A Curious Band of Others

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Posted in Community | Tagged 7th Day Adventist study, community, dinner, food, healthcare costs, Suvir Saran | 6 Comments

Stop Going to Church!

Posted on June 29, 2013 by tnealtarver

“When we stopped going to church …”

There’s more to that statement, and I’ll complete the sentence in a moment.

Going suggests a place, and, when we go somewhere, we usually have a reason.

I go to the local supermarket because I need groceries.

I go to the gas station (usually a convenience store) because I need fuel for the car.

I go to the library because I’m cheap and want to watch a movie.

I go to … because … You get the idea.

If church is someplace to go, what’s my reason for going?

A worship experience?

Prayer?

Christian fellowship?

A timely word from the pulpit?

And if my need isn’t fulfilled, then what do I do? For most people the answer would be, go somewhere else. The somewhere else may be another church place or it may be nothing so “spiritual” as that.

Now for the whole statement.

“When we stopped going to church and started being the church, something wonderful happened.”*

In life, I do things. I am things.

Depending on my point of view, church can fit into either category. And my perspective on church (it’s where we go vs. it’s who we are) makes a huge difference.

Things I do: read, write, preach, wash clothes, play basketball, mow the lawn, gripe about the weather, make awesome cinnamon rolls (for real!).

Things I am: a son, a brother, a friend, a husband, a father.

Let me pull one thing out of the I am list—a husband.

What makes me a husband is my relationship with Ellen. We’re married (I know, I know. I’m only stating the obvious). We’ve taken vows and they remain intact to this day. We’re committed to one another (and I might add more deeply in love than ever).

Has married life always been easy? No.

Has our relationship been strained? Yes.

But we’ve remained steadfast and faithful to one another. And the pleasure of our commitment has multiplied over the years.

Okay, here’s the point. When I examine the I am category, I find the list involves my relationships with others. I am a son because I have parents. I am a brother because I have siblings. I am a father because I have a son. I am a husband because I have a wife.

Now back to going vs. being the church.

If I’m going to church, I have to have a reason. If the reason’s not good enough, I go elsewhere or stop going altogether. My attitude toward church is similar to my attitude toward the grocery store. I’m there if I need something. I’m not if I don’t. I’m simply a religious consumer.

On the other hand, if I be the church, the being means I have a relationship with someone. I’m not a consumer but a partner, first with Jesus Christ then with those who call Him Lord.

I’m curious. Which one best describes you—a person who thinks of church as a place to go or a community to be?

*Stutzman, Paul V. (2012-03-01). Hiking Through: One Man’s Journey to Peace and Freedom on the Appalachian Trail (p. 268). Baker Book Group.

Dark Eyes, Deep Eyes

Two men. Two eternal destinies.

One common hope.

For more of what People Are Saying follow link.

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Posted in Community | Tagged being, Christian believers, church, community, doing things, going places, Jesus Christ | 9 Comments

Today I Choose to Get in the Game

Posted on June 21, 2013 by tnealtarver

After two years of posting articles on a regular basis (2 to 3 times week, every week), I stopped.

I didn’t stop writing. At least, not entirely.

But I stopped posting.

I checked the date of my last post—March 6, 2013. I checked the date of my first post—April 17, 2011. Between the first and the last postings, I’d remained faithful in writing and committed to posting what I wrote.

I stayed home. I wrote. I posted.

I traveled to Texas. I wrote. I posted.

I traveled to the Middle East. I wrote. I posted.

I traveled to Alaska. I wrote. I posted.

Then my writing journey morphed into jogging in place. I had thoughts, a few jotted sentences, some article starts, but no real movement.

I went nowhere. I wrote little. I posted nothing.

Today that changes.

No excuses.

No more—

“I’ll do it later this morning.”

“After lunch.”

“For sure right after my nap.”

“Tonight! I’ll definitely do it tonight.”

“Okay, I screwed up, but first thing in the morning, I’ll get up early, write, and post.”

