Small, Quick & Loving

On Friday I will be travelling with several other pastors to attend an annual dinner hosted by the Reformed Presbyterian Theological Seminary. The seminary will award a "Faithful Servant Award" to Dr. Roy Blackwood. Many were asked to write a tribute to Roy. Here's mine.

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After my first year as a student at the Reformed Presbyterian Theological Seminary in Pittsburgh, I went to Indianapolis in the summer of 1989 to do an internship under Dr. Roy Blackwood. Following a day of driving with my pregnant wife and young son, and then moving into the third floor apartment of the church building, Roy and Margie came to greet us that first evening. After a few minutes of checking that we had everything we needed, Roy asked me to sit down at the kitchen table because he had something he wanted to show me. Soon, on an unfolded napkin taken from a nearby drawer, circles and Latin words began to form a diagram as Roy explained in earnest a concept to me. I realized I had just been introduced to Roy’s teaching on the Mediatorial Kingship of Christ. How many more times that summer and since I have seen - and used - that picture!

During that internship, I thought I would spend less time studying and more time doing “practical” ministry. Yet not only did I feel I was in “summer seminary” those three month, but I realized more than ever how studies and practical ministry go hand-in-hand. For under Roy’s tutelage I read the seminal work upon which he had developed his ministry, Messiah the Prince by the nineteenth century Scottish pastor William Symington, as well as studied through Roy’s doctoral work he had done on Symington’s ministry and theology. Far from dry academia, Roy’s studies came alive as I saw them lived out firsthand through his life.

That summer I witnessed warm-hearted, reference-filled, faith-building preaching from Roy, be it from a pulpit or at the bedside of the elderly. I saw how he had taken these doctrines and applied them in the development of a ministry that had seen hundreds converted to Christ, churches planted in other areas of Indiana whose pastors had been influenced greatly by Roy, and relationships that extended around the world. Roy’s heart-filled vision of the kingdom of Christ, a kingdom that knows no limits, no person outside its reach, no unconquerable enemies, propelled him to extend that kingdom wherever he went. That summer I saw federal and state legislators contact him, businessmen open their offices and schedule to him, and fathers and sons (the next generation) taught by him. What I both heard and saw left an indelible mark upon me, and it has only increased through the following two decades of ministering with this man in our presbytery.

On one occasion that summer, as Roy and I were traveling, he shared with me his testimony of how his mother had died when he was but a young child, and of a hard-pressed father who had to send him out of his home to be raised by nearby aunts. At that time, Roy said in great tenderness that he could not remember his mother, but had been told that she was “small, quick, and loving.” That description has stuck with me, for it also describes Roy well.

On several occasions when we have ministered together, Roy will stand next to me, look up, and say with that ever-present smile on his face, “Here’s Barry York, a man I look up to.” One day I responded, “Roy, the only reason you will ever look up to me is because I am standing on your shoulders.” He may be small in stature, but he is a giant of a man.

How quick Roy is in mind and body! Roy is a perpetual motion machine, constantly engaged in whole-hearted kingdom living. Even now, as he spends his twilight years caring for his beloved bride Margie, his mind is always at work. Roy is always seeking to be a kingdom-catalyst by seeing people in the body of Christ brought together who Roy always seems to know could work better together than apart. He has connected me to countless people in innumerable ways that have enriched greatly my life and ministry. One example is in the area of Greek. Believing in my Greek abilities far more than I did, he recruited me years ago to come down to Indianapolis every weekday for six weeks one summer (only Roy could have gotten me to do this!) so I could spend time in a Greek classroom with Dr. Renwick Wright. That time proved influential, as not only did that training help me to grow in my competency to teach Greek, but a number of men have gone onto seminary and the pastorate with the confidence of knowing this language.

With all these attributes and abilities one might overlook the chief quality about this man. Like his mother, he is loving. Many times during my ministry, Roy has helped sustain me through trials by his expressions and acts of love. Perhaps none have been so personal and powerful to me than just a few weeks ago. For some time, Roy, Pastor Rich Johnston, and the elders of the church have discussed with me coming to serve as pastor there. In December, they finally led the congregation to make out a call to me. When I received the call, seeing the names of so many friends tugged at my wife and my hearts, but seeing Roy and Margie’s signatures made us weep. Yet after much prayer and deliberation, in light of things including some deeply personal matters involving family, I was led to decline this call. When on the phone with Roy telling him my answer, to be honest I was scared. I could not bear the thought of disappointing him. But when I began to explain these personal matters, Roy began weeping for me and offering tender encouragements. Our conversation ended with one of the most powerful and caring prayers I have ever experienced. As we hung up, he was not the only one crying.

