TUESDAY NIGHT FAITH MEETING

Forty showed up for the Tuesday night meeting in Faith, where I spoke on our freedom from sin. The shocking truth of the evening was that freedom from sin has nothing to do with how much or how little we sin, but rather with a declaration of God that we ARE free from sin--in spite of what we do). Freedom from sin is based on the work of Christ, not upon our behavior.

Up and down we go on our roller coasters, making charts of our behavior. On our good days, we think God is pleased with us. On our bad days, we think He must be hiding His face. But no; His smile is constant; all disturbances are on our side of the window pane.

It's not about us, but about His Son. Nothing makes Him happier than His sons and daughters taking their eyes from themselves, and placing them on Him in thanksgiving. (It is hard to be thankful when you're cursing yourself.) The irony is that, once our affection is set on Christ, our bodies will begin to respond to the revelation of grace. With the body of Christ, the revelation of grace comes first, then exhortations to behavior. We will never walk worthily of this calling if we imagine that the calling depends on us walking worthily.

Here are some photos from Tuesday night. Anne took these; this was before I gave her the finer points of camera motion--or lack of it:

(Click on photos to enlarge.)

Next up: Some final photos and memories from North Carolina.

The Pennsylvania meeting is Sunday, and we are expecting 21 for dinner on Saturday. Saturday, we are entertaining 11 overnight guests. There are lots of people coming from out of town, and out of state. It looks like approximately 50 will be attending the meeting. Not much time to rest, that's for sure, but I can't wait. Don't worry, I'll be taking lots of photos.

Grace and peace to you, and thanks for reading these efforts. 

Copyright 2013 by Martin Zender

THE GREAT BOOK “FIASCO”

Anne and I were an hour out of Pinehurst on our way to Charlotte on Saturday, when I yelped and slapped my forehead fourteen times. Anne thought I was having a spasm.

“Are you having a spasm, dear?”

“I forgot the books!” I said.

“The books” were the box of smaller Zender paperbacks and the packs of The First Idiot in Heaven I’d brought down from Pennsylvania, to sell in Faith on Sunday. I’d left them in my car in Anne’s garage, thinking I’d remember them as we left. But Anne had pulled her car around to the door, and I never went into the garage. I had, in my suitcase, nice book stands, and a beautifully-made sign with book prices—but no books.

“We can go back,” Anne said.

“But we can’t,” I said. “Look at the time. That would be two hours lost. We’ll be late for the meeting.”

I was upset, especially, about The First Idiot books, because I knew I’d be teaching on that topic on Sunday, and that people would be hot to have it. It wasn’t the money I was interested in, believe me. (Just ask Anne what a hard time I have asking for money for anything.) It was the fact that these people would be hungry for more information on Paul, and I would not have, in my possession, a single copy of the best book ever written about the dude.

It took me about twenty miles to cool down and forget about it.

“We can always come back tonight,” Anne said. “If the meeting ends by seven, we can drive back to Pinehurst, pick up the books, and come back here.”

That was gracious of Anne, but it sounded like a wild scheme to me. The trip was two hours each way. Anne doesn’t let anyone drive her car; she’d be handling all driving chores. We would have to drive four hours total, not returning until 11. Again, it was noble of Anne to offer, but unworkable. For one thing, I was already tired, and knew Anne would be, by then. We decided just to wait and see how we felt.

“I can live without the books,” I said. “Maybe we can drive back on Monday, and have them ready for the Tuesday meeting.” I didn’t like my own idea, because the iron would be hot on Sunday.

The meeting in Charlotte went great, as you already know. Things broke up around seven, as expected. Anne looked at me, and I could tell she was less than enthusiastic about the prospect of returning to Pinehurst. I agreed that driving four hours in the dark, when we were already so tired, was a bad idea. We both resigned, then, to the sorry scenario of an author having none of his books.

Just then, Tom Bishop stepped up. Actually, he’d been eavesdropping on the whole conversation.

Anne and Tom at the Charlotte meeting.

He looked at me in all earnestness and said, “I’ll take you back, Martin.” I told him it was an extremely generous offer, but that he didn’t understand the situation. It was two hours there, two hours back, and then Tom would still have to drive two more hours back home to South Carolina; a six-hour road investment in practically the middle of the night.

“It’s a road trip,” he said. “I love road trips.”

By that time, I was wondering whether I really wanted to do it. But Tom’s enthusiasm got the bettert of me. “It will be an adventure,” I said.

“A great adventure,” Tom said.

“A road trip adventure,” said I. 

Then we both said, somewhat together: “Let’s do it!”

