Editor’s Note: The AMI QT Devotionals from April 11 to 17 are provided by Pastor Yohan of Radiance Christian Church, San Francisco. Yohan graduated from University of Pennsylvania and Cairn University, where he studied theology. He is married to Mandie, and they have four children: Maggie, Jonathan, Abigail and Simon.
Devotional Thoughts for Today
Acts 17:32
When they heard about the resurrection of the dead, some of them sneered, but others said, “We want to hear you again on this subject.”
Part of the fun of being a parent of small kids is that children can be so logical and illogical at the same time. For example, we watch this cartoon called Paw Patrol (if you have small kids, you probably know it well), and it is undoubtedly one of the stupidest shows on TV. The premise of the show is that a ten-year-old boy named Ryder has adopted six dogs that he has trained as special rescue pups. Each dog has his/her own special skill set—so there is a police dog, a fire fighting dog, a water rescue dog, etc. And each dog also has a doghouse that transforms into a rescue vehicle corresponding to their jobs—so a police truck, a fire truck, a hovercraft, etc.; the dogs, of course, drive. Paw Patrol takes place in a city called Adventure Bay, where there are apparently no competent adults, because Ryder and the Paw Patrol are constantly called on by everyone from the mayor to the local grocery store owner to save them from various mishaps. And although several different types of animals, ranging from cats to eagles to whales, find their way on the show, for whatever reason, none of them have the ability to talk—except the six members of the Paw Patrol.
One day as they were watching this show, my four-year-old says to me, “You know what doesn’t make sense about this show? It’s how the grownups are always asking the kids for help.” I come back with a hailstorm of other things that bug me about this show: “Honey, what about the talking dogs? Have you ever seen dogs drive? Why don’t other animals talk? Where are Ryder’s parents?” To that, she replies, “That’s okay.” On one hand, I appreciate my daughter’s logic in seeing it strange that a ten-year-old is the only reliable person in Adventure Bay, but I find it so cutely illogical that she doesn’t see anything else being problematic—in her world, the minor things are major, and the major things are minor.
On the completely opposite vein, as long time believers, we often treat the resurrection as the minor detail of Christianity that doesn’t always need to be addressed or given much thought. We fixate so much on other things, like our futures, or those who need guidance, or even healings and other miracles. All of these things are important and good, but we must remember that they all don’t amount to very much if the resurrection is not true. (What good is being healed of sicknesses if we were to die eternally anyway?) We must also remember that ultimately, it is the resurrection that is the major stumbling block for those who do not believe in Christ. Yet sadly, too many believers don’t think about the resurrection enough.
Today, take some time and marvel at the resurrection. Do not be ashamed at how utterly unbelievable it can appear to those who do not have faith. Embrace the miraculous power, which has become the lynchpin to our faith. And above all else, thank God that the truth of the resurrection is our great hope.
Prayer
Heavenly Father, thank You that you are alive, that You have conquered sin and death, and that because You live, we will too. Help us never to be ashamed of the fact that we believe in the resurrection, though it sounds crazy, but help us to live in and share that power to others.
Bible Reading for Today: Psalm 8
Seventy-five percent of the time, whenever single people from our church come over to talk or share a meal, my wife and I will ask them about boys or girls. Of course, this talk slowly evolves (or devolves) into us playing matchmakers. But sometimes our guests get a little uncomfortable and will ask why this topic interests us so. My wife will typically explain it like this: “It’s been several years since I’ve been single, but I still remember how it felt starting a relationship. You go out on fun dates and he is always trying to impress you. All the while, you are constantly wondering how into you he is. You feel this odd combination of adrenaline, insecurity, anxiety, and euphoria, all at the same time. It’s both the fun and exhausting part of dating, and in many ways, I am living vicariously through you because I miss that feeling.”
Does it make me un-American to say that I hate Apple, Inc.? Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate their products. Whenever I play on an iPhone or iPad or Macbook, I generally feel this sense of, “Wow, this thing is smooth!” However, what I hate about Apple, Inc. is—how I feel six months after I buy one of their products. The last Apple product I bought was the iPad 3, and for about five months, I enjoyed it. But in the sixth month, iPad 4 (or more correctly iPad with Retina Display) came out, and then overnight, I felt like I was using a stone tablet with a hammer and chisel. Though I am not a gadget guy by any stretch, I hate that I am one of the people who have been suckered by their marketing strategy. I wish I didn’t care—but I do.
