Exposing the slavery of false science

Posted by & filed under Movie review, Religion, Weblogs.

Expelled250x250_3“And now, what is this?” asks the Lord. “Why are my people enslaved again? Those who rule them shout in exultation. My name is being blasphemed all day long. But I will reveal my name to my people, and they will come to know its power. Then at last they will recognize that it is I who speaks to them.” (Isaiah 52:5-6 NLT)

My sons and I went to see Ben Stein’s documentary, Expelled, at the movie theatre this past week. We loved it! It was compelling and clear (for a complicated subject).

The movie does a good job of setting forth the premise that the affirmation of the theory of evolution has become a kind of litmus test for acceptance in the modern scientific community. In other words, if a scientist wants to receive tenure at a university, to receive a Ph.D. for his studies, or to be eligible for a grant, then he better not question evolution. Question anything, but don’t question evolution because that will get you “expelled.”

Stein, who is Jewish, has not made a Christian movie. This is not an evangelistic piece. But it is a very challenging look at the way science in the Western world has become more philosophy than science. It not only challenges science to question its presuppositions, it also challenges scientists to question the potential outcomes of their views.

Stein uses images of the Berlin wall as a metaphor for how modern science has built a fence around any explanation for origins other than evolution. The idea of intelligent design as an explanation for the origin of life is “fenced out” by this modern view of science. Any explanation that might point outside our closed natural system cannot be allowed because it is unscientific (based on their presuppositions).

Although, surprisingly, this closed system view didn’t extend to aliens from outer space. Several of the Darwinists that Stein interviewed denied the possibility of God, but entertained the possibility that intersteller aliens may have “seeded” earth with the DNA of life millenia ago. Their “science” seemed more like “science fiction.”

It was amazing to see how foolish some of these so called experts appeared when questioned. They gave evidence to the Scripture which says, “The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God.” (Psalm 14:1 KJV).

I wonder how long the Name of God will be blasphemed? How long will His role as Creator be denied? How long will His people be enslaved by this false science that denies His person and power?

Go see the movie and tell me what you think.

The generational effect of keeping the 2nd commandment

Posted by & filed under Religion, Weblogs.

My3men“You shall not make for yourself an idol in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the waters below. You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God, punishing the children for the sin of the fathers to the third and fourth generation of those who hate me, but showing love to a thousand generations of those who love me and keep my commandments.” (Exodus 20:4-6 NIV)

While I was on my vacation break to Virginia last week I visited one of my cousins. She and I share a passion for studying our family tree. We had a wonderful time of catching up and showing one another the latest finds from our research.

As she was showing me photo after photo of the generations she had discovered, she handed me an envelope of old negatives, saying,”I found these in an old trunk in Granny’s house, but I haven’t been able to find anyone that can print them.”

“Let me try.” I offered. I had just purchased a photo scanner that can scan negatives. I was salivating at the possibility of discovering an old photo that would reveal some image we’d never seen.

I wasn’t disappointed. Late one night as I was scanning the old negatives, the picture above emerged on my computer screen. I was transfixed. These three men were without doubt the most influential in my life. From left to right they are my mother’s father (Papaw), my mother’s brother (Uncle Basil), and my Dad.

Looking at the photo, I thought of how I had idolized these three men since I was a boy. The first because he was my father and because I lost him to cancer when I was only eight and he only 39 (It’s easy to idolize when all you have is a childhood memory). I idolized the other two men because they both became surrogate fathers to me.

While all three of these men have since passed away, I believe that their faith in Jesus has secured for them a place in heaven. They are gone, yet they still live.

And so does their legacy. I cannot let this photo or their memory become an idol, a graven image for me, because they left me something better. They left me their faith in Christ.

While with my cousin we discussed the blessing of having a family that passed on such a spiritual legacy. I’m convinced that God HImself promises this legacy to those who love Him with priority.

It’s good to love family, but the best way to bless the generations is to be careful to put the love of God first. When we worship God without lowering our eyes to man made substitutes, He promises to “show his love to a thousand generations.”

I pray that I leave the same legacy to my children.

Visiting one of our partners

Posted by & filed under Religion, Weblogs.

Garymike“I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 1:3-6 NIV).

