Sunday, December 23, 2018

Wise Pagans Worship

Today I heard an intriguing Christmas Eve Eve sermon about the wise men (magi) journeying to an unknown destination to worship Christ, the newborn King. I always find it interesting how preachers tell the Christmas story from a different angle or point of view each year. Last year, for example, I was afforded the opportunity to preach on Christmas Eve and I accented the angelic message of Christ bringing "peace on earth." Yet I don't think I have ever heard a sermon (in person) that centered on the magi. Our pastor's sermon, as I said, was quite well done, being both tethered to the text and bringing us to God's throne in thoughts and prayers. We were even led to silently pray for a few minutes during the sermon time itself.

Thinking further about the magi and how they worshiped Jesus, a few thoughts come to mind. Atop our bookshelf is displayed a wood-carved nativity set from Sibiu, one of the most exquisite of Romanian cities. In this nativity, Joseph holds a lantern while Mary gushes over the Christ child. The onlooking animals stand peacefully vigilant. The three wise men gaze in awe at baby Jesus in the straw. It is a silent, holy night.

In all actuality, the Bible does not indicate that their were only three wise men, nor does it claim they were kings. The naming of three specific gifts - gold, frankincense, and myrrh - seem to have made people think that such should also be the number of magi. (If we include their servants, who would also have come along to carry the amassed gifts, then all of a sudden I need a bigger nativity set!) What is clear is that, by the time the wise men arrived, Jesus was most likely two years old and living in a house (Matt. 2:11).

I am not engaged by the scholarly debates about whether the magi were from Persia or beyond; it is enough for me to know they were from the East (east of Roman Palestine, that is). Nor am I much interested in speculation about what the gifts signify. Whether their profession as astrologers also meant they were priests of some eastern religion is likely, for they obviously had great quantities of valuable resources at their disposal and were comfortable in the presence of monarchs like Herod.

One might say they were renowned academics from another culture - men (probably not women, due to the little access women had in those days to education) who had been searching the skies for their "breakthrough discovery." A new star had appeared, which signaled the miraculous: somehow the Keeper of the stars was himself intervening in human history. The ancient stories of gods walking the earth could be proven true after all.

Thus we find this Eastern entourage "following yonder star" and inquiring of the local king, whose land they had now entered, where to find the king whose coming mirrored the star's appearance. Royal scribes inform the foreign wise men that their destination is not far: Bethlehem is less than six miles from Jerusalem. When they arrive in Mary and Joseph's house and see Jesus, they fall down in worship. This was not what they expected.

Men of honor and prestige fall helpless in a tumbledown house of peasants.
Priests of a false religion fall prostrate before the true King.
Academics at the height of their career are left speechless before a toddler.
Pagans recognize that the proper response to meeting Jesus is simple worship.

May we who have met Jesus and stand on this side of the Cross do the same.

Wednesday, December 12, 2018

Life at Christmas time: Between Ideal and Real


“He peed again.” Sigh.

Our second child was born on November 26, a boy we have named Noah. That makes Noah sixteen days old, and he is doing great. Noah is healthy, he is eating well, and at his two-week appointment the doctor said she couldn’t be more pleased.

Yet yesterday reality hit. Jessica’s parents went back to the US, leaving us with a full fridge of leftovers and full hearts. Somehow during the three weeks they were here I was able to fit in a few hours of work each day (whether for our organization, my seminary classes I teach, or a journal article I’m writing). Because I don’t have an office, I do all my computer work at home. Wedged in as I am now between the giant stuffed Mickey Mouse beside me, the blaring Daniel Tiger on TV, and my toddler who stays still about five seconds and then sprints around the room, quiet seems to elude me these days. I find myself having several recurring thoughts:

Who knew that newborn boys could pee so much?

Where did the day go?

Why can’t I seem to answer these work emails faster?

Was that Noah crying again?

When are we going to get these dishes done?

Who knew that newborn boys could pee so much?

I am reminded, though, to count my blessings. ‘Tis the season to count our blessings, after all. There is also a pattern that appears in my life: busy times with lots of deadlines lead to rigorous goal-setting. In order to accomplish everything, I’ll need to finish this task by this day and that task by that day. But task orientation is usurped, and rightly so, by human variables. Especially if those human variables are little humans.

So here I sit at the end of the day. Did I accomplish everything on my list? No. Is the world going to end? No.

