The First Two Minutes Matter Most
Determine right now that when the service ends, you will do your utmost to give the first two minutes to someone you don’t know or to someone you don’t know well. The temptation will be to turn straight to your friends, to immediately catch up with the people you know the best and love the most. There will be time for that. But first you can make a difference in someone’s day and maybe even in someone’s life if only you’ll make the most of the moments following that final “amen.”
It’s obvious, I know. It’s been said a million times by a million different people. But, in my defense, it’s been forgotten by a million more. I’ve said it and neglected it too many times to count: The first two minutes matter most.
Today Christians are gathering all across the world for our worship services. We will read the Bible, sing the Bible, pray the Bible, preach the Bible, and learn better how to live out the Bible. Then the service will end and the first two minutes will matter most.
In the first two minutes, visitors will feel either awkward or welcome.
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Prayer as God Intended
How can we define prayer as children of God? In this way: Prayer is a relational expression that vocalizes our trust in our Heavenly Father. At the same time, just as a son speaking with his father learns to think, speak, and act like him, so speaking with our Heavenly Father will conform us into his image. At the same time, prayer must be done wisely, according to God’s will, with an expectant faith and trust that he hears and answers his children in Christ, all for his glory alone.
Prayer is, arguably, one of the greatest struggles of the Christian faith. While some may lament their poor Bible study habits, or their failure to share the gospel as frequently as they should, almost all would likely mourn over their poor prayer life. Almost no one will say that they feel they have reached the pinnacle of their prayer life; almost all are forced to admit that we do not pray as we should. And, yet, prayer is the oxygen of our spiritual life. Just as we need to breathe to live physically, we need to pray to live spiritually.
Prayer, however, is a privilege of the saint with many promises. For example, God promised in 2 Chronicles 7:14 that, “if my people who are called by my name humble themselves, and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and heal their land.” While that particular promise was given to ancient Israel through King Solomon at the dedication of the Temple, the principle remains the same: God will honor the humble prayers of his saints. If the saints today would submit themselves to God in humble contrition and earnest prayer, would not God still send reformation and revival as he has done countless times in the past?
Yet, we do not currently have revival or reformation. We do not see a white harvest being reaped by many laborers, though Jesus commanded us to pray for laborers to be sent into the harvest that is ripe and white and plentiful (Matt 9:36–38). Instead, we see the decline of Christendom in the West. We see morality on the downgrade. We see churches emptying and closing.
Ultimately, our culture partially reflects the failures of the Church at large. When our churches are healthy, functioning, and thriving, the culture is bereft of godlessness and full of holiness. But how does that happen? In part, it happens when our churches are full of saints who are warriors of prayer, praying as God intended.
Consider the great revivals of the past. When Martin Luther saw reformation, he was known as a man of prayer. One of his most famous quotes is, “I have so much to do that I shall spend the first three hours in prayer.” When Charles Spurgeon saw the Metropolitan Tabernacle filled with thousands in the nineteenth century in London, it was because he prayed earnestly. When the Puritans saw revival in England and America, it’s because they were men and women of prayer.
We must be people of prayer. We must be prayer warriors who pray as God intended. To borrow a line from William Carey, we must pray expecting great things from God, and then we must go forth to attempt great things for God, by his grace and for his glory. But it all begins with knowing how to pray, which Jesus fleshes out for our benefit in Matthew 6:5–9. Here, he aids us by offering us two warnings about what prayer is not and then shows us what prayer is.
Let us consider these truths and learn to pray as God intended:1. Do not pray as the hypocrites do, to be noticed by others, but to be heard by God.
Jesus’s command in Matthew 6:5 is a simple one: “And when you pray, you must not be like the hypocrites. For they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, that they may be seen by others. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward.” This is a picture of how the Pharisees evidently prayed. They would stand in public spots and pray long-winded, elaborate, and noticeable prayers. As they did so, they would be seen by people—which is exactly what they wanted!—and they would be praised. Surely, some would say of them, “There are none more holy than they!”
But that was it. Their reward was being praised by men. There was no answer from God. As it turns out, even if the content of the prayer was theologically accurate, God had no interest in answering because it came from a hypocritical heart set on others, rather than focused on God.
Before dismissing this warning as peculiar to the Pharisees, we must see this as a danger common to man.