Robin and I visited the Bridge Community Church on Sunday. We were headed to the mountains of Virginia to spend some time with family. I thought since I already had the pulpit covered at WCC (Good job Jonathan!) and since it was kind of on the way (Morrisville), we should stop and surprise Pastor Mike Windley and his team at the Bridge.

When we arrived at the daycare center where they meet (they’re portable too), their parking/greeter team met us as we got out of our car with smiles and handshakes. As we came in the door they invited us to wear name tags and another greeter took us on a tour of the facility and offered us a donut and coffee. To say the least, we were impressed. They really made us feel welcome.100_1136

The worship was powerful and inspiring. The message was relevant and authentic. Pastor Mike is going through a series called “Doors.” His message on Sunday was “Getting a handle on the door of temptation.” He had a great intro video of him leaving his house and going through doors to get to church (his house, his car, the building, etc.). They had a real door built on stage to further set the theme. I thought it was good use of creativity to capture attention. The attenders at the Bridge have a great church!

I’m glad they are partners with us. They are one of the churches that partnered with us to buy the portable baptistry. Mike is one of the pastors that I work with through the Innovative Church Community. His church plant is in its second year.

I’m thankful that we are in partnership with other churches for the sake of the gospel.

Heading to the mountains

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Gmountains"After leaving them, he went up on a mountainside to pray." (Mark 6:46 NIV)

There’s something about climbing up into the mountains that brings a smile to my face. I don’t know if it’s because I grew up in the hills of Southwest Virginia and the mountains remind me of home. Or if it’s because the mountains point me towards another home… a home not made with human hands… a home in heaven with our Lord.

Whatever the reason, I’m heading to the mountains for a couple of days. I am learning that living too long in the flatlands can really drain my soul. I have to pull away to reflect, recharge, and recommit. When I spend too long working (I can be a real workaholic) the joy starts to seep away and I start to feel as if everything is up to me.

When I go to the mountains I’m reminded that it’s not up to me even a little bit. It’s up to God. I can’t do anything without Him. Every dream that He has given me can only be accomplished by HIm. He is the Dreamer and the One who enables the dream to come to pass.

I climb up into his mountains and enjoy their grand scenic vistas. I gain perspective and vision. But He made those mountains. He painted that sky. He is the One whom I worship there.

Jesus loved the mountains too. Whenever ministry got too busy and the crowds pressed in with their needs. Jesus often withdrew into the mountains alone to pray. He knew when to work and when to rest. He practiced a rhythm of living that we can learn from.

So, I’m heading to the mountains. But I’ll be back.

Kurzweil’s singularity and life beyond death

Posted by & filed under Religion, Science, Weblogs.

Ray_kurzweil_2What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? (Romans 7:24 NIV)

Ray Kurzweil intends to live forever. He is attempting to travel across a boundary in time that he calls the “singularity.”

By anyone’s definition, Ray Kurzweil is a genius. At the age of 13 he turned some old telephone relays into a device that could calculate square roots. At 14, he sold software to IBM that was distributed as standard equipment. He is known as the inventor of the Kurzweil Reading Machine. Stevie Wonder was his first customer.

But these days Kurzweil the inventor has become Kurzweil the futurist. His notion of the singularity is taken from the field of cosmology that describes a border in space and time beyond which the normal measurements of time do not apply (Black holes, for instance). Sounds like the stuff of science fiction, but Kurzweil is not dissuaded. He points to the rapid growth in human knowledge and the exponential increase in computing power over the past years and predicts a moment within 30 years when “superhuman intelligence” will be created.

Kurzweil’s view leans heavily on Moore’s law (Intel cofounder, Gordon Moore observed that the number of transistors on an integrated circuit doubles every 18 months) to justify this exponential increase in developing supercomputers that ultimately attain consciousness. He believes that when computers gain artificial intelligence they will have the capacity to improve themselves. This will create even greater leaps in computing improvement.

While some have predicted that this age of artificial intelligence will render biological humans obsolete (Remember the Terminator movies?), Kurzweil believes that AI’s (Artificial Intelligences) will be used to extend and improve our human brains. The singularity won’t destroy us, Kurzweil says. Instead, it will immoralize us. We will deposit our consciousness into this machine AI and theoretically live forever (I think I saw an Original Series Star Trek on this. Spock had to use his Vulcan melding powers to get them back into their large colorful balls).

