P.O. Box 53055    
Los Angeles, CA 90053   

WHY SHOULD I LISTEN TO YOU, DAD?

There was a fall-down-funny article by Dave Barry in a recent edition of the Reader's Digest, where he lamented the ageless reality that teenagers are always and forever ashamed of their parents. In his own childhood, Dave's dad had a hat he liked to wear, which was the most hideous thing ever made. It was the kind of Russian hat the poorest Russian in Moscow wouldn't dream of putting on. Dave was embarrassed to tears to be seen anywhere near him, or to have Dad pick him up after school. But now that he has a kid of his own, the same phenomenon is equally true. If he even approaches his son – in public – with the possibility of bringing massive doses of geekiness anywhere near his teenager, the boy miraculously vaporizes himself like in an episode of Star Trek, and then re-materializes several football fields away. This kid can just think . . . and will himself to disappear from his father's shameful presence.

Of course, this actually gives parents a secret weapon, according to Mr. Barry. If you want to get your kid to do what you want, he suggests, simply threaten to sing in public. Just clearing your throat and getting out some sheet music is probably enough to get your child whipped back into shape. In fact, Dave takes us to a courtroom where a frustrated judge is lecturing a juvenile delinquent. "Young man, we've tried detention, we've tried probation, and community service, and jail. There's really only one thing left for this court to consider. I'm going to have your mother come up here on the stand with our karaoke machine and belt out all four verses of Copacabana." And the kid shudders in horror. "No, Your Honor! No! Anything but that! I'll be good! Please!"

Another great humorist from a bygone era suggests that this is how it has always been and always will be. But there's actually light at the end of the tunnel, according to Mark Twain.

"When I was a boy of fourteen," he writes, "my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years!"

Well, friend, you might be wondering how we got ourselves over from building our house on the sand, and suddenly find ourselves talking about Dave Barry's dad's hat and Samuel Clemens' idiot father. Here's the point. Sooner or later, most of us join Mark Twain in realizing that Father knows best. That Dad actually has a few smarts in his head, and might be worth listening to. And from a biblical perspective, we finally come to understand that our heavenly Father is a wise Builder. So if He tells us, "Build the house over here; build your house on the Rock, on the solid foundation, on ME" . . . we bow at His feet and agree to do what He suggests.

You might remember a little fishing story from the Gospel of Luke, and this is very early in the relationship between Jesus and His disciples; in fact, they hadn't really gotten to the point yet of leaving everything in order to serve and follow Him. But after fishing all night and catching not a single fish — zero, zip, nada — Jesus tells Peter: "Go out again and put out your nets."

And Peter, experienced fisherman that he is, doesn't get into a big dialogue with Jesus, who is a preacher, not a fisherman. He just gives this classic answer:

"Because You say so, I will let down the nets."

And that's really where we need to get to, you and me, in our decision about where to build our house, this structure called my life, and your life. Will we build it on the Rock called Jesus, because He says so? Will we obey Him because He says so? Will we seek to not only discover His will, but to do it . . . because He says so?

There's a terrific book some of us have read, and I confess that it's a Christian best-seller written for women. We cheated a bit and took a peek when no one was looking, but Donna Partow's recent book, Walking in Total God-Confidence, describes this very decision to just do what Jesus asks us to do.

"If we can come to the place," Donna writes, "where we rely on God's discretion rather than our own — when we can say from our hearts, ‘Lord, You know best. You decide' — we'll truly be walking in Total God-Confidence."

And then she takes us right to the point of conflict, where we want to do "X" and God tells us to do "Y." We want to build on the sand of selfishness, to build our home on the foundation called ego or money or position or revenge. And God explicitly says to us, "No, build your home over here instead. Put your fishing net down over here, not over there where you think there are a lot of fish. Trust Me on this." Here's what Donna writes about these day-to-day building decisions you and I face constantly.

"If God doesn't want me to go somewhere, then why on earth would I want to go? If God doesn't want me to have something, then why on earth would I want to have it?" Listen to this next one: "If God doesn't want a certain person to be part of my life, why cling to that person?" Then she adds her personal confession: "What a liberating moment it was when I finally said, ‘Lord, I only want whatever You want me to want!'"

And really, friend, if you're calling Jesus "Lord" in these prayers, that means you're going to be willing to let Him BE Lord, allow Him to BE the Leader and Director and Boss in your life. You'll be willing to build where He says to build.
John Stott, in his book, The Contemporary Christian, quietly suggests that to even call Jesus "Lord" implies a willingness on our part for this to happen. Listen:

"The early Christians gave Jesus a God-title (‘Lord')," he writes, "transferred to Him God-texts (regarding the salvation He bestows and the homage He deserves) and offered Him God-worship (the bowed knee)."

Back in the book of Isaiah, Stott points out, God the Father is described by verses like this one from chapter 45:

"By Myself I have sworn, My mouth has uttered in all integrity a word that will not be revoked: Before Me every knee will bow; by Me every tongue will swear."

And New Testament champions like the Apostle Paul came along, centuries later, and told followers, "Hey, that verse now belongs to Jesus! By virtue of the Cross, and by virtue that Jesus Christ IS God too, that ‘God-text' is now His!"
Then Stott adds this compelling argument for all would-be builders who are looking enviously at the sandy lots their neighbors are enjoying:

"The tradition in some evangelical circles is to distinguish sharply between Jesus the Savior and Jesus the Lord," he writes, "and even to suggest that conversion involves trusting Him as Savior, without necessarily surrendering to Him as Lord. The motive behind this teaching is good, namely to safeguard the truth of justification by faith alone and not introduce works-righteousness (obeying Christ as Lord) by the back door." That's true, isn't it? But he adds this: "Nevertheless this position is biblically indefensible. Not only is Jesus ‘our Lord and Savior,' one and indivisible, but His lordship implies His salvation and actually announces it. That is, His title ‘Lord' is a symbol of His victory over all the forces of evil, which have been put under His feet. The very possibility of our salvation is due to this victory. It is precisely because He is Lord that He is able also to be a Savior. There can be no salvation without Lordship. The two affirmations ‘Jesus is Lord' and ‘Jesus saves' are virtually synonymous."

Isn't that a great challenge to consider? Friend, Jesus is my Savior today and your Savior only because He IS Lord, because He is the Son of God, divine, victorious over Satan, eternally pre-existent with the Father. Etc. Etc. And when He invites us to build our lives on Him, the solid Rock, the Cornerstone, He does so because He is both of these things: Savior and Lord.

Stott concludes by reminding us of a story I imagine we all know well. Remember Peter the disciple, on that Thursday night before the crucifixion? "Lord, I'll do anything!" he boasted. "Fight any foe, swing any sword, turn away from any temptation." Half an hour later he was a defeated, broken man. And Stott writes:

"The way to prove our love for Christ is neither by loud protestations of loyalty like Peter, nor by singing sentimental ditties in church, but by obeying His commandments." Isn't that powerful? He then adds: "The test of love is obedience, [Jesus Himself] said."

Well, friend, this is the invitation that comes to us. A loving Friend, with nail prints in His hands, tells us that He knows best. He knows where the fish are biting. He knows where the building of houses is good. He knows where the roots of your vine ought to be planted. And the reality is that all of us are building this structure called "one human life" every day OF our lives. Brick by brick, tile by tile. Decisions yesterday, today, tomorrow, and right up to our own finish line, when escrow closes. Chuck Colson, in his great book, How NOW Shall We Live?, observes:

"Everything we do NOW has eternal significance, because one day there will be a judgment, and then it will become evident that our choices in this life have consequences that last into eternity."