but the fellow next to me went on at length, confessing sins that my semi-innocent mind didn't know existed. He was about thirty years old and looked like a biker-gang member. He seemed like a fairly hardcore hombre, but his tearful repentance seemed genuine. I found his dramatic conversion much more interesting than my own.

My mother and Dan must have been very patient as they waited for me to complete the conversion process. A few weeks later, someone from the Assembly of God church telephoned me for some post-conversion followup. They did the right thing by contacting me, but for some reason I was passive, non-committal and relieved when the conversation ended. It's not that I was rejecting my new-found faith. There was a certain amount of zeal in my heart concerning the things of God. I was reading the Bible, praying and even read David Wilkerson's book, The Cross and the Switchblade. Then I read, Run, Baby, Run by Nicky Cruz.

I'm pretty sure my conversion, at age 11, was real. I was sincere about it. However, within a year I had lost all interest in the faith. Although I was still quite shy and innocent, puberty with its passions beckoned. Worldliness seemed much more interesting than Jesus.

Nash family photo (April 6, 1971)

Strict, 5-point Calvinists would probably say I wasn't truly converted. The P in TULIP stands for perseverance of the saints. They would interpret this to mean that someone who has been born again (regenerated) and indwelt by the Holy Spirit, is transformed and will continually be transformed. This will result in visible, positive change in their behavior that will steadily improve over a lifetime.

My perseverance lasted less than a year. Now, there are less-strict Calvinists who interpret perseverance to mean "once saved, always saved." They would say that genuine Christians are capable of significant backsliding. God doesn't force Christians to seek relationship with him. We can turn to the dark side and still be saved, according to less-rigid Calvinists. I sure hope the flexible Calvinists are right, but I don't know for sure.

John Wesley's face marks the other side of the salvation coin. Wesleyans believe we can be genuinely saved, but can later lose our salvation. Of course, the question arises concerning when that point occurs. How low does a Christian need to sink before losing the gift of eternal life?

I tend to lean in the direction of the flexible Calvinists, who believe in "once saved, always saved." However, I'm aware of the tough Scriptures that seem to indicate otherwise. So, if a seemingly genuine Christian takes a nosedive into deep, long-term carnality, I'm sure not going to tell him that he's saved. If he shows no evidence of regeneration, why give him hope? He needs to repent and turn to Christ.

Salvation theology is a paradox. When we take a strong position one way, holes in our argument tend to appear. I say we should just bask in the mystery, while being open to compelling arguments from all sides.

Meanwhile, as I approached my teenage years, I couldn't have cared less about God and salvation. All I wanted to do was play sports, have fun and be increasingly naughty.

Doing Church: Childhood

May 10, 1964. Tom, Mom (Betty), Patti, Grandma (Grace Nash), Jan, Pam

One of my first memories of church was a cornmeal sandbox. As a four-year-old Sundayschooler at First United Presbyterian Church in Springfield, Oregon, I remember smelling the sweet, milled grain as it sifted through my fingers. I don't think I ate any of it. And yes, I'm certain we sang Jesus Loves Me, This I Know. It was then that I first heard the story of Jesus riding on a donkey into Jerusalem, while crowds of people tossed palm leaves on the ground. That image stuck. Sunday school was the fun part of church.

I dreaded those Sundays when Mom and Dad forced me to sit through the regular church service. As a four-year-old, I found the formal, written liturgy meaningless and boring, especially since I couldn't read it. Reverend Gardner would recite lines and prayers, and the congregation would respond in unison. We'd stand and sit, stand and sit. The hymns, accompanied by organ music and choir, piqued my curiosity, not over of the meaning of the lyrics, but for that drawn-out "amen" ending them all. What did that mean? It was the same word that came at the end of prayers. That much I knew.

Then came the sermon. I think Mom granted mercy by allowing me to scribble in a coloring book. She pacified my three older sisters by pushing back their cuticles. It was a productive thirty-minute distraction for the girls. Pam and Jan recently told me it was a good kind of pain.

My favorite hymn was the doxology, which I believe we sang a cappella:

July 1964. First United Presbyterian Church complex in Springfield

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow;

Praise him, all creatures here below;          

Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;          

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.           