We didn’t start until 7:45. But do you know what? God foreordained, before the disruption of the world, for Tom Bishop and Martin Zender to spend those four hours together. We talked and talked, never running out of things to say, truths to marvel in, or past trials to share. Here was a man I’d never met, but who had been blessed, for years, by my books and teaching.

“I love books,” he said. “Martin, I love your books. It’s important for these people to be able to get these books. It would be a disaster is they weren’t available.”

“You know, we are suffering evil for the evangel,” I told him. Yes, there was great fellowship, but it wasn’t an easy trip. It was a measure of suffering, certainly. We both needed sleep, but wanted even more for the folks in Faith to have books.

Books in tow; leaving Pinehurst at 10:15, for Charlotte.
Tom is buoyant. 

We arrived at Pinehurst at 10, loaded the books, got a snack, and were back on the road by 10:15. We arrived back in Charlotte, at my hotel, at a quarter past midnight. Poor Tom still had another two hours to drive. But this did not look like a “Poor Tom“ kind of guy. In fact, the trip had energized him.

I made sure he was feeling all right, hugged him good-bye, and off he went into the night.

It wasn’t exactly a day and a night in a swamp, or a shipwreck, or a literal beating, but still, it was a measure of sacrifice and suffering for the sake of the heralding of the evangel. 

12:15 a.m. Tom has dropped me off at my hotel, and faces
two more hours of driving. See how unhappy he is?

(The books were a hit in Faith. The First Idiot in Heaven sold out; I wish I’d had more. By the time the Tuesday meeting rolled around, several people had already read halfway through it. The effect was “magical.” Last night, a man who had read half the book came into the door and said, “When are you going to make the movie? I couldn’t put it down.”)

Thank you, Tom Bishop. I will always remember this adventure, and your sacrifice for the sake of the evangel. It was no small thing. This work will precede you to the dais of Christ.

God bless you, dear brother.

© 2013 by Martin Zender

THE FAITHFUL OF FAITH

I impressed upon them in Charlotte, the day before heading to Faith, the rarity of such gatherings of Christ’s body. I said that, at that moment, the ten of us gathered in Tony Joiner’s living room were possibly—and probably—the largest gathering of the body of Christ in the country, and possibly the world.

I told them how proud Paul would be that true believers were carrying on his message two-thousand years after his death. I said: “‘Paul to the Romans’” was probably “Paul to the dozen people gathered in Tryphena’s living room.”

“This gathering is important,” I said. The importance lay in the togetherness, the encouragement, the bolstering of one another’s faith. It is the giving to one another the encouragement needed to hold fast to the faith, to never abandon the grace of God. With so many distractions in life, it is easy to give up, or to loosen one’s grip. The apostle Paul endured unfathomable hassles traversing land and sea to greet, in person, his fellow believers. He needed them as much as they did him. Facebook is one thing, email another, but neither is the ideal. The ideal is to greet the beloved and feel how real this all is.

Which brings me to Faith. Hello, ya’ll. I reckon I’m fixin’ now to write about y’all in Faith. The northern stereotypes of southern hospitality are twangfully, wonderfully true.

Donna greeted me in the parking lot with:
"Look at me, Zender! I'm free from sin
while smoking a cigarette!"

Anne and I drove through a town of purest South, and of everything wrong with the Bible Belt. The little social hall (so unlike a real church), called “The Potters House Fellowship,” sits smack in-between two “real” church buildings of the condemnation/death variety. Sitting boldly between these is the fellowship I was invited to address: sunny, bright, inviting, happy, “great to have y’all.” A woman named Donna called out to me in the parking lot as soon as I emerged from Anne’s car: “Hey, Zender! Look at me! I’m free from sin while smoking a cigarette!”

It was one of the best introductions ever.

It’s wrong to count people; don’t ever do it. I avoid it like the literal plague. In another era, it would qualify as a jinx. David once numbered his kingdom, much to his regret. I am content, as you know, with a gathering of two. There were ten people at Tony Joiner's home the day before, which was a crowd by any contemporary measure. But Anne couldn’t help herself: “There were 75 here,” she told me after the meeting. “Holy crap,” I said.

Okay, this was weird. So let’s go ahead and play the dangerous numbers game (this is an administration of grace, after all), and count warm bodies. Faith was a shock. The number of people was startling. They just kept walking into the building. What had God wrought? Surely, something was askew with Alan Hess’s message. But no. Alan is the real deal, as real as can be. He has suffered persecution. The town considers him a false prophet, a freak, a forerunner of the Antichrist. He teaches the reconciliation of the universe, through the blood of the Christ. His is not the teaching of the Universalist, or the Unitarian, for Alan heralds truth based on the blood of the cross, rather than the “niceness” of God, or the worthiness of the human.

(Click on photos to enlarge.)

