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This is Serious!  

Have you noticed how young ears hear more than we sometimes think they do? 

The other day, three year old “Kay-bib” (he's still working on pronouncing, “Caleb”) heard Keith and Kristyn Getty sing, “Nothing but the blood of Jesus.”   Reacting to the song, Kay-bib told his mother, “I love Jesus” (stated most enthusiastically).  He then inquired, “But Mom, what is the blood of Jesus?”

Mom replied, “Well, when Jesus died on the cross for us, He was bleeding.  He saved us from our sins on the cross.  So this song is our way of being thankful for Jesus' doing that.”  Kay-bib was pensive as he let tumble out, “I love Jesus' blood.”
 
At this point seven year old “Big Sis” marched over boring holes in Kay-bib with her intensity.  She pontificated, “You better take this part seriously, dude.  I mean, this is serious!”   Though her sermon was brief—just two sentences—it was delivered with a conviction recalling Jonathan Edwards or George Whitfield.

What exactly Big Sis intended for Kay-bib to do to validate his agreement to “take this part seriously, dude” I do not know.   But I do know her concern was real—and right.  “How shall we escape if we neglect so great a salvation?” asked the writer of Hebrews.  

It is sobering, that a seven year old would grasp eternal verities—even those pertaining to eternal life or damnation—with greater ease than many intellectually nuanced adults. 

But beyond an inflated sense of our own “knowledge,” many never come to faith because of a spiritually laissez faire attitude. So steeped are we in the cultural art of “chilling,” many of us desperately need the warning Big Sis blurted out:  “You better take this part seriously, dude.  I mean—this is serious!

Indeed, “it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God” (Hebrews 10:31).    

Three-year old Kay-bib gets that.

Seven-year old Big Sis gets that.

Do you? 

 
Her Name is Augustina and She Lives on Lower Wacker Drive  

Her name is Augustina and she lives on Lower Wacker Drive.

The thing is, no one really “lives” on Lower Wacker Drive--they merely exist there.   Wacker is a major traffic artery for downtown Chicago.  But as if offers a cement roof from the elements, it is a shelter for those with nothing. 

When my friend, Jack, met Augustina on his walk to work, she asked him for food.  Ironically, at that instant, Jack held in his hand a laminated card with the text of 1 John 4, which he is memorizing.  The passage has much to say about loving our brothers and sisters.

Jack suggested they head for the McDonald’s in the Merchandise Mart where he would buy her breakfast.  That’s when he introduced himself.

“You have the same name of my last case worker,” Augustina said smilingly.  She walked with a limp, having fallen down three flights of stairs.  Plus, “my arthritis is killing me.  I’m too young for that,” she told Jack.

Augustina is 42.  She is hoping that soon a caseworker will deliver the good news that she has finally been given a low-income apartment.  Meanwhile she sleeps on Wacker Drive.  Jack asked about it.

“I have cardboard and two blankets that I lay on. Then I have another blanket on top.  But it’s no bed.  Oh, I wish I had a bed, wish I had a place of my own.  Wish I could take a bath.”

As Jack told me this last part, I felt guilty for taking all these things for granted.  And I managed to squash my questions like, “How had she come to this awful condition?  Was Augustina a druggie?  A drunk?” 

Did it matter?

Arriving at McDonald’s, Augustina ordered not one, but two, big breakfast platters, along with two large Orange juices.  Jack told me “I got the idea I was feeding not just Augustina, but her two friends, as well.”

I John 4:20 “For the one who does not love his brother whom he has seen, cannot love God whom he has not seen.”

Her name is Augustina and she lives on Lower Wacker Drive.

 
A Holy Work of God  

Have you ever witnessed a holy work of God with your own eyes?  I am not speaking figuratively or metaphysically, but literally.  I had a front row seat to such an event during a recent Moody Radio visit to Peru with Wycliffe Bible Translators.

Truthfully, there was nothing that spoke of deity in the cramped office where we stood vying for space with boxes and supplies.  There was nothing that hinted at the supernatural in the window that looked out upon Huancayo's gray streets.  

Huddled in front of a computer monitor were four jacketed men and women (it was cold).  On the screen, via Skype, the easy smile of Rick Floyd brought a special warmth to the room.  A linguistic professor at Biola, Rick serves as a translation consultant for Wycliffe.   From his home in California, he coached and critiqued a translation of 2 Samuel chapter 1 in the Wanca Quechua language. 

