Christian Practices

Ruben Roy is a managing director at Stifel Financial. He dialed in to hear the chief executive of a healthcare company discuss its latest results. During the Q&A, Roy asked the speaker to elaborate on his remarks by saying, “I wanted to double-click a bit on some of the commentary you had.”

“Double-click” is one of the fastest-spreading corporate buzzwords in recent years. As a figure of speech, it is now being used as a shorthand for examining something more fully, akin to double-clicking to see a computer folder’s contents. Some say “the phrase encourages deeper thinking.”

Reuben Linder, owner of a small video production business, says, “These days, with the rise of technology and a more hectic corporate life, people need reminders to stop and examine what matters—to double-click, if you will. The term is simple, but it’s really profound.”

Reuben tries to carve out time to go to a café twice monthly with a notebook and engage in reflection. “I’ll double-click on my business, double-click on my life” he says. “I double-click on everything now.”

Possible Preaching Angle:

In our daily lives as believers, we might apply this idea to things such as obedience, love for God, Bible reading, and prayer. Double-clicking on these things is needed now as much as any time in history.

Katherine Beim-Esche tells a moving story of meeting the living God after escaping the cult of Christian Science:

After the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, the world reeled in shock and disbelief. I did too—not only at the events themselves but also at the response I saw within my church. Raised a fourth-generation Christian Scientist, I lived within a Christian Science cocoon. In many ways, I acted like a Christian, reading my Bible every day, praying the Lord’s Prayer, and attending church twice a week.

Then everything exploded. Literally. The day after 9/11, hoping for comfort, I sought out the Wednesday night meeting at my Christian Science church. But what I heard left me feeling profoundly uneasy. Some congregants boldly declared that a tragedy like this never could have occurred in God’s perfect world. Others … subtly implied that the victims were to blame. How, I wondered, could they be so cavalier about the suffering we had witnessed? Little did I know that this terrible day would launch me on a journey to saving faith in Jesus Christ.

Not to be confused with Scientology, Christian Science was founded by Mary Baker Eddy in the late 1800s. Its core teaching is influenced by gnostic, pantheistic, and metaphysical beliefs that portray sin, sickness, and death as illusions.

After 9/11, I could no longer deny the reality of evil. (Then) … by God’s providence, I overheard a coffee-shop conversation on faith. Something in my heart stirred. One of the men in that discussion invited me to his church and gave me a copy of Francis Schaeffer’s book The God Who Is There. Schaeffer said that the spiritual and physical world originated with a Creator God. I didn’t totally understand this, but it filled me with deep hope and a desire to learn more.

I visited Grace and Peace Fellowship, where I came face to face with the living God. In my Christian Science church, sin was never mentioned, but here it was freely confessed. I wept as I heard, for the first time, of God’s deep, sacrificial love for me. I was convicted of my sin and selfishness.

When I met with pastor Aaron Turner and he told me I was a sinner, I actually thanked him. After a lifetime of denying and repressing my very humanity, I was relieved to finally admit my brokenness. Then I met Jesus. Pastor Aaron introduced me to the Jesus of Scripture, who came to earth, took on flesh, and died and rose again to redeem his people and restore all creation. Praise God for untangling my heart and mind from the delusion of self-salvation—and for rescuing me into new life with Christ and his church.

The workers on Japan’s rail system repeatedly call out to no one and point to seemingly nothing. A train driver checking his speed, for example, does not simply glance at the dial. The driver points at it and shouts out, “Speed check, 80.” When staff check whether the platform is clear, they sweep their arms along their view of the platform, their eyes following their hands, before shouting an all-clear signal. The idea is that associating key tasks with physical movements and vocalizations prevents errors by “raising the consciousness levels of workers.”

The gestures are not an inherent part of the task. But the physical reinforcement helps ensure each step is complete and accurate. It works. Crazy as this may seem, these apparently pointless gestures have helped to make it one of the safest railway networks in the world. This pointing-and-calling safety method … reduces workplace errors by up to 85 percent, according to one study. A similar system has been adapted for use on New York’s MTA subway system. As a result, the number of incorrectly berthed trains has been halved.

The movement in the Horn of Africa continues to make disciples, planting four new house churches every day. To date, they have seen more than 230,000 people become followers of Jesus. With a deep commitment to prayer and fasting, they follow Luke 10, looking for “people of peace” who then bring households, villages, and entire tribes to Jesus. Daily, their church planters face persecution for the sake of the gospel. But, they say, “we count it all joy so that we can share Jesus with more people.” For security reasons, we don’t divulge the identity of these brothers and sisters.

