Preach the word. - 2 Timothy 4.2

Kentucky Fried Chicken ran out of. . .chicken.

Last week the British division of the fast food giant faced a glitch in its supply chain and wound up with a shortage of poultry. They had to close nine hundred restaurants. The few hold-outs served popcorn nuggets and corn for as long as supplies lasted. They still had all eleven herbs and spices - just nothing to season or spice. People actually called the cops. The chain in charge of providing the birds apologized for its "teething problems," which left extra crispy as rare as hen's teeth in the UK.

How does KFC run out of the "C"? "Chicken" - it's right there in the name!

Amidst all of Timothy's problems as a pastor, Paul admonishes him not to run out of his signature product. "Preach the word." Elsewhere, the apostle exhorts his young protege to give attention to the public reading of Scripture, to exhorting, to teaching (1 Tim 4.13). Study to show thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth (2 Tim 2.15). Never face a hungry flock only to dole out deep-fried nuggets of nothing or platters of corny platitudes. 

In "Lycidas," an elegy by the poet John Milton, Saint Peter tears a strip of hide off the English clergy of the day. In a line that rings down the centuries the fisherman bellows, "The hungry sheep look, up and are not fed." Instead of beefing up on solid fare, Peter complains, they swell up on wind and mist. Sometimes a flock can look fat when they are actually just bloated. 

People want a lot from pastors these days: Secular society wants a chaplain to the culture; church growth gurus want a CEO; congregations want a concierge who interfaces with the latest trends to provide an entertaining religious experience. God wants preachers of the Gospel.

Avoid the temptation to become a popcorn pulpiteer who serves up tasty moral morsels, a corn cob orator whose starchy thoughts stick between people's teeth. Unlike the Colonel, we have a King who provides an unlimited supply of meaty truth. Stay in touch with the warehouse and fill the flock with solid food.

Kikkan Randall and Jessie Diggins took Olympic gold in the women's cross country team spring at Pyeongchang this week. It's a big deal; no American has hit the chips in that sport since 1976. Norway, of course, does it all the time. But one Norwegian has managed not only to gain, but to retain fame in that crowded field.

Oddvar Bra remains a hero in his home country thirty-six years after he anchored the men's 4X10-K cross country relay squad in the '82 games. Norwegians remember him, not just because his squad triumphed, but because he really brought the drama.

Late in the race he was closing in on the leader, Andrew Savyalov of the Soviet Union. As he pulled by to pass, the two athletes collided. Savyalov tumbled to the snow; Oddvar emerged with a broken pole. He soldiered on of course but thus crippled it was only a matter of time before the Russian rose from the drifts and overtook him. Just then, a guy burst out of the crowd and handed Oddvar a pole of the exact same length of the one he busted! Though Savyalov did indeed mount a comeback and both teams received gold medals, to this day Norwegians of a certain age ask one another, Hvor var du da Oddvar Bra brak staven? "Where were you when Oddvar Broke his pole?"

It's a great story, but let's go back to the guy with the pole for just a second.

I can't find his name anywhere on the all-seeing Google. I can only discover that he was a friend of Oddvar's and that he made a habit of trotting alongside Norwegian skiiers packing spare gear. Just picture some good ol' boy huffing along the infield at Daytona with spare tires and fan belts draped around his neck. It sounds nutty. It is nutty; but the faceless, nameless fan who faded back into the crowd made one of Norway's proudest moments possible.

Where were you when Oddvar Bra's pal handed him a pole?

That guy huffing along the race course with a spare ski pole is a great image of good ministry: It works behind the scenes, is on the spot when needed, and never makes it to the medal stand! In the crux, it supplies the tools that make great ministry possible, then fades unnoticed into the mob. Now that's not just great ministry; that's ministry that defines greatness.

He said to the woman, "Did God actually say, 'You shall not eat of any tree in the garden?'"

- Genesis 3.2

We all know about Elmer Fudd's endless quest to do in that wascally wabbit. But what about the fetal wabbit?

