WEDNESDAY NIGHT MEETING

Last night’s meeting—the fourth in five days—was the most well-attended yet. Two new people joined the circle: Deb Basham and a guy named Mike.

Two days ago, I got an email from Allegra Leonard in Phoenix, Arizona, saying, “Please call my friend. She lives in Las Vegas, and she just found out you were there. She had no idea there was a group in Vegas. She is so lonely for fellowship!”

The friend’s name was Deb Basham. I called Deb and left a message, telling her where the meeting was on Wednesday night, and what time. I got a return message the next morning, and Deb wasn’t going to miss it.

Sure enough, here she came. The door opened, Deb threw her arms around my neck, and then did the same to everyone else. It was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen, watching Deb graft so naturally into the group. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have said she'd been coming here for years. People said, “Deb!” as though she were a long-lost relative. Before the meeting started, Deb and Melinda chatted away like sisters. Well, in Christ, they are—and always have been.

I spoke last night on the graduation, in the book of Acts, from flesh to spirit. The kingdom message starts strong for Israel with signs and miracles, then slowly disintegrates as Paul takes the stage. By the end of Paul’s ministry—which goes “from glory to glory”—fleshly signs give way to spiritual realities. “This is where we are today,” I said. “Nothing is more impressive now, spiritually, than people who believe God in spite of their experiences—in spite of being tried and disciplined by the very God they love and serve.”

In Romans, chapter 8, Paul tells us how nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus, promptly embarking upon a list of terrible trials. Then he says, “In all these things, we are more than conquering.” I emphasized the word in. "We don’t conquer by being delivered from these trials," I said, “but by enduring them through the power of grace, and in the knowledge that the trials are fitting us for a celestial kingdom.”

As great as the other meetings were, this felt to me like the best one yet. I felt so much a part of a family, as did everyone else.

Deb was just thrilled. At one point, she had tears in her eyes. “I have been alone in what I believe since 1999,” she said. “You don’t know what finding this fellowship means to me.”

These meetings have been the catalyst that has brought Rick Kovatch and Deb Basham to a group of loving saints they did not even know existed. Rick joked last night, saying, “Now you’re stuck with me.” Joe said, “You’re stuck with us.”

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In about four hours, Joe, Eddie and I fly out to Stockton, CA, where we will rent a car and drive to Sacramento. We are staying at the home of Anita Butler, where the meeting is also, on Saturday.

(For meeting details, call Anita Butler at 916-524-1080.)

I have enjoyed my mornings here. I’m back at the kitchen bar, of course, working on this blog. My body finally surrendered to sleep yesterday morning; I did not wake up until 6:15. My morning routine has been pleasant. I come down here, raid the fridge for fruit, then start on the blog. Sophia comes down for work at about a quarter ‘til seven, makes us tea, and we have a nice chat. About a half hour later, Joe comes down and makes coffee, and we end up having impromptu Bible studies for at least an hour. Yesterday morning, Sophia came home early, and Joe, Sophia, Melinda and I talked for three hours.

I’m already going to miss my morning routine here, just as I missed my Pennsylvania routine when I came to Las Vegas, and just as I will miss my Sacramento routine when I leave there on Sunday. I will have one more evening and morning here (Sunday night, Monday morning), before flying back to Pittsburgh on the 24th.

It is currently 6:45. I will hurry and post this blog, then get a show recorded before 8:30.

I don’t know if I’ve ever been busier in the evangel than I have been here, these past six days. I have loved every minute of it. It has been taxing at times, but when you’re doing what you’re supposed to be doing on this planet, every rhyme has reason. 

We will talk again from Sacramento.  

© 2012 by Martin Zender

VERY MUCH SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOT MUCH AT ALL

Yesterday was the big day; the Newman Family (Joe, Melinda, Matthew, and Hannah) took me to The Strip. I could have wandered up, down, and within those glittering arteries, for days—or at least for weeks. Beauty moves me; why not let it submit its product? Why not admit to its successes? I appreciate the conglomerate efforts of men and women—given eyes for beauty by God—putting tools and visions to work in a city that makes, for me, a breathtaking merger of peace (there is peace in falling water), and plants, and reflecting pools, and wonderwheels, and statuary reminiscent (in Caesar’s Palace, particularly), of a) a better era, b) strength, c) the Renaissance, d) a time when the citizens feared volcanoes. 

