Saturday, January 20, 2024

Did God choose/make/allow the Biden presidency?

The Workingman has been quite busy--and still is--and has not posted anything on this blog for a year.

But something in the news provoked a sit-down at the computer to share a thought or two, although nobody reads this blog because the writer--me--so rarely posts. Given the nature of 2024, so far, that might be different this year.

What provoked The Workingman was the statement by Speaker of the House that the Biden presidency is God's will. That statement has resulted in some outbursts, and you can read about that here: Is Joe's presidency God's will? 

So, what does The Workingman think? Like The Speaker, The Workingman is a Southern Baptist, who has been going to a Southern Baptist church since the Cradle Roll. The Workingman was saved and baptized in a Southern Baptist church. The Workingman is not real pleased with the way the Southern Baptist Convention is headed, but he is very pleased with the teaching and preaching in his home church, a rural church in the Missouri Ozarks.

Now The Workingman is no theologian, but if you read the above link carefully and think about what The Speaker says, you might agree with The Workingman's position, which is this: I agree with The Speaker when he says that God placed Biden in the presidency, because God is sovereign. To which, The Workingman would add: I believe God is using the Biden presidency as a communication to us that we better turn as a nation and follow His Word, both the written word, The Bible, and the Incarnate Word, Jesus, who is Prophet, Priest, King, Redeemer, Lord.

In other words, the Biden presidency is a judgment of God Almighty on us to teach us to follow Him completely. Whether that judgment becomes harsher depends on what we do; we either turn (to Him) or learn (from His more stringent judgments on us which are necessary to make us pay attention).

God is sovereign, God is good, God is love. He spoke to us most clearly through Jesus, who is God Himself in the flesh. The Workingman encourages you to get a Bible and read it. Start with the New Testament to learn about Jesus. Then go back to Genesis and learn about why Jesus did what He did for us.

We can--but won't--argue about whether the Biden presidency is God's judgment of the nation. There is no argument, though, that after death there is judgment by God of individuals. How will He judge you? 

Saturday, January 8, 2022

"How to Read and Study the Bible"

That title above is the same title as some of the books and articles you might run across in so-called ministries and the like. Everybody has some idea of the best way to read and study the Word, even though about half of today's Christians don't call the Holy Bible the Word.

The Workingman is digressing, but that reminds him of a preacher he used to listen to on the radio years ago. His name was Lester Roloff, and he was one of the few good preachers around, in The Workingman's opinion. He said Jesus and the Bible were both the Word of God. The Bible is "Jesus written down," Brother Lester said.

You can take that for what it is worth and think about it. It is worth more than most of what you read on the internet.

Well, The Workingman was curious about ways to read the New Testament, so he went ahead and looked it up on the internet. One way he discovered is to read it chronologically, i.e. read the books in the order they were written. That was the suggestion of one of the most pointy-headed liberal theologians around, a fellow named Martin Borg, who The Workingman is not sure is still alive or if he even believed Jesus was God in the flesh or that He rose from the grave.

This guy said the books were written in this order: I Thessalonians, Galatians, 1 Corinthians, Philemon, Philippians, 2 Corinthians, Romans, Mark, James, Colossians, Matthew, Hebrews, John, Ephesians, Revelation, Jude, 1 John, 2 John, 3 John, Luke, Acts, 2 Thessalonians, 1 Peter, 1 Timothy, 2 Timothy, Titus, 2 Peter.

Then The Workingman ran across some outfit called Grace Fellowship Church in Toronto. The Workingman doesn't know what they believe. There is no telling nowadays, but these biblical experts and geniuses said the order is this way: James, 1 Thessalonians, 2 Thessalonians, Galatians, 1 Corinthians, 2 Corinthians, Romans, Mark, Matthew, Philemon, Colossians, Luke, Acts, Philippians, 1 Timothy, Titus, 1 Peter, 2 Peter, 2 Timothy, Hebrews, Jude, John, 1 John, 2 John, 3 John, Revelation.

