Every Spring, I revel in the new life that blooms into existence. Even when I lived in Mongolia, where grass and green things and flowers were in extremely short supply, there was new breath in the wind, there was renewed warmth in the sun and new blades of grass that forced their way through the harsh ground. But as I thought about blogging my Spring revel-ations, I realized that, ironically, they are nothing new. Poets have been lauding Spring's arrival for time immemorial and those less verbally inclined have done the same in their own unique ways. Anyone who has experienced the coming of Spring has felt the relief of rebirth.
So, what do I have to offer? Nothing, perhaps. Except the observation that Spring and new and rebirth lose their meaning apart from the Winter and old and death that come before them.
Psalm 77 is a subtle yet powerful picture of the glorious contrast. At the very beginning of his song, Asaph says "I cried out to God for help; I cried out to God to hear me." In and of itself, this declaration stands firmly in the realm of the miraculous--a human being can actually cry to God?? And God might hear that human's cries and help?? God has no obligation to do either of those things, particularly since humanity has turned its back on Him in ways infinitely destructive and proud.
But Asaph's statements become all the more triumphant when viewed against the backdrop of his past:
"I thought about the former days, the years of long ago; I remembered my songs in the night. My heart mused and my spirit inquired: 'Will the Lord reject forever? Will he never show his favor again? Has his unfailing love vanished forever? Has his promise failed for all time? Has God forgotten to be merciful? Has he in anger withheld his compassion?' Selah."
Asaph has reached down into the abyss of his own musings to recall the despair and anguish of feeling rejected and discarded by God; he questions the mercy of God, the promises of God, the compassion and unfailing love of God. In short, Asaph walked through a haunting shadowland of doubt in his Maker. Yet that darkness makes his Spring-like confidence shine with untold brilliance.
Indeed, the cold death of my--our--arrogance, bitterness and hurt only highlights the warm Life of our selfless, Good and healing God.
Your ways, O God, are holy. What god is so great as our God?
Friday, March 26, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
People
I admit it: I am an unabashed watcher of people. And I watch some people more than others, although I'm not sure why.
For example, people at the gym. Every day, I watch people at the gym. Who needs an iPod or cable t.v. with dozens of real people around? People are strange, fascinating, entertaining and surprising. I watch one man with tattoos on his arms a lot. He used to wear a do-rag on his head but he hasn't been this week. I realized that I watched him when I actually privately wondered why he stopped wearing a do-rag. I watch one woman, who is almost always on the stair-master with the channel turned to TBN. She wears blue spandex and her hair is usually in braids. She wasn't there today, so another woman got to use the stair-master. Then, there is the guy who lifts weights occasionally and most likely takes steroids frequently in addition to his trips to the tanning bed (I know about the tanning because he actually told me). He and his sidekicks like to egg each other on to see who can lift the most extraordinary amount of weight at one time. I did not actually see him lift any weights today; he was just talking when I saw him.
Scripture makes us watch people, too. Today, the spotlight was on Stephen in Acts. There is all this activity in the first six chapters--Jesus ascending, the Spirit descending, thousands of people saved, Peter preaching, Ananias and Sapphira lying and dying, the Pharisees seething--and then: pause. Stephen.
"All who were sitting in the Sanhedrin looked intently at Stephen, and they saw that his face was like the face of an angel." (6:15)
All eyes were on Stephen. Then, the high priest demands an answer for Stephen's supposed blasphemy. Stephen's 'speech,' if it can be called such, at first seems like an eloquent summary of Old Testament history in support of New Testament revelation; indeed, it is that, and more. Stephen's brilliant use of the Old Testament was actually a breathtaking, unapologetic description of Jesus. Though Stephen does not use Jesus' name, he builds his case towards the climax of verses 51-53 where Jesus is undeniably the promised Righteous One, the One who called and equipped the great savior Moses, the One who brought the Israelites out of Egypt. In words that resound with harsh finality, Stephen accuses:
"And now you have betrayed and murdered him--you who have received the law that was put into effect through angels but have not obeyed it." (v. 53)
After the text makes our gaze linger on Stephen, we are ushered at breakneck speed into Stephen's final seconds. The leaders are furious, cut to the quick; they gnash their teeth in what was surely an almost uncontrolled expression of rage and anguish. Stephen beholds Jesus at God's right hand and the leaders cover their ears; Stephen is dragged outside the city and the leaders begin to stone him; Stephen asks Jesus to receive his spirit and prays forgiveness upon the leaders.