Amen.            

(Words by Thomas Ken, 1674. Music attributed to Louis Bourgeois, 1551)

The singing of the doxology imparted within my heart the expectation of immanent release. But I had to endure the final, parting words from the pastor. Then, with a burst of organ music, it came -- the slow, orderly chaos of folks exiting the pews after nearly 1 1/2 hours of rigid formality.

I'd follow Mom out of the sanctuary to the church kitchen, located in another building. More curiosities awaited. The large coffee percolator fascinated me with the little glass ball on top full of bubbling brew. I loved the smell of fresh coffee, though it tasted yucky. Mom must have volunteered to prepare desserts and beverages for the post-service social time. She also served, I would learn, for a few years as the church secretary.

John Knox

For me, those childhood years at the Presbyterian church were all about sights, sounds, smells, and boredom. Though God was surely mentioned, I don't recall the spiritual or religious aspects of church. I couldn't have cared less about John Knox (1513-1572), the Scottish reformer and theologian who founded Presbyterianism. Nor did I know or care that Knox met and was greatly influenced by the protestant reformer John Calvin (which explains the Calvinistic roots of Presbyterianism).

Springfield's First United Presbyterian Church was demolished, I think in the late 1960's, probably due to the nearby construction of Interstate 105. The church was located where Mohawk Blvd. morphs into19th Street, very close to where the highway overpass and off ramp would be built. It survives in memory only. Funny thing, I can't visualize the people from that congregation. It's as if they are invisible ghosts. But they were there; I'm certain attendance was pretty high back then.

September 8, 1966. Day one of first grade with
 my best friend from childhood, Kelly Thomas

Faces and names began to stick in my memory after 1966, when the Nash family moved 20 miles east to the McKenzie Valley, in timber country. At that point, we typically attended the Walterville and Leaburg Presbyterian churches. I noticed people more when they hosted get-togethers at their homes. An autumn party comes to mind where homemade apple juice was offered and the host boasted about his stash of hard cider.

The larger Springfield congregation continued to meet at an Episcopalian church near Springfield Junior High School. They shared the sanctuary with the Episcopalians, who conducted their services at a different time on Sundays. After a few years, the Springfield congregation called it quits. The Walterville and Leaburg locations were all that remained. Of course, there were still a few Presbyterian churches in Eugene.

Mom and Dad made me go to church until I turned 13. As a teenager, I attended on rare occasions, only under intense pressure from Dad, who would say something like, "Your mother would really be happy if you went to church with us this Sunday. Okay?" I'd answer yes with a groan.

There's an irony about all this. Even if you've only skimmed through this blog post, you've probably deduced that I disliked church as a child. The formal and traditional aspects of the Presbyterian church bored me all the more. Back then, I may have perked up over a trendy, contemporary service. But the very things I disliked as a child, are what interest me now as a 57-year-old. I love old hymns from hymnals. I love ministers in robes and vestments who preach short sermons. I love reciting back-and-forth from a formal, written liturgy. I love pews and stained glass. Go figure.

July 16, 1964. Dad (Ray) and I in our backyard at Carter Lane in Springfield

The above-mentioned "traditional" qualities still exist in some mainline protestant denominations, but these churches are typically compromised on doctrine and don't adhere to Biblical inerrancy or even the less-rigid infallibility. I'd love to visit a traditional, reformation-style protestant church that is doctrinally orthodox and adheres to Biblical innerancy. Does such a church exist in Lane County? The closest I've found is the conservative Lutheran Church Missouri Synod, but they place too much emphasis on Communion, believing that the bread and wine become the true body and blood of Christ.
Occasionally, I enjoy visiting Grace Lutheran Church (Missouri Synod) in Eugene. They are a wonderful example of a Reformation style, traditional service. And the sermons are really short! God bless.

Doing Church: Conception to Toddler

My first experience doing church happened before I was born.

Summer 1959. Nash's at Honeyman Park. Unborn son to Pam's right.

In 1959, as an embryo in my mother's womb, I likely felt the vibrations of the organ and choir at the Evangelical United Brethren (EUB) Church in Eugene. The fervent sermons of pastor Max Morgan must have reverberated through my DNA as Mom sat patiently in the pew, gazing at the stained glass windows.