On occasion, I have heard some, who must not know Roy very well, describe him in ways that make it sound as if they think Roy must dominate people in the church in order to see the things happen around him that he has. Indeed, some have even called the pastors in Indiana “Roy’s Boys,” speaking as though he controls us like a bishop would do in other ecclesiastical settings. Not only would that thought be anathema to Roy, but it misunderstands both the power and love of God at work in Roy and in the church. If any of us have sought to imitate Roy’s example, or leapt when he asked us to do something, or spoken reverently of him, it is the power of love and not fear that you see. And as for me, call me Roy’s Boy if you will, but please understand if I’m given that title I would wear it with honor and with a smile. For it only serves to prove that God has fulfilled, in answer to Roy’s prayers, the truth of II Timothy 2:2, “The things which you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses, entrust these to faithful men who will be able to teach others also.” How thankful to God I am to know the life, ministry and love of Roy Blackwood.

Cuddle Up Like the Moon

Through the window we see the wintry sky,
The curve of the waning moon
Bright against its black cold;
A silent reminder of the One
That governs over the darkness.

It casts a warming glow on the bed inside,
The wiggling of a young girl fighting sleep
Brings smiles to a slumbering father lying near,
Thankful for the gift of a daughter's love
In this dark generation of icy hearts.

Her sudden request opens his tired eyes,

"Da-da, will you cuddle up like the moon with me?"
The meaning remaining a mystery,
Until he sees again from her pillow perspective
The ruler of the nighttime sky.

In response the father becomes a crescent

As she snuggles her little body against his,
The chattering fading and sleep triumphing again.
Yet not before she says in faith not yet full,
"It's hard to say I love God more than you."

So as she closes her eyes to enter sleep’s peace,

He whispers again of One unseen,

The Giver of all love and seasons;

And reminds her that one day she will awake

Beyond the moon in her true Father's embrace.

If Nothing Else, the Picture is Cool

This Saturday, February 7, the First Reformed Presbyterian Church is hosting their Conference on Practical Theology. Entitled The War for Poverty: Reclaiming and Restoring the Ministry of Mercy in the Local Congregation, little ole me will be speaking three times that day, with a question and answer period following each talk. I'm looking forward to the fellowship with the saints at First RPC, one of our newest congregations. I'm also thankful that several of our members, including two of our deacons who practice this subject far more than I do, will be traveling there to support me and help in answering questions that may arise.

As I have not only been buried in my study in preparation for it, but also involved in numerous pastoral situations trying to live it even this week, I have not had much blogging time. But I thought any readers of this blog would enjoy seeing the neat picture some creative person at First RPC came up with to advertise the conference (please click it to see further information), and that I could use this as a last minute plea for you to pray for our time.

The name of the conference is of course a play on President Johnson's words. But the change in the preposition highlights the Biblical truth that mercy ministry is a responsibility the mighty God who loves the orphan and widow gives to the church, and how we must fight to re-establish our position as the true dispensers of mercy. Indeed, as I will be showing, God will judge us if we fail. Hence the need for prayer!

My Decision

This blog has purposefully been quiet this past month.
I have spent the time seeking the Lord's will
about a call from the Second Reformed Presbyterian Church.
Below is the letter I sent to them in answer.

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January 22, 2009

Second Reformed Presbyterian Church

4800. N. Michigan Road

Indianapolis, IN 46228

To the Saints of Second RPC,

Having received the call made out to me on December 14^th, 2008 to join the pastoral staff of the Second RPC congregation, please know that I have been in much prayer and deliberation before the Lord regarding it. As you can imagine, having to come to a decision where I know I would have to either leave a congregation that is family to us or decline an offer by one that I also love has not been easy. Yet the Lord has used the means of His Word, counsel, providences and prayers to draw near me and to make His will known to me at this time.