Then The Workingman looked at a place called UnderstandChristianity.com. He doesn't know anything about this bunch either; they might all be atheists, as far as The Workingman knows, for he recently read excerpts from a book about Christian preachers who are atheists. Figure that out if you can. Anyway, those experts said the New Testament was written in this order: Matthew, Galatians, 1 Thessalonians, 2 Thessalonians, Luke, 1 Corinthians, 2 Corinthians, Romans, Ephesians, Colossians, Philemon, Philippians, Acts, Mark, 1 Timothy, Titus, 2 Timothy, 1 Peter, 2 Peter, Hebrews, Jude, John, 1 John, 2 John, 3 John, Revelation.

So right off the bat, The Workingman figured out these biblical experts have no idea what they are talking about. You can apparently pretty much just make it up as you go along if you are preacher or a theologian.

But The Workingman is just a Bible reader who goes to a country church on Sunday. He reads, listens, discusses in Sunday School with other workingman and tries to figure out the truth that sets us free.

The Workingman believes that Truth is Jesus Christ, who is God in the flesh.

And the only way The Workingman has found to learn about Jesus is the reading of the written Word, the Bible, which he recommends to you, too. 

Friday, January 7, 2022

What kind of construction worker was Jesus?

Just about everything you have read and believed about Christianity has been revised, and I might talk about that from time to time here.

One thing that has changed is Jesus’ occupation. I’m not sure what the truth is now. I grew up hearing that he was a carpenter, and the stories and illustrations that I heard in Sunday School as a child indicated that  Our Lord and Savior grew up working with his earthly father, really step-father, I guess, as his Father was Jehovah, in a woodworking shop. I always imagined them making furniture, like baby cradles and such.

Then I was watching  The History Channel a few years ago and there was a show on there that claimed Jesus was actually something called a “tekton,” which is the Greek word for a laborer, very likely helping the Romans build a new city close to Nazareth, a city called Sepphoris.

The show said he likely was a stone-cutter or a stone carrier or someone doing a lot of work with stones. The show pointed out that there was not a whole lot of wood over there, as there is here, so Jesus probably was not a woodworker, certainly not a carpenter, but probably a stone worker of some sort.

Well, boy howdy, that sure changes the picture.

I thought Jesus grew up quietly in Nazareth, him and Joseph working together sawing and planing and sanding all those baby cradles. Ever now and again, Mother Mary would bring out a cup of coffee or a glass of sweet tea to the workshop and say something like, “How are my boys doing?’ and then give them each a peck on the cheek.

At lunch time, she’d holler out the back door of the house, “Come and get it, but wash your hands first,” and Jesus and Joseph would go to the bucket of water at the back door and pour some in a pan and wash their hands and face and then go into the house and eat themselves a bowl of soup or a grilled cheese sandwich or something. Then they’d thank Mary for lunch and go back to the workshop and spend the afternoon making some more baby cradles before heading back to the house for supper and then an evening of study of the scriptures.

And I figured that went on from the time Jesus was 12 and got left at the Temple until the time he was 30 and headed to Capernaum and beyond to go into business for himself as a rabbi, or teacher, having done all that scriptural study.

But, according to The History Channel, the incarnate Word was actually a construction worker, and he and Joseph probably spent a good many years on a work crew in Sepphoris building the city.
What was Jesus like as a construction worker around all those other construction workers? That can be a rough crowd. They tell dirty jokes, talk about getting drunk and getting laid. When a good-looking woman walks by they stop and stare, maybe make a comment, hoping she’ll stop and flirt a little while.

What did Our Lord and Savior, who was sinless, do while all that tomfoolery was going on? What is a sinless person supposed to do around that kind of baloney? Ignore it? Say nothing? Say “tut-tut” or “tsk-tsk” and keep on working? Preach about the sins of the flesh? What if someone tells a dirty joke and it is really funny? How does a human, and Jesus was 100 percent human as well as 100 percent divine, not laugh at a funny joke, even if it is off-color?

I got reported at my day job for telling an inappropriate joke in the break room. The HR manager called me into the office and told me a complaint by a female worker had been filed for an inappropriate joke. I said, “The only joke I know I told recently was this one“ and then I told her this joke: Old boy goes into a bar and there is a big, fat girl in Daisy Duke shorts dancing on the table. Guy watches a while and then says, “Great legs.” The fat girl giggles and says, “Really? You think so?” And the guy says, “Sure, most tables would have collapsed under the weight by now.” The HR manager laughed out loud, told me to get out of her office and quit telling jokes in the employee break room.