A long-standing tradition credits Pope Gregory the Great with the domestication of rabbits. The story goes like this: Back in 600 AD his holiness declared that while meat was a non-starter during Lent, fetal rabbits, because they lived in the watery confines of the womb, were actually fish and thus fair non-game during seasons of fasting. The French saw their chance and started raising cotton tails to take advantage of the loophole. This isn't just a charming piece of church lore; scientists have cited it in published papers.

One problem: It isn't true.

Scientists now state that rabbit-keeping goes back at least to the first century, and actual breeding control, with subsequent skeletal adaptations, doesn't hop onto the scene until the 1700's. The French probably did begin the practice, if that's any consolation. As to the story itself, well, it was Saint Gregory, not Pope Gregory, who wrote about it, and he only said that a guy ate a fetal rabbit during Lent, and that guy may not even have been a Christian, and anyway he died. 

So why are respected researchers still buying into this gregarious tale? Because, it seems, the story is just too good to let go of. A well-told tale often ends up being more fun than the truth.

Now, I'm a Baptist and we don't really do Lent, but I find the story of this story instructive. In the Garden of Eden, the serpent asks Eve a question about God. Note the preposition. Adam and Eve have been in the regular habit of talking with God; now they begin talking about God. Theophany descends to theology and we're off and running - or off and falling. Helmut Thielicke says that the first theological discussion ever was initiated by the Devil! And he introduces an error: "Did God actually say?" Eve corrects him - but can't help gingering up revealed truth; and, as we tend to do when theologizing, she makes God harsher, not kinder. God never said anything about not touching the tree. But the story was too good to abandon. Then the story was - and is - too sad to tolerate. Satan probably doesn't like talking about God, but he surely prefers it to having us talk to God.

When spinning tales about rabbits, I don't suppose a little embroidering does any harm, but we always make a mistake when we try to illuminate the capitals of Scripture. If we're going to give something up for Lent, how about we give up our "improvements" on "thus sayeth the Lord"? Better still, how about we resolve to do less talking about God and more talking to God?

For more information, see "Debunked: The Strange Tale of Pope Gregory and the Rabbits."

Playing It Safe or Playing It Smart

And if I perish, I perish. - Esther 4.16

The 1967 NFL championship game, the famous "Ice Bowl" between the Green Bay Packers and the Dallas Cowboys, came down to a crucial decision regarding a goal line stand. With the score at 17-14 Cowboys, the ball on the Dallas two-foot line and time for only one more play, coach Vince Lombardi could opt to kick the field goal, tie it up, and hope for the best in overtime, or go for the win. He opted for a make-or-break gamble and quarterback Bart Star shoved over the line to victory. 

A bold play, or just playing the odds?

Statistics indicate that NFL teams facing a similar choice opt for the tie-and-overtime in about ninety percent of cases.This strategy leads to a win only forty percent of the time. Going for the immediate victory has a higher success rate at fifty percent. Happens in basketball as well. About seven times in ten, teams attempt a two-pointer to tie instead of a trey that would salt away the win. Problem is, the safe option works about fourteen times in a hundred, while the long-shot pays off seventeen. And to all the couch-bound coaches out there, studies say fans in the lab - without the pressure of public exposure - make the same mistake.

The psychologists say it's a matter of mental myopia: When defeat stares us in the face we start playing not to lose instead of playing to win. Is the field goal possible? How's our past performance on two-point conversions? Is our clutch shooter solid beyond the three-point line? We don't ask those questions. All we think of is, "How can I avoid losing right now?" 

Esther fell into the same trap. With the entire Jewish population of Persia on the line, she went tunnel-vision on an image of her own lovely head on the king's chopping block. "If I do this, I could die." As she teed it up for the desperation field-goal, Uncle Mordecai offered some advice from the sidelines: If you don't do this, you will die. Play for time all you want, but the clock eventually runs out.

In the end, the queen played the odds. Oh, she stacked the deck with some serious fasting and prayer and ran a beautiful misdirection play on the king's chief of staff, but as the seconds ticked off the shot-clock, she arched her jumper with no guarantees.

What does God call you to today? Take a moment of prayer to realize that the safe bet is probably a sucker bet. Disobedience always means defeat, while, to paraphrase the old hymn, faith is the victory that overcomes the odds!