I’ve been …

… busy as a pastor.

… helping coach baseball.

… adjusting to a new schedule.

… thinking about other things.

But mostly I’ve been …

SCARED!

And today I’m still scared.

But fear doesn’t get anything done.

Fear doesn’t write.

Fear doesn’t post.

And fear sure doesn’t move me forward.

The main thing fear does is keep me on the sidelines wishing I was in the game.

So it’s time to get on the field.

It’s time to post.

Dark Eyes, Deep Eyes

Two men. Two eternal destinies.

One common hope.

Dark Eyes, Deep Eyes can be found at:

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Posted in Writing Lessons | Tagged choice, Fear, overcoming fear, stuck, writing | 5 Comments

Hospice Comes to Our Home

Posted on March 6, 2013 by tnealtarver

For almost two weeks now, Ellen and I have been involved in dealing with a loved one’s imminent death. Her 90-year-old mother fell and broke a hip. Ever since, the family has gone from one crisis to the next.

We’d discussed where Grace would go after the hospital, what nursing home would accept her as a resident. Would she be in Sun Prairie where Grace lived or near us in Richland Center?

Saturday morning, the decision became apparent after Dr. Jones spoke to the family about what was happening with Grace and her tired old body.

She now is in our home with hospice care coming in twice a day to help (when we don’t have a major snow storm in the area).

Some observations about what has happened to Grace and to us.

Everyone is tired. We’ve all been under constant stress. Sleep has been anything but routine. End-of-life decisions happen multiple times throughout the day. It’s physically and emotionally wearing.

Everyone is hopeful. Because of our faith in the Lord, we have reason to hope. Letters, emails, conversations—all reflect the undergirding hope we have in the words of Jesus Christ. “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live.”

Everyone is reflective. Death’s presence in your living room has a way of bringing sober reflection to the forefront. Same with walking a hospital hall. You see how fragile life in this world can be.

Everyone is sad. I’m not melancholy by nature, but I am under these circumstances. And I’m not the only one. Even when a person has lived a good, long life, you still feel the ache of loss as it approaches and then becomes reality. I’ve probably already had my last conversation with Grace on this side of eternity. She still breathes, but at this point, her lucidity isn’t a part of our daily routine.

In all this, the stuff of community thrives. When I spoke about Grace’s condition and soon-to-be hospice care on Sunday (she and Ellen arrived in Richland Center while I made my 3-church circuit), I found several people connecting with me through their own personal experiences with hospice.

Ellen has spoken to all her siblings today. She and I are very aware of the family’s connection and support during this difficult time. Soon enough, we’ll all be seeing one another face to face.

And it’s the difficulties that really cement relationships. When you’ve gone through grief together, when you’ve cried together, when you’ve made tough choices together, you come through with a greater respect for one another and a deeper appreciation for the gift each one brings.

I’m reminded of Michelle Obama’s comments concerning how power corrupts. She noted that power doesn’t corrupt character so much as reveal it.

In the same way, crisis doesn’t build relationships. It can just as easily separate people as cement them together. But crisis does, for better or worse, reveal relationship.

What has happened among Ellen’s brothers, sister, and her since Grace’s fall has taken on a life-affirming, I-trust-you atmosphere. That didn’t happen because Grace fell. It happened because they’ve all taken the time to show up for weddings, birthdays, and graduations; eat and talk around the dinner table; walk on the beach during shared vacations; laugh, fight, and cry together.

Here’s the takeaway.

Life and death happen. We celebrate life. We grieve loss. And both are done best in community.

Invest early and often in healthy relationships and later crises will only reveal how wealthy you are.

What has crisis revealed in your relationships?

Dark Eyes, Deep Eyes

Two men. Two eternal destinies.

One common hope.

Dark Eyes, Deep Eyes can be found at:

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Posted in Community | Tagged community, Crisis, death of a loved one, faith, family, Grief, hospice, Jesus' promise of life | 4 Comments

3 Lessons Learned from A Glorious Failure

Posted on February 22, 2013 by tnealtarver

Suvir and Ellen in our kitchen.