My parents, Ray and Betty, joined the EUB in late 1955, the year sister Patti was born and the year Dad began his first teaching job at Brattain Elementary School. He volunteered as the "youth adviser" for the Eugene EUB's high school group. The church didn't have a paid youth pastor.

The national EUB denomination formed in 1946, a merger of the Evangelical Church and United Brethren in Christ Church. Incidentally, my great grandfather, Thomas Wesley Nash, was a pastor for the United Brethren in Christ Church -- first in Minnesota and later at a beautiful hillside church in Hopewell, Oregon. I'm pretty sure his middle name was given in honor of the great 18th-century English theologian and preacher, John Wesley, who founded Methodism. I was named after Thomas W. Nash, though our middle names differ.

John Wesley

The two denominations that formed the EUB were rooted in the teachings of John Wesley, who was deeply influenced by the Dutch protestant theologian, Jacobus Arminius (1560-1609). Arminius was famous for his criticisms of some of the theology of French reformer John Calvin (1509-1564).

Jacobus Arminius

In 1610, Arminius's followers, the Remonstrants, published five points critical of Calvinism. In 1611, Calvin's followers countered with five points of their own, which in later years developed into the Five Points of Calvinism (known by the acronym TULIP --Total depravity, Unconditional election, Limited atonement, Irresistible grace and Perseverance of the saints). So, the Five Points of Calvinism were actually a response to Arminianism.

John Calvin

It's important to note that this five-point debate occurred when both Calvin and Arminius were dead. Both theologians had produced volumes of work in their lifetimes, so we should be careful not to limit their contributions to just these five points. Their knowledge of the Christian faith was much broader.

My guess is that Mom and Dad weren't all that enthusiastic about Wesleyan/Arminian theology. My parents were both raised in that tradition, so it made sense they would continue in that mode. Mom was raised in the Church of the Nazarene and Dad was raised in the Evangelical Church. This explains how their paths first crossed at Cascade College (Portland, Oregon), a Christian college favored by several Wesleyan denominations.

In a recent interview, Dad said that in the 6-7 years our family attended the EUB, the church went through about three pastors: Dolph Ballantyne, Leo Thornton (who baptized Dad) and Max Morgan. Dad thought highly of Leo Thornton and described his preaching as well balanced. But the third pastor, Max Morgan, drove my father up the wall. Morgan was a hard-nosed preacher who placed a heavy emphasis on the experience of sanctification and holiness. This was known as a "second work of grace," subsequent to conversion. So, after someone is born again and saved, they still needed to experience a special work of the Holy Spirit whereby they are dramatically transformed in such a way that they will no longer sin. According to my father, Pastor Morgan actually believed Christians could instantly attain this state of moral perfection.

January 1960. Pam, Tom (at 2 1/2 months), Mom, Patti. 

Needless to say, Dad didn't buy into that doctrine. He saw inconsistencies between Max's preaching and his behavior. If Morgan claimed to be free from any sinful behavior, then his actions and conduct needed to be perfect 24/7. Dad noticed during church league softball games that Pastor Morgan would get angry when the ump ruled against him, or if his teammates performed badly. Dad assumed that if Max were questioned about his behavior, he would have rationalized it as "righteous anger." After all, in the Gospels Jesus displayed righteous anger in the temple when He violently turned over the tables of the money changers.

For two to three years, my father endured Pastor Morgan's stern holiness sermons. Eventually, Dad quit the EUB. "I figured I'm not compatible here anymore," he told me recently. "So I left it with no place to go." When he quit, he didn't have another church in mind. Dad speculates that Mom was too loyal and long suffering to quit on her own, though she too wasn't thrilled with Morgan's preaching. Nevertheless, she followed Dad's lead in leaving the church.

My sister Pam thinks she was a four-year-old when we left the EUB, probably in 1962. I would have been about two. The EUB would eventually merge with the Methodist Church in 1968 to form the United Methodist Church, which claims such members as George W. Bush and Hillary Clinton.

