III.  THE INHERITANCE OF HOPE

Consider the Christian believer’s hope. Think about three things.  First…

“What do you hope your obituary will say?”  I am not asking you.  I am telling you the first question interviewers often ask Ray Kurzweil.  He is an inventor who has given us the flatbed scanner, optical character recognition technology, a reader for the blind, and an iconic line of music synthesizers.

Interviewer Holman Jenkins explains why the usual lead question is a trick question.

You shall not bow down to them or serve them, for I the LORD your God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the parents on the children to the third and the fourth generation of those who hate me, but showing steadfast love to the thousandth generation of those who love me and keep my commandments. — Exodus 20:5-6

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? — Matthew 27:13

What else is there to say after that?  “My God! My God…”  This text appears little more than a poor picture of parenting.  Why is God absent?  Why has God forsaken his only son?  Why?  With the commandment still echoing in our minds, we wonder how this jealous God deserts a faithful son.  You and I expect a little more from our God here; we would expect more from our own parents.

I have been thinking about this phrase.  It is used often enough.  You may hear

How am I doing? Well, it’s kind of surreal to enter some anniversaries: diagnosis, surgery, and start of chemo. In February we were able to be in Florida on an amazing retreat for families who are dealing with terminal illnesses. Yes, the “T” word, not one I like to say and yet it is what we are dealing with. Do I feel normal? What is normal? Thankfully,

The love of your life is gone.

At approximately 5:15 p.m. on Friday, Nov. 1, my mother-in-law called me on my mobile phone as I was driving out of the parking garage at work in Midtown Atlanta. “Lanny has been in an accident” were the words that began a journey for our family that culminated in another phone call, at about 10 a.m. on Thanksgiving Day.

“He’s gone, he’s gone, Daddy’s gone,” my wife heartbreakingly wept into the phone.

I love the Christmas season.  For several weeks, everything takes on a special quality.  Special foods and drinks appear.  Special music fills the air.  Parties and family gatherings celebrate special relationships.  Special traditions remind us of special memories.  Decorations and lights transform ordinary trees and buildings.  Perhaps you

Are there friends or family members whom you rarely hear apologize? Their apologies may be long overdue. Here is the problem: we have a natural tendency to gloss over what we have done wrong. Perhaps