Where Jesus Dwells

Andrew was a curious sort—a seeker in the truest sense of the word. His search for spiritual reality beyond the religion offered in his day led him out to the wilderness to hear the fiery prophet John the Baptist. It was there that John pointed him to Jesus, putting him face to face with the one for whom he was seeking.

The only question that comes from Andrew's somewhat tongue-tied lips is a seemingly insignificant piece of trivia. “Teacher, where do you live?” What makes us ask questions like this? Could it possibly matter?

I suspect I would ask it because I couldn’t think of a more significant question to ask. Yet this is a very important question. Like Andrew, I want to know more about this amazing person that John the Baptist declared in no uncertain terms was the long awaited Messiah.

Jesus said, "Come and see." We don’t know if Jesus inhabited a prophet’s chamber in the home of a gracious couple. He may have had a lean-to in the desert. Maybe he kept a place in the city. Wherever it was, Jesus took these two future disciples with him there, and they spent the day together.

There is something tantalizing about Jesus that makes us want to spend time with him. But often, unfortunately, it is only in short spurts at his place. We may invite him to visit our place, but seldom do we surrender it completely to him. He remains something of a friendly stranger to most.

In another part of scripture, a teacher of the law actually pledges to follow Jesus wherever he goes. Jesus replies, "Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head." Besides the obvious—laying out the requirements for following him—Jesus also enlightens us about his dwelling place. Maybe the answer is not a location as much as it is a way of living. Wherever I am, I am with him. He dwells in pain, suffering and loss, as well as joy unspeakable. Whatever your circumstances, he is there. Living in consciousness of his presence is far better than living in a place.

We find great security in our dwelling, our position, our placement. Jesus is all about the moment. What Andrew had no way of realizing on that day, in the full flush of excitement in meeting the Messiah, was that Jesus would take him to some very uncomfortable places. He would sleep with greater insecurity and a lot less personal comfort.

Where does Jesus live? David knew the answer: "He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty" (Psalm 91:1).
So Jesus does have a place. The answer to Andrew's question isn’t found in a lean-to or small apartment in the city but in God's eternal home in heaven. He has promised those who follow him that they will have a place there too. Jesus said in John 14:1-2, "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going."

Come to Jesus, make no conditions, come and abide with him. He’ll lead you through this nomadic life with all its complexity and take you to a place built just for you. Don’t be overly impressed with and don’t over-invest in the places of this world. Jesus dwells with us.

Ed Litton

The Anniversary

May 28th is the anniversary of our wedding. It was twenty-seven years ago this week that Tammy and I entered into the covenant of marriage. Even when the now fading pictures were bright with color and newness, they could tell only a small part of the story. Young faces, luminous in their garments of hope, laced with fear of the unknown.

I was an idealist and she was the pragmatist. We began with little but the best of intentions. I believe we meant it when we said the words, "Till death do us part," yet in my heart my fingers where crossed as I refused to grasp the weight of those words. I know there was no way to fully embrace the reality of those words on that warm evening in May of 1982.

Now I often stand at the altar with young couples, many of them as idealistic as I was the night of my own wedding. I lead them to repeat the same vows, and I know they have no more clue of their reality than Tammy or I did years ago; nonetheless, vows matter. We make vows not just for those warm, clear nights when stars twinkle with hope. We make vows that are weighted with truth and value for a thousand dark storms that threaten to blot out those stars. We make vows to love, honor, and cherish. We make vows to endure because enduring is essential in this, the one human relationship that challenges our self-centeredness to its core. We make vows that sustain commitment through sickness, poverty, and worse.

Everyone needs ideals that guide them through reality. We all need to take them seriously and think of them more often than we do. We ought never to forget what we pledge on that day. I’m blessed to officiate for many couples who make such vows, and thus I’m reminded more often than most. As they repeat these solemn words I wonder how little they truly understand what they are pledging themselves to. Yet I’m happy to repeat them over and again. These vows remind me that God adores the serious commitment as much as the celebration of that commitment. He officiates our wedding days, knowing full well the storms that await us. He smiles, knowing that those who take him seriously he greatly helps. He is my help, and today I remember and celebrate that it was with Him that Tammy and I entered into this covenant. He knew the very moment that covenant would be completed and yet remained utterly silent about it so as not to remove the mystery of his ways or to place an impediment to our growing faith. He kept his end of the bargain with great faithfulness. We kept ours by his grace and good favor.