I had enjoyed the weekend with a house full of guests and a big activity scheduled each day for four straight days. But by Monday, I felt like the guy strutting around in a tailored tux only to discover his fly had been down the entire evening.

The discovery crushed me.

And I had no desire to host anything in our home or to go anywhere people frequented (like the family birthday bash a week later).

Here are the three mistakes I made without recognizing them at the time.

I assumed too much. Ellen and I picked up her special friend Suvir Saran at the airport, someone I had never met but she knew well. Ellen and Suvir had built their friendship over a year of constant correspondence and conversation. I assumed a deeper relationship with him because of her. I assumed too much.

I said too much. While we were all in the car, I listened to Suvir share some important thoughts. I was so anxious to connect with him I wormed my way into the conversation and said something that offended him. We hadn’t even gotten home and I’d made him uncomfortable enough that he couldn’t look at me or relax in my presence for two days. I said too much.

I served too little. Ellen had tons of work she’d done to prepare for the weekend and tons more on her mind during the weekend. Yet when I had the opportunity to help out, I said, “Ellen can do that.”

When offered a great opportunity to do more, I served too little.

The honest feedback from my wife after the event bruised my soul. When it came to being a gracious host that weekend …

I FAILED!

I wanted to crawl under the covers and hide from life.

I grumbled.

I fumed.

I hurt.

And I wanted to quit on hospitality and meeting new people.

But!

I’ve learned the value of James’ words. “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak …” (James 1:19 NIV).

In my recent devotional reading, I perked up when I read, “The good acquire a taste for helpful conversation; bullies push and shove their way through life. Careful words make for a careful life; careless talk may ruin everything.” (Proverbs 13:2-3 The Message).

I bullied my way into a conversation and my careless talk ruined a couple of days with a guest in my home.

I’m also more in tune with the Lord’s words. “… whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all. For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve …” (Mark 10:43-45 NIV).

Suvir with the kitchen crew.

Two people in my life have modeled this truth well.

Al Vom Steeg, former president of the Mission Society, visited our team in Russia in 1995. The conversation I remember best took place in our small kitchen. His actions, not his words, made the impression. He stood beside Ellen and helped her with a sink full of dirty dishes. The leader of our missionary organization took a towel and served us.

The second person? The guest I had offended.

During Suvir’s visit, he spoke in front of a crowd on Friday night. After speaking, doing two food prep demos, and signing books, he joined us in cleaning up the kitchen and putting away the chairs. He was among the last to leave the auditorium where he’d been highlighted as the celebrity chef.

Okay, quick summary.

I assumed too much.

I said too much.

I served too little.

And I failed in a big way.

But I learned …

… to listen more …

… speak less …

… and to serve always.

Am I applying the lessons I learned?

Feel free to ask Ellen.

I’m curious. What has an embarrassing failure taught you?

Dark Eyes, Deep Eyes

Two men. Two eternal destinies.

One common hope.

Dark Eyes, Deep Eyes can be found at:

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Posted in Community | Tagged hospitality, humility, poor listening skills, Service, Serving others, Suvir Saran, talking too much | 6 Comments

How Do You Overcome Fear of Intimacy?

Posted on February 13, 2013 by tnealtarver

An older gentleman approached me and took the sandwich I offered him. His face bore the familiar red scarring found among those who’d fallen asleep drunk during a Siberian winter. The gray, dull-eyed babushka limped forward for her sandwich. One by one, the older folks received their meager meals.

In the distance, two boys circled our group with seeming indifference. Their breath rose like smoke under Russia’s frigid conditions. The taller of the two picked up a vodka bottle from the rubble, tipped it forward, drained it then tossed it.

I asked my Russian pastor friend, “Why don’t those boys come eat?”

Pastor Yuri said, “They’re afraid.”