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Grace in a Bug Bite
Written by Rev. Dave Harvey |
Wednesday, September 20, 2023
God uses disruptions to put us through His school of grace; to remind us that we bring nothing to table. He ordains mundane events to keep us humble. God orchestrates events to create dependent children who come only with hands empty and arms outstretched.One night several years ago, my foot began to itch. Looking down, I saw a mosquito bite on my toe. It figures… this is Florida. Mosquitoes are like the state bird. So I ignored it. Around 2:00 a.m., I woke up and my foot was numb. Thinking I must have slept on it in a way that cut off the blood flow, I ignored it. By morning, it occurred to me that there might be a problem. My foot had swollen to the size of my head and was covered in splotches and blood blisters. My strategy of “ignore until it disappears” was proving unfruitful. I just plowed into work.
My wife, ever the sensible one, suggested I go to the doctor. But the doctor meant downtime, so I demurred. Eventually, my foot morphed into a watermelon and my life experienced a work stoppage.
The diagnosis? According to the doctor, it was ant bites–not exactly the most masculine reason for a doctor’s visit. But I live in a state where insects and reptiles are always surprising people.
My foot was fine, but the ants derailed my day. A wrench was tossed into the whirring gears of my productivity. And the more it bothered me, the more my attention shifted from my foot to my heart.
Productivity as Righteousness
I’ve noticed when things are going well, I’m a model of contentment. When I’m working hard and can spot obvious fruits of my labor; when I’m making decisions for the team and we can see progress towards our goals; then God and me are doing great and my imagination runs wild over the conversations in heaven. “God, have you considered your servant Dave? What a wonderful and productive of a Christian leader he is–such a shining specimen!”
The assumed righteousness of my productivity delivers me peace and a sense of right-standing. But my confidence is not in the righteousness of Christ. It’s really me falling back to reliance upon my own works.
This is precisely the message that Paul was combating when he wrote 2 Corinthians. Opponents had come into the church and were carrying a message that did not align with the gospel. They were telling the Corinthian church that they needed a little help from the Law of Moses. Christ’s righteousness wasn’t enough. They needed to keep the Jewish law as well. They contended that Moses’s ministry was impressive–that it came in glory and power! And they were leading people astray from the gospel message that Paul had first proclaimed.
So in 2 Corinthians 3, Paul defends his ministry against these opponents. He tells the Corinthians that while the ministry of the Law (the ministry of death), came with glory, the ministry of the Spirit is much superior and carries greater glory (see 2 Corinthians 3:7–11). He was calling on the Corinthian believers to renounce any message that demanded they mingle their righteousness with the righteousness of Christ.
Why The Law Did Not Produce Righteousness
You see, keeping the Law of Moses had never produced life because no one was ever able to keep it perfectly! “The letter kills,” he wrote (2 Corinthians 3:6). Or, as Paul says to the Galatian Christians, “If a law had been given that could give life, then righteousness would indeed be by the law. But the Scripture imprisoned everything under sin” (Galatians 3:21–22). The law held people captive (Romans 7:6) because it demanded a righteous perfection that no one could attain. It held up to the people the picture of perfect obedience and through its requirements, revealed that no one was able to measure up.
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What the Mightiest Man Could Never Do
He is the one who responds to our weakness rather than our strength, to our helplessness rather than our ability. He is the one who came to seek and save the lost, who came to gather to himself the poor, the crippled, the blind, and the lame, the one who came to respond in strength to those who know themselves weak.
Everybody knew the local blacksmith. Everybody knew him because no matter where the townsfolk went, they could hear the sound of his hammer as it beat against the anvil. No matter where they were they could hear the sound of his bellows as it spurred the fire to burn and roar with fresh intensity. Day in and day out his sledge beat against the metal like the ticking of a clock, like the beating of a drum, like the ringing of a bell.
Men, women, and children alike would pause as they passed by his workshop—pause to watch him rain mighty but measured blows upon rods and bands of iron. His shoulders were broad, his arms thick, his hands strong. Villains feared him but good men respected him, for they knew he was honorable, they knew he was committed to using his strength for good. An occasional uppity young man might challenge him and attempt to best him, but he would inevitably make that youngster regret such rashness, for none could ever throw him to the ground or make him beg for mercy.
It happened on one otherwise unremarkable afternoon that a silence settled over that small town and the people soon realized that the blacksmith’s hammer had fallen silent. Slowly it registered in their consciousness that they could no longer hear it ringing out through the streets, no longer use it to measure the hours and the minutes.
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