(Off we go now, to the lobby and mall of the Bellagio Hotel):

How many of our fellow men and women think to build life-sized polar bears of living, white flowers? (Not many; the rest of us merely gape at the artistry.) I thank God for caring people whose task on this earth is treating us lesser beings (whose eyes nevertheless seek respite from pain, death, decay) to snippets of otherworldly invention. I thank God, also, for those blenders and blowers of colored glass (masters of multiple arts); glass that somehow sits and moves simultaneously, making me see God. 

I cannot do any of this, with either flowers or glass. 

Other talented inventors hang Christmas ornaments the size of school buses from the ceiling, to the point that the point at the end of the ornament points leads eager eyes to the snow below, where mothers and fathers hug bundled children who, thank God, are not being shot. 

Las Vegas is a happy place where female beauty (the result, too, of artistry: the divine variety) gets fair display. What I love so much about Las Vegas is the absence of hypocrisy. If it is hypocrisy you desire, please visit one of the many denominational churches outside town. For beauty, peace, fun, and love, however, head to the Jewel of the Desert, shining very much somewhere in the middle of not much at all.   

(Click photos to enlarge.)

Outside Caesar's Palace

Inside The Mirage

Look at me, I'm the Fifth Beatle

At The Forum Shops in Caesar's Palace

Erupting volcano in front of The Mirage. (It's a mirage.)

Joe treated us to a wonderful dinner at Mon Ami Gabi,
across from The Bellagio. Thank you, Joe!

The mall at The Bellagio

Beautiful painting at one of the galleries.

 © 2012 by Martin Zender

GLORY MEETING IN THE DESERT

I slept until 5 o’clock this morning—great progress.

I do not actually sleep with the giant pink pillow in bulbous tennis shoes shaped like a heart with the jolly disposition (I know you have been wondering), but I do lean it against the wall opposite the foot of the bed where I can fellowship with it should the nights wax lonely. Loneliness is, so far, deferred, for each night passes (short as the nights may be) without my awareness. I have been so exhausted I cannot even remember—on any given night—closing my eyes.  

By the time I get adjusted to Pacific Time, I will be back East.

I worked out yesterday at YMCA on Durango Street, and so did the Newmans. I am a member of the Y in Johnstown, PA, where I go five days a week for my dose of uphill treadmill sprints, indoor track running, resistance training, and swimming. With my Johnstown membership, I get ten free visits to any Y in the country. While Joe and Matthew played basketball, Melinda and Hannah and I hit the treadmills.

I showed Melinda how to do the uphill sprints, and for how long. I told her it’s better to exercise smart, than long. “It’s all about stressing the body for limited periods of time, followed by rest,” I told her. I think she may have hated me for that at first—sweating, breathing hard, finding out how long 15 seconds can be—but in the end, she saw the benefit of doing it right and getting it over with.

We then went to the weight room and I showed her my “Power of 10” routine: slow, controlled, concentrated reps (no more than six), with heavy weight. The concept is to bring the muscle to failure in the shortest period of time, and then push against the failure for one or two seconds before lowering the weight at the same slow speed. This eliminates repetitive sets, which I’ve always hated. This way, you do one set of very few reps, and you’re done. Melinda said, “I like this method!” Me, too.

We finished our Y time with a basketball game: Matthew and me versus  Hannah and Joe; playing to ten by ones. I guarded Joe. Matthew kept letting Hannah get open in the perimeter, not believing his sister could hit from there. Problem: Hannah kept hitting from there. We tightened up the D, and it came down to a 9-9 tie; next basket wins. I took the ball out, passed to Matthew, who passed back to me; I dribbled twice, then found Matthew cutting underneath. I passed, he shot, scored—and we sure enjoyed our time at the Y.

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Broadcasting the Martin Zender Show from my Las Vegas studio,
otherwise known as Hanna's room. Eat your heat out, Don Imus.
(Click to enlarge.)

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The meeting last night was the third in three days, and glory-laden. We discussed our identity with Christ. Where Christ is—seated at the right hand of God—is where we shall be. What did we do to attain this position? Nothing. What did Christ do? Everything.

I took us to Romans, chapter 6, highlighting the “togethers” of that passage: entombed together with Him, our old nature crucified together with Him, being roused together with Him. God identifies us with Christ in the bad side of the equation, but also in the good.