After watching this episode of God Pops Up, read Christianity Today’s article about a kindergarten teacher called to ministry aboard the Africa Mercy.

Publicly telling one’s story, or a personal testimony, has always been pervasive among Christians. In recent years some of the secular world has woken up to the power of testimony. Groups and assemblies of storytellers sharing wisdom gleaned from personal experiences have been cropping up in the US and Canada. Listeners are motivated, inspired, and guided.

Confessional style storytelling of average people has been popularized by a non-profit called The Moth. They stage over 500 shows per year across the US. The Moth Radio Hour was launched in 2009 and is now on 500 public radio stations and has one million weekly listeners. The Moth’s weekly podcast is downloaded over 73 million times annually. Executive Director Sarah Haberman told Forbes that “no matter where you’re from and whatever your background, your story has the power to unite people, to break down walls—even when you can’t be in the same room. That pursuit feels urgent right now.”

Author Richard Wagamese wrote: “All that we are is story. ... It is what we arrive with. It is all we leave behind. We are not the things we accumulate. We are not the things we deem important. We are story.”

James "Deacon" White played at the very dawn of professional baseball. In fact, on May 4, 1871, James White had the very first hit, in the first game, of the first professional baseball league. It was a double. He was the first catcher to use a mask and the first pitcher to go into a wind-up before throwing the ball.

Over his 20 year career, White played for teams in Cincinnati, Buffalo, Detroit, Boston, Pittsburgh, before joining the team that became the Chicago Cubs. White would eventually become the oldest player in the Baseball Hall of Fame. It's not an exaggeration to say that White helped create the game of baseball we know today.

The inscription on White's plaque in the Hall of Fame, however, doesn't begin with the words "19th century star of baseball," or "premier catcher of his era," or "led teams to six championships," although all three phrases are there. The first words on the plaque are "Consummate gentleman." At a time when professional athletes were seen as unsavory, hard-drinking, womanizers, James White earned the nickname "Deacon" for his commitment to Christian faith and virtue which were evident to everyone who saw him play.

For example, in 1878, the Indianapolis Journal reported that an umpire actually consulted with White, a player on the field, about whether the base runner was out. When the opponent complained, the ump declared, "When White says a thing is so it is so, and that is the end of it."

In 1886, the Detroit Free Press wrote:

No one ever yet heard Deacon White say dammit; no one ever saw him spike or trample upon an opponent; no one ever saw him hurl his bat towards the bench when he struck out; no one ever heard him wish the umpire were where the wicked never cease from troubling and the weary never give us a rest. And think of it! Nineteen years of provocation! Will anybody deny that Deacon White is a great and good man, as well as a first-class ballplayer?

Boston Light, America's first lighthouse, just celebrated its 300th birthday—but Sally Snowman will be the first to let you know some more specifics about what that "birthday" really means. "The original tower built in 1716 was blown up by the British in 1776," she explains. "We have the new one."

Sally Snowman mans—or "womans," in her words—the lighthouse, serving as its 70th keeper (and the first female to have the title). Over the three centuries since its inception, a keeper has kept the light burning; however, the position in 2016 looks markedly different from those who held the role in the 18th century. As the lighthouse is now "fully automated," Snowman "maintain[s] the grounds, giv[es] tours and manag[es] 90 volunteers."

Yet even with these modernized tasks, Snowman realizes the significance of her job: "Here I am in 2016, the keeper for our 300th anniversary," she says. "That's way beyond my wildest dreams."

Possible Preaching Angles: The various roles within the body of Christ—missionary, teacher, preacher, etc.—look drastically different within various contexts: whether historical eras or cultural circumstances. The importance and the purpose of those roles, however, has remained constant since Jesus' command to "go and make disciples of all nations" (Matt. 28:19).

London witnessed a spectacular scene when a giant wooden replica of the city ignited and burned brilliantly to the ground. The conflagration was planned, however, in honor of the 350th anniversary of the Great Fire of London. The original fire began on September 2, 1666, in the early morning at a bakery on Pudding Lane. The surrounding structures were soon engulfed, and the fire spread to the rest of the city, lasting four entire days. The modern-day festival to remember the disaster is known as "London's Burning" and contains four days of free art events, concluding this year with the grand burning of the replica of medieval London.

At first glance, it seems a bit odd to celebrate such a catastrophe-especially with another fire. However, as gruesome as the Great Fire may have been, it now has its place firmly etched into the city's history as a turning point: the beginning of a time of regrowth and resurgence for London.

Christians arguably perform the same "odd" type of ritual when we take communion and decorate our homes and sacred buildings with crosses. We not only commemorate the brutal murder of Jesus, but we adorn our worship with the murder weapon: the cross, one of the most widely known torture devices of that time period. And yet it doesn't seem strange to us—because we know that what Satan intended to be the ultimate act of evil, God turned around to be the ultimate act of love.

