“But sir,” Gideon replied, “if the Lord is with us, why has all this happened to us? Where are all his wonders that our fathers told us about when they said, ‘Did not the Lord bring us up out of Egypt?’ But now the Lord has abandoned us and put us into the hands of Midian.” (Judges 6:13)
::
What is it about our great Bible heroes that they got by talking smack to the Lord and His angels?
Our mighty man of valor from the other day, the least in his family, of the smallest clan in his tribe, just popped his timid self from behind the winepress and went nose to nose with the angel of the Lord.
Just where are all our great God’s signs and wonders now? Huh?
How come He doesn’t do all the cool stuff for us that He did for our fathers when He rescued them from Egypt? Huh?
We need a little rescuing here.
Why did He ditch us?
What makes you think we believe God is still with us?
Huh?
::
I know he started with a respectful “sir,” but I still find it striking that Gideon stands in the presence of an angel, recognizes him as such, and doesn’t hesitate to blister him over God’s perceived failure to perform. (In Gideon’s defense, I should point out that soon after, he treats him more like God’s emissary and less like His whipping boy.)
Gideon is petrified of the Midianites and Amalekites.
Yet he is fearless about telling God He’s not coming through.
He’s made God into someone just about small enough to fit into that winepress Gideon was working in when the angel showed up.
::
God is not meeting Gideon’s expectations.
He has not provided and He has not rescued according to plan.
Turns out God is not who Gideon thought He was.
Or made Him out to be.
::
So easy it is to make that scoffing sound with my tongue as I read of Gideon’s unmet expectations.
Of course, He’s made God into something he thinks he can control. And when his wind-up God doesn’t totter along in the path he sent Him on, Gideon lashes out.
You’re not our father’s God! You have not come through!
Somewhere, behind me, that same tongue clicking sound startles me.
Have I made this same charge?
Accused God of not following my design?
::
I’m not so unlike our mighty man of valor here.
When God’s plan is not my plan, I suppose it’s His plan that’s off.
Couldn’t be mine.
When God’s true self is not the clay blob I’ve made Him to be, I suppose He’s the one acting up.
Couldn’t be me.
And when He doesn’t fit into the box I built for Him, I suppose it’s He who needs to make some adjustments.
Because it sure couldn’t be me.
::
“But sir,” Gideon replied, “if the Lord is with us, why has all this happened to us? Where are all his wonders that our fathers told us about when they said, ‘Did not the Lord bring us up out of Egypt?’ But now the Lord has abandoned us and put us into the hands of Midian.” (Judges 6:13)
What is it about our great Bible heroes that they got by talking smack to the Lord and His angels?
Our mighty man of valor from the other day, the least in his family, of the smallest clan in his tribe, just popped his timid self from behind the winepress and went nose to nose with the angel of the Lord.
Just where are all our great God’s signs and wonders now? Huh?
How come He doesn’t do all the cool stuff for us that He did for our fathers when He rescued them from Egypt? Huh?
We need a little rescuing here.
Why did He ditch us?
What makes you think we believe God is still with us?
Huh?
:: (more…)
2009/04/29 | Categories: Gideon | Tags: angels, Expectations, Gideon, mighty man of valor | Leave A Comment »
Now the Angel of the LORD came and sat under the terebinth tree which was in Ophrah, which belonged to Joash the Abiezrite, while his son Gideon threshed wheat in the winepress, in order to hide it from the Midianites. And the Angel of the LORD appeared to him, and said to him, “The LORD is with you, you mighty man of valor!” (Judges 6:11-12)
There are mighty men of valor. And then there are mighty men of valor.
Guys that make warriors melt, wild animals flee, women swoon.
From what I can tell, nobody in their right mind would ever call Gideon a mighty man of valor.
If I’m an angel of the Lord, descending from the heights to commission my mighty man, one of valor, I am not picking Gideon. I don’t care what my marching orders are.
Might. Valor.
Clerical error. Gideon is not the guy.
:: (more…)
2009/04/28 | Categories: Gideon | Tags: Courage, cowardice, Gideon, Strength, winepress | 5 Comments »
Now, brothers, I want to remind you of the gospel I preached to you, which you received and on which you have taken your stand. By this gospel you are saved, if you hold firmly to the word I preached to you. Otherwise, you have believed in vain. For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures, and that he appeared to Peter, and then to the Twelve. (1 Corinthians 15:1-5)
“Woman at twelve o’clock.” JP looked up from the computer and saw the woman out the living room window, approaching the front door.
