Looks like it could be a while before we're able to restart our monthly Christian Music Hour at the nursing home. Singing, you know, can be a dangerous activity in the Age of COVID. But oh, I miss these lovely gatherings! It's easy enough to fire up and sing the old hymns, but there's nothing like a message from our dear friend and preacher Chris Carrillo to stir the heart and soul. So I've started listening to his messages again from our archives, in concert with my current Bible study -- and am so enjoying it that I thought I'd begin sharing them again with you, faithful readers!   

Here, to go with time spent in the wonderful book of 2 Kings, is a 2017 Chris Carrillo message on one of his favorite passages -- 2 Kings 7:3-9. I think you'll find it both convicting and encouraging, depending on where you are in your life and your walk with the Lord. Enjoy! 

I'm happy to report that we are now emerging slowly from the Covid 19 shutdown of our nursing homes, at least in southeastern Wisconsin. Which means we've been given the opportunity to re-start our weekly BibleTime discussions, as long as we're properly masked and socially distanced. 

So far, our group is small. The common denominator seems to be that most in this group have never studied the Bible and are unfamiliar with even its most basic and important teachings.
 
That’s why a recurrent message in our sessions is the gospel, and what the Bible says about becoming a heaven-bound Christian—quite a surprise for some of these lovely people.
 
But why should anyone believe what the Bible has to say about everlasting life, when there are so many translations of it today, and so many wildly varying theories being taught today? As one participant reported some time ago, although he and his contemporaries were raised in “the church,” they were taught that the Bible is nothing more than a collection of myths and fables, and so can be safely ignored.
 
Clearly, it’s critically important to persuade each member of our group that the Bible is divinely inspired and inerrant--and that we can therefore trust what it says about everlasting life.                                                                                                                                                                
Just one question: How?
 
I’ve given my testimony, but it rests largely on the scientific, historical and prophetic evidence that led me to the Lord. Perhaps it’s not surprising that this audience is less than captivated by what I have to say on these subjects. Irreducible complexity? The fallacious assumptions of radiometric dating? The prophetic fulfillments in Israel’s 1948 restoration? I guess these topics can be enough to make even youngsters nod off, given my less-than-thrilling leadership style.
 
But there are many other approaches that can be taken. For instance, to demonstrate how the Bible came into being and was preserved over the centuries—a history which in itself confirms its divine origins—we have in the past read from books like the late Ken Connolly’s fabulous The Indestructible Book. And to demonstrate the supernatural depth of God's love, we have examined beloved passages such as the 23rd Psalm using such guides as Phillip Keller's A Shepherd Looks at Psalm 23, one of my very favorite books.   
 
At the same time, we’ve often explored specific issues of interest to these folks, such as suffering: How does the Bible explain it? I can’t think of an issue that doesn’t confirm the Lord's inspiration of the text, once that issue is viewed through the lens of the Bible.
 
In fact, it's been several years since we dove into the subject of suffering. And last week, one of our new members said he'd like to know what the Bible has to say about it. So that's where we'll be heading next time, examining some of the most comforting passages to be found in all of scripture.

I'd appreciate your prayers for these "students," and for nursing-home residents everywhere who are opening up the Word of God at long last, perhaps for the first time in their long lives.

When my mother was dying in May of 2000, I whispered in her ear, "I'll see you there, Mom." I had no idea what that meant, having spent the last three decades of my life as an atheist. But I determined at that moment to find out.

The funeral was to be held in my oldest sister's 19th-century Episcopal church, and this sister invited me to choose the hymns for the service. It was a little embarrassing. The only tune I remembered well from a childhood of mandatory church attendance was "Lead on, O King Eternal" (Ernest Shurtleff, 1887):

Lead on, O King eternal,
the day of march has come;
henceforth in fields of conquest
your tents will be our home.
Through days of preparation
your grace has made us strong;
and now, O King eternal,
we lift our battle song.
 
Lead on, O King eternal,
till sin's fierce war shall cease,
and holiness shall whisper
the sweet amen of peace.
For not with swords' loud clashing
or roll of stirring drums
with deeds of love and mercy
the heavenly kingdom comes.
 
Lead on, O King eternal;
we follow, not with fears,
for gladness breaks like morning
where'er your face appears.
Your cross is lifted o'er us,
we journey in its light;
the crown awaits the conquest;
lead on, O God of might. 
 
My sister very kindly inserted this hymn in the service and never said a word about the choice to me.

Later, when my desperate search for truth had led me into the Christian camp forevermore, I was embarrassed by my choice of hymn. It became clear that songs like "It Is Not Death To Die" and "Shall We Gather by the River" would have been more appropriate for a funeral. "Lead on, O King Eternal" was a little too militant for such an occasion, wasn't it? Of all the hymns we'd sung over and over and over again in the first 17 years of my life, why in the world had the Lord brought this one to mind in those sorrow-filled days following my mom's death? 

But then, driving home from church a couple Sundays ago, it struck me.

We had just wrapped up another Bible study class on the subject of spiritual warfare. Feeling pretty militant in light of that teaching, I began belting out "Lead on, O King Eternal" over the radio voice of J. Vernon McGee, my favorite old-time preacher.

And then it occurred to me: When I whispered "I'll see you there" in my mother's ear, the Lord knew what would happen next: that I would soon defect from Satan's kingdom and instead become one of His soldiers in today's great spiritual war. He took it from there, slowly dressing me in the whole armor of God -- girding my waist in truth, shoeing my feet with the gospel of peace, strapping on the breastplate of righteousness and the helmet of salvation, and equipping me with the shield of faith and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God (Ephesians 6). 

But it seems that His very first act of preparing me for the coming war was to arm me with a memorable theme song, in the form of this most battle-worthy old hymn.