And then, Stephen falls asleep.
It's as if we are allowed to watch him intently for a while and then told to wait; don't those who fall asleep eventually wake up? In the meantime, someone else was watching Stephen. His name was Saul, and although he vehemently fought against Stephen and other Jesus-believers like him, he became one of the most unapologetic, breathtakingly brilliant Christians of all time.
Huh. I guess that means who (and Who) I watch has the potential to rock my world! Imagine that....
For example, people at the gym. Every day, I watch people at the gym. Who needs an iPod or cable t.v. with dozens of real people around? People are strange, fascinating, entertaining and surprising. I watch one man with tattoos on his arms a lot. He used to wear a do-rag on his head but he hasn't been this week. I realized that I watched him when I actually privately wondered why he stopped wearing a do-rag. I watch one woman, who is almost always on the stair-master with the channel turned to TBN. She wears blue spandex and her hair is usually in braids. She wasn't there today, so another woman got to use the stair-master. Then, there is the guy who lifts weights occasionally and most likely takes steroids frequently in addition to his trips to the tanning bed (I know about the tanning because he actually told me). He and his sidekicks like to egg each other on to see who can lift the most extraordinary amount of weight at one time. I did not actually see him lift any weights today; he was just talking when I saw him.
Scripture makes us watch people, too. Today, the spotlight was on Stephen in Acts. There is all this activity in the first six chapters--Jesus ascending, the Spirit descending, thousands of people saved, Peter preaching, Ananias and Sapphira lying and dying, the Pharisees seething--and then: pause. Stephen.
"All who were sitting in the Sanhedrin looked intently at Stephen, and they saw that his face was like the face of an angel." (6:15)
All eyes were on Stephen. Then, the high priest demands an answer for Stephen's supposed blasphemy. Stephen's 'speech,' if it can be called such, at first seems like an eloquent summary of Old Testament history in support of New Testament revelation; indeed, it is that, and more. Stephen's brilliant use of the Old Testament was actually a breathtaking, unapologetic description of Jesus. Though Stephen does not use Jesus' name, he builds his case towards the climax of verses 51-53 where Jesus is undeniably the promised Righteous One, the One who called and equipped the great savior Moses, the One who brought the Israelites out of Egypt. In words that resound with harsh finality, Stephen accuses:
"And now you have betrayed and murdered him--you who have received the law that was put into effect through angels but have not obeyed it." (v. 53)
After the text makes our gaze linger on Stephen, we are ushered at breakneck speed into Stephen's final seconds. The leaders are furious, cut to the quick; they gnash their teeth in what was surely an almost uncontrolled expression of rage and anguish. Stephen beholds Jesus at God's right hand and the leaders cover their ears; Stephen is dragged outside the city and the leaders begin to stone him; Stephen asks Jesus to receive his spirit and prays forgiveness upon the leaders.
And then, Stephen falls asleep.
It's as if we are allowed to watch him intently for a while and then told to wait; don't those who fall asleep eventually wake up? In the meantime, someone else was watching Stephen. His name was Saul, and although he vehemently fought against Stephen and other Jesus-believers like him, he became one of the most unapologetic, breathtakingly brilliant Christians of all time.
Huh. I guess that means who (and Who) I watch has the potential to rock my world! Imagine that....
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Ushered in: Coming of age as a Christian
I wonder if I can make it through this post? We shall see presently, I suppose.