To my right sits our Christmas tree. It is not big. It is not real. Not all the branches are covered with ornaments. Yet the ones we do have up all hold memories that began with my marriage to Jessica 7 ½ years ago. Our toddler helped with the tinsel this year, so it is humorously lopsided looking. The star isn’t quite straight and not all the little lights shine. But I’m happy with our non-ideal tree. And yes, I’m happy with non-ideal days like this one.
Because the non-ideal waits and longs for the ideal beyond ourselves. Like Christmas.



Tuesday, November 13, 2018

Season of Thanks

Sitting in a local coffee shop yesterday, I (Cameron) was reminded by a good friend named Dave how fleeting this period of life is. Sara just turned two a month ago, we are roughly two weeks away from Noah's birth, and life and ministry are going well. We are healthy and happy. It is right and good to stop for a moment and give thanks for the blessings showered nonstop by our good, good Father. I am thankful for friends like Dave, who are quick to remind me to slow down and take measure of the good things around me. To showcase some of these family blessings, I offer here a few pictures from a recent photo shoot of Sara's two-year birthday combined with Jessica's pregnancy photos:

(Photos taken by Sara Ile)












Saturday, October 6, 2018

"The sunrise shall visit us"



Often Jessica and I feel caught between feeling overwhelmed by how many activities we have going on and feeling guilty for not communicating enough with friends and prayer supporters. Glancing at the date of our last post on here (April 17), such feelings may lead to regret or self-justification. Some of you reading this may respond, "No need to feel that way. We are all busy." Still, we apologize for our infrequency in updating.

Here are a few bullet-point updates on what is going on with us nowadays:
  • Jessica is 32 weeks pregnant with our son, Noah. He'll make his entry via C-section somewhere around the end of November. Jessica's parents are coming from West Virginia for the birth.
  • Sara turns 2 years old on October 13. We have a small (but joyful) Elmo-themed party planned.
  • We have a team from Missouri that will work with us from October 12-23. We are thrilled to have them! They'll be doing prayerwalking, street/park evangelism, working some at the seminary, and leading a one-day VBS for our church. We'll also go up to the mountains for a day and a night to breathe some aer curat (fresh air).
  • Yesterday was my first day back teaching at the seminary. In addition to teaching my usual Intro to Evangelism, I'm also teaching Intro to the Spiritual Disciplines. Should be lots of fun!
  • In between the team being here and Noah's arrival, I have my PhD comp exams and dissertation proposal defense. Once I pass these two hurdles I'll be able to start my dissertation research, which is connected to the Evangelism class I'm teaching.
So, needless to say, this is a busy season for us. Jessica is ready to not be pregnant anymore. Sara is growing like a weed (and so is her vocabulary!). I am blessed. 

Yet even just thinking of all these happenings makes me tired. I have to carefully take my thoughts captive and ask the Lord to exchange them with positive thoughts, like the joy in Sara's eyes when I walk through the door or the way my wife gets excited thinking of how Sara and Noah will play together. I think of my powerlessness and daily need for gospel grace.

I'm reading through Luke right now in my devotions and was especially struck by Zechariah's song in Luke 1 (he hadn't spoken in months and all of a sudden burst into song). Prophetically singing of the message his newborn son will bring, Zechariah declares, "The sunrise shall visit us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness." Such is the gospel. 

Setting my sights on the sunrise that has visited us in Christ, I can face tomorrow and praise God today. 

Tuesday, April 17, 2018

A legacy full and genuine: Grandad's memorial sermon


Note: Cameron preached this memorial sermon in Muskegon, Michigan, at Shores Community Church on April 9, 2018.