I didn’t feel like getting up to greet her. Obviously she wasn’t anyone we knew, or JP would have announced her arrival in a less martial way.
She waved and smiled at me as she came by the window. So much for pretending we weren’t at home. I got up before I had to hear the doorbell.
My lack of enthusiasm must have been apparent. I barely had the door unlatched when she thrust her flyer into my hands and blurted, “Don’t worry. I’m not here to convert you or anything.”
What a relief.
::
(more…)
2009/04/22 | Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: bold, Sharing Life | 1 Comment »
When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight. They asked each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?” (Luke 24:30-32)
::
Glum, these two.
Downtrodden.
Followers of Jesus of Nazareth. At least, they had been His followers. They’d hoped He was the One.
But then He was killed by their own religious leaders. And the women, oh brother. They’d gone off the deep end, running around telling crazy stories about angels and an open tomb and a vanished body.
So now they were on their own again. Looking for another redeemer. Another cause. Another purpose in life.
::
(more…)
2009/04/20 | Categories: Belief & Doubt | Tags: belief, Emmaus, grace | Leave A Comment »
::
This is going to be the easiest post I’ve ever written. Piece of cake.
That’s what I told myself at noon, anyway. I caught up on a little reading while I ate my chicken and dumpling soup, saw yet another story on the shocking singing sensation that is Susan Boyle, and fell in love with the word gobsmacked. I’m working on some other study that’s coming hard for me, and an easy post seemed just the ticket today.
So, gobsmacked.
In the CNN story, this is the word that Susan Boyle used to describe her feelings about her sudden worldwide fame. (If you are one of the half dozen people who haven’t heard of Ms. Boyle or her remarkable story, watch the video of her performance on Britain’s Got Talent here. It’s worth every minute.)
“Gobsmacked, absolutely gobsmacked,” she said.
I’m fairly adept at surmising the meaning of words from the context, so I had a good idea of what the word meant. But just in case it turned out to secretly be some highly offensive word, a little jaunt over to thefreedictionary.com was in order.
Gobsmacked Adjective
Brit, Austral & NZ slang astonished and astounded
Collins Essential English Dictionary 2nd Edition 2006 © HarperCollins Publishers 2004, 2006 http://www.thefreedictionary.com/gobsmacked
::
(more…)
2009/04/17 | Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: Astonishment, gobsmacked, Susan Boyle | 1 Comment »
::
If I had a unibrow, I think today would have been the end of it.
I parked too close to the next car in the parking lot, and had to wiggle out of the little crack I was able to open in the door. Lanky folks like me are famous for our graceful moves doing things like getting out of tiny cars in tiny spaces. So with a coffee mug in one hand and my backpack in the other, I reached up through the opening and pulled myself out. I mentally high-fived myself that I pulled it off without dropping my computer on the ground or dumping hot coffee down my front.
Nearly upright, I congratulated myself for my 40-something agility, and ZAP! POW!
I thrust my arm against the door pillar as I was nearly blown back into the car.
Major blast.
Right between the eyes.
::
(more…)
2009/04/15 | Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: Elijah, God's voice | Leave A Comment »
He was despised and rejected by men,
a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering.
Like one from whom men hide their faces
he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
Surely he took up our infirmities
and carried our sorrows,
yet we considered him stricken by God,
smitten by him, and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our transgressions,
he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was upon him,
and by his wounds we are healed. (Isaiah 53:3-5)
::
Kick me!
One of the boys stuck this sign on his dad’s back a few days ago. He found it right away and took it off. They all had a good laugh.
I remember those things, and chuckled myself that kids still find that a funny thing to do after all these years.
Even if a guy never got kicked, there was something particularly embarrassing about wearing a sign on your back that said “kick me.” The idea that you’d willingly take the abuse. The sign had to come off as soon as it went on.
The indignity of inviting harassment is too great.
The humiliation of volunteering for mistreatment.
The shame of agreeing to punishment.
::
The world has yet to see a sign so enormous, so crushing as the one Messiah wore, buckling beneath the weight of a wooden cross, yes, but more, the weight of that same world’s sin.
Shame. Humiliation. Disgrace.