Trust is essential to developing an authentic relationship with another person. If we don’t trust others, we can laugh with them, eat with them, drink with them, and spend time with them. But we can’t let them get close enough to be genuine friends. And we certainly can’t develop any semblance of intimacy.

If I’m afraid, I won’t get close. Not to you. Not to God. Not to anyone.

And therein is the problem. We, like the two boys, are afraid to draw close.

We’re hungry.

Food is available.

But we’re tipping empty bottles for a single drop.

Why?

Because we’re afraid …

And we can’t trust …

God!

So what makes us afraid?

Past Experience. Those two boys kept their distance for a reason. Something in their past taught them to remain wary around adults. The present pleasure of food couldn’t close the distance created by past painful experiences. They were hungry, but not desperately so.

Spiritual Dullness. My dog cringes if I take off my gloves. She cowers if I pick up my reading glasses.

She’s intelligent, playful, and sweet as she can be. But if I have something in my hand, she becomes skittish and wary. No matter what I say to calm her fears, she’s too dull to understand two things. She’s loved and she’s safe.

What then can we do to overcome our fear?

Admit we’re afraid. In Judges 7, Gideon prepares to lead Israel into a battle against the Midianites. God instructs Gideon to whittle down the army by asking, “Is anyone afraid?”

The Israelite soldiers had to acknowledge their fear. In fact, God encouraged them to do so in order to face their enemy.

Voicing our fear is like turning a light on. Suddenly those monsters under the bed aren’t so scary anymore.

Whenever I’ve spoken about my fears with Ellen (fear of failure, fear of lost dreams, fear of not living up to expectations), I’ve experienced an amazing thing—intimacy. She has accepted me, loved me, and encouraged me.

Embrace the truth. Jesus said, “… you will know the truth and the truth will set you free.”

Fear may start with the truth (those two boys in a Siberian garbage dump knew some adults were dangerous) but it ends up believing a lie (no adult can be trusted, even ones offering hungry boys food).

I may start with the truth—I have failed—but I end up with a lie—I am worthless. If I embrace the lie, I fear facing God, my wife, and anyone else who gets close to me. And that’s painful.

I fear being found out.

I fear being fooled.

I fear being hurt.

Until I’m willing to admit my fear and embrace the truth, I remain distant and unknown to God and others. Or, rather, God remains distant and unknown to me.

I’m curious. Where does fear mess up your relationship with God and others? Where have you learned to trust God?

Dark Eyes, Deep Eyes

Two men. Two eternal destinies.

One common hope.

Dark Eyes, Deep Eyes can be found at:

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Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Fear of God, fear of intimacy, feeding the hungry, Russian dump, Siberian winter | 13 Comments

Do You Want to Be Used by God?

Posted on February 1, 2013 by tnealtarver

Nice to be inside with the family.

Do you want to be used by God?

I hope not.

What? Don’t you want God to use you for His purposes? Don’t you want Him to use you to bring people to Christ? Don’t you want Him to use you to change the world for the better?

No, I don’t think so. Let me explain.

Oh, please do. This should be rich.

I think you’ll understand with three simple sentences.

He used me to get what he wanted from you.

She used me like a cat uses a mouse.

I feel so used.

Would you like some true-to-life examples of being used by someone?

A father drives his son to be a great baseball player. The father uses the son to live out a lost dream.

Parents go through an ugly divorce and use their children to hurt one another.

Do you still want to be used by God?

I didn’t think so.

Use is an appropriate term for what we do with tools, athletic equipment, or dinnerware. It’s not appropriate for what we do with people.

Or what God does with us.

So what does God do with us?

“Come, let us reason together.”

“Come, you who are thirsty …”

“Come, those who are burdened and heavy laden.”

See what’s happening here?

Come … come … come …

That sounds like an invitation to me.

Come inside.

Come to the table.

Come. Let’s walk together.

Come. Let’s think about this for a moment.

Yep, definitely invitation, one and all.

I think an invitation is both what we long for and what we fear.