To begin, I just want to say how incredibly honored I am to be able to stand and testify to the life of my Grandad. Thank you for allowing me the privilege to stand and speak today. Oh how I loved him! From the age of 20 until his last breath, Grandad lived his life with a laser focus on the One he now sees face-to-face: his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Never was his faith in question by anyone who knew him, and that legacy literally reverberates from the shores of Maranatha to the ends of the earth.
            Grandad was a family man. He desperately loved his wife, his five children, his 26 grandchildren, and his 16 great-grandchildren. Even the word “love” seems too soft for the heart-wrenching, hurricane-like affection Grandad showered on all of us. From the youngest great-grandchild to the oldest of his children, Grandad always carved out time to speak to us and pray daily for us by name. And obviously, looking around at the many people here, Grandad’s family extends far beyond biological ties. Ever kind to friends, neighbors, and strangers, we all remember how the family cottage on Lake Harbor Road was always packed beyond fire code capacity with men, women, and children who absolutely adored Grandad and his magnetic personality.
            Along with everyone else here, I always knew that no matter where God took me, I’d always have a welcome place beside my Grandad. “I love you, old handsome boy,” he’d say, as he’d plop a big wet kiss on my cheek. In my younger years I’d try to dodge that kiss, always unsuccessfully. Then we’d sit on the cottage’s porch swing rocking away as he’d listen to my boyish ramblings that, if I could go back and analyze them now, probably sounded so outrageous and disconnected.
            I often return in my thoughts to that porch swing. Maybe I’m an eight year old kid again sucking on a piece of watermelon Grandmama picked up that morning from Meijer. My legs dangle back and forth. It’s summertime at Maranatha, with a promise that my dad and Grandad will take my brother and me to the beach soon if we’re good. We might even swing by the Sweet Shop.
Maybe I’m 16 and telling Grandad how tough it really is entering a new high school. “You have no idea!” I’d insist. Soon, though, he’d have me throwing back my head in laughter, just like him. The world always seemed lighter and brighter after those talks.
Or maybe I’m 26 and newly married. My Grandad laughs his long, hearty laugh as he sees my eyes light up when my bride, Jessica, walks through the creaky door to sit next to me.
I’ll never outgrow that porch swing.
            For, in my mind, on that swing sits a man with a heart as wide as Lake Michigan. Buford Armstrong, my Grandad, lived and loved well for 80 years. It is hard to underestimate that kind of legacy. How many lives were touched by his life? How many people brought into God’s kingdom because Grandad first said yes to Jesus? Countless!
In preparation for this message, I asked Grandad’s five children – my dad, Cal (or Buzz), Uncle Daran, Aunt Valorie, Aunt Veronica, and Uncle Brooks – if they remembered some of Grandad’s favorite verses and hymns. Here are their responses:
Dad (Buzz): “I remember him referring to John 1:1 often. (“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God.”) My dad also really loved many of the Proverbs about wisdom. As for songs, one of my earlier memories is of him singing a gospel song that I think is called, ‘Have a little talk with Jesus.’”

I was able to track down this song. Here are some of the (very fitting) words:

“Now let us have a little talk with Jesus
Let us tell Him all about our troubles
He will hear our faintest cry and we will answer by and by
Now when you feel a little prayer wheel turning
You'll know a little fire is burning
You will find a little talk with Jesus makes it right”

Daran: He always loved “Up from the grave He arose” and “How Great Thou Art.”

Up from the grave he arose
With a mighty triumph o’er his foes;
He arose a victor from the dark domain
And he lives forever, with his saints to reign
He arose! He arose! Hallelujah! Christ arose!

Val: I remember my dad singing Ring the Bells at Christmas and teaching me that song. Also Heavenly Sunlight. And at Easter we sang Up from the Grave He Arose over and over. My dad memorized a lot of Scripture as a new believer and he told me how amazing that was. I have many sweet memories of my dad singing old love songs to my mom. I used to ask him to sing The House of Blue Lights (which I loved to hear him do), Sixteen Candles, a bunch of Sam Cook, the Platters, The Silhouettes. In our home we really only listened to 50s music.

Veronica: My dad loved Isaiah 40:31 that says we will soar on wings like eagles, run and not grow weary, walk and not grow faint. Grandad loves that verse because he is looking forward to having his new heavenly body and being in heaven with Jesus. Also Psalm 139. He was so thankful that the Lord knew him before he was born in the womb and protected him before he became a Christian during his wild, dangerous teenage years. He feels the Lord protected him until he brought Grandad to himself when he met Grandmama. He loves the hymns “What a friend we have in Jesus” and “Heavenly Sunlight” and “Rock of Ages,” and that one was sung at his dad’s funeral and your great grandpa Armstrong often sang that when Grandad was a little boy. I also love thinking about Sunday mornings at First Baptist Church in Wayne when I was a little girl – I would walk into the sanctuary, wait to hear my dad’s big laugh, and then I’d know I was safe. Grandad always said that that was the most wonderful time of his life.

Brooks: Isaiah 40:31 comes to mind first for me. He loved the image of the eagle. As for music, he loved old hymns, especially Amazing Grace (he would say he was a wretch before he met Grandmama and through her he came to know the Lord) and How Great Thou Art. He loved music and was always singing oldies to the kids – Calendar Girl, My Girl, What a Wonderful World by Sam Cook, so many to name. He would sing Zippity Do Da, the cattle song or I’m a Lonesome Polecat from Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. He’d always put in your name (whoever he was singing to) to any song, and I thought he made up the song Pretty Blue Eyes just for me when I was a kid. He loved to read Buford and the Little Big Horn. All of these and many more but mostly I will miss his laugh and how much he loved life and all the simple things like spring and the color yellow, mornings and going to breakfast, and just telling stories and being with his family.   

