Making a Differencewith Pastor Phil Erickson

Dec 22nd What Is Your Life?

Today’s Passages – James 2 – 5; Proverbs 22

(Second Milers also read – Psalms 106 – 110; Memorize – Luke 2:11)

Listen to this morning’s Scripture song – Ephesians 4:32

Read last year’s post from this passage – “Don’t Budge”

“Go to now, ye that say, To day or to morrow we will go into such a city, and continue there a year, and buy and sell, and get gain: Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away. For that ye ought to say, If the Lord will, we shall live, and do this, or that.” – (James 4:13-15)

I have oftened used the above  verses at funeral services while trying to get the people to consider their eternal destiny, but this morning I want to direct these verses toward the Christian. As you approach the new year, I want to encourage you to carefully consider what your plans are. I find that a lot of people have their lives all planned out, and I must confess that I have an idea in my head as to how I would like the rest of my life to play out. However, life rarely works out according to our plans; and when our plans don’t work out the way we envisioned them, it leaves us with feelings of discontentment and regret. We really do not know for sure if we have any tomorrows at all.

Consider the little phrase, “if the Lord will” from verse 15. I use that phrase all of the time. I might say something like this: “I’ll see you tomorrow, the Lord willing.” Sometimes I say, “the good Lord willing and the creek don’t rise.” When we say those things we are acknowledging that our plans may not be in the will of God, and that He has the power to change the plans. But even while we acknowledge God’s sovereignty over our plans and desires, they are still ours. My challenge to you (and me) this new year is for you to seek the Lord’s will prior to making your plans. What does God want you to do this year? God may have a will for your life that is totally different from your ideas, dreams, and desires. Why not invite God to have His will and His way in your life, this year. Let Him direct your future. He knows what’s best for you anyway. Let Him call the shots. I think that you will find that once your “life” is surrendered to His will there will be a peace and contentment about whatever He allows to happen. You will begin to recognize that He does a much better job than you do at “direct[ing] your path”.

Dec 21st The Parable of the Orange Tree

Today’s Passages – Hebrews 12 – James 1; Proverbs 21

(Second Milers also read – Psalms 101 – 105 ; Memorize – Luke 2:11)

Listen to this morning’s Scripture song – Ephesians 4:32

Read “The Gifts You Don’t Know You Want” by Pastor Chappell

Read last year’s post from today’s passage – “We Talk Too Much, But Say Little”

“But be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves. For if any be a hearer of the word, and not a doer, he is like unto a man beholding his natural face in a glass: For he beholdeth himself, and goeth his way, and straightway forgetteth what manner of man he was. But whoso looketh into the perfect law of liberty, and continueth therein, he being not a forgetful hearer, but a doer of the work, this man shall be blessed in his deed.” – (James 1:22-25)

One of the frustrating things about the ministry is the lack of application we see in the lives of people from the truths that are being preached and taught from the Bible. For example, I can preach a message on soul winning and hear people say “Amen!”, with some of them complimenting the message on their way out; but then see few actually talk to people about the Lord. I can teach on the need to be separated, and again have the congregation appear to be in agreement, but then see little change in the area of separation. I see people go to the altar week after week under obvious conviction about a truth that was preached that morning, yet go out and do again the same things that they were convicted about.

We need to do more than just agree with God. We need to put into practical application the things that He is revealing to us from His Word. I am beginning to make it a habit now at the end of my messages to ask people what specific actions they are going to take as a result of what they have heard. Agreeing with God about the need for soulwinning or even feeling bad about people dying and going to Hell is useless, unless you actually decide to go soulwinning and then do it; but a specific, tangible decision that will lead to a change of action is necessary. Isn’t this what true repentance is? Isn’t it a change of mind and attitude that leads to a change in action?

Let’s not stop coming to the altar, but let’s not leave the altar until we have found out what God specifically wants us to do with what He has taught us. Unless actual change takes place, all of the conviction and contrition in the world is really just vanity.

Years ago, I heard a preacher tell us the following parable, which I believe perfectly illustrates this point:

The Parable of the Orange Tree by Dr. John White

I dreamed I drove on a Florida road, still and straight and empty. On either side were groves of orange trees, so that as I turned to look at them from time to time, line after line of trees stretched back endlessly from the road. Their boughs were heavy with round yellow fruit. This was harvest time. My wonder grew as the miles slipped by. How could the harvest be gathered?

Suddenly I realized that for all the hours I had driven (and this was how I knew I must be dreaming) I had seen no other person. The groves were empty of people. No other car had passed me. No houses were to be seen beside the highway. I was alone in a forest of orange trees.

But, at last, I saw some orange pickers. Far from the highway, almost on the horizon, lost in the vast wilderness of unpicked fruit, I could discern a tiny group of them working steadily. And many miles later I saw another group. I could not be sure, but I suspected that the earth beneath me was shaking with silent laughter at the hopelessness of their task. Yet the pickers went on picking.

The sun had long passed its zenith and the shadows were lengthening when, without any warning, I turned a corner of the road to see a notice “Leaving NEGLECTED COUNTY – Entering HOME COUNTY.” The contrast was so startling that I scarcely had time to take in the notice. I had to slow down for all at once the traffic was heavy. People by the

thousands swarmed the road and crowded the sidewalks.

Even more startling was the transformation in the orange groves. Orange groves were still there and orange trees in abundance, but now, far from being silent and empty, they were filled with the laughter and singing of multitudes of people. Indeed it was the people we noticed rather than the trees. People and houses.

