Sheaves

"His winnowing fork is in his hand to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his barn, but he will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire." (Luke 3:17)

A combine is an engineering marvel. The head pulls the corn into a rolling set of knives that both cuts and pulls the corn stalks in, pulls the stalk down to separate the ear from the stalk, and cast it into the auger throat where it goes into a conveyer system. From there the ear is slightly crushed in the interior drum to release the corn seed from the cob and the dried husk. It then drops down to a shaking separator where the corn (kernels) drop down into an auger through a sieve that takes it up to the hopper and the shaker at the back of the combine shakes everything else backward onto a spinning devise that scatters it upon the ground. Perhaps too much information for those who don't care where your Corn Flakes originally start out but interesting none-the-less. 

My grandfather used to have...and every once in a while would show me how an old harvest wagon worked. It had one side with a much higher wall and a drop down gate in the back. When he was a kid they used to do the picking all by hand. Ole Betsy used to pull the wagon very slowly and the men with husking gloves went beside her and picked the corn by hand throwing it into the wagon (hence the higher side of the wagon). Perhaps now you'll appreciate the engineering side of things. If we had to do that now, your Corn Flakes would cost you about $1000 per box. 

The wheat harvest was much the same. For many years I still had an old three to four foot hand scythe used for cutting wheat, oats, and even alfalfa grass. Long rhythmic strokes cutting down the crop. With wheat, family members would carefully gather the individual stems up and bundle them up into sheaves. "Bringing in the sheaves (not sheets), bringing in the sheaves. We will come rejoicing bringing in the sheaves." You won't hear that song on the top ten Christian radio plays. (I know some of you are looking this up on You Tube and saying, "Thank God.") The public's loss. An old gospel song written in 1875 by Knowles Shaw based on Psalm 126:6, "Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them."  

Deb and I used to see those bound sheaves as we drove through the Amish country of Pennsylvania on our way back to Indiana. There is something about the old way. Horse and buggy. Homemade foods. Homemade clothes. Bowl haircuts. Second thoughts...no thanks. I'm too used to my heated seats and getting to LaPorte in less than a week.  

When the farmer brought the sheaves back to the barn (the granary) he would cover them up in a blanket and gently beat the stalk until the heads were separated or he would cast the wheat and straw (stalk) multiple times into the air with his winnowing fork while someone fanned air toward the door. Thus removing the seed from the stem without cracking it and separating the chaff from the seed by blowing it out the door. 

John the Baptist told his audience that this is what Jesus is going to eventually do. And interesting to me, is that he said it at the very beginning of Jesus' ministry. Jesus is both Savior and Judge. Separate the wheat from the chaff. Separate believers from unbelievers. His winnowing fork is in his hand. The separation devise is already in his possession. He's ready to bring the good into the kingdom and judge others with the judgment of unquenchable fire.

It scares me to think of the many people sitting in their homes on a Sunday morning without the slightest understanding of what is to come. I think about my neighbor, Ron, who knows all things neighbory. He's a good man but not sure where he stands in his faith or where it may be placed. You see, we all have faith in something. Your eternal destination depends on where it is placed. I'm praying that I might be able to have an open door to ask him some day. 

It scares me even more to think of the many who sit in church Sunday after Sunday or who show up when it is convenient. Religious but no relationship. Considered chaff by our Lord. A blowing away...a life lived without substance, without eternal value for the kingdom. Those who thought church was their salvation. Giving money was their salvation. Being a good person was their salvation. Serving was their salvation. All chaff. 

"Lord, Lord did we not prophesy in your name, and in your name drive out demons and perform many miracles? Then I will tell them plainly, 'I never knew you. Away from me you evil doers!'" (Mat. 7:22-23)

The Harvest winds are blowing. The winnowing fork is in hand. Wheat or weed? Worthless stem or good seed? 

Perhaps the next time you're out for a country drive you might give thanks for the spirit of invention and take some personal inventory regarding your seed. 

Cheap cereal. 

Expensive salvation. 

"All that call upon the name of the Lord shall be sheaved." 😇💛

The Great Banquet

 "On this mountain the LORD Almighty will prepare a feast of rich food for all peoples, a banquet of aged wine - the best of meats and the finest of wines. On this mountain he will destroy the shroud that enfolds all peoples, the sheet that covers all nations; he will swallow up death forever. The Sovereign LORD will wipe away the tears from all faces; he will remove the disgrace of his people from all the earth." 

I recently attended a community Great Banquet hosted by our church (Calvary Presbyterian). Seventy-two hours of communal living. Worship. Communion. Sharing. Fun. Tears. Laughter. This type of retreat is not really my "thing" but I was thankful for the experience and the unexpected blessings that came from it. 

I was reminded of something as I gorged on some of the best meat lasagna and cheesecake I have had in a while. Food is part of fellowship. And rich food is part of rich fellowship. 

I've been worrying about whether I'm going to like the kingdom of God when it comes. I was fearful that salads were going to be my lot for a thousand years plus eternity. I know that God can change my palate but I was thinking about a world without fried chicken or ribs. And once again the Lord heard my concern and directed me to a passage that brought joy to my heart. Isaiah. A banquet. And meat. 

Okay...I'm not that shallow and I actually have thought a lot about this as a teacher of Revelation on multiple occasions. The food may be real but the richness comes because of why we are eating it - fellowship with our Lord and immense thanks for the provision before us. And I'm not talking about the table. I'm talking about the no more tears, the no more death, no more sin for those who have been redeemed. 

