In reply to my musings (bear with its length)--a zinger of a reminder yesterday that Truth is eternally unchanged today:
35 But someone may ask, "How will the dead be raised? What kind of bodies will they have?"36 What a foolish question! When you put a seed into the ground, it doesn't grow into a plant unless it dies first.37 And what you put in the ground is not the plant that will grow, but only a bare seed of wheat or whatever you are planting.38 Then God gives it the new body he wants it to have. A different plant grows from each kind of seed.39 Similarly there are different kinds of flesh—one kind for humans, another for animals, another for birds, and another for fish.
40 There are also bodies in the heavens and bodies on the earth. The glory of the heavenly bodies is different from the glory of the earthly bodies.41 The sun has one kind of glory, while the moon and stars each have another kind. And even the stars differ from each other in their glory.
42 It is the same way with the resurrection of the dead. Our earthly bodies are planted in the ground when we die, but they will be raised to live forever.43 Our bodies are buried in brokenness, but they will be raised in glory. They are buried in weakness, but they will be raised in strength.44 They are buried as natural human bodies, but they will be raised as spiritual bodies. For just as there are natural bodies, there are also spiritual bodies.
45 The Scriptures tell us, "The first man, Adam, became a living person."* But the last Adam—that is, Christ—is a life-giving Spirit.46 What comes first is the natural body, then the spiritual body comes later.47 Adam, the first man, was made from the dust of the earth, while Christ, the second man, came from heaven.48 Earthly people are like the earthly man, and heavenly people are like the heavenly man.49 Just as we are now like the earthly man, we will someday be like the heavenly man.
50 What I am saying, dear brothers and sisters, is that our physical bodies cannot inherit the Kingdom of God. These dying bodies cannot inherit what will last forever.
51 But let me reveal to you a wonderful secret. We will not all die, but we will all be transformed!52 It will happen in a moment, in the blink of an eye, when the last trumpet is blown. For when the trumpet sounds, those who have died will be raised to live forever. And we who are living will also be transformed.53 For our dying bodies must be transformed into bodies that will never die; our mortal bodies must be transformed into immortal bodies.
54 Then, when our dying bodies have been transformed into bodies that will never die, this Scripture will be fulfilled:
"Death is swallowed up in victory.
55 O death, where is your victory?
O death, where is your sting?"
56 For sin is the sting that results in death, and the law gives sin its power.57 But thank God! He gives us victory over sin and death through our Lord Jesus Christ.
58 So, my dear brothers and sisters, be strong and immovable. Always work enthusiastically for the Lord, for you know that nothing you do for the Lord is ever useless.
This passage, from 1 Corinthians 15 (NLT), is the vision that effectively silences my aimless wanderings and compels me to spread the fragrance of Life.
Thank You, Great Counselor.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Death, and musings
Last week, a 7.0-strength earthquake hit Haiti. The images of death, destruction and chaos overwhelmed me. As I saw bodies being bulldozed and dumped into 'dump' trucks, I imagined the stench not only of decay but of what seemed to me a horribly anonymous, tragically practical end to thousands upon thousands of people. Living, breathing, soul-body-spirit people.
One day, I watched the news on Haiti while I was working out at the gym. I started crying and I had to turn the channel to give my heart and brain a break. The people in Haiti don't have the luxury of turning the channel.
Then I got an email from a dear friend, who had written to tell me and a few others that her father had passed away suddenly while their family was on a ski trip. A healthy, middle-aged man, a devoted husband and father, collapsed at the top of a ski hill and was instantly gone. His youngest two children are 15 and 11. I cried for my friend, for her family and for the injustice of it all. She has a deep peace which she doesn't understand; she wrote: "It is well with my soul."
Two nights ago, my little (er, younger) sister attempted to make popcorn on the stove. It turned into a very scary, fiery situation in which she should have been terribly burned (as well as the entire house), or worse. Miraculously, she was fine (and so was the house).
All of this got me thinking, "Death is crouching at the door." Wait, that is not the right quote; it's actually "Sin is crouching at the door." Next thought: "Are death and sin so very different?" In some ways they are so intertwined it seems impossible to unwind them; you cannot have sin without death--and there is no death where there is no sin. But they are distinct (more on that at another time), very distinct.
Now, since I've given the title disclaimer of 'musings,' I will continue on that stream and not try to resolve the tensions inherent in said musings. Why are believers given a new spirit but not a new body at the same time? Why, if we have been saved from sin and eternal death, are we not saved from its consequence(s), namely, physical death? What is the point of doing everything in our power to stave off death, when it is far better to go and be with the Lord? (Just think of all we do to prevent it--and the millions of dollars we spend in our 'prevention'! As if we have control.) What if nothing eternal ever comes of my life? What if my physical life ends today and nothing came of it? I know there are problems in these questions, but they are the ones that have come up over the past week and a half.
The results of my musings? Not much except some fear and apathy.
Thankfully, I had an intervention, courtesy of a new (and already cherished) friend last night. She asked me things like, "Elizabeth, what is your greatest fear?" And "How are you going to be stretched through this?" And "Have you ever had a friendship drought before?" Ouch.
But it snapped me out of it. Fear and apathy? What?? This too have I been saved from, eternally and right now. Anytime my musings take me down those two parallel roads, I deny the living power of the only One who can defeat (and has defeated!) Death. I have no answers for the survivors of Haiti's earthquake. I have no answers for my friend about her father. I have no ability to communicate 'answers' to anyone personally touched by Death. But now, perhaps instead of answers, I can give hope and with hope, immense compassion.