Just about every Friday morning after our prayer meeting, our pastoral intern and I go out and grab breakfast, typically at Burger King. More than half of the time, this guy will do something kind that humbles and embarrasses me. For example, he will buy an extra breakfast sandwich for a homeless person that we just passed by on the street, or he will notice a person digging too deeply into his pocket to find the money for a cup of coffee and purchases it for him. Every week it would be something different, but every week it is him showing how big his heart is, and me—feeling like a dork. The reason I never buy anyone a sandwich is not that I don’t care or I am too cheap, but rather, I simply do not notice (and this may be worse). Over the years, I’ve learned to walk with my head down in the city (for fear of stepping on dog poop), or when I’m at a restaurant, I get too excited about food and have tunnel vision, or I’m thinking about something else. Emotionally, I can be an aloof monster, I know— I’m not trying to make excuses on the matter.
In a comedy routine, which I have never actually watched and would never recommend to our readers, Cedric the Entertainer made the joke that there are two types of people in the world: those with the “hope factor” and those with the “wish factor.” Those with the hope factor go into situations hoping that nothing goes wrong; so when they go to a show, these people hope that no one is sitting in their seats. On the other hand, those with the wish factor go into situations wishing something would happen so that they can retaliate; so if these people go to a show, they wish someone is sitting in their seats so that they can get into a fight. Coincidentally, as I am writing this devotional, I am in a coffee shop where someone has brought in a very large dog. (In SF, people disregard health codes when it comes to dogs.) I find myself wishing that this dog would eat something off my table, so I can make a fuss.
My wife teaches advanced nursing at UCSF, so most of her students have been practicing as registered nurses for several years. Generally, she likes her job and her students, but every so often, she will tell me about a few who try her nerves. The commonality among these students is that when the class gets to topics that they are familiar with –because they have years of experience in these areas—they become know-it-alls and quite opinionated about what is being taught. I have found this experience common in a lot of settings. Some classes in seminary were difficult to get through, simply because everyone had an opinion or criticism about the book we were reading. The point I am trying to make is, that many want to be teachers (or critics), but few are willing to be students.
We have a ton of Legos in my home, and I have to admit that I think they are really cool toys. I enjoy the craftsmanship of having to put together complex sets, as well as the creativity it takes to make something original. I even find collecting the mini-figures intoxicating. But one thing that I hate about Legos is when I have to clean and sort all those small pieces. What I hate most is when those pieces are all over the floor and I step on a misplaced one—it hurts so much! I realize my kids don’t mind stepping on Legos as much as I do because they are light: It’s simple physics: F=ma (Force = mass x acceleration); less mass accelerating on a Lego equals less force on a foot and less pain. My kids basically run over those hazardous Legos like those Polynesian fire walkers.
My Hebrew professor taught our class about something she called “the suffering witness.” As we studied the life of Naomi, and how Ruth managed to somehow come to faith in Yahweh even as Naomi suffered and appeared forsaken by Him, and then studied the life of Job and how he teaches us about God—not in spite of, but through his suffering—she explained that sometimes we are positioned to be a greater witness for God as we move through suffering than we are as we move through times of abundance. Sometimes, the voice of our witness carries a little further and echoes a little louder from the valley than it does from the mountaintop.
A local pastor told the story of a man who, in response to a radio station ad promising $10,000 to whomever could come up with the craziest way to earn the money, consumed an entire 11-foot birch sapling over the course of three days. Yes, he ate a tree – leaves, branches, bark, and all (adding a little French dressing for flavor) – and filmed the whole deal to win $10,000. The ridiculous lengths some are willing to go for money are astonishing. But unlike the comical story of the boy who ate a tree and ended up with a tummy ache, the desire for and pursuit of riches is usually a bit more sinister and more hurtful to us and to those around us.
What Paul experienced by the riverside was an unexpected encounter that led to the first conversion in Philippi. While my recent experience wasn’t quite that dramatic, it, nonetheless, shows what we ought to expect from the Lord in our everyday lives.