Anne caught me--standing in back--making last minute reference to my notes.
I am supposed to be singing a hymn. Tony Joiner is next to me.

Alan Hess “correctly cuts” the Word of truth. That is, he distinguishes Paul’s gospel from that to Israel. Everyone here gets that; they take it in stride. More than that, they took me in stride. I will link you to a streaming video recording of my Sunday address. The video lacks some technical finesse, but you’ll appreciate the content. I unloaded everything. Not only was I not stoned afterward, but people lined up to have me sign their copies of The First Idiot in Heaven.

http://thepottershousefellowship.com/index.php?page=live 

I don’t know what is happening here in Faith, except that the faith is true. People shook my hand, telling me, “What a fine message”; “Really enjoyed it”; “Appreciated what you said”; “Thanks for coming”; “Got a lot out of that.” Donna, the woman who first greeted me in the parking lot, asked me to sign her copy of First Idiot. I said, “I’m going to sign this, ‘to my favorite smoker.’ She laughed and said, “No! Sign it ‘to my favorite tattooed smoker.’” 

Alan's parents.

Anne mans the book table.

Some of the beautiful ladies of Faith.

Alan Hess is the real deal.

Alan's wife Jamie and their baby girl Charley.

I’m coming back tomorrow night (tonight, as you read this), when I will teach at 7 p.m. on my book, How to Be Free From Sin While Smoking a Cigarette. You can watch this live at www.thepottershousefellowship.com: Tuesday, February 12, 7 p.m. Eastern time.

Thank you, faithful of Faith. Thank you, God, for giving Your people truth. Thank you, Paul, for remaining faithful to the message in the face of such rabid opposition.

Thank you, God, for Alan Hess.

© 2013 by Martin Zender

THE MEETING IN CHARLOTTE

On the way to Charlotte.

We all came together like family. Here are the photos of these wonderful people. I will be fortunate to remember everyone’s names, and get them in order. I am hoping Anne can help me.

I think that, when we assume our celestial glory, God will impart to us new, more glorious names. Our names in this life, suit this life. They will do for now. They are true, but lacking. Names have meaning. Our names in the next life will sparkle with even newer life.  

Here are some members of the body of Christ.

Anne and Tony Joiner. 

Tony and his new baby, Mattie.

Mattie loves all things Zender.

Tony and his wife Theresa.

Anne and Tom, who drove up from South Carolina.

Philip Garrison, of Charlotte.

Another Charlotte guy and longtime correspondent I'd never met: Jamie Craft.

Jamie and his girlfriend Christina.

With Tony and Philip.

With Jamie and Christina.

Tracy and Jack, who drove up from Columbia, SC.

Steven Tilley.

Gathering of the body of Christ.

These meetings are beneficial in multiple ways. When a visitor is unsure about the new teaching and environment, it helps them to see how normal everyone is. Some of the friends of those attending this meeting accused their loved ones of going to a cult convention. (I am a dangerous cult leader, you know.) We joked about that. We joked about when we would be sacrificing the chickens, and handling the snakes.

How does one describe members of the body of Christ? We are abnormal in our normalcy. We are fairly typical human beings, saved by an amazing grace. Liberation makes people normal. Spiritual freedom makes people relax into sweet grooves. It is the fear and bondage of religion that makes people afraid their friends will be handling snakes and drinking the proverbial Kool Aid. Religious people fear everything. They are hung-up, and stuck-up. They can’t escape their own righteousness. They’re unable to consider that real faith is not to be found in their organized, fake-truth camps. Mostly, they fear freedom. They can’t imagine how anyone unbound to the religious systems of humans can find real truth beyond those walls.  

It is only outside those walls that real truth exists.

Jamie Craft asked me, in the middle of the meeting: “Martin, how are you doing?” I can’t thank him enough for this question, and for his care of me. Everyone here knew what I’d been through the past six months. The very question made me cry. Truly, the love, acceptance, grace, and commitment of these fellow members of Christ’s body soothed the soul of one so recently tormented by opposite things. The clash of the contrast is what so quickly produced the tears. Tony’s wife Theresa, the gracious host of this gathering of saints, later told Anne: “I am so happy we were able to provide this kind of fellowship for Martin.”

Exactly right, sister.  I am always happy to know people benefit from my presence and teaching, but truly, the greatest benefit is mine.

For me, it is the gift of life.    

Postscript: I’m returning to Faith tomorrow night, when I will teach at 7 p.m. on my book, How to Be Free From Sin While Smoking a Cigarette. You can watch this live at www.thepottershousefellowship.com: Tuesday, February 12, 7 p.m. Eastern time. Stop back to Zenderville tomorrow for my account of—and photos from—the Faith gathering.

All I can say is: Amazing Faith.

© 2013 by Martin Zender