Kurzweil is 60 years old and he is working with a medical doctor to extend his life so that he doesn’t miss the day of the singularity. He really believes that death can be conquered by smart machines.

Neuron Many computer scientists take it on faith that one day machines will become conscious, but the latest research into the human brain and what constitutes human consciousness makes this seem more and more unlikely. It is starting to appear that the human brain is much faster than first observed. It was once thought that the neuron was analgous to a single computer bit. But it turns out that each neuron is more like a supercomputer in and of itself. And the human brain has over 100 billion neurons. In addition, consciousness was once thought to be the result of the evolution of intelligence, the simple mathmatics of having enough neurons. But now scientists point to a kind of quantum physics that seems to place human consciousness as existing somehow above and beyond the simple sum of neurons.

Machines may become increasingly better at mathmatical computations, but it appears humanity will continue to be the only ones conscious of it.

I love science. I love stretching my intellect and dreaming of answers to questions about our existence and the universe. But I am satsified that my faith in Christ has already answered the question about life after death. I don’t have to place my faith in improved machines. I don’t have to work to delay the decomposition of my body. I plan to get a new one just like the Resurrected Christ’s.

I admire Kurzweil’s passion and commitment. Yet, I pity him. I pray that he would place his faith into the One greater than that which we would make with our own hands. Eternity is beyond our reach.

But Christ has offered it to us freely.

Book recommendation: Who Stole My Church?

Posted by & filed under Books, Religion, Weblogs.

Gmac_book_2 I recently received an advance copy of Gordon MacDonald’s new book, Who Stole My Church? What to Do When the Church You Love Tries to Enter the 21st Century, from Thomas Nelson publishers. I was happy to receive a book from my friend, Gordon MacDonald, but this title surprised me a bit. It certainly seemed a departure from his previous books, such as, A Resilient Life and Ordering Your Private World, which were more about the individual’s inner life. This new title was clearly not about the inner life. In this new book MacDonald has attempted to tackle one of the most divisive topics in the 21st Century church, the topic of change.

His title not only surprised, but it worried me. I always love MacDonald’s books, but I was afraid that I wouldn’t like this one. As a church planter I have encountered the angry church goer who thinks the church belongs to them and resists any change to its tradition or culture. As I looked at the book’s cover I hesitated to open it.

I had recently acted as MacDonald’s chauffeur, driving him from the airport to a speaking engagement and back to his hotel. On the one hand, I observed him to be an early adopter and very innovative in his thinking. He seemed more adept with his Palm PDA than any twenty something. He made good use of his laptop while projecting powerpoint images on a screen to illustrate his talking points. Yet, after a rousing time of contemporary worship lead by a young, blue-jean wearing, guitar playing, worship leader, MacDonald began his talk by asking everyone to sing an old hymn with him. He explained that he really had difficulty worshiping to the new songs. He wanted to sing something to which he and those fellow, “gray-haired” members of the audience might relate.

His hymn singing preference didn’t worry me, I’ll soon be 50 years old and I still love the occasional old hymn too. Certainly, MacDonald at age 66 deserved to sing the songs that touched his heart. But now as I held his latest book in my hand, I wondered if his taste in music had colored his view of change in the church.

I shouldn’t have worried. Gordon MacDonald’s new book was a joy to read. It is not a reactionary response to change. It is a very relational and mediating view of how an individual church congregation might face and respond to the changes in today’s culture. The book is a real page turner too. MacDonald wrote this book as a kind of “dramatic form of semi-fiction.” In it he tells the story of how he leads a fictional church in a New England town to respond to the cultural changes around them. I found myself relating to the conversations and struggles of this fictional church. MacDonald may be writing fiction, but it is certainly based on real life experience.

MacDonald’s character in the book (he plays himself) decides to bring together a group of disgruntled church leaders to discuss the changes the church is facing. He calls it a “Discovery Group.” In their weekly meetings they discuss nearly every cultural shift of this generation. They discuss the change of their church name. They struggle together with the elimination of their church choir and the ensuing “worship wars” that go with having a contemporary band leading on Sundays.

But their journey is more than having to lift their eyes from hymn books to projected words on screens. Gordon’s character leads them to confront their own view of the church and more importantly, to whom the church belongs.

The book begins with one of the members of MacDonald’s Discovery Group named Yvonne saying with great sadness, “All I know is that someone stole my church and I’d like to get it back.”