Excruciating pain.
Deserted by His friends.
Abandoned by His Father.
Forsaken by a part of His own self.
::
In the garden, He awaited the arrival of the one who would betray. He knew one was coming who would show where to tack on the sign. He poured out His soul to His Father. He pleaded to take the sign off His back, if there were just another way.
Any other way.
There was no other way, and He knew. And so He submitted to His Father’s will.
In that moment, He pressed the tape down harder, made the sign more securely stuck, and in so doing laid down His dignity for His Father’s honor.
Traded His glory . . . for my shame.
Endured the bruising, beating, killing . . . to cover my sin.
He shouted to the depths and to the heights, “Yes, by all means, kick Me!”
He stepped beyond the reach of mercy . . . that mercy might reach me.
And by His wounds we are healed.
::
Kick me!
One of the boys stuck this sign on his dad’s back a few days ago. He found it right away and took it off, and they all had a good laugh.
I remember those things, and chuckled myself that kids still find that a funny thing to do after all these years.
Even if a guy never got kicked, there was something particularly embarrassing about wearing a sign on your back that said “kick me.” The idea that you’d willingly take the abuse. The sign had to come off as soon as it went on.
The indignity of inviting harassment is too great.
The humiliation of volunteering for mistreatment.
The shame of agreeing to punishment.
:: (more…)
2009/04/10 | Categories: Easter, The Cross | Tags: by his wounds, Easter, sacrifice, The Cross | Leave A Comment »
Think of yourselves the way Christ Jesus thought of himself. He had equal status with God but didn’t think so much of himself that he had to cling to the advantages of that status no matter what. Not at all. When the time came, he set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave, became human! Having become human, he stayed human. It was an incredibly humbling process. He didn’t claim special privileges. Instead, he lived a selfless, obedient life and then died a selfless, obedient death — and the worst kind of death at that — a crucifixion. (Philippians 2:5-8, The Message)
::
The Lord’s Supper is not funny.
The last meal that Jesus shared with His disciples, celebrating the Passover supper together was even less funny.
Yet, from time to time when I hear said that Jesus’ body was broken, I confess that I snicker. I don’t want to laugh. I try not to do it very loud. And I try to get over it really fast. It’s embarrassing to be found laughing about such a somber thing.
I’ve learned that not a lot of people appreciate snickering during Communion.
And they really hate snort laughing.
::
When one of my boys was small (we’ll leave it a mystery which it was, permitting me to sleep with both eyes closed tonight), he watched a video to help him embrace potty training. Great songs about toilet paper, flushing, hand washing and using a towel. It helped to keep him focused on this monumental change in his daily routine.
Perhaps, in hindsight, a little too focused.
Focused enough that one bright Sunday morning, one in which we celebrated the Lord’s Supper with our church family, he filtered the entire sermon through his training.
At first, it went right by him. Just a serious man up front saying a lot of words that didn’t mean much to such a little guy. Fruit snacks and crayons were far more stimulating. But as the pastor repeated the phrase “Jesus’ body, broken for you” more times than I can ever remember being said in church on a single morning, it took hold in his potty training mind.
Soon, he could hold it in no more.
“Who broke Jesus’ potty?” he demanded to know.
::
He was indignant.
Somehow, someone broke Jesus’ potty. This was devastating news. How could we all taking this sitting down?
Then, a million questions. At toddler-in-church decibel.
What would Jesus do without a potty? Where would He go? How did it get broken? Who would break a guy’s potty? Can it be fixed?
Is it really true?
Jesus’ potty is broken?
::
Sad to say, the irreverent disruption of the Lord’s Supper that morning started in the Lindquist’s pew. While a young boy, desiring to attend to the needs of his Master worked desperately to solve the mystery of His broken potty, his parents lost it. Nearly slid onto the floor.
I’m sure a laugh snort or two escaped our row while the elements were passed, only partially stifled by a spare Huggies from the diaper bag.
Then, not unlike cheering fans in the stadium standing as the wave reaches their section, shoulders collectively began to shake in the rows ahead of us, one by one until the tremors reached the front, as brother would lean to sister and whisper what ruckus unfolded not far behind.
Each time we hoped the worst was over, the pastor, unmoved by gale force laughter, said it again. For each one of us and because of our sin, Jesus’ body was broken.