Here’s what I mean.

Long for. Ellen and I attended a Reds-Astros game in Cincinnati many years ago. We had nice seats looking out from the 3^rd-base side of the field—lovely view of the Ohio River.

We also had a bird’s eye view of the luxury box right beneath us. We were well within smelling range. When the luxury-box attendant brought out a large plate of fresh-baked cookies, I longed for an invitation to be one level closer to the field.

We often feel like we’re on the outside looking in. We long for an invitation to join the group.

God knows the longing of our hearts and says, “Friend, come inside.”

Fear. Standing outside in the cold, we can appreciate a fire’s warmth. Being invited inside by said Fire is another story altogether. We desire warmth but fear getting burned.

I’ll address fear more in another post, but suffice it to say, although God invites all, not everyone comes.

But His invitation remains, and God is patient. He’s willing to do the hard work of wooing us to Him.

So why would you want to be used by Him? Wouldn’t you rather be invited to know Him? And wouldn’t you rather extend His invitation to others?

I’m curious. How has an invitation influenced your life? What place or event would you love an invite to?

Dark Eyes, Deep Eyes

Two men. Two eternal destinies.

One common hope.

A poignant and compelling portrayal of heaven and hell, with a powerful look at redemption from the perspective of both the lost…and the saved. Well done!–Susan May Warren, best-selling, award-winning author of You Don’t Know Me.

Tarver’s storytelling technique as he takes us along with Nick and Wayne’s journeys through opposite eternal pathways is nothing short of genius. … A must read.–Linda Rondeau, best-selling author of It Really IS A Wonderful Life

For more of what People Are Saying follow link.

Dark Eyes, Deep Eyes can be found at:

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Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged community, Evangelism, feeling used, God, God's call, Invitation, serving God, used by God | 5 Comments

The Weight of Jesus’ Identity and My Response to Him

Posted on January 20, 2013 by tnealtarver

In the comment section, a reader wrote, “Jesus was one of the greatest ever born. I am fascinated by the improvements and additions he made to the already existing ideals, but he created complications by claiming to be incarnation or son of God …” (Do You Need to Drop “the Weight of Christianity”?)

“He created complications” is both true and an immense understatement. His words alone challenge us.

“Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Matthew 16:24).

“If you love me, keep my commands” (John 14:15).

Serve others …

… and you will be great.

Die …

… and you will live.

Our centered-in-us natures wrestle with these statements because they push us beyond self-interest and even the basic human desire for self-preservation.

No easy task (and, yes, I realize that’s both trite and obvious).

But Jesus complicates things further, especially if you didn’t grow up in a Christian community, by adding the weight of his identity—“… the Messiah, the Son of the living God” (Peter’s statement, Matthew 16:16). “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (John 1:1 where the Apostle John identifies Jesus as “the Word”).

“Before Abraham was born, I AM.”

Jesus said that to a group of religious leaders after their lengthy interrogation concerning his identity. They understood the reference and picked up stones to kill him (see John 8:48-59).

The complication comes when Jesus’ teachings are put up against his claims. Few argue with what he taught. His sayings get repeated in today’s world by Christians and non-Christians alike. They’re brilliant.

But how could someone so brilliant make such outlandish claims about his identity as eternal God?

In other words, how could a crazy man speak such philosophical gems as the Golden Rule—“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you”? How could a mere man claiming God as Father—that’s exceptional self-delusion—do so much good?

Jesus’ claim boogers up all the good he taught and did.

Unless …

He told the truth.

In general, people accept Jesus’ teaching on seeking spiritual blessings over material ones and living sacrificially for the benefit of others.

But when the topic is “Jesus is God,” we respond in one of three ways.

Indifference. We simply don’t consider who he claims to be. A nice man who did lots of good and said some interesting things is sufficient. We don’t need to go any deeper. Let other people argue about that religious mumbo jumbo. Yawn!

Despite growing up in a Christian home, I would have fit into this category for my first 17 years of life. I didn’t understand Jesus’ claims and didn’t care one way or another who he was.