January 1960. Outdoor ceremony during renovations at Eugene EUB
Church. Likely it is Mom carrying me (baby in light-blue hood).

Soon after our family left the EUB, Dad heard positive things about a Presbyterian minister named Milton Gardner, who pastored a mid-sized church in Springfield, as well as two little country churches in the McKenzie Valley, east of Springfield. Of the small churches, one was located in Walterville, the other in Leaburg. The pastor conducted an early-morning service in Springfied, then, for the late-morning service, alternated  between the two country churches (each every other week).

Dad thinks he first heard Milt Gardner preach at the Walterville location, 20 miles east of our Springfield home. My father was impressed with the sermon and discovered he shared a similar background with Gardner. Both were raised in the Wesleyan tradition and felt the need to change direction. Our family usually attended the Springfield Presbyterian church, which was closer to our home. In 1966 (or 67), we moved 20 miles east to the McKenzie Valley, where we typically attended the nearby Leaburg and Walterville churches.

Presbyterianism has its roots in Calvinism, so Dad became quite the rebel changing camps like he did. However, by the 1960's the Presbyterian Church USA (the denomination's current name) was in the middle of a historical shift towards theological liberalism. Biblical inerrancy and dogmatic theology (along with strict Calvinism) were no longer stressed. The social gospel became the focus.

Dad doesn't describe Milt Gardner as a liberal. He was an intellectual, who preached in a lecture style more akin to a college professor. He was evangelical and orthodox, believing the fundamentals of the Faith and the need for lost sinners to believe the Gospel of Jesus Christ for salvation. He stopped short of giving altar calls. Says Dad of Pastor Gardner, "When he preached a sermon, you knew he was well prepared. He believed that the scriptures were the inspired Word of God."

The Presbyterian Churches in Springfield, Walterville and Leaburg were very traditional in appearance and function. The pastor wore a clerical robe and vestments. The liturgy was formal. Old hymns were sung from real hymnals. The Springfield and Walterville churches had stained glass windows. All three had wooden pews. But alas, I was too young to remember that first year or two after the EUB. My memories began to stick when I was four or five, 1963 or 1964. Thus began my childhood as a Presbyerian.

Much thanks to nephew Ben Donovan for digitizing Dad's priceless slides.

My 1st birthday, 10/22/1960. Jan, Tom, Patti and Pam. Notice pistol on my left hip to ward off pesky big sisters.

To Be Chester Metz

The following is a true story about my good friend, Chester Metz. He gave me permission to post the story and the photograph onto this blog. It's been nearly two years since I wrote this and I'm happy to report that Chester is alive, kicking and inspiring as ever. Be blessed.

* * *

To Be Chester Metz

1973. Chester Metz staggered along a dark, secluded street in Long Island, New York. A car slowed to a stop. Two strangers got out and approached the four-foot-eight drunk. They beat him, marring a face

After church with Chester Metz

already disfigured by congenital paralysis.

Police found Metz alone, bruised, bloodied, still drunk. They drove him to a hospital, where he underwent surgery to repair his facial wounds. After a night’s rest, he mustered the energy to leave his room. Wandering through the halls, he approached a statue of Christ. He stood before it, transfixed. Metz began to cry: “Oh God, help me!”

The next morning, a taxi driver arrived at the hospital with orders to take Chester to an alcohol treatment facility. The cabby didn’t have directions, so he changed course and dropped his battered passenger at the local welfare office. A social worker directed Chester to a nearby shelter.

He walked several blocks to the Shiloh House. The shelter was part of the California-based Shiloh Youth Revival Centers, which led the charge during the “Jesus People” movement of the late-1960s and 70s.

Chester arrived at the house scarred from a twenty-eight-year lifetime of physical and emotional wounds. He encountered caring Christians, who shared the Good News of Christ’s love and salvation.

One day, while reading a booklet that explained how to find salvation through Jesus, Chester wandered into the Shiloh house bathroom. He noticed a prayer printed on a back page of the book. At that moment, the Holy Spirit powerfully touched Chester’s heart. He placed his faith in Christ by reciting the printed prayer of salvation. Chester exited the bathroom a born-again Christian.