Potential Preaching Angles: Redemption; Cross; Crucifixion; Easter; Communion

In February 1954, a navy pilot set out on a night-training mission from a carrier off the coast of Japan. While he was taking off in stormy weather, his directional finder malfunctioned, and he mistakenly headed in the wrong direction. To make matters worse, his instrument panel suddenly short-circuited, burning out all the lights in the cockpit.

The pilot "looked around … and could see absolutely nothing; the blackness outside the plane had suddenly come inside." Nearing despair, he looked down and thought he saw a faint blue-green glow trailing along in the ocean's ebony depths. His training had prepared him for this moment, and he knew in an instant what he was seeing: a cloud of phosphorescent algae glowing in the sea that had been stirred up by the engines of his ship. It was the "least reliable and most desperate method" of piloting a plane back onto a ship safely, but the pilot—future Apollo 13 astronaut Jim Lovell—knew that was precisely what he needed to do. And so he did.

While he did not articulate it this way, Jim's life was saved because of light. Not just any light, but "bioluminescent dinoflagellates," which are tiny creatures that contain luciferin, a generic term for the light-emitting compound. Bioluminescent organisms live throughout the ocean, from the surface to the seafloor, from near the coast to the open ocean.

Possible Preaching Angles: (1) Evangelism—How many people surround us daily who are in a spiritual condition that mirrors Lovell's dilemma? What will light their journey when they look into the blackness all around them? When their eyes adjust to the darkness, what life-saving light will they see? (2) God's Word—Is a lamp to our feet and a light to our path. (3) Jesus is the light of the world.

Editor's Note: Tell this illustration as a story or as a prop illustration by using an actual bicycle or a bike tire.

On a recent bike trip it wasn't until I finally arrived home that I noticed something wrong. My tires were low. They needed air. The funny thing about bike tires is I don't remember taking air out of them. It just went. Somewhere. Somehow. Air leaks.

My tires weren't crazy low, but low enough to know that my efforts in peddling were not producing maximum return. Each rotation was just a little bit harder than it would be had the tires been filled properly.

It got me thinking. Life is like a bike tire. We don't intentionally take air out … it just leaves. And just as it's harder to peddle with flat tires, it's not as fun to live when the air has leaked out of our lives. We don't know where it goes or how. Life just has a way of deflating us. Difficult conversations … hisssssss (that's the sound of air leaving your tires!). Tough day at work … hisssssss. Overwhelmed by circumstance … hisssssss. It happens to all of us.

So where in my life am I being re-inflated? Where am I pausing long enough to "fill my tires"? I know for me it happens when I drive by myself, worship music cranked. Re-filling. It happens when I take my Bible and a journal to the beach and let God speak to me. Re-filling. It happens to me when the stories of God at work fill my spirit. Having a coffee with a wise and trusted friend.

What about you? Are you going through life with flat tires? How fun is that? How much effort are you putting out in relation to the return? What if you made a decision to pause and re-fill? Do you know your re-filling stations? How does God fill your tires and push you onward?

Once upon a time there was an old well that stood outside the front door of a family farmhouse in New Hampshire. The water from the well was remarkably pure and cold. No matter how hot the summer or how severe the drought, the well was always a source of refreshment and joy.

The faithful old well stood for years until eventually the farmhouse was modernized. Wiring brought electric lights, and indoor plumbing brought hot and cold running water. The old well was no longer needed, so it was sealed for use in possible future emergencies. But one day, years later, someone had a hankering for the cold, pure water of that familiar old well. So he unsealed the well and lowered a bucket for a nostalgic taste of the delightful refreshment he remembered from his youth.

He was shocked to discover that the well that once had survived the severest droughts was bone dry! Perplexed, he began to ask some of the older folks who knew about these kind of things. He learned that wells of that sort were fed by hundreds of tiny underground rivulets which seep a steady flow of water. As long as the water is drawn out of the well, new water will flow in through the rivulets, keeping them open for more to flow. But when the water stops flowing, the rivulets clog with mud and close up. The well dried up not because it was used too much, but because it wasn't used enough.

Possible Preaching Angles: Our souls are like that well. If we do not draw on the living water that Jesus promised would well up in us like a spring, our hearts close and dry up.

Does money grow on trees? Even if it did, many of us might not notice it. That's the conclusion from a team of researchers who were studying something called "inattentional blindness." According to the study, inattentional blindness occurs when "people fail to become aware of objects unrelated to their current task," even when those objects are "interesting or surprising."