Twenty-one years ago tonight, Jesus' overpowering grace lifted me out the mire of sin and despair that overshadowed my existence. I know you're thinking, Wow, do you really remember that? You were only four years old. I mean, how much can a four year old really understand about religion and God and Jesus' death and resurrection? You are probably just remembering what people have told you about it.
My friend, this is what I remember with blinding clarity, and this is what I know more certainly than the chair I am sitting on: that I was lost, with no hope in the world and no confidence in my own ability to do anything about it. But now, I am found by the Great Lover and Pursuer of souls. Now, I am His and He is mine and His grace ensures that my identity will never change.
What does it mean to come of age as a Christian? I'm not sure I have the answer for that, even though I have been in this Family of faith for twenty-one years. But with each passing day, week, month and year, my heart's desire is that I am more like Him tomorrow than yesterday. And ultimately, every person, every circumstance, every dream and every prayer should be seen through the lens of Jesus' cross, because it was there that the weight of sin, the horror of the Curse and the perversity of human brokenness were picked up, carried and put to death in the offering of our Savior: Himself.
O Sinner, don't you know?
Your doubts, failure, shame and fear
Jesus took them from you
Carried them
Killed them
Triumphed over them
O Sinner, don't you know?
You are His, far and near
Jesus invites you
To come and drink
Drink deeply
And rest forever with Him
O Sinner, don't you know?
You are a saint forever!
His right-ness made
Your wrongness disappear
You are clean, you are whole
The forever-loved soul
Twenty-one years ago tonight, Jesus' overpowering grace lifted me out the mire of sin and despair that overshadowed my existence. I know you're thinking, Wow, do you really remember that? You were only four years old. I mean, how much can a four year old really understand about religion and God and Jesus' death and resurrection? You are probably just remembering what people have told you about it.
My friend, this is what I remember with blinding clarity, and this is what I know more certainly than the chair I am sitting on: that I was lost, with no hope in the world and no confidence in my own ability to do anything about it. But now, I am found by the Great Lover and Pursuer of souls. Now, I am His and He is mine and His grace ensures that my identity will never change.
What does it mean to come of age as a Christian? I'm not sure I have the answer for that, even though I have been in this Family of faith for twenty-one years. But with each passing day, week, month and year, my heart's desire is that I am more like Him tomorrow than yesterday. And ultimately, every person, every circumstance, every dream and every prayer should be seen through the lens of Jesus' cross, because it was there that the weight of sin, the horror of the Curse and the perversity of human brokenness were picked up, carried and put to death in the offering of our Savior: Himself.
O Sinner, don't you know?
Your doubts, failure, shame and fear
Jesus took them from you
Carried them
Killed them
Triumphed over them
O Sinner, don't you know?
You are His, far and near
Jesus invites you
To come and drink
Drink deeply
And rest forever with Him
O Sinner, don't you know?
You are a saint forever!
His right-ness made
Your wrongness disappear
You are clean, you are whole
The forever-loved soul
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Desperation, enacted
My soul is satisfied as with marrow and fatness,
And my mouth offers praises with joyful lips.
When I remember You on my bed,
I meditate on You in the night watches,
For You have been my help,
And in the shadow of Your wings I sing for joy.
My soul clings to You;
Your right hand upholds me.
(Psalm 63:5-8)
Yesterday, during my Word reading a blinking light caught my attention in Psalm 63: "My soul clings to you." I immediately thought of the passage in Ruth that speaks of Ruth clinging to Naomi and wondered if the Hebrew verb 'cling' was the same. Pause. Continue.
I flipped to Luke, where I have been reading Jesus. I had just finished the capital-T Triumphal Entry when suddenly Jesus weeps over Jerusalem, warning of impending destruction, and then:
Jesus entered the temple and began to drive out those who were selling, saying to them, "It is written, 'AND MY HOUSE SHALL BE A HOUSE OF PRAYER,' but you have made it a ROBBERS' DEN." And He was teaching daily in the temple; but the chief priests and the scribes and the leading men among the people were trying to destroy Him,and they could not find anything that they might do, for all the people were hanging on to every word He said.