“My heart was a ball of fire,” he recalls, “and I knew that God was purging out the bad and the old, and putting in the new and the good.”

God instantly removed Chester’s desire for alcohol and cigarettes. His cravings for sugar also ceased. He had previously been diagnosed with borderline diabetes. All signs of the disease disappeared.

After a year at the Long Island shelter, he and a friend hitchhiked across the country to Shiloh’s seventy-acre commune in Dexter, Oregon. Chester immersed himself in intensive Bible training at their Study Center. This formed the foundation for his lifelong ministry.

Fast-forward to 2015. Chester, 69, lives in a tiny one-room apartment in Springfield, Oregon. When in public, he sports a suit, tie, slacks (often plaid), dress hat, and running shoes. He walks slowly, with a cane, and easily strikes up conversations with those around him. No one gets away without hearing his jokes. His short stature, unique visage, formal attire and big personality make Chester an unforgettable local fixture.

Chester awakens each morning thanking God for the new day, enjoying fellowship with Him. While shaving, showering and eating breakfast, he prays for the people in his life. After a short rest, he leaves the apartment to begin his daily voluntary ministry. A caregiver accompanies him five days a week, assisting with chores, shopping and other needs.

His voice muffled somewhat by the facial paralysis, Chester describes his calling: “Every day, to pray for people, minister to people, encourage, share the gospel, whatever it is that God would lay on my heart to do, that would be for His glory and for the purpose of salvation….”

He accomplishes this ministry by visiting people in coffee shops, restaurants, stores and businesses throughout Springfield. “He [God] has given me the gift of encouragement, the gift to love and uplift someone, the gift of laughter.”

Sundays, Chester attends Ekklesia, a large, trendy, youthful church. He arrives early and leaves late, fellowshipping with and hugging anyone willing to bend down to his level.

Chester has endured a lifetime of hard knocks, beginning at birth with the facial paralysis. Two botched “corrective” surgeries further marred his face. His expression is frozen. Whether happy or upset, Chester can’t form a smile or a frown.

In boyhood, his tiny stature drew the wrath of bullies, who ridiculed and sometimes beat him. The bullying decreased after high school, but Chester began drinking heavily. He continued to live with his parents. When he came home drunk, his father would severely beat him.

Chester suffered debilitating headaches between 1977 and 1979. At that time he attended a church that emphasized miraculous healing. For two weeks, the leaders prayed for God to take away the headaches. Healing didn’t occur, so they asked Chester to leave the church.

This rejection led to disillusionment. For a few years Chester rarely attended church. Eventually he plugged back into regular fellowship.

Today, fellowship defines him. “Especially recently, God has brought my life to a point where I not only value, but really love my brothers and sisters, and not [to] just say it, but do it in deed and in truth, with prayer or acts of love, ministering to them.”

In 2011, he began dialysis when his kidneys failed. Then God healed him -- instantly. “That was a miracle,” he says, “…I should have died, but the Lord greatly intervened.”

How can someone with all the bad breaks in life be full of so much love and joy? Instead of dwelling on his hardships, Chester cultivates his relationships with God and others. “I continue to pray and spend time in His Word, remembering most of all to keep my relationship and fellowship [with God] going. And to reach out to others in love, whether it’s a word of encouragement or to pray with them -- continue to let God be glorified in everything I say and do….”

When asked what guidelines he lives by, he explains the JOY principle: “You want to get real joy? Put Jesus first, Others second, Yourself last.”

Chester promotes the power of prayer, citing Luke 11:9 as a favorite verse, “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and you shall find; knock and the door shall be opened unto you.”

Is he afraid of death? “No, certainly not, because His perfect love casts out fear…. Before I got saved, I had torment, I was afraid of death, ...when we love the brethren and love God first…there is no fear there, but there’s a peace and a joy, knowing where you’re going after you leave.”

To be Chester Metz is to live within a paradox of hardship and miracles. To be Chester Metz is to continually view people below shoulder level. It is to speak words of joy from a glad heart, to create smiles in others -- though your own face can’t form a smile. It is to fearlessly stare death and life in the face. To be Chester Metz is to know and love God, and to love others above yourself.