I parked the car at the roadside and mingled with the crowd. Smart gowns, neat shoes, showy hats, expensive suits, and starched shirts made me a little conscious of my work clothes. Everyone seemed so fresh and poised and gay.

“Is it a holiday?” I asked a well-dressed woman with whom I fell in step.

She looked a little startled for a moment, and then her face relaxed with a smile of gracious condescension.

“You’re a stranger, aren’t you?” she said before I could reply, “This is Orange Day.”

She must have seen a puzzled look on my face, for she went on, “It is so good to turn aside from one’s labors and pick oranges one day of the week.”

“But don’t you pick oranges every day?” I asked her.

“One may pick oranges at any time,” she said, “We should always be ready to pick oranges, but Orange Day is the day that we devote especially to orange picking.”

I left her and made my way further into the trees. Most of the people were carrying a book. Bound beautifully in leather, and edged and lettered in gold, I was able to discern on the edge of one of them the words: The Orange Picker’s Manual.

By and by I noticed around one of the orange trees, seats had been arranged, rising upward in tiers from the ground. The seats were almost full-but as I approached the group, a smiling well-dressed gentleman shook my hand and conducted me to a seat.

There, around the foot of the orange tree, I could see a number of people. One of them was addressing all the people on the seats and just as I got to my seat, everyone rose to his feet and began to sing. The man next to me shared with me his song book. It was called: Songs of the Orange Groves.

They sang for some time and the song leader waved his arms with a strange and frenzied abandon, exhorting the people in the intervals between the songs to sing more loudly.

I grew steadily more puzzled.

“When do we start to pick oranges?” I asked the man who had loaned me his book.

“It’s not long now,” he told me. “We like to get everyone warmed up first. Besides, we want to make the oranges feel at home.” I thought he was joking but his face was serious.

After a while a rather large man took over from the song leader and, after reading two sentences from his well-thumbed copy of the Orange Picker’s Manual, began to make a speech. I wasn’t clear whether he was addressing the people or the oranges.

I glanced behind me and saw a number of groups of people similar to our own group gathering around an occasional tree and being addressed by other large men. Some of the trees had no one around them.

“Which trees do we pick from?” I asked the man beside me. He did not seem to understand, so I pointed to the trees round about.

“This is our tree,” he said, pointing to the one we were gathered around.

“But there are too many of us to pick from just one tree,” I protested. “Why, there are more people than oranges!”

“But we don’t pick oranges,” the man explained. “We haven’t been called. That’s the Orange Picker’s job. We’re here to support him. Besides we haven’t been to college. You need to know how an orange thinks before you can pick it, successfully orange psychology, you know. Most of these folk here,” he went on, pointing to the congregation, “have never been to Manual School.”

“Manual School,” I whispered. “What’s that?”

“It’s where they go to study the Orange Picker’s Manual,” my informant went on. “It’s very hard to understand. You need years of study before it makes sense.”

“I see, I murmured. I had no idea that picking oranges was so difficult.”

The large man at the front was still making his speech. His face was red and he appeared to be indignant about something. So far as I could see there was rivalry with some of the other “orange-picking” groups. But a moment later a glow came on his face,

“But we are not forsaken,” he said. “We have much to be thankful for. Last week we saw THREE ORANGES BROUGHT INTO OUR BASKETS, and we are now completely debt free from the money we owed on the new cushion covers that grace the seats you now sit on.”

“Isn’t it wonderful?” the man next to me murmured. I made no reply. I felt that something must be profoundly wrong somewhere. All this seemed to be a very roundabout way of picking oranges.

The large man was reaching a climax in his speech. The atmosphere seemed tense. Then with a very dramatic gesture he reached two of the oranges, plucked them from the branch, and placed them in the basket at his feet. The applause was deafening.

“Do we start on the picking now?” I asked my informant.

“What in the world do you think we’re doing?” he hissed. “What do you suppose this tremendous effort has been made for? There’s more orange-picking talent in this group than in the rest of Home County. Thousands of dollars have been spent on the tree you’re looking at.”

I apologized quickly. “I wasn’t being critical,” I said. “And I’m sure the large man must be a very good orange picker – but surely the rest of us could try. After all, there are so many oranges that need picking. We’ve all got a pair of hands and we could read the Manual.”

“When you’ve been in the business as long as I have, you’ll realize that it’s not as simple as that,” he replied. “There isn’t time, for one thing. We have our work to do, our families to care for, and our homes to look after. We . . .”

But I wasn’t listening. Light was beginning to break on me. Whatever these people were, they were not orange pickers. Orange picking was just a form of entertainment for their weekends.

I tried one or two more of the groups around the trees. Not all of them had such high academic standards for orange pickers. Some held classes on orange picking. I tried to tell them of the trees I had seen in Neglected County but they seemed to have little interest.

“We haven’t picked the oranges here yet,” was their usual reply.

The sun was almost setting in my dream and, growing tired of the noise and activity all around me, I got in the car and began to drive back again along the road I had come. Soon all around me again were the vast and empty orange groves.

But there were changes. Something had happened in my absence. Everywhere the ground was littered with fallen fruit. And as I watched it seemed that before my eyes the trees began to rain oranges. Many of them lay rotting on the ground.

I felt there was something so strange about it all, and my bewilderment grew as I thought of all the people in Home County.

Then, booming through the trees there came a voice which said, “The harvest truly is plenteous but the laborers are few; Pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest”, that he will send forth laborers. . .”

And I awakened – for it was only a dream!