Anger. We understand his claims, or at least the claims of others about him, and get pretty riled up about such an intolerant position.

If we’re here, we’re closer to the truth than when we’re indifferent. We understand the implications. We just don’t like them. (I write about hot and cold responses to Jesus in A Tale of Two Flight Attendants)

Excitement. We understand his claims and accept them. We realize the difference between living a life of religious rules without him and an authentic life of relationship in him.

I came to hold this position in January of 1972 (yes, that is a long time ago). An encounter with a living Jesus Christ has a way of doing that to a person.

I’m curious. What is your response to Jesus’ identity? If you grew up in a Christian home, what did you hear about Jesus? If you didn’t, what do you think about Jesus?

Dark Eyes, Deep Eyes

Two men. Two eternal destinies.

One common hope.

A poignant and compelling portrayal of heaven and hell, with a powerful look at redemption from the perspective of both the lost…and the saved. Well done!–Susan May Warren, best-selling, award-winning author of You Don’t Know Me.

Come along with T. Neal Tarver on a roller coaster journey to the afterlife, from the bliss of heaven to the despair of hell.–Dawn Kiefer, Editor, Richland Observer

For more of what People Are Saying follow link.

Dark Eyes, Deep Eyes can be found at:

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Posted in Bible truth | Tagged anger, decision, Excitement, hot or cold, indifference, Jesus Christ, responses to Jesus' identity, truth | 6 Comments

Do You Need to Drop “the Weight of Christianity”?

Posted on January 10, 2013 by tnealtarver

Think she’s worried about “the weight of Christianity”?

On a long road trip, I listened to an audio version of Zorro: A Novel by Isabel Allende. Toward the novel’s end, Zorro’s mother throws off “the weight of Christianity” and returns to her Native American ways.

What in Heaven’s name is “the weight of Christianity”?

Well …

If you’re a Christian man, you keep your hair trimmed.

If you’re a Christian woman, you grow your hair long.

You must have a daily devotional time.

You must memorize scripture.

You must tithe.

You must not go to R-rated movies.

You must not read fiction trash like Zorro.

You must be prim and proper in social settings.

You must attend church services on a regular basis.

And you must dress up when you go to church.

For sure, if you’re a Bible-believing, Spirit-filled, Jesus-loving person, you must vote for good conservative Republicans.

I’m not trying to tick people off here, so please stick with me on this one. Instead I’m trying to get into the head of Zorro’s mother (and Isabel Allende and others who hold a different worldview than me). And I’m challenging us as followers of Christ to recognize “the weight of Christianity” we often superimpose over the Gospel.

After spending time with Jericho’s chief tax collector and witnessing his conversion, Jesus had to explain to the religious conservatives, “… the Son of Man has come to seek and to save the lost.”

During his earthly ministry, the Lord had the most difficulty not with the Isabel Allendes of life who cast off “the weight of Christianity” but with the religious Tom Tarvers who added to its burden.

Just in case you were wondering …

Jesus Christ is not a conservative.

He’s not a liberal.

He’s not Protestant.

He’s not Catholic.

He’s not even Christian.

He is Lord.

Jesus Christ did not come to validate the American Dream or preserve the American Way of Life.

Nor did He come to expand the rules of the religious life and add to “the weight of Christianity”.

He came, in His own words, “to seek and to save the lost.”

I’d encourage you to drop “the weight of Christianity” and focus on two simple things—knowing Jesus Christ and making Him known to others.

In January 1972, I had a profound encounter with Jesus Christ. He changed the entire trajectory of my life—from missing life’s target to being centered in Him.

New Christian neighbors moved next door at some point after my conversion. One of the neighbors asked me a series of questions. “Were you baptized?”

“Yes.”

“Dunked under the water?”

“Yes.”

“What name was used?”

“What do you mean?”

“What did the preacher say when he dunked you?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Did he say, ‘… in the name of Jesus …’ or ‘… in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit’?”