It is right and good to remember Grandad like this. It is right and good because his is a life worth remembering, through smiles and laughter as well as through tears and sorrow. And we know that whenever God calls any of his saints home that their death is precious to him. “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints,” writes the Psalmist in Psalm 116:15. Grandad is not here physically anymore, but we are not unaware of where he is. In the little letter of 1 Thessalonians, the Apostle Paul writes:
Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. (1 Thes. 4:13-14)

            So it is ok to grieve. It is ok to cry. It is ok to sit and think of Grandad and weep at his death, because by weeping we testify that death isn’t how things should be. There is an end coming even to death, and the Bible says that death itself is conquered by the sacrificial atonement of Jesus on the Cross. Death has lost its ultimate sting. “We do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope.” Grandad knew and lived and prayed and sang and proclaimed that hope all of his days.  
I’ll never forget visiting him in mid-February at the hospital. Fresh out of surgery, I expected just to watch him sleep. Instead he lucidly (and miraculously) asked my wife and me about our lives and about our baby and later remarkably led all four of us who were in the room in prayer from his hospital bed! Surely, Grandad loved Jesus! If I could pull back the curtain of this world and we could see him now, I think he’d say something like this: “Don’t worry, loved ones. I am dancing and laughing with Jesus, my forever Lord. My bones are strong and my strength is back. I’m home.” I also think Grandad would look each one of us in the eye and say, “Don’t miss this chance to know my Savior. Repent and believe the gospel. It’s really all about Jesus today.” And, of course, the three words we’ve all heard thousands of times, “I love you.”
Finally, I think Grandad might fall silent for a moment, smile that big grin we all adore, the grin that says “see you soon, son/daughter, grandson/granddaughter, beautiful wife,” and joyfully sing these powerful old words to another favorite hymn:

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee;
Let the water and the blood,
From Thy wounded side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure,
Save from wrath and make me pure.

While I draw this fleeting breath,
When my eyes shall close in death,
When I rise to worlds unknown,
And behold Thee on Thy throne,
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee.

Faith at Work: Contextualizing the Conversation in Romania


It all started on a bus ride to Bulgaria. I found myself seated next to a guy named Mircea, who I barely knew. Three hour road trips have a way of making friends out of acquaintances, and Mircea and I found ourselves lost in conversation both down and back from the old castle our group was visiting. Mircea reminisced about his family in the north of Romania and his post-college adventures in the western cities of Timisoara and Arad. He told me that moving to Bucharest for work was a huge gamble, but God provided time and again. Mostly, though, Mircea talked about how stressed out he was at his advertising job. True, he said, the profession calls for high levels of creativity and pizzazz. But the long hours, demanding deadlines, and lack of truly understanding his colleagues made Mircea wish the clock would tick a little bit faster.
            I, on the other hand, am employed to call people to consider God’s hand in their lives. I don’t work in the secular arena; I teach theology at a seminary and encourage church planting efforts. But when Mircea began talking about how he wished he could find joy in his job, I knew God was calling me to ask about how Mircea’s faith relates to the work he does. I’m glad I did.

The Landscape

            My conversation with Mircea made me curious to find out if other young evangelicals in Romania were asking similar questions. Because I like to probe for questions and listen to people, I somehow convinced Mircea and another missionary friend named Jeff to help me interview several Romanian men and women about their experiences of how their churches are equipping them to live out their faith. Do their churches provide tools for sharing Christ? Do church members talk about the struggles of perhaps being the only Christian in the secular workplace? How do they see their work as glorifying to God? What we found was discouraging.[1]
            Consider first the religious landscape. Even though roughly 90% of Romania is Eastern Orthodox, Romania is also sometimes referred to as the “Bible Belt of Europe.” With statistics showing a Protestant-Evangelical population nearing 6% and well-developed Baptist, Brethren, and Pentecostal Unions, it would be easy for some mission advocates to remove Romania from lists of potential mission fields.[2] Moreover, short-term mission teams from Canada, the US, and Western Europe rotate regularly into the country, bringing gospel teaching and materials every year since the Romanian Revolution of 1989.
            So, if things are so good, what is the problem? As we see it, the problem is threefold:
(1)   During Romania’s long history dealing with atheistic Communism, many Romanian church members did not share their faith openly for fear of persecution. Now a generation removed from this reality, the mentality of stark separation between church and “world” is still ingrained in many people’s minds.
(2)   While the teaching materials Western missionaries bring into Romania are often quite solid, the fact remains that such materials almost always originate outside of Romania. Written by Western authors, and often intended for Western learners, Romanian ministry leaders must learn to contextualize (not simply translate) these resources. This is quite a long process that admittedly does not yield desired results of cultural transformation.
(3)   Like the rest of the world, Romania is rapidly urbanizing. What this means for Romania’s churches varies according to each city. In Bucharest, for example, young business professionals often work 10-12 hour days and fight crowded metro and bus lines, leaving little extra time for midweek group meetings. Precious free time may be hard to concede to material that appears irrelevant to their lives.