Though it brings me sadness, I now inform you that I must respectfully decline this call. On Thursday, January 22^nd, I came and met with your pastor and elders to tell them of my decision and explain the reasons, many of which are very personal. Please indulge me for a moment as I assure you what were not factors in this decision.

Please know that it was not a lack of desire to help or concern for you all at Second RPC that led to this decision. Having been an intern at Second RPC in 1989 means that I have been blessed with a special relationship to Dr. Blackwood, Pastor Johnston, and many of you there for twenty years and even longer. Seeing so many names of people we love signed to the call did tug at our hearts, and to be honest seeing Roy and Margie’s there made me cry. As the call was extremely generous, the potential for ministry there is great, and the history of the Lord’s using Second RPC undeniable, please know that questions regarding these matters did not lead me to this conclusion.

The congregation of Sycamore and I will continue to uphold you in prayer, knowing that the Lord will keep building the church of Second Reformed Presbyterian. In the Spirit of Christ, who is the head of the church and places each member in the body just as He desires, we trust this interaction will only create greater love between us not less. Indeed, I pray that we might find other ways to cooperate in the gospel and support one another in the faith, building on the years of joint partnership that we have had. Thank you for the love you have shown through the consideration of me, and may the God of peace continue to bless you richly.

In the Love of Christ,

Barry York

The Snake Hunter

You have to admire the men pictured here. They are returning home from hunting an African Rock Python. Seeing how its jaws can expand wide enough to swallow an antelope, one might consider them brave in just carrying a dead one. In saying they hunt them you probably picture them surrounding one in a tree or on the ground, then using weapons to kill it or clubs to beat it. Remove that picture from your mind and read on. These men are much braver (or crazier, depending on your perspective) than that.

Adult pythons, usually 18-20 feet in length but which can get up to 28 feet and over 250 pounds, use the burrows of other animals to nest. These burrows can go down into the ground nearly 20 feet. The mother python will lay up to 100 eggs in her cache and then spend the next few months in her lair aggressively protecting them. This is where these men hunted. Again, you may imagine they smoked her out then beat her when she emerged from her tunnel. Keep reading.

To hunt this python, one of the men tied a leather coverings to his forearm and then held a bundle of lit twigs in his other hand for light. After securing a rope around him, he was lowered head first into the python's burrow, barely able to squeeze down. As he approached the snake face-to-face, he waved his leather-covered hand by the the python's mouth. The snake, already upset, struck the hand and began to swallow it. The hunter then quickly dropped the twigs, and with his other hand choked tightly the snake's never-ending throat right behind where his other hand was being swallowed. (This prevented the hunter from becoming its next meal.) At this point he undoubtedly yelled and kicked so his friends would pull him out of the hole. As he was extracted from the hole, the python was choking to death from the leather covering that had slipped off his hand combined with the choke hold of the hunter. The snake's body, naturally used when it falls on its prey with its weight and then crushes it with the strength of its death coils, was rendered useless by the narrowness of the burrow. Thus the snake, usually the predator, suffocated and became the prey. And yes, these men are taking this snake home to eat.

My job as a pastor regularly involves dealing with sin. Being it my own holed up in my own soul, working with others who have lived long in Satan's lair, or trying to hunt out the deadly lusts with searching preaching, the stubborn fierceness of sin confounds and (I must admit at times) scares me. Though these python hunters may get a certain adrenaline rush as they go down into that hole, I find little pleasurable or exciting in dealing with sin. I can even reason in my own mind, "If we are to let sleeping dogs lie, why not sleeping snakes?" Yet that's the problem. The serpent of old never sleeps, for he admits in his own words that he "roams about on the earth" (Job 1:7). And we know why. He is seeking someone he may devour (I Peter 5:8) through continually enticing them to follow their lusts. How tiring it can be to try to handle the slippery serpent and ceaseless sin. This "snake hunter" often wonders what the outcome is going to be.

Yet that's where this metaphor must go further. What encouragement can be found in turning again and again to the reminder from the Bible of the One who went into the snake pit for me! That dragon of old, with his jaws on the heel of the Savior, thought in his cunning he had brought an end to Christ at the cross. Little did he know his death bite was his own death warrant. That cross silenced forever his venomous accusations, and Jesus arose to crush his head. No wonder the Bible tells us we can see the devil flee when we resist him in Christ! Seeing salvation granted to the repentant, watching sanctification occur in His people, achieving reconciliation, witnessing an evil be used for God's purpose - these things and more remind me of the victory of the Lamb over the dragon.