The book is about the journey that led this same woman and many of the members of the group to change their view. Along the way they discovered that the church never belonged to them anyway. It had always belonged to Jesus.

I highly recommend this book to anyone who loves the church. Those who feel called to help transition an existing church to reach this generation will find much to encourage them. While MacDonald has not attempted to write a “how-to transition a church” book, he does offer a kind of paradigm for working with a church that has already begun the journey.

For those that are familiar with the coach approach to leadership, they will find many valuable “powerful questions” that may be used in leading people towards change. MacDonald’s character often uses questions and active listening to pull resistant people forward. Although not everyone in MacDonald’s fictional church is able to make the change, everyone is listened to and heard.

MacDonald admits that not everyone is shaped for leading a church through this kind of change. In one of his final chapters, he says:

Our experience leads me to say that if you want to be part of a church that is radically different from anything you’ve ever known, then plant one… But if you are willing to be patient in one of those old churches (like ours) that is pretty high up the S-curve, then put your head down and go to work. Be patient, be prayerful, seek allies, build alliances with other generations. You’ll probably have to convince a lot of people, and they’ll come dragging their feet like the members of our Discovery Group. But as time passes, somehow the Spirit of God will grab hearts, and you just may see a miracle– a hundred-year-old church that acts with the spirit of an enthusiastic teenager. That’s what happened to us.

I shouldn’t have worried about Gordon MacDonald’s latest book. He gets it right. The church is not ours. It belongs to Christ.

Jesus, baptism, and live colored Easter chicks

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_40024545_chicks203ap“When you came to Christ, you were “circumcised,” but not by a physical procedure. It was a spiritual procedure—the cutting away of your sinful nature. For you were buried with Christ when you were baptized. And with him you were raised to a new life because you trusted the mighty power of God, who raised Christ from the dead.” (Colossians 2:11-12 NLT)

When I was young my grandmother Combs would always get each of the grandchildren an Easter basket. One of those Easter mornings still lingers in my memory because each of us discovered a live colored chick in our basket. I couldn’t believe it. The candy and chocolate bunny were great, but a little chick… all warm and cuddly… well, that was really something! My chick had soft, red down. He was wiggly and made little “peep” sounds. My brother Barry’s was blue and my cousin Larry got a yellow one (Please, no remarks from the peanut gallery on our names… Our parents were poets.).

We put our chicks down on the floor and watched them. We nearly giggled our heads off at their “chicken” behavior. It was hard to go to church that day and leave our chicks behind.

Our joy was short lived however. Both mine and Barry’s chicks died during the first night. I don’t know why. Perhaps it was the dye they injected into the eggs before the chicks hatched to give them their unusual color. Perhaps they got too cold. We found their little, still bodies the next morning.

But Larry’s chick lived on. Although, he didn’t stay yellow for long. He grew up to be a big, white rooster. The fine down of the baby chick was replaced by the white feathers of an adult. I don’t remember what happened to him. We may have had him for dinner one Sunday. If so, I’m sure that grandma Combs didn’t tell us.

That Easter was a confusing mixture of joy and sadness for me. I suppose Easter can be like that for a lot of people today too. Not because they got Easter chicks that died, but because they don’t know how to handle all the confusion that this world holds. They don’t know what to do with all of the suffering and all the death. They don’t see how Easter can change our confusion into understanding, our sorrow into gladness, our dying into life.

This coming Sunday we celebrate the resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. We will sing and worship. We will preach and hear the Word. And we will witness four new Christ followers obey Christ’s command to be baptized.

Baptism_82805_042 I think baptism is a better way to celebrate Easter. Better than a basket full of colored chicks. The dye of their down soon wears off and their true colors are seen. But the change that takes place in the one who identifies with Christ’s death, burial, and resurrection is real and lasting.

The one who is baptized in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit has made public their commitment to follow Christ. Baptism is an outward sign of their inward commitment.

Baptism and Easter go well together. Both involve dying. Both involve being raised to newness of life. Jesus gives each this meaning.

Jesus defeated death and won the victory. His resurrection changes everything.