The Vision

            What we are after, then, is a contextualized ministry to help Romanians bridge their Sunday worship with the Monday grind. It is not enough to merely discuss the necessity of “bringing Christ into the workplace.” Like Mircea, the men and women we’ve spoken with want more.
            So we decided to start conversations. Our aim is community-building: to help Romanian evangelical business people realize they are not alone. Partnering with several out-of-the-box thinkers from both churches and parachurch groups, we began with beta test seminars that include Romanian Christian business leaders as speakers and small group leaders. That was a year ago, and the response has been phenomenal. Romanians challenge Romanians. I (and any other non-Romanian in the room) help with seminar organization and then watch God move.
            We call our initiative Credință la Muncă (Faith at Work). So far we’ve hosted biannual seminars in both Bucharest and Timisoara, with more potential cities on the horizon. Our vision is to create a disciple-making movement among the Romanian business community for the glory of God.

Romanian business people
Living out their faith daily on the job
Making disciples as they go
For the glory of God.

Conclusion

            The point of all this talk of contextualized mission is reproducibility for kingdom impact. We want to see lives changed that will ripple through Romania and spill into other contexts. In many ways, I think everyone wants that – to be caught up in God’s mission of making disciples of all peoples. That’s why I’m writing this sentence. That’s why you, the reader, clicked on the Intersect link. What might it look like for your friend Muhammed, Pablo, Maria, or Jane to view their workplace as a mission field? Questions like this one started our journey in Romania. Perhaps God is preparing a similar journey for you.


Cameron D. Armstrong works in church planting and theological education with the International Mission Board (IMB). He holds the MDiv and ThM degrees from Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary. Cameron lives in Bucharest with his wife, Jessica, and daughter, Sara.


[1]Our findings were published in Cameron D. Armstrong, Tara M., and Jeff Cardell, “Vocational Witness in the Romanian Workplace: Realities and Responsibilities,” Global Missiology English 1, no. 14 (August 1, 2016), accessed January 2, 2018, http://ojs.globalmissiology.org/index.php/english/article/view/1922.0:00 AM.
[2]Included in the category of “Protestant-Evangelical” are also groups which are doctrinally not identified as such (Jehovah’s Witness and Mormons, for example).  National Institute of Statistics Romania, What does the 2011 census tell us about religion? (Bucharest, Romania: National Institute of Statistics Romania, 2013). Also, while some pockets of Romania depict a high evangelical percentage, such as Arad in western Romania, other regions are miniscule. Bucharest, the nation’s capital, is less than 1% evangelical.


This blog was originally published here at The Intersect Project, a ministry of Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary. 

A poem to my daughter on her 17-month birthday (by Cameron)


As I sit and stare into dancing eyes
Taking in the grandeur of the skies,
Tracing the path of a ladybug,
Pressed against Elmo nice and snug,
I think, “Lord, I do not deserve her.”

Tiny hands splashing wild and strong,
Bath water glistens clear and long.
Laughing and smiling incessantly,
She stares into my soul deeply.
And I think, “Lord, I do not deserve her.”

We named you Sara, sweet princess.
Beautiful. Biblical. We liked it best.
We named you Grace to remind us all
The gift of Life we didn’t earn at all.
And I think, “Lord, I do not deserve it.”

O Sara Grace, you’ll never know
The number of times I’ve prayed your soul
Would be saved by the God of grace.
I pray you too will one day see his face
And think, “Lord, I do not deserve you.”

Who knows what adventures will await
In the morning when you wake?
But peaking my head through your door
Just like I did the night before,
I know I’ll think, “Lord, I don’t deserve her.”