Inspired by an old YouTube video, two researchers from Western Washington University clipped money on a tree and then observed the reaction of the passersby. The branch of the tree with the money was bent so that it hung over the path at head height. So the unwitting participants in the study practically bonked their heads on the tree money.

Here are the results: overall, 396 people were observed walking down the path. Only 12 people failed to see and avoid the tree, but most people failed to see the money in the tree. And a whopping 94 percent of people on a cell phone were so distracted that they didn't spot the money. The authors of the study ended the study with a rather obvious but important conclusion: "Becoming aware of an object is generally assumed to require focused attention."

Possible Preaching Angles: Spiritual disciplines—like Bible reading, Prayer, Worship, Devotions—provide the "focused attention" we need to overcome our "inattentional blindness" in our life with Christ.

According to an old Jewish story, once upon a time there was a four-year-old boy named Mortakai who refused to attend school and study Hebrew. Whenever his parents tried to immerse his mind in the Torah [or the Word of God], he would sneak away and play on the swing set. Every form of persuasion failed. Mortakai remained stubborn and defiant. The exasperated parents even brought him to a famous psychiatrist, but that also proved futile. Nothing changed the young boy's heart, which seemed to grow more distant, lonely, and hardened every week.

Finally, in utter desperation, Mortakai's parents brought him to the local rabbi, a warm and wise spiritual guide. As the parents explained their plight, pouring out their frustration and despair, the rabbi listened intently. Without saying a word, he gently picked up Mortakai, took him in his arms and held him close to his chest. The rabbi held Mortakai close enough and tight enough so the young boy could feel the safe, rhythmic beating of the rabbi's heart. Then, still without a word, he gently handed the child back to his parents. From that point on, Mortakai listened to his parents, studied the Torah and, when it was appropriate, he also slipped away to play on the swing set.

Possible Preaching Angles: Prayer, Quiet times, spiritual disciplines, Sabbath rest—all of these practices are just ways of being with God so we can hear his heartbeat. That is the only way to heal our stubborn, defiant, hardened souls.

A few years ago, marriage and family expert Greg Smalley noticed weeds sprouting up amongst the healthy grass in his yard. Smalley went to a hardware store, picked up a bottle of weed killer, and drenched the eyesores. A day later the weeds remained—along with the brown grass Smalley had inadvertently killed. He tried again, and again killed more healthy grass. His wife finally told him to speak with a professional before he killed their whole yard and left nothing but the weeds. So, off he went for professional help.

Smalley recalls, "What he said I'll never forget because it applies to marriage [or dealing with sin in our lives in general]. You don't go after the weeds. You want to grow the healthy grass around them. That healthy grass will kill the weeds. It will choke out the weeds."

Possible Preaching Angles: Marriage; Spiritual Disciplines; Growth—Although this illustration was originally used to teach about marriage, the principle in this story also applies to spiritual disciplines and spiritual growth. In other words, we grow not just by pulling the weeds of sin; we grow by growing healthy grass (Christlike virtues and desires).

Prayer is easier than we think. We want to think it is too hard or too high and holy for us, because that gives us an excuse for not doing it. This is false humility. We can all do it, even the most sinful, shallow, silly, and stupid of us.

You do not have to master some mystical method. You do not have to master a method at all. Can you talk to a friend? Then you can talk to God, for he is your Friend. And that is what prayer is. The single most important piece of advice about prayer is one word: Begin! God makes it easy: just do it!

God also makes it easy to progress in prayer …. for it gradually becomes more natural and delightful.

In The Higher Happiness, Ralph W. Sockman describes the true intention of prayer: "We use prayer as a boatman uses a boat hook: to pull the boat to the shore and not to try to pull the shore to the boat.

In her memoir Take This Bread, author Sara Miles shares how the first time she ever took Communion changed her life forever. She writes:

One early, cloudy morning, when I was forty-six, I walked into a church, ate a piece of bread, took a sip of wine. A routine Sunday activity for tens of millions of Americans—except that up until that moment I'd led a thoroughly secular life, at best indifferent to religion, more often appalled by its fundamentalist crusades. This was my first communion. It changed everything.

Eating Jesus, as I did that day to my great astonishment, led me against all my expectations to a faith I'd scorned and work I'd never imagined. The mysterious sacrament turned out to be not as symbolic wafer but actual food—indeed, the bread of life. In that shocking moment of communion, filled with a deep desire to reach for and become part of a body, I realized that what I'd been doing with my life all along was what I was meant to do: feed people.

And so I did. I took communion, I passed the bread to others, and then I kept going, compelled to find new ways to share what I had experienced.