(Luke 19:45-48)
The connection was at least topically made: knowing God, and following Him, results in increasing levels of desperation for Him. King David said that his soul clung to God in that dry and weary land; those following Jesus--despite the best efforts of their religious leaders to kill Christ--were hanging on to His every word. Then, the idea: what if it is not just topically connected in my brain? What if the language of Scripture itself communicates the intersection of desperation for God and utter dependence on Jesus and His words?
Full speed. Yes, the verb used in Psalm 63 of David's soul clinging to God (דבק) is the same verb used of Ruth clinging to Naomi in Ruth 1 and the same verb used in Genesis 2:24 of the husband clinging to his wife. Not only that, but the Hebrew translation of Luke 19:48 actually uses the same verb to describe the crowd of people hanging on to every word Jesus said! These first-century AD followers were literally clinging to all of Jesus' words.
As someone who has followed Him for many years now, it can be easy for my familiarity with His words to replace desperation for His words--and for Him. But this familiarity is no excuse. My status as a human guarantees continual dependence on Him; and the language of Scripture makes clear what I instinctively know in the dry and weary times: my existence should personify a desperation satisfied by Him and Him alone.
And my mouth offers praises with joyful lips.
When I remember You on my bed,
I meditate on You in the night watches,
For You have been my help,
And in the shadow of Your wings I sing for joy.
My soul clings to You;
Your right hand upholds me.
(Psalm 63:5-8)
Yesterday, during my Word reading a blinking light caught my attention in Psalm 63: "My soul clings to you." I immediately thought of the passage in Ruth that speaks of Ruth clinging to Naomi and wondered if the Hebrew verb 'cling' was the same. Pause. Continue.
I flipped to Luke, where I have been reading Jesus. I had just finished the capital-T Triumphal Entry when suddenly Jesus weeps over Jerusalem, warning of impending destruction, and then:
Jesus entered the temple and began to drive out those who were selling, saying to them, "It is written, 'AND MY HOUSE SHALL BE A HOUSE OF PRAYER,' but you have made it a ROBBERS' DEN." And He was teaching daily in the temple; but the chief priests and the scribes and the leading men among the people were trying to destroy Him,and they could not find anything that they might do, for all the people were hanging on to every word He said.
(Luke 19:45-48)
The connection was at least topically made: knowing God, and following Him, results in increasing levels of desperation for Him. King David said that his soul clung to God in that dry and weary land; those following Jesus--despite the best efforts of their religious leaders to kill Christ--were hanging on to His every word. Then, the idea: what if it is not just topically connected in my brain? What if the language of Scripture itself communicates the intersection of desperation for God and utter dependence on Jesus and His words?
Full speed. Yes, the verb used in Psalm 63 of David's soul clinging to God (דבק) is the same verb used of Ruth clinging to Naomi in Ruth 1 and the same verb used in Genesis 2:24 of the husband clinging to his wife. Not only that, but the Hebrew translation of Luke 19:48 actually uses the same verb to describe the crowd of people hanging on to every word Jesus said! These first-century AD followers were literally clinging to all of Jesus' words.
As someone who has followed Him for many years now, it can be easy for my familiarity with His words to replace desperation for His words--and for Him. But this familiarity is no excuse. My status as a human guarantees continual dependence on Him; and the language of Scripture makes clear what I instinctively know in the dry and weary times: my existence should personify a desperation satisfied by Him and Him alone.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Yet Again The Unexpected
Well.
I mean this in the least sacrilegious way possible: God is crazy. And you know what? I love that about Him.
For the past five years, I have been dreaming of going to seminary, getting the M.Div. degree and devoting my life to making disciples in the 'ends of the earth.' For many years before that, I dreamed: international. And sure enough--I have done 'international'--South Africa, Spain, Mongolia, Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia--I have gone to seminary and God is constantly dropping disciplees in my lap.