Now I stand on the threshold of making those same vows again. This time the repetition of these words will be tempered by a better sense of how they’re often lived out. Sorrow and pain have informed my intellect but have not stolen my passion, for by his grace I stand on the other side of that covenant with the ideal intact and passion undiminished. That is a miracle.

Happy Anniversary!
Ed Litton

Jesus is Watching

In the eighth chapter of John's gospel, where Jesus is verbally jousting with the Pharisees in the Temple court, a seeming throwaway comment about the location of this verbal scuffle tells us something important: "He spoke these words while teaching in the temple area near the place where the offerings were put..." Both Luke and Mark tell us of another time when Jesus sat there during the giving of offerings. Taking note of a widow giving two fractional coins, together amounting to less than half a penny in our currency, Jesus stunningly declared that the woman had given more than all the others.

Apparently Jesus regularly sat near the place where offerings were taken. Even today he observes the offerings in my church. He observes the amount we give to missions, as well as other necessary and supporting causes—a sobering reminder to Southern Baptists at this moment in our history. Jesus is watching. When tempted to argue over the allocation of funds, we need to remember He who sees our hearts is still watching. Jesus sits near the place where the offerings are made, and he knows when what we give demands greater trust. He also knows how flippant and boastful I can be in my giving.

I am all about percentages in giving, since the tithe is a percentage. Our Cooperative Program giving is a percentage, too. Yet we have not begun to give as we ought. The unnamed widow whom Jesus observed gave out of her extreme poverty and need, which forced her into a greater dependence upon the Lord. What am I giving that reflects such a sacrifice? When smugness washes over me, I tend to relax the tension of my giving and forget that Jesus’ favorite seat is near the place where the offering is taken. I forget that those piercing eyes are fixed upon my heart. I forget that giving matters more than anything else I do, because it indicates my heart condition like nothing else. The question that haunts me is, does my giving hurt? Does it threaten my security? It’s not a sacrifice if it costs me nothing.

C.S. Lewis believed in the tithe, but he also questioned the settled feeling that comes to those who live by percentages. “I do not believe one can settle how much we ought to give. I am afraid the only safe rule is to give more than we can spare." Southern Baptists have missionaries ready to go on the field but cannot send them because of the limitation of resources; something in me says we cannot, in the face of Great Commission opportunity, be satisfied with merely giving what we can spare.

On a personal note Lewis adds, “There ought to be things we should like to do and cannot do because our charitable expenditure excludes them.” We need to give, sacrificially give, and not stop giving until it hurts. Why should those we send to the nations be in want of resources while we stay in our nation and smugly leave the offering plate, satisfied that we’ve done enough?

Ed Litton

Joy in the Mourning

There is a difference between joy and happiness. They can coexist, but don't confuse the two; they're nothing alike. One endures in the presence of overwhelming darkness, the other only in the pleasant daylight. One gives the will to breathe another breath. The other can take your breath away but is fleeting.

I am in love with a beautiful woman named Kathy Ferguson. I asked her to be my wife and she said yes. She is strong, wise and fun. She lifts my weary head and reminds me that there is still living to do. She came alongside me in my grief as a friend and showed me that even the greatest loss can be endured. The quiet moments between us remind us that we each understand the other.

We come from relationships that were healthy and strong. We each have three children, two boys and one daughter. Our lives have traveled on parallel tracks that never crossed. I long admired her husband, Rick Ferguson, from a distance. There are fellow pastors you hear about but never meet. You hear about their character or strength under fire. You admire their vision and thank God for their faithfulness. One church planter who knew Rick told me, "There are some things I will never understand about the ways of God. We still miss Rick, and church planting in Colorado has never been the same."

Kathy is different from Tammy—but then why would God start a new chapter of my life with someone just the same? I’m drawn to Kathy for many reasons. Her wit is quick. Her wisdom is strong. She has opinions, but they’re tempered by a grace that quickly remembers her opinions are not the center of the universe. She loves to laugh, and the joy of the Lord is her strength. She genuinely cares about the hurting, and those who suffer the most profound losses move her. She loves her family deeply. She is wise. Her taste in men is superb. Okay, I threw that one in as a joke. We’ve both been tempered by our losses the way fire strengthens steel. We share a deep resolve and desire for our lives to bring glory to Christ. Oh yeah, she is gorgeous! I’m energized by just the sight of her.