“I don’t know. All I know is I have Jesus Christ in my heart.”

Not good enough. According to my neighbor …

You must be baptized by immersion.

The preacher must say, “In the name of Jesus.”

That’s “the weight of Christianity”—the add-ons that go beyond “Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved …” (Acts 16:31).

I’m curious. What spiritual dead weight have you heard added to Christianity?

Dark Eyes, Deep Eyes

Two men. Two eternal destinies.

One common hope.

A poignant and compelling portrayal of heaven and hell, with a powerful look at redemption from the perspective of both the lost…and the saved. Well done!–Susan May Warren, best-selling, award-winning author of You Don’t Know Me.

Come along with T. Neal Tarver on a roller coaster journey to the afterlife, from the bliss of heaven to the despair of hell.–Dawn Kiefer, Editor, Richland Observer

For more of what People Are Saying follow link.

Dark Eyes, Deep Eyes can be found at:

If you enjoyed today’s post, consider subscribing. Each new post will come directly to your email inbox. Check out the Email Subscription box in the right-hand column.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged conservative vs. liberal, faith, how you vote, Jesus Christ, salvation, the weight of Christianity, Worldview, Zorro | 11 Comments

“The Burials of These Babies”

Posted on December 20, 2012 by tnealtarver

“We interrupt the regularly scheduled programming to bring you breaking news from Newtown, Connecticut.”

We’ve all heard the tragic news from last Friday’s shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary. In a matter of moments, twenty-six souls stepped out of time and into eternity—six women and twenty children ages six and seven. The gunman murdered every soul save one in a first-grade classroom. The lone survivor feigned her own death as her classmates were gunned down.

In a poignant commentary, Joe Scarborough said, “Today as a nation, we grieve; and today we as a people feel helpless.” He spoke of soon watching “the burials of these babies.”

Questions abound in the aftermath of the massacre. I’m sure these three questions have surfaced in various forms and with various degrees of incredulity. Is there a God in heaven? Does He know about what happened? Does He care?

Don’t take these next words as glib or callous. They are not.

Every moment of every day, someone steps out of time and into eternity.

Every moment of every day, someone dies.

Every moment of every day.

The trip has always been one way—from time into eternity. This has been true of Ancient Egypt’s pharaohs … or first-century Roman captives led into the Coliseum … or Civil War casualties … or Holocaust victims … or starving children in Africa … or first graders at Sandy Hook Elementary.

Always one way!

Always …

… step out …

… of time …

… into eternity.

Always.

Except once!

“The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.”

The Son of God stepped out of eternity and into time. He brought light into our dark world.

A mass shooting during the height of the holiday season is about as dark as it gets. Yet, in the midst of tragic death, the mystery—One who steps out of eternity into time—lives. “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5 NIV).

Is there a God in heaven?

Yes, and over two thousand years ago, He stepped out of eternity into a stable connected to a Bethlehem inn.

Does God know?

Yes, God knows. Jesus said that a sparrow doesn’t fall from the sky without God’s notice. He also said God knows the number of hairs on our heads. He knew, knows, and forever will know the names of all twenty-six victims from Friday’s massacre.

Does God care?

Yes, God cares. After talking about “the birds of the air” and “the flowers of the field,” Jesus said, “Are you not more valuable than they?”

After Jesus raised a widow’s son from the dead (Luke 7:11-17), witnesses testified, “God has come to help his people.”

On Friday morning, December 14^th, at Sandy Hook Elementary, twenty first graders and their teachers stepped out of time into eternity.

On an evening long ago, in a distant land, One stepped out of eternity into time.

Isaiah spoke a prophetic word centuries before the birth of Christ. “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned” (Isaiah 9:2 NIV).

Today our nation is a “land of deep darkness.”

But in this Christmas season, we remember the Light who “shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.”

Dark Eyes, Deep Eyes

Two men. Two eternal destinies.

One common hope.

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