And as though another quarter dropped into the jukebox, the drama restarted on cue.
Jesus’ potty is broken?
::
My two-year old couldn’t grasp the significance of the Christ’s broken body. He couldn’t fathom the anguish the Redeemer would suffer. He couldn’t conceive of the sacrifice this Lamb would make of Himself.
I hardly think that we grown ups get it either.
But I like to think that he did get his hands around something that often slips through our full grown fingers.
He perceived the Messiah’s humanity.
He saw that the God-Man, though God, was very, very man.
From time to time, Jesus had to use a bathroom.
::
He was that human. So human that His deity did not permit Him to avoid the more distasteful parts of being human.
He experienced all our physical weaknesses and limitations.
He willingly took His fully-God being and collapsed it into a fully-man form, and for 33 long years, endured the pain and discomfort and inconvenience of being human.
Of being one of us.
Living among us, dying at our hands.
And becoming sin for us that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.
Something only a God willing to humble Himself to the depths of the most basic human functions could do.
::
Think of yourselves the way Christ Jesus thought of himself. He had equal status with God but didn’t think so much of himself that he had to cling to the advantages of that status no matter what. Not at all. When the time came, he set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave, became human! Having become human, he stayed human. It was an incredibly humbling process. He didn’t claim special privileges. Instead, he lived a selfless, obedient life and then died a selfless, obedient death — and the worst kind of death at that — a crucifixion. (Philippians 2:5-8, The Message)
The Lord’s Supper is not funny.
The last meal that Jesus shared with His disciples, celebrating the Passover supper together was even less funny.
Yet, from time to time when I hear said that Jesus’ body was broken, I confess that I snicker. I don’t want to laugh. I try not to do it very loud. And I try to get over it really fast. It’s embarrassing to be found laughing about such a somber thing.
I’ve learned that not a lot of people appreciate snickering during Communion.
And they really hate snort laughing.
:: (more…)
2009/04/08 | Categories: Easter | Tags: Easter, Lord's Supper, sacrifice | 1 Comment »
The words were barely out of his mouth when Judas (the one from the Twelve) showed up, and with him a gang from the high priests and religious leaders brandishing swords and clubs. The betrayer had worked out a sign with them: “The one I kiss, that’s the one—seize him.” He went straight to Jesus, greeted him, “How are you, Rabbi?” and kissed him.
Jesus said, “Friend, why this charade?”
Then they came on him -— grabbed him and roughed him up. One of those with Jesus pulled his sword and, taking a swing at the Chief Priest’s servant, cut off his ear.
Jesus said, “Put your sword back where it belongs. All who use swords are destroyed by swords. Don’t you realize that I am able right now to call to my Father, and twelve companies—more, if I want them—of fighting angels would be here, battle-ready? But if I did that, how would the Scriptures come true that say this is the way it has to be?”
Then Jesus addressed the mob: “What is this—coming out after me with swords and clubs as if I were a dangerous criminal? Day after day I have been sitting in the Temple teaching, and you never so much as lifted a hand against me. You’ve done it this way to confirm and fulfill the prophetic writings.”
Then all the disciples cut and ran. (Matthew 26:47-56 The Message)
::
The guys were pretty fuzzy headed when this pack of priests and soldiers showed up in the dark.
They’d been trying so hard to stay awake. The Rabbi had gone away by Himself to pray, and He’d already come back to find them sound asleep once. What a disappointment they’d been then.
Peter poked James, and James poked John. John poked Peter, but it just didn’t work out. They couldn’t hold their heads up.
They’d had some long days with the Master lately. And now they were exhausted. What a rush it had been, coming into Jerusalem. Everybody came out to see Him! Maybe this was really it, maybe He really was the King they’d longed for.
Maybe they would finally be free from Rome!
::
And then just tonight, they’d had supper together. What a strange time. He talked in code again. Talked of being handed over, and of crucifixion, and of drinking blood and broken bodies. None of it made sense.
But then, that happened a lot between them and Jesus.
Seemed it was happening more and more all the time.
At one point, the Master and Judas had this crazy exchange. No one knew quite what to make of it. Judas would turn Jesus over to the authorities? That’s what He’d said. But he was one of them. Kind of a loner, never really quite fit in. But still. How could this be?
No one believed it.
And yet, Judas left.
Right after the Lord stared through him and said, “Don’t play games with Me, Judas.”