Jesus would not have told a joke like that, nor would he have laughed. He is probably pissed off at me now for telling it again. No, wait, he doesn’t get pissed off. I get pissed off, because getting pissed off is a sin, and I am a sinner, but Jesus is not.

Wow, it must have been difficult being The Word Made Flesh, Divinity living amongst us sinful humans, and going to the cross to die for us, because we all deserve death, but he wants us to have eternal life.

I guess I don’t care whether he was a woodworker, a rough-in carpenter, a hod carrier or a skilled stone cutter.

All I know and care about is that he was the Word of God sent to us, God in the flesh, who came to teach us and to die for us to atone for our sins. Because of him, we can live eternally, if we recognize our inability to save ourselves, recognize that he alone is the way to God, believe he died for us to cleanse us of our sins. He rose from the grave and now he offers us grace, mercy and peace. All we must do is receive him into our daily lives and worship him and follow him as the true expression of the Father.

That is truth that has not changed.

Thursday, January 6, 2022

Who was she? An angel? The Lord himself in disguise?

Breaking two mirrors at once had put me in a bad mood, so I was not happy when the woman came up to my car begging for money.

Let me back up a minute and explain before I get into the heart of my story.

In addition to writing, editing and photographing The Ozarks Almanac and Workingman's Theology, I have two other jobs. My main full-time job is with a big-box home improvement store. In the late afternoon and evening, I cover local government for the local newspaper.

At the home improvement store, I am a combination merchandiser/housekeeper, although the title is "product service associate." The team to which I belong puts up displays, hangs signs and resets bays of merchandise. And we do a lot of sweeping, dusting, sometimes mopping, cleaning off adhesives left by price labels and painting of the shelf beams. It's a lot of manual labor, so I like it.

On this particular day, we were hanging mirrored medicine cabinets in a full bay, putting them in rows from the floor on up to about 10 feet. Late in the day, when we were nearing completion of the hanging and getting ready to start cleaning up, I came down a ladder with a medicine cabinet on my shoulder. As I stepped off the ladder, I stepped on a cabinet that I had placed on the floor on an earlier trip down the ladder. I broke that mirror and started to fall, dropping the cabinet that I was carrying, breaking it. if I were superstitious, I would have been scared to death.

I am not superstitious, but I was angry--mostly at myself for being so clumsy.

I cleaned up my own mess of broken mirrors, and we finished up, cleaned up all the other leftovers and went home.

Driving home I stewed about breaking merchandise. I decided to stop at the Kroger and get a can of peanuts for comfort before going to the newspaper office, which I did.

As I got into my car, I heard a woman saying, "Sir, sir, sir!"

"What?" I said, obviously irritated at the woman coming up to my car.

By now, I was seated behind the wheel with my hand on the door to close it.

"My little baby needs diapers, and I don't have any money. Can you help me?" she pleaded.

Now, I have a real distrust of beggars. Our town of only 20,000 has a bad problem of meth and heroin, so we have some thievery and scamming going on. Begging is a favorite way of scamming. i don't give money to people. I have bought a breakfast for a guy claiming to be hitchhiking through, and I bought groceries for a guy who said he and his wife were traveling and had spent their money on a hotel room. But I don't give out cash.

"You'll just spend it on drugs," I told the woman. "So, no."

She said, "No, I will buy diapers for my little boy. He needs them."

"I don't believe you," I said. "And I don't have much cash anyway."

"OK," she said. "Well, you keep what you have. Thank you anyway." And she started to walk away.

I guess I was feeling a little bit guilty, so I said, "Here, take this." I grabbed all the change I had in my consule cupholder. There was a handful, but it wasn't much.

"No, you keep it," the woman said.

"NO," I said, lifting my voice. "You take it. This is all I have left in cash." And it really was, for I had paid for the peanuts with my debit card.

She reached out and took the money, and then walked away. I closed my door, and drove off. I wasn't out of the parking lot, and I was already talking to Jesus.