O Lord, hear me pray what you have promised: "The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet!"

A Confession with My Tongue (in My Cheek)

December 10, 2008

President Kenneth A. Smith
Geneva College
Beaver Falls, PA 15010

Dear Dr. Smith,

Though I know you are a very busy man, I hope you can find just a few moments in your day to hear these confessions from a father of one of your students.

First, I swiped the photograph which you see in this letter, taken at your Family Day back in November, from Geneva's website. I am ashamed to admit that not only have I posted it here, but also on my computer desktop and my blog where this letter can also be found. (As Augustine in his Confessions shows, identifying particular vices and making them public is good for the soul's cleansing.) Though I should have asked permission, the beauty of the picture was too great to resist. Certainly you can sympathize with my weakness and find it in your heart to absolve me? Especially when you consider that I had even contemplated - but then strongly resisted the temptation! - asking you for a tuition break for helping advertise your fine institution in such a lovely way?

My second confession is that I grew a bit angry with you, as the head of Geneva, back in August. After leaving my little girl at your college, the next three days I literally felt like my heart had broken. It was like someone had died! This sweet daughter of mine, who for nineteen years had filled our home with joy, music, and love, was now gone. That I could have borne. Yet when I called her during those dark days of my soul, her voice did not sound quite like mine did. Oh, sure, she said she missed me, but she kept giggling afterwards which I did not think was very funny. She could not quite hide her excitement over such things as the new roommates she had, dining on a riverboat in Pittsburgh, or the classes she was looking forward to taking. Since I could not blame her, I blamed you for making the transition so painless. So please excuse my anger. But could you not at least consider instituting a two-day period of mourning for incoming students?

Having sat under your father's preaching for three years, I know the importance of heart applications of the law as is especially taught in the final commandment. So my final confession (I hope you are sitting down at this point) is that I secretly hoped Geneva might fail for my daughter. I had a black little hope that she might be so homesick, not like her classes, or at least miss the pastor back here so much that she would want to come back to Indiana. Instead, she has so many new friends we cannot remember all their names, has loved her courses and especially the music program, and is actually growing amazingly well in the church out there.

Thank you for reading my confessions. I know that looking at these things is never pretty. But, as Augustine explains it, neither was the desire for the pears that he stole.

Sincerely Thankful,

Barry York

Putting the Twig to the Nose

When my daughter Lindsay, home for the Thanksgiving break, asked me a question the other day, at first I wondered what they were teaching her at college. "Dad, what does 'putting the twig to the nose' mean?" she asked.

Then she told me she was reading Ezekiel for her Bible class, where the angel of God points out in Ezekiel 8:17 that men in Judah were guilty of "putting the twig to their nose." Considered the family's resident Bible expert, I enjoy it when my children ask me questions. Yet I had to admit to being a bit baffled by the expression, as I had not thought about it before. As our family happened to be traveling at the time, we discussed the context a bit, I told her it sounded like a pagan ritual to me, and then promised to look it up later.

What I found was interesting and (not surprising with the Word of God) fear-producing.

This verse with its expression is from a scene where the angel of God is showing the prophet why destruction is about to come upon Jerusalem. In the vision Ezekiel is shown 25 men worshiping in the courtyard of the temple. The problem is, however, that they are prostrated with their backs against the temple, praying to the sun in the east (Ezekiel 8:16). The angel then says,

"Do you see this, son of man? Is it too light a thing for the house of Judah to commit the abominations which they have committed here, that they have filled the land with violence and provoked Me repeatedly? For behold, they are putting the twig to the nose. Therefore, I indeed will deal in wrath."

My research showed that my hunch was right. Often found in pagan worship was the practice of gathering a branch or bundle of twigs and then the worshiper would put them before his face near the mouth and nose as he prostrated himself and prayed to his idol. For these Jews worshiping the sun, it could have served as a type of veil to show respect to the sun-god, and it may have been a symbol of their recognition that life was dependent upon the light of the sun.

However, there is a powerful double entendre in this expression that only the Hebrew reveals. The word for "nose" in the Hebrew (אַף -"aph") can also be translated as "anger" or "ruin." The snort of emotion from the nose and the flaring of the nostrils provide the reason for this association. Sometimes scholars in different English versions can translate a verse using these two different meanings with the same effect, as in Job 4:9.