How gracious of God to say we were crucified with Christ, without us having to actually be nailed to that horrible post. I told the saints: here we were, sitting on living room chairs in a pleasant neighborhood in a pleasant city, reading how God said we were crucified with His Son, baptized into His death, and entombed with Him. What did we actually do? Nothing. We had not even been born. Where were we now? Sitting on comfortable chairs in Las Vegas. And yet, to God, we were there on the torture stake. To Christ, we were there. (Because of this, we will be together with Him in resurrection also.)

Picture Christ, the loneliest creature in the universe that day. A survival technique, for Him, was to picture us. He did this in His mind’s eye. In His mind’s eye, we shared His convulsions and helped Him through them. He thought of us, without actually knowing us. This sustained Him, even before we existed. He knew how thankful we would someday be.

The crucifixion was not ours to taste. Not so the glory. When it comes to the glory, the sweetness runs down our throats. How is this a bad deal for any of us? I asked. We were not even alive during the six hours of torture, yet God considered us present. Then, when glory time comes (the manifestation of Christ to the universe), He waits for us, and shares with us—in person—the glorious outcome.  

I was stunned—and am continually, but especially last night—by the generosity and graciousness of Christ. As the necessary torture was imputed to us apart from our experience, so the coming glory might have been thusly imputed, for a perfect parallel. But no. Screw parallels, says God. The suffering happens apart from us, the glory patiently waits for us. Christ brings us to heaven to personally taste His reward.  

(Click to enlarge.)

“Now if we died together with Christ, we believe that we shall be living together with Him also” (Romans 6:8).

The “died together” is past; the “living together” is future. For the present, Paul prays that we come to a realization of this. This is my prayer for you, the reader, and it was my prayer last night for the saints, that we should attain to the unity of the faith and of the realization of the son of God, to a mature man, to the measure of the stature of the complement of the Christ.

Later today, we go to The Strip.

© 2012 by Martin Zender

FOOTBALL AND FELLOWSHIP IN MODERN-DAY CORINTH

Las Vegas is a modern-day Corinth. How many other cities in the world earn the moniker, “Sin City?” This is why I’m so thrilled there’s an ecclesia here. “The ecclesia of Las Vegas” sounds as strange to some modern ears as “the ecclesia of Corinth” sounded 2,000 years ago. “What? How can there be an ecclesia there?” But for that matter, how can there be an ecclesia anywhere on a planet that is, relatively speaking, run by Satan? Belief if a miracle. (But then again, so is unbelief.) Besides, it’s not the so-called sinners we have to worry about “down here,” but the religious powers distorting the grace of Christ.

That message is definitely not being distorted in the ecclesia of Las Vegas. The Word of the cross is going forth with power here at the Joe Newman home.

We held another meeting yesterday, this time talking about Jesus Christ’s place in universal history. I opened with the question, “Why are we here?” We are here, ultimately, to give God company. I know that sounds trite. It’s certainly not the full answer, but God created every creature for His own pleasure, and theirs. It’s about fellowship. This future pleasure for the creatures, we know, is dependent upon an experience of evil. I am more richly appreciating the value of fellowship, at the same time realizing I’ve undervalued the importance of it to God.

His object is to love and be loved. The “eonian chart” I looked at for years has God, in the beginning, “All in Himself.” That always seemed sad to me. But then, at the consummation of the eons, He is “All in all.” When I see that second, “all,” I am happy for the creatures, but pleased even more for their Creator.  

A new guy came to the meeting yesterday: Terry. He had heard Rich’s radio show, and the two had spoken on the phone, I think, but had never met. Rich asked if he wanted to come to the meeting, and apparently Terry lives dangerously. I didn’t get a photo of him, I think, because I was too busy arguing with him.

This man did not harden his own heart.

Terry is a good man, and was very patient with all of us (it was reciprocal), but his blind spot concerned a consequential point: free will and the sovereignty of God. Terry loves the idea of free will, and could not hear his own contradictions of salvation being “of grace” and “no merit of our own,” while at the same time explaining what sort of merits God’s “unmerited” favor required. Besides, God didn’t harden Pharaoh’s heart, because Pharaoh hardened his own heart. What about the verse saying God hardened Pharaoh’s heart? It’s just one of those nagging Scriptural inconveniences requiring an extremely convoluted theology to explain. As Nathan Pilkington says way back there in good old Pennsylvania: “The miracle is not belief, but that God locks up so many in unbelief.”