The four Wanca linguists at our end had given enormous time and talent to this translation and I was handed a print out of the first few verses.  The dialogue between Rick and the Wanca linguists was animated, gestures flying everywhere accompanied by a frequent nodding of heads. 

They were checking and double checking grammar, context, flow, as well as “holes” in the overall reading. Had cultural issues been properly addressed?  Was the translation faithful? 

An unfamiliar feeling settled over me watching the give and take.  This was a rare and privileged moment to which I had no right.  My eyes were witnessing nothing less than a sacred scene—the authoritative Word of God showing itself in consonants and vowels and nouns and verbs that had never previously uttered its life-changing message. 

Truly, the writer of Hebrews was correct when he said, “The Word of God is Living and Active.” 

As for me, I’m in awe of the work God is doing in and through Wycliffe Bible Translators.

 
To Finally Understand  

Some things in life cannot be explained.  They can only be experienced.

I was reminded of this traveling through Peru, South America.  We were about 200 miles east of Lima.  Think mountains, snow caps and deep breaths (elevation about 12,000 feet).  Forget any notions of jungle climates or decent roads.  

Arriving at a mountain village (so remote the switchback roads dictated we abandon our small bus and walk a path to the village), we attended church in a mud brick structure dimly lit by five fluorescent fixtures.  Blue tarps formed the inelegant ceiling and hardened dirt was the floor.

We sat on flimsy plastic chairs as villagers streamed inside through twin corrugated doors.  A preacher wearing sunglasses (his left eye deformed) spoke with great passion in the local language: Wanca, Quechua.  The capacity crowd was riveted.  Even the moths I saw seemed to pay attention.  

Personally, I was lost (happens a lot when you travel).   I couldn't follow along except for a word here and there (it's tough to miss the name of Jesus in most any language).

Sitting there trying to pay attention as dogs trotted in and out of the church, it finally clicked.  This experience—not being able to fully understand—was their experience before these Quechua villagers had a Bible in their own language.   They wanted to follow along, to grow in Christ, but a language barrier stood in their way.

Thanks to the vision of Wycliffe Bible translators, they now understand.  They have the New Testament in their own language.  The difference it makes is remarkable.  But until you are lost in a language you do not fully understand, you will not fully appreciate your own Bible.

By our standards, these villagers are quite poor.  It's been awhile since I have laid eyes on so much “nothing.”  Yet they are rich in their praise of the Living God and their lives bring to mind 2 Corinthians 6:10, “having nothing, yet possessing all things.”

For loving these people enough to give them the Word of God in their own language, I offer my hearty salute to the men and women who call themselves Wycliffe Bible Translators. 

 
Saying Goodbye to "Hello Barbie"  

If Barbie dolls bother you, get ready to be really bothered.

The iconic American doll, first introduced in 1959, has achieved mega status on a global scale.  More than a billion Barbies have been sold in 150 countries.

In a toy career spanning 56 years, Barbie has survived seas of stormy controversy for being too sexy, too blond, and too inappropriate for young children. But get ready for a new wave of controversy.

The latest generation of Barbies will be equipped with Wi-Fi and speech recognition.  Meaning little girls (who have always talked to their dollies) will now be able to have them talk back.  Intelligently. 

According to Mattel, the doll’s maker, “Hello Barbie” uses speech recognition and over time, actually learns a child’s preferences.  Pushing a button on Barbie’s belt buckle records the conversation and sends it over Wi-Fi.  

At a toy fair in New York City a spokeswoman asked Barbie, “What should I be when I grow up?"   The response related to an earlier part of their conversation: "Well, you told me you like being on stage, so maybe a dancer?"

In theory, it’s all harmless fun.  But I agree with Susan Linn, Director of the Campaign for a Commercial-Free Childhood. "Kids using 'Hello Barbie' aren't only talking to a doll; they are talking directly to a toy conglomerate whose only interest in them is financial."

Then, too, there’s my own observation of Barbie’s demonstrated history of valuing cuteness over character. 

Not to worry, says a Mattel spokesperson.  The company is only giving girls what they have always asked for: having a conversation with Barbie.

Yet in a Christ-centered world view, giving girls or boys what they want—just because they want it—has never been wise.  Or biblical.  Besides—shouldn’t we be teaching them more about having a conversation with God?

When it comes to “Hello Barbie,” I think it’s time we said goodbye.

 
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Jon GaugerJon Gauger

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