"Oh, Lord, I guess I failed you again," I said. "There was a woman who might have truly been in need, and I didn't help her. Not only that, I was short-tempered with her. She might have been an angel that You sent to test me. I go to church on Sunday and thank you for saving me from my sins and ask you to help me follow You better, and here you give me a chance to actually do something for someone who might truly be in need, and I respond like that. I am ashamed."

When I got to the newsroom, I told my three colleagues what had happened. I admitted I was wrong. My Catholic buddy said, "You should have gone in and bought her a box of diapers if you didn't want to give her money."

"I know, I know. You don't have to tell me," I said. It is irritating for a Baptist to be corrected by a Catholic.

That night I prayed again for forgiveness, and I prayed for another chance to help someone. In fact, I prayed for a chance to help that same woman.

For weeks, I kept an eye out for her. One night, my wife asked me to stop at Kroger to get something, and that's when the guy who was traveling with his wife stopped me at the door on the way in and asked for help. He asked for money to buy some bologna and bread. I told him to go in and get what he needed for supper and meet me at the cash register so I could pay for it.

He did as he said. He got bologna and bread. I had told him to get some chips and cheese if he wanted. He had done that, and he had a package of cookies. "Do you mind if I get these for my wife?" he said. "If you do, I'll put them back."

"No, go ahead and get them for her," I said, and paid for his stuff.

I thanked the Lord for an opportunity to help someone, and I thanked Him for giving me the sense to help someone without complaining. I asked Him to let me help that woman again, if it were His will.

More weeks passed, and I backslid in my attitude. I wasn't looking to help anyone, and I had forgot about the woman at Kroger.

I was filling up with gasoline at the MotoMart across the street from Walgreens, when I heard a woman on the other side of the pumps talking to another motorist.

"Can you help me buy my little boy some medicine?" I heard her ask. And then I heard her say, "OK, thank you anyway."

Then she came over to my side of the pumps, and said, "Sir, sir, could you help me? I need to buy my little boy some medicine. He has a prescription waiting at Walgreens, but I don't have enough money to pay for it."

You're not going to believe this, but I recognized it as the same woman. And you're not going to believe this either, but after weeks of praying for an opportunity to help that same woman, my thoughts were this, "Well, good grief, I was right all along. She's just a scammer, after all. She's begging again, this time with a new approach. I don't feel so bad now."

Aloud, I said, "I'm sorry. I don't have any cash. I'm paying for this with my debit card. Don't have anything else. Sorry."

"OK, thank you anyway," she said, and walked off toward Walmart, and she was out of sight around the corner of the Motomart as I finished fueling.

I got in my car and was immediately stricken with guilt.

"I'm sorry, Lord," I said, and I drove off to catch her. By the time I got to her she was at the bottom of the hill at the corner. I pulled over, rolled down the window and said, "Listen, I don't have a lot of money in my account, and payday isn't until Friday. If it isn't too expensive, I'll go over there and pay for your boy's prescription."

She said, "It's only about $10."

"OK," I said. "If it is more than that, I won't be able to swing it. I am way down to the bottom of my bank account, and I'll still need to buy some stuff later in the week. I'll go on over there and pay for it if it's just $10."

I left her there, because I don't let women into my car with me unless my wife is with me.

She had told me the boy's name, and I told the pharmacist that I was there to pay for it, and that she would come and pick it up. The price he gave me was closer to $20 than to $10.

"Well, I guess I won't pay for it after all," I said, and I walked away from the counter.

Well, of course, I was again stricken with guilt.

"OK, Lord, you win," I said. "I'll pay for it, but You'll have to help me make ends meet later this week."

I went back to the pharmacist and said, "I'll go ahead and pay for it. The Lord has kicked me in the butt."

He laughed as I slid the debit card through the reader.

He gave me the receipt, and I said, "Now, let me make sure. Is that prescription for a baby?"

He said, "It's not for an infant, but it is for a small child."

Well, I figured that was close enough. After all, it had been several weeks, months even, since I had chewed the woman out for begging in the Kroger parking lot. The kid likely wasn't an infant.

I met the woman at the door on my way out.

"How did it go? Were you able to help?" she said.

"It's paid for and ready for you to pick up," I said.

"Oh, thank you," she said.

I  haven't seen her since..