I did finally get Terry to admit, out loud, that he believed faith came from “within a person,” and “not from God.” You’d have squirmed in your chair—as did some here—at the amount of cornering it took to extract that confession from Terry. The man was shocked to hear himself say it, I think, but I made him repeat it and listen to himself. I told him to think about what he’d said on his way home. Who knows? Maybe he did that instead of listening to the radio.  

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I am happy to have introduced Rich Kovatch to this group. He has lived only a few miles from the Newmans, unaware of their existence. He did the radio show here, but the show broadcast on a Christian station, which of course the Newmans avoided like the swine flu, so they never heard him. Rich is thrilled have found this fellowship, and the Newmans are, too. I’m pretty tickled, myself, about playing matchmaker.

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Sophia is from Georgia, a former Soviet country bordering Turkey and the Black Sea. She came to America two days prior to 9/11, 2001, and settled in New Jersey, where the weather shocked her. “Cold, snowy, gloomy,” she said. “Yes,” I said, “that’s New Jersey.”  She wanted sunshine and palm trees (neither one in New Jersey), so she came out here to Las Vegas about ten years ago and met the Newmans four years later; talk about symbiosis. Sophia learned from the Newmans about a God of power, majesty, grace (her background is Eastern Orthodox), and the Newmans enjoy the company and fellowship of a beautiful, vibrant soul.

                             *  *  *

I built my radio studio yesterday morning in Hannah’s room, broadcasting my first show from there before the 10 o’clock meeting. For four days, then, I will broadcast from atop Hannah’s make-up table, surrounded by blow driers, curling irons, and walls the color of ripe limes. I will photograph my Vegas studio for you today, and show it to you tomorrow. I am very proud of it, and I think Hannah is, too.

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For a person of any age, Hannah has an insatiable curiosity about God (she is 14). For instance, she was on the Internet yesterday checking up on what I’d taught concerning the name, “Elohim,” used in the Concordant Version in Genesis 1:1, of Who created the heavens and the earth. Hannah sought to verify that this was a plural appellation, rather than singular. I kid you not, Hannah had three sites open. It was all about, “Elohim.” Elohim this, Elohim that. Then, last night, giving Elohim a rest, she produced a two-page list of questions on various other topics.

Last night, Rich and Eddie and I had just returned from Randy’s house, where we’d watched the Forty-Niner/Patriot game on Randy’s thirteen-foot (yes, thirteen foot) home theater screen. As soon as we got in the door, Melinda looked at me and said, “Okay, Hannah has only one question for you.” Everyone was laughing, so I figured the “one question” was a doozie. Hannah said, “I need one verse from every book of the Old Testament, stating explicitly that the Hebrew Scriptures were written only to Israelites.” I feigned anxiety. (Not really; the anxiety was real.). Not knowing of any such verse in any of the books, let alone all, I answered her question and dodged it at the same time, quoting Romans 3:2—“They were entrusted with the oracles of God.” Did it satisfy her? She did crack a grin. But I’ve a feeling she’s going to recast her query and hit me with it again today.  

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Yesterday evening, Eddie took Rich and me to the mountains, specifically, to the Red Rocks. The peak lighting was already past, but the mountains still rose from the desert spectacular, jagged, depth-rich, and snow-capped. In a way, they are more spectacular than the Rockies of Colorado Springs (with the exception of Pike’s Peak), in that the peaks layered, jutted, jumbled, then shot to heaven unexpectedly. (The disruption of the world had its way with them.)

                                                           

Eddie and  Rich

*  *  *

After the mountain adventure, Eddie took Rich and me over to Randy’s to watch the football game. Randy had picked up a juicy Hawaiian pork dish for us, with wild rice. Randy has good taste in food, as well as living quarters. As far as Randy’s home theater system goes, one expects to have to buy tickets to it. I’d never seen anything like it except at a Cineplex. A thirteen foot screen with surround-sound is definitely the way to watch the NFL. (It was raining in New England, and some of it hit our shoes.)

Eddie, Randy, Rich. That's the screen reflected in the back glass.

The Niners beat the Patriots.

Party central.

I so enjoyed watching the game with these brothers. I felt like we’d known each other for a long time. It was one of those magical times, again, when you sense beyond a shadow of a doubt you’re with the right people, in the right place, at the right time.

That’s been happening a lot lately.

© 2012 by Martin Zender