Suffering and strawberry milkshakes

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Strawberry_milkshake"Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God." (Hebrews 12:2 KJV) 

On our way to Dr. Johnson’s office in my dad’s big Buick, Dad glanced across at me, momentarily diverting his attention from the road and said, "If you promise not to cry, I’ll take you to Hi Lo Burger afterwards and buy you a big, strawberry milkshake."

"OK, Dad." I responded, with a hard swallow. My throat nearly swollen shut by my infected tonsils.

I hated going to the doctor because I always got a penicillin shot for tonsillitis. This was back in the day when they reused the needles and I’m telling you… it hurt! Dad always tried to give me something positive to focus on. He tried to get me to look past the pain to some sort of reward on the other side of the suffering.

As Dr. Johnson had me lay face down on the bed, the white paper made a "krinkly" sound as I scooted down. He pulled down the top of my briefs and inserted the needle into my hip. White hot pain shot through my whole body as my eyes searched for my father’s eyes and my hand searched for his hand.

"Just look at me son, and squeeze my hand as hard as you can." My Dad whispered while leaning close to my ear.

I squeezed as hard as I could and stared into my father’s eyes. In a moment, it was over. As the nurse swabbed some alcohol on and put a Band Aid in place, joy flooded my being. My mind immediately moved to the trip home and the strawberry milkshake that awaited.

"Good job, Son." My father said.

"You’re a brave boy." Dr. Johnson agreed, while offering me a lollipop.

This week as I’ve been reflecting on how Christ suffered for us on the cross, my mind went back to that time in my childhood.  Everyone encounters suffering, even children. But it helps when your suffering has purpose. It helps when it is shared and there is someone there to encourage you.  And it helps when your suffering has a season to it, with a goal and a reward after its completion.

Jesus suffered for us. He endured the cross as one who despised its shame, yet he overcame it for the "joy that was set before him," that is our salvation.

While my father held my hand and invited my eyes to lock onto his, God the Father averted His from the suffering of His Son. I’m sure the pain was horrendous, but I believe that the worst agony was when His Father turned away. The righteous God could not look on the Son who had become sin for us.

Cross_2 Jesus cried out in a loud voice, "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?"–which means, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (Mark 15:34 NIV) 

Suffering entered this world with sin. It is the human condition. Jesus, the Christ, changes this. His suffering means that ours will soon end. In the meantime, it gives our suffering meaning. His willingness to suffer and be separated from the Father for us has resulted in our healing and reconciliation.

Now when I suffer, I reach towards His hand and look for His eyes. Because Jesus knows and He cares and great is His reward to those of us who believe.

Cliff diving and the fear of rejection

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100_2556 "Fear of man will prove to be a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is kept safe" (Proverbs 29:25 NIV).

Some years ago, when I was young and foolish (or should I say more foolish) I found myself standing on a tall cliff overlooking South Holston Lake with a couple of my best buddies. We had already found the courage to jump from the cliff once, but on our second climb to the top we began to discuss the possibility of diving.

As we stood overlooking the lake, the wind whistled in our ears and the lake seemed to loom below at a greater distance than we imagined even after our first jump. My friends and I began to banter back and forth.

"OK Gary, you can do this man. It’s no big deal. You’re a good diver. Just don’t think about it. Just dive!" encouraged my friend Copey, as he gestured with his hands.

"Yeah Gary! No problem right? Just go for it!" Added my friend, Gordon.

"I mean, after all, you’re not afraid are you?" Questioned Copey, a wry smile forming at the edge of his lips.

That last comment/question did it! No self respecting member of the clan of boys that I ran with could answer that with anything but a resounding "No!" No I am not afraid!

Plus, I should add that a float boat of young women had appeared at the base of the cliff during our diving debate. We could hear these bikini-clad beauties talking among themselves as they peered up at us.

"Oh no. I think he is going to jump!" One of them exclaimed, as they turned off the motor on their boat.

"He could be killed." Another offered with obvious fear in her voice.

"You’re not going to jump are you?" Their unified voices drifted skyward towards us like a soprano choir.

"Yes." I heard myself say. I say that I heard myself say it because I remember thinking, "Was that me speaking?"