Whatever is left of our days on this earth, we’ve agreed that we want God to use us together for His glory and the good of His Kingdom. May God continue to be glorified! May we build upon the strong foundations of our lives past as we reach for the future.

Ed Litton

What If?

Historians sometimes use a mental tool called a counterfactual, best understood by the simple question "What if?" A counterfactual can clarify actual events in history when applied to subsequent events. For example, we discover that an unseasonal fog sets in on the Hudson River, allowing General George Washington to escape the massive British navy and army at Brooklyn Heights and thus preventing the abortion of the birth of our nation. Counterfactuals shed light on the often forgotten elements of history and reveal in greater clarity God's divine providence. I am amazed how history often hinges on seemingly insignificant events that prove to turn the tide. God often shows up in the fog and provides a way of escape in perilous times.

The Southern Baptist Convention stands at a seminal moment in our history. The idea of using a counterfactual in reverse, to help us think more clearly and see more plainly our place in history and God's divine intervention, captured my imagination. The theme of this year’s Pastor’s Conference is a counterfactual question, "What if?" The biblical foundation for this meeting is found in Philippians chapter two, verse two:

"Make my joy complete by being of the same mind, maintaining the same love, united in spirit, intent on one purpose." (NAS)

How can the future be changed if we as believers really seek to have one mind, one love, one spirit and one purpose? This question, properly answered, can and must change the course of the way we cooperate. I hear and read a lot of things that concern me about our current situation, but I am confident that these "realities" are but opportunities if we will meet the Lord together in Louisville, Kentucky.

What if we came together to do more than our business? What if we met to seek the Lord? What if we met to get things right with Him? What if we met to be made right with one another? What if we came together and allowed His heart for the nations to consume us to the degree that our differences faded into the backdrop of a great continuum, a God-woven tapestry begun in the book of Acts? What if we as Southern Baptists met and refused to allow God's work among us to become irrelevant to our generation? What if?

I am praying and believing that this Southern Baptist Convention will be different, in the sense that we will see a genuine move of God and our hearts will be refreshed, renewed and strengthened for these great days we are living. Will you join me in prayer to this end? Will you refuse to allow cynicism to rule your heart and believe that God has an infinite capacity to surprise our plans and that He moves in such moments in the lives of His people? Will you ask the Lord if it is His will for you to be at this year’s Pastor's Conference and ask Him to make a way if there seems to be no way?

One thing is clear in the study of history: there are moments that few expected to be so significant—yet wars, nations, and great movements hinged on these moments. What if this year’s Southern Baptist Convention would be one of those historical moments that finds us standing in awe of God, as He moves providentially to fulfill His purpose?

Ed Litton

A Stone’s Throw Away

If I had been one of the twelve who walked with Jesus, I know I would have knelt in the dark garden and, with gnarled thoughts, begun my struggle to pray. Sorrow would have consumed me to the point of exhaustion and sleep would have been irresistible. While I escaped in dreams, my Lord would have battled the unthinkable alone, praying “a stone’s throw” away from me. (Luke 22:41)

Why would the Holy Spirit inspire such a term in the mind of Luke? Why use that phrase to describe the distance between me and my Lord in prayer?

We throw stones for several reasons. We throw stones when we’re bored. We skip stones when we’re nervous, standing by a lake with nothing else to do. We throw angry stones at people. Sometimes we throw stones in prayer. That’s right, we toss our hard things at God from a distance. I find myself doing this often. I rush into His throne room with a list of wants and needs. I dare not draw too close to the King, I just toss my small stones at the throne in words, pleadings and sometimes even demands. Prayer becomes a means to an end. If I just exercise sufficient faith in the means then the end becomes a reality.

This mystifies God. Isaiah 59:16 says, "And He saw that there was no man, And was astonished that there was no one to intercede..." (NAS)

Lately I’ve found myself tossing a great many stones to the Lord without entering close in worship. Prayer that doesn’t begin in worship digresses to duty, bouncing onto the floor unanswered, leaving my heart as hard as the stones I’ve thrown toward God.