• "By the blast of God they perish, and by the breath of His nostrils they are consumed" (KJV).
• "By the breath of God they perish, and by the blast of His anger they come to an end" (NASB).

With this in mind, John Calvin said that by God describing them as putting the twig to the nose, they were in effect putting the twig to their ruin. In other words, by putting the twig to their nose, they were putting the twig to His nose. They were arousing His burning anger, which is why He follows this expression with these words, "Therefore, I will indeed deal in wrath."

How careful we must live! These Jews who thought they were being trendy by using a worldly worship practice were in reality putting more wood on the fire of God's anger by the very act. As Paul said in Romans 2:5, "Because of your stubbornness and unrepentant heart you are storing up wrath for yourself in the day of wrath and revelation of the righteous judgment of God."

Perhaps from this we could develop a new proverbial warning when we see a believer pursuing evil things or churches turning their back on God's Word as they embrace worldly goods? "Don't put the twig to your nose!"

Offering Thanks Like a Pilgrim

Around 200 people gathered last night at Sycamore Reformed Presbyterian Church for a Thanksgiving Service. Brethren from the Elkhart, Lafayette, and West Lafayette RP congregations joined us for this annual event, along with friends from other churches and the community.

With the title above serving as our theme, the evening began with the following explanation:

The roots of Thanksgiving in our nation are found in those first Pilgrims who crossed the Atlantic Ocean aboard the Mayflower in 1620. After 66 days at sea, they arrived at what would be called the Plymouth colony on November of that year in what is today Massachusetts. Right before they landed, 41 persons on board gathered and signed the Mayflower Compact, which was a document explaining how this new colony would be governed. It was a covenant that spoke of how they would order and preserve themselves in order to accomplish the goal of their voyage, which was done (I quote from the Compact) “for the Glory of God and advancement of the Christian Faith and Honour of our King and Country.”

They would need their faith in God. William Bradford, the eventual governor of the colony, suffered the tragedy of having his own wife drown while the Mayflower was still anchored in the harbor and unloading passengers and supplies. On land, harsh weather, lack of food, and threats by Indians met them. Despite their best efforts to build shelter quickly and to endure the winter, by April of 1621 half of the original 102 people had died.

Yet through the spring and summer of that next year their fortunes turned. Crops began to grow. More permanent housing was built. Peace occurred with the Indians native to the region. So in the fall of 1621, Governor William Bradford proclaimed a day of thanksgiving to be shared by all the colonists and the Native Americans who had helped them. The thanksgiving turned into a three day event filled with feasting and laughter, and games and races took place.

During it all, whether laying a loved on in a freshly dug grave or rejoicing over a birth or harvest in the new land, the Pilgrims continually turned to the psalms of the Bible to express their heart cries and joys to the Lord. Being of Puritan belief, they had set aside ceremony in worship so common in their homeland for the simplicity of worshiping God in spirit and truth. As such, the Pilgrims used the psalm-book written by Henry Ainsworth in 1612, believing that the singing of the Word of God was commanded in the Scriptures and exemplified in the life of Christ and His apostles. They used the Ainsworth Psalter because they believed it to be a more true and literal translation of the Psalms. We are going to begin our service tonight by singing Psalm 100 from this psalter (Note: A page featuring a portion of this psalm from the 1612 Ainsworth Psalter is pictured above.)

Yet we are singing this psalm and others for more than sentimental reasons. The Pilgrim’s example and story are worth noting, for we are to see ourselves as on a pilgrimage to a better country. Those who have been brought out of the death and destruction of sin and into the kingdom of the eternal God by the work of Jesus Christ are like Israel of old - we are on a pilgrimage through this world's wilderness to our heavenly destination. The Psalm book is written for pilgrims, and as the structure of this service will show, gives us:

• the cries we need to express in our distress,
  
• the direction we need for our journey,
  
• the redemption we need as found only in Christ,
• and the promise we need that heaven indeed will be granted to those who walk by faith.
  