Perhaps, instead of anger, blame, and fear, I can be like a Haitian woman who survived the quake. When her orphaned toddler nephew was rescued from the rubble, she said "It must have been God who did this." Indeed, sister. Indeed.
One day, I watched the news on Haiti while I was working out at the gym. I started crying and I had to turn the channel to give my heart and brain a break. The people in Haiti don't have the luxury of turning the channel.
Then I got an email from a dear friend, who had written to tell me and a few others that her father had passed away suddenly while their family was on a ski trip. A healthy, middle-aged man, a devoted husband and father, collapsed at the top of a ski hill and was instantly gone. His youngest two children are 15 and 11. I cried for my friend, for her family and for the injustice of it all. She has a deep peace which she doesn't understand; she wrote: "It is well with my soul."
Two nights ago, my little (er, younger) sister attempted to make popcorn on the stove. It turned into a very scary, fiery situation in which she should have been terribly burned (as well as the entire house), or worse. Miraculously, she was fine (and so was the house).
All of this got me thinking, "Death is crouching at the door." Wait, that is not the right quote; it's actually "Sin is crouching at the door." Next thought: "Are death and sin so very different?" In some ways they are so intertwined it seems impossible to unwind them; you cannot have sin without death--and there is no death where there is no sin. But they are distinct (more on that at another time), very distinct.
Now, since I've given the title disclaimer of 'musings,' I will continue on that stream and not try to resolve the tensions inherent in said musings. Why are believers given a new spirit but not a new body at the same time? Why, if we have been saved from sin and eternal death, are we not saved from its consequence(s), namely, physical death? What is the point of doing everything in our power to stave off death, when it is far better to go and be with the Lord? (Just think of all we do to prevent it--and the millions of dollars we spend in our 'prevention'! As if we have control.) What if nothing eternal ever comes of my life? What if my physical life ends today and nothing came of it? I know there are problems in these questions, but they are the ones that have come up over the past week and a half.
The results of my musings? Not much except some fear and apathy.
Thankfully, I had an intervention, courtesy of a new (and already cherished) friend last night. She asked me things like, "Elizabeth, what is your greatest fear?" And "How are you going to be stretched through this?" And "Have you ever had a friendship drought before?" Ouch.
But it snapped me out of it. Fear and apathy? What?? This too have I been saved from, eternally and right now. Anytime my musings take me down those two parallel roads, I deny the living power of the only One who can defeat (and has defeated!) Death. I have no answers for the survivors of Haiti's earthquake. I have no answers for my friend about her father. I have no ability to communicate 'answers' to anyone personally touched by Death. But now, perhaps instead of answers, I can give hope and with hope, immense compassion.
Perhaps, instead of anger, blame, and fear, I can be like a Haitian woman who survived the quake. When her orphaned toddler nephew was rescued from the rubble, she said "It must have been God who did this." Indeed, sister. Indeed.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
He is jealous for me
Well. I have no excuses for myself, other than I have been rebelling against internet communication for the past month. Trying to reverse it is harder than I thought.
But, I'm back. Maybe not quite as peppy, and maybe with a few more jagged edges but maybe also with a softer heart. Nevertheless, here I am.
A lot of my struggle over the past month--the struggle of leaving Chicago, leaving independence, leaving familiarity, leaving community--can be boiled down into the following paragraph:
My (adult) life has been a string of good-byes. I'm not sure why it took me this long to realize it, but it's true. I said goodbye to my family, church family and high school friends to go to college. I said goodbye to college friends, college church family and family to go to Mongolia (after a short stint in Spain, after which I had to say goodbye to my host family and Spain friends). I had to say goodbye to my friends in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. I had to say goodbye to friends, team and church in Hovd, Mongolia and then Mongolia in general. And just last month, I had to say goodbye to Chicago: studies, community, church, work, independence, city.
On the way to my parents' house from Chicago, I got caught in a blizzard in the mountains. The very least you could do, God, I thought, is get me to the destination You called me to. I was angry. And I became even more upset when I got there and I had time to think about my life, and the fact that it has been a string of goodbyes. I'm still not too sure how I feel or what I should think about it. It's kind of a sensitive topic between me and God right now. But I do know that He is in the business of creating beauty from ashes, and the Potter never asks the clay how it should be formed.
That's all, for now. The silence is over for awhile, my friends!
But, I'm back. Maybe not quite as peppy, and maybe with a few more jagged edges but maybe also with a softer heart. Nevertheless, here I am.
A lot of my struggle over the past month--the struggle of leaving Chicago, leaving independence, leaving familiarity, leaving community--can be boiled down into the following paragraph:
My (adult) life has been a string of good-byes. I'm not sure why it took me this long to realize it, but it's true. I said goodbye to my family, church family and high school friends to go to college. I said goodbye to college friends, college church family and family to go to Mongolia (after a short stint in Spain, after which I had to say goodbye to my host family and Spain friends). I had to say goodbye to my friends in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. I had to say goodbye to friends, team and church in Hovd, Mongolia and then Mongolia in general. And just last month, I had to say goodbye to Chicago: studies, community, church, work, independence, city.
On the way to my parents' house from Chicago, I got caught in a blizzard in the mountains. The very least you could do, God, I thought, is get me to the destination You called me to. I was angry. And I became even more upset when I got there and I had time to think about my life, and the fact that it has been a string of goodbyes. I'm still not too sure how I feel or what I should think about it. It's kind of a sensitive topic between me and God right now. But I do know that He is in the business of creating beauty from ashes, and the Potter never asks the clay how it should be formed.
That's all, for now. The silence is over for awhile, my friends!
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