Worship helps me draw near to a place where I can see how great He is. When I see how great He is, I am struck with awe. When I am struck with awe I become curious about His mind. When I have His mind, prayer is transformed to a desire to do His will. Then and there my prayers change, the hard things are transformed in my own heart, and intercession becomes a joy again.

Stop hurling your hard, stone-like troubles at God. Don't remain a stone’s throw away from Him. Seek to know His mind. Then intercede in prayer according to His will. There is much to intercede for, but astonishingly few truly intercede—because we pray a stone’s throw away.

Hebrews 10:22 encourages us to “draw near to God with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water." (NIV) We can be confident that our Lord not only calls us to draw near He cleanses us to draw near. We don’t have to stand at a distance we can draw near with full assurance.

Ed Litton

Three Snapshots of Faith

Going Not Knowing
Faith doesn’t need to know where it is being led or whether or not the journey will be successful. Faith refuses to be distracted by what is seen in any given moment. Faith moves in the face of the blowing winds of unanswered questions and unfulfilled promises. Hebrews 11:8 says, "By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going." Faith begins with believing God's revealed word, accepting as true what God says, and realizing your task is to act upon it. According to Heb. 11:6, "without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him."

This is why Abraham is considered to be the father of faith. Abraham moved forward in life in spite of the fact that he had little evidence this vision would become a reality. Hebrews 11:10 says was “looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God." Abraham saw many of God's promises come true along the way, but the ultimate promise of a city whose architect and builder is God he won’t realize until the New Jerusalem is revealed from heaven (Rev. 21:1).


Knowing but still Going
Faith doesn’t need every problem solved before it acts. Mark's gospel tells of Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome taking spices to Jesus’ tomb on a Sunday morning to anoint his body. On the way they asked each other a very practical question—"Who will roll the stone away from the entrance of the tomb?" Far from being delusional, the women were all too aware of the obstacles they faced. I marvel that knowledge didn’t leave them sitting immobilized around a kitchen table until they’d secured help in moving the stone; they were knowing but still going. Little did they know the stone was no longer a problem, because He was already risen. The resurrection of Jesus solves our biggest problems and moves the hard things that obstruct our walk of faith.

Our mission in life as believers in Jesus Christ is to live by faith in the son of God. To move in trust that no problem is too big for the God who moves stones. Faith demands that we believe, refusing to let our unbelief keep us from taking action or from living in light of the promises of God.


Going and Knowing
Faith is willing to take God at His word with no supporting evidence necessary. I’m amazed by the visit Gabriel made to two people in Luke's gospel. First the angel visited a priest named Zechariah, who was in the throes of some very significant temple duties. Gabriel delivered God's promise that a boy named John, a forerunner to the Messiah, would be born to this aging, childless couple. Zechariah's response in Luke 1:18 is interesting. “How can I be sure of this? I am an old man and my wife is well along in years.” Compare his question to that of Mary, the mother to be of Jesus, who was visited by the same angel in Luke 1:34. “How will this be,” Mary asked the angel, “since I am a virgin?” Which response was by faith and which was faithless?

Zechariah demanded evidence that would remove the possibility of doubt. He wanted to see something that would keep him from being an old fool for believing God. Wasn’t it enough that one of God's highest ranking angels had just appeared to him? Hebrews 11:1 defines faith as “being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." Mary's response, however, is one of faith. She states the obvious, but not as an objection or a demand for more assurance. It isn’t wrong to note the impossible nature of your circumstances, but it is wrong to demand supporting material to remove doubts created by our own limited perspective. Such supporting material rarely strengthens our weak faith. Faith stands on God's Word regardless of the evidence to the contrary. Faith moves on what God has promised—and sometimes all you have to move on is knowledge of His character.

You might be tempted to say it would be hard to live without the fulfillment of God’s promises in your life. We all grow weary of waiting on the Lord. Going without knowing means trusting day to day in the promises of God—and when the memory of those promises wears thin, clinging to the character of God. Every day, in every way, we get to believe either in what we see, hear, smell and touch—or in what God has said. Like Abraham, like the women who went to minister to the body of Jesus, like the young Virgin Mary or even Zechariah, we must each move forward in faith. We must go about our duties, our lives, and the journey marked out for us. We must be honest about the impossible things we face, but we must always leave room for our awesome God to move the hardest things we face—be it a stone or a mountain or our own stubborn hearts. God is faithful. He is the Stone Mover!

Ed Litton