But don't get me wrong: God has definitely NOT played according to my rules or within my boxed-in paradigms. Doing 'international' has royally screwed up any chance I have of feeling completely at home anywhere; and it makes me long for the eternal Home He is preparing. Going to seminary has reminded me (perhaps ironically) of my pride and utter inability to do anything apart from Him--and at least for now, I am in the M.A.-Christian Studies program. Making disciples has brought me to the middle of Military Town, U.S.A. where I realize my own need for guidance and help on the Great Journey.
Now, He's done it again. Perhaps in one of the coolest twists of my life thus far, He has dropped an opportunity in my lap that is nothing but crazy. You see, about a year ago, God (with the help of my best friend) gave me a dream of somehow uniting the Gospel content with methodologies sensitive to particular cultural settings. I was thinking mostly immigrant-rich settings. Then He kept bringing people who not only affirmed the dream--they wanted to participate in it. Then He set up this awesome meeting with a brother working for an agency active in Europe. His agency, he explained, is beginning an initiative so closely aligned with 'the dream' that the timing (of me working with them) seemed undeniably providential.
After that meeting and a few more curve balls, I stopped dreaming (it's a long story). But this week, it seems that my lack of faith is no stumbling block for the All-Powerful God.
Yes, my friends--He has opened the door for me to begin a possible career with this agency in Europe, doing far beyond what I dreamed a year ago. The beginning of this possible career comes in the form of a trip to North Africa and France for two weeks in June. For whatever reason, at this point I have a hesitancy about writing/sending a support letter for this trip and so right now I am asking you, my brothers and sisters, to pray. Please just pray for His will to be done and for me to trust completely in His guidance and provision. The deadline of decision (for whether or not to go on the trip) is March 12.
So, please: pray.
We'll be on this Journey together, then. And other than being with Him, there is nothing I'd rather do than be with you.
I mean this in the least sacrilegious way possible: God is crazy. And you know what? I love that about Him.
For the past five years, I have been dreaming of going to seminary, getting the M.Div. degree and devoting my life to making disciples in the 'ends of the earth.' For many years before that, I dreamed: international. And sure enough--I have done 'international'--South Africa, Spain, Mongolia, Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia--I have gone to seminary and God is constantly dropping disciplees in my lap.
But don't get me wrong: God has definitely NOT played according to my rules or within my boxed-in paradigms. Doing 'international' has royally screwed up any chance I have of feeling completely at home anywhere; and it makes me long for the eternal Home He is preparing. Going to seminary has reminded me (perhaps ironically) of my pride and utter inability to do anything apart from Him--and at least for now, I am in the M.A.-Christian Studies program. Making disciples has brought me to the middle of Military Town, U.S.A. where I realize my own need for guidance and help on the Great Journey.
Now, He's done it again. Perhaps in one of the coolest twists of my life thus far, He has dropped an opportunity in my lap that is nothing but crazy. You see, about a year ago, God (with the help of my best friend) gave me a dream of somehow uniting the Gospel content with methodologies sensitive to particular cultural settings. I was thinking mostly immigrant-rich settings. Then He kept bringing people who not only affirmed the dream--they wanted to participate in it. Then He set up this awesome meeting with a brother working for an agency active in Europe. His agency, he explained, is beginning an initiative so closely aligned with 'the dream' that the timing (of me working with them) seemed undeniably providential.
After that meeting and a few more curve balls, I stopped dreaming (it's a long story). But this week, it seems that my lack of faith is no stumbling block for the All-Powerful God.
Yes, my friends--He has opened the door for me to begin a possible career with this agency in Europe, doing far beyond what I dreamed a year ago. The beginning of this possible career comes in the form of a trip to North Africa and France for two weeks in June. For whatever reason, at this point I have a hesitancy about writing/sending a support letter for this trip and so right now I am asking you, my brothers and sisters, to pray. Please just pray for His will to be done and for me to trust completely in His guidance and provision. The deadline of decision (for whether or not to go on the trip) is March 12.
So, please: pray.
We'll be on this Journey together, then. And other than being with Him, there is nothing I'd rather do than be with you.
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