Continuing in this out-of-body experience, I felt myself, leaping into the air. I don’t remember deciding to do this, I just remember leaving terra firma and launching myself skyward, allowing gravity to do its work. For a moment it was perfect. I felt my arms outstretched. I pictured the most beautiful swan dive in my head. I bent at the waist and straightened as the water came into view. But "Noooo…!" I had over rotated. I had miscalculated the distance. As I tried to correct my error I began to kick my feet and flop my arms. I’m sure I looked like a wounded bird falling from the sky

When I hit the water it felt like concrete. I later discovered that I had bruised my face, my eyelids, my thighs, and various other areas. It really hurt.

Of course, I couldn’t show it. After all, the guys on the cliff and the girls in the boat were watching. As I slowly floated to the surface, I offered a put-on smile and a valiant thumbs-up to their questioning eyes.  Then I whispered a breathy "Help me." to my friend Bruce who was in our boat. Bruce was the one guy who had enough sense not to join us. He was the one I trusted to get me out of the water that day. I knew that I could trust him to help me and at the same time preserve what was left of my dignity.

This past summer I took my family boating on another lake. We found some cliffs there too. Soon, I heard my sons bantering back and forth about diving. They challenged each other with taunts and questioned one another’s manhood until they all stood atop a cliff ready to jump.

It made me flashback to my own cliff diving experience. It occured to me that the fear of being rejected by my friends or brothers was greater than my fear of heights. In other words, fear of the one outweighed the fear of the other. In either case, fear was the motivator. The other thought that occured to me is how the fear of man is related to the desire to impress. I wanted to impress the girls in the boat.

As I have grown to manhood I have often deluded myself into believing that I’m not a fearful man. I disdain any phobia in myself and have expressed my impatience for it in others, especially my sons. I want them to be brave and courageous.

But I have discovered a blind spot… the fear of man. I want too much to be liked. I desire too much to be respected. I love the spotlight and care for the applause of man too much.

I fear being rejected.

100_2565 Nearly 25 years after I dove from a cliff I saw my sons doing the same. Watching them was great! They’ve become amazing and fearless men. But I pray that they don’t struggle like I have with the fear of man.  This fear is more insidious and harder to spot. I pray that they overcome it early rather than late. I pray that they know freedom from fleshly fears.

I think Jesus has a dislike for man’s fear too. He warned us about it. He was rejected by man, but He was not afraid.

Jesus said, "The Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, chief priests and teachers of the law, and he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life." (Luke 9:22 NIV). 

I want to care less about impressing people. I want to care more about pleasing Jesus.

Measuring the love in Granny’s biscuits

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“And here is how to measure it—the greatest love is shown when people lay down their lives for their friends.” (John 15:13 NLT)

When Robin and I first got married I wanted her to learn how to make biscuits like my Granny’s. My Granny’s biscuits were amazing! So thick and fluffy… with a pad of real butter melting within and leaking down the sides… Ahh… ecstasy!

“Granny” was my my mother’s mother. She was a farmer’s daughter, a coal miner’s wife, the mother of five children, and grandmother of 21 (as she proudly proclaimed to anyone who would ask). She was a powerful presence in my life. Her faith in God, her daily habit of Bible reading and prayer, her gospel singing, her gentle touch, her firm correction, and … her homemade biscuits made indelible marks on me.

In my mind’s eye, I can still see her in that old farmhouse kitchen with flour on her hands and apron as she laughed, talked and rolled out dough with a wooden rolling pin. She cut out the biscuits and placed them in a baking pan with the practiced hand of an artist. And make no mistake, her biscuits were works of art.

And they were works of love. When Robin mustered up the courage to ask my Granny about her biscuit recipe, there was a sparkle in Granny’s eye as she answered.

“Why honey.” She laughed. “There ain’t no recipe. I just make them from scratch. Come on the in the kitchen and I’ll show you how.”

After Robin watched Granny gather her ingredients and begin the mixing process, she asked, “What are the measurements of those last ingredients, Granny?”

“Measurement?” Granny laughed. “I use a pinch of this and a sprinkle of that and touch of this over here and…”

“Oh no.” Robin sighed. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make biscuits like you, Granny.”

“Sure you will.” Granny answered, while patting her on the hand. “Just remember my secret ingredient.”

“What’s that, Granny?”

“Love, Honey. Love.” She replied.

This week as I prepare to talk about loving God with all of our strength. I’m reminded of how my Granny loved God and her family with all of her strength and ability. But most of all I’m reminded of the measure of the love that Jesus Christ poured out for us.

What measure will we use to show our love for Him?