I think of two dishes that come to mind from both of my grandmothers. My Grandma Lute made the best homemade egg noodles. Thanksgiving and Christmas packed in around all my aunts and uncles. Celebration of family. Being together. 

My Grandma Cains made the best Christmas ham. She always saved out a pineapple that had been marinating on top of it for hours and when she cut it in slices she would always save me an end. Celebration of family. Being together. 

Both of those lovely ladies have since passed into glory but in Christ I will see them again. But every time I go to some homestyle restaurant or buffet and those delicacies are set before me, it's not the noodles and the ribs that I'm thinking about. It's about the joy of having those ladies in my life and sorrow of not having them here. 

Imagine chairs and tables as far as the eye can see filled with the richest of delectable food. Beautiful table settings and decorations. People seated on each side. Stories being told of how the King saved us. Actually, I think its going to be more than I could ever expect or visually imagine. I was reminded this weekend of how much I long for this celebration? 

Save me a place at the table, Lord. 

Until then, I'll make sure my memory is stirred as I smell the grilled chicken and BBQ ribs. 

Fallen

"You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes." (James 4:14) 

Just as summer turns the corner and the leaves of Autumn begin to turn and fall, we were reminded this weekend of the words of Solomon, "there is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heaven: a time to be born and a time to die...a time to kill and a time to heal...a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance...a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace." 

I was only at my new church in Alpena, Michigan a month when the September 11th terrorist attacks hit our beloved country. I remember it well. I remember being glued to the television, to the site. No words. Silence. Unbelief. Grief. They were not my family members, but they were. 

I am at my new church in Logansport, Indiana, less than a year...when a young marine was honored by his city for giving his life trying to save civilians from the barbaric lifestyle of the Taliban. I will remember it well. 

Black, White, Hispanic, Asian, young and old...no ethnic divide this past Sunday. No strangers. The human family gathered to pay respect and in some way to release some anger at an unnecessary loss. 

I've never been in such a massive crowd where tears streamed down the faces of those gathered and silence blanketed the event. An uneasy but necessary quiet. Somber reflection. No cheers. No laughter. No jokes or flippant conversation about the weather. Solemnity. This was not a parade. This was a funeral march for a native son. Grief for a suffering mother, father, and siblings. Grief for our nation. 

And then the roar of thousands of motorcyclists - patriots who support the act of remembrance and honor. Men and women who could barely drive their bikes because of the overflowing tears, the unexpected support, the community sorrow. He was not my family, but he was. 

All I kept thinking was, "I hope they know and feel loved." An unusual sentiment for those you do not know. Perhaps it is my own internal desire. To know that I am not going through a tragedy alone. 

He was not my family, but he was. 

"Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn." (Romans 12:15)

Overwhelmed. 

Tears. 

Love.

Family. 

Golden Leaves

 "Also at your times of rejoicing - your appointed feasts and New Moon festivals -  you are to sound the trumpets over your burnt offerings and fellowship offerings and they will be a memorial for you before your God. I am the Lord your God." (Numbers 10:10)

I was listening to the local radio station in Logansport. The secular one. I know. I'm a pastor. I publicly confess my sin. It just takes me back to a simpler time of Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, the Everly Brothers, Doris Day, Dave Clark 5, and...the king...Elvis. 

Memories. No, I mean, Memories, as in the song that Elvis sang. 

"Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind.
Memories, sweetened through the ages just wine.
Quiet thoughts come floating down and settle softly down to the ground. 

Like golden leaves around my feet, I touch them and they burst apart with sweet memories." 

I am writing a bit in advance since I will not be able to submit a blog post next week. Rosh Hashanah or Yom Teruah, or the Feast of Trumpets (can be called all three) will begin on September 7th. It begins the Fall Feast series or the Fall Appointed Feasts of the Lord. 

I have always been fascinated with these feasts for the reason that they are all associated with some aspect of the ministry of Jesus. 

Spring Feasts: 

Passover - Jesus is our Passover Lamb

Unleavened Bread - Jesus is our sinless sacrifice

First fruits - Jesus is the first fruit of the dead

Pentecost - Jesus gives to the Church the Holy Spirit. 

Fall feasts: 

Feast of Trumpets - coming of the Messiah

Day of Atonement - the recognition that Jesus is the true Messiah and the people repent

Feast of Tabernacles - celebrating the Messiah's provision and eternal dwelling with his people.

There is a sense of mystery with the Feast of Trumpets and, I have to confess, a bit of nervousness. It is the least understood of the feasts because it is the least described by way of purpose. Trumpets announce. Trumpets call people to assemble. Trumpets call people to attention. To announce what? To call people to assemble for what purpose? To call people to attention for what? Mystery. Memories. 

All that we know is that it is a time of great rejoicing and a time to stir up memories of God. But I believe that encased in this feast is a great sense of expectation - which is where the nervousness comes in to play. The expectation of the coming of the King for his people and later, the expectation of coming back with Him as the Bride of Christ to be revealed to the Jewish people. Rapture and Second Coming. 

I know that other followers of Jesus may disagree with me on this point. It is not something I will break fellowship over.  

I think we can all agree to rejoice and remember what the Lord has done for us. I'm going to try and be more mindful of such things as I see those golden leaves around my feet. 

Sweet memories. Glorious expectations. 

Maranatha!