We then enjoyed a service of singing these types of psalms, reading of relevant Scripture, and prayers of gratitude. Toward the conclusion, we also sang Psalm 23 from the 1640 Bay Psalm Book (the first book published in America), as its familiar words of the Good Shepherd leading His sheep along a path that passes through enemies and dark vales ends with the assurance that He will bring us to His home - a true pilgrim's anthem! For our final selection, we sang from Psalm 84 and experienced in our hearts this truth that it contains:

Blest are they who in Thy Strength confide, and in whose heart are pilgrims' ways!

All A-Twitter

Yet another technological wonderment has hit the internet. This will be old news for the young people, I'm sure, but hang in there for a moment while I explain it to my generation. It's a service called Twitter that has a little bluebird as its logo. Basically put, it is like making the wall of Facebook instantaneous without all the dressings. Oops! That still won't explain it to most of my middle-aged friends. Let me be a bit more specific.

Rather than a blog like you are reading now, Twitter is a micro-blog that allows a constant updating of thoughts (limit of 140 characters) from the Twitter subscriber and those he allows to respond. These mini-posts can either be read on the Web as a continuous list of comments or sent via e-mail or text message. As the developers state, Twitter answers the basic question, "What are you doing?" Friends can post what they are doing or thinking at any moment and, wham, all those who care can receive the news on their cell phones or computers. Major corporations and news agencies are using Twitter to give people instant updates (called "tweets" in Twitter Land) on exciting new products or breaking stories.

And, yes, the church has "flocked" to the action. WORLD magazine reported on Westwinds Church in Jackson, Michigan, that has used Twitter in their worship services. As the pastor preaches or the musician performs, the congregation has had services where they can post their thoughts on a Twitter site that is being projected on large screens in the sanctuary. Though the pastor recognizes not everyone will appreciate this innovation (he has even had to deal with inappropriate things being said on the screen), he believes these concerns are outweighed by the way Twitter gets everyone to participate more greatly in the service. He claims the Twittering they do through the week helps the church body stay connected.

As you may have anticipated, for all of its technological glory and I'm sure helpful applications in certain areas, I am now getting ready to tell you that I have concerns about a casual use of Twitter. But please listen to me before you accuse me of being as afraid of technology as a yellow-bellied sapsucker, mad as a wet hen that I did not think of it first, or trying too hard to be wise as an owl. On its website, Twitter itself points out the problem when it says this about its own service: "With Twitter, you can stay hyper–connected to your friends and always know what they’re doing...Twitter puts you in control and becomes a modern antidote to information overload." These paradoxical statements point out my dual concern.

On the one hand, do we need to be hyper-connected to our friends? Do not cell phones, e-mails, Facebooks, text messaging, etc., have us so hyper-connected already that we are being constantly interrupted by others? Besides, do I always want to know what you are doing? Better yet, do you always want to know what I am doing? I hope not! Do you not have better things to do? Like thinking about what you were doing before you were interrupted by yet another "tweet?"

Then on the other hand, is not their own description a bit delusional? How is getting constant information an "antidote to information overload?!?!" We think we are in control, but does this not lead us more toward a life of being controlled by friends who want to tell us instantly what's on their mind, no matter when or what it might be? In normal conversations, are we not bothered by those who constantly "crow" about their accomplishments, "chirp" with the latest gossip, or "squawk" about their problems?

And using Twitter in worship? C'mon! This is Quakerism run a muck! How can you truly listen to the Word of God when you are constantly glancing at the latest cool comment someone posted or trying to think of one of your own? Guys, make a date with your wife or girlfriend at a nice restaurant in order to have a meaningful conversation with her. But before you order your food, encourage her to use her cellphone and text her best friend during the meal about what you are doing and saying. Then you'll have the just the faintest of an idea of how the jealous God feels about this latest idolatrous distraction modern man has introduced into His worship.

All this reminds me of the men of Athens. When Paul arrived, the Scriptures in Acts 17 say that "all the Athenians and the strangers visiting there used to spend their time in nothing other than telling or hearing something new." They were all a-twitter over anything new they could hear. But when Paul began speaking the gospel, what did they think of him? They called him the "babbler." This word babbler in the Greek is literally "seed-picker," and was used to describe birds as they flitted here and there picking up and dropping seeds. So the babbler goes about, picking up and dropping news wherever he goes. Ironically, though the Athenians were the ones guilty of constantly tweeting with new news, they viewed the one with Good News as the babbler in the bunch.

Sounds a bit bird-brained to me.