The rest promised they wouldn’t be like that. They would stand by Him.
No matter what.
But even so, it felt a little sick inside when He said they would all turn their backs.
::
So it was kind of a relief when the Teacher asked the three of them to go with Him alone to pray. Their times alone with Him were always good. Sure, they didn’t have the stamina for those all-night prayer runs Jesus could do. But to have that time just with Him. Not everybody knew what that was like.
That’s what they needed. A little time alone with Him in the garden. He’d explain it all. He was always talking in riddles, and surely that’s what He was doing here. He didn’t literally mean that He’d be turned over. He didn’t mean a real crucifixion.
It was a word picture.
They just needed a little time to hang out, and He’d explain it all.
::
When He came back from praying and had to wake His friends again, it took a little while before they realized what was happening.
“My betrayer is here.”
Why does He keep saying that? What does that mean?
They were having such a hard time waking up.
Until they saw torches. And clubs. And swords.
Soldiers. And priests.
That combination jolted them awake.
::
They were wide awake when that snake Judas strutted right up to Jesus and kissed Him on the cheek. Like a friend. What a fraud. As soon as he stepped back, the soldiers grabbed the Teacher.
They had to do something! They couldn’t stand by and let them take Him!
They had all promised they wouldn’t turn away. They had to prove themselves now.
One pulled his sword and hacked off an ear. They must have cheered. Together, they’d fight this thing to the death!
But then He said no.
We aren’t going to do it that way.
::
No swords. If He needed physical strength to do this He’d have called down angels to fight for Him.
He didn’t. It wasn’t the way. That’s what He said.
He would go willingly, though the guards would feel the need to bind Him.
This was the part that they really couldn’t get.
They weren’t cowards, though they often are painted that way. They stood up and were ready to fight.
As a matter of fact, they did fight. They fought with a sword.
But He made them stop.
::
Then all the disciples cut and ran.
It’s no wonder they ran. This was a new way, a strange way.
A way they didn’t yet know.
To be taken away willingly. To refuse to defend oneself. To agree to be humiliated.
To volunteer to be the Lamb.
::
Then all the disciples cut and ran.
They understood cutting. They understood the sword.
But He wouldn’t permit them to cut any more. No ears, no arms, no legs, no hearts.
They would do it His way.
Not yet understanding His way, and now unable to cut, they ran.
::
The words were barely out of his mouth when Judas (the one from the Twelve) showed up, and with him a gang from the high priests and religious leaders brandishing swords and clubs. The betrayer had worked out a sign with them: “The one I kiss, that’s the one—seize him.” He went straight to Jesus, greeted him, “How are you, Rabbi?” and kissed him.
::
The guys were pretty fuzzy headed when this pack of priests and soldiers showed up in the dark.
They’d been trying so hard to stay awake. The Rabbi had gone away by Himself to pray, and He’d already come back to find them sound asleep once. What a disappointment they’d been then.
Peter poked James, and James poked John. John poked Peter, but it just didn’t work out. They couldn’t hold their heads up.
They’d had some long days with the Master lately. And now they were exhausted. What a rush it had been, coming into Jerusalem. Everybody came out to see Him! Maybe this was really it, maybe He really was the King they’d longed for.
Maybe they would finally be free from Rome!
:: (more…)
2009/04/06 | Categories: Easter, Uncategorized | Tags: crucifixion, Easter, last supper | Leave A Comment »
All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them. (Hebrews 11:13-16)
::
My head is turned back, looking at a nearly used-up Saturday that is now mostly behind me. The menfolk are doing basketball in Sioux Falls and fighting through yet another late (or should I say early?) season blizzard, leaving me a free day at home. I had a long list of goals for today:
More frowny faces there than check marks, I suppose. But it’s not for lack of trying. I did attempt some of those things and was met with defeat. So I gave up. Figure there’s always tomorrow, right?
::
During one of my distracted moments (distracted, frustrated — call it what you like), I opened another tab and punched “Argentine food” into Google, located a great Latino market website and promptly ordered a box of alfajores, a couple of tubs of dulce de leche and a Mantecol candy bar.
“Thank you for your order” popped up on my screen and I thought, “What’d I do that for?”
I’ve lived for years without alfajores and dulce.
And “shop for Argentine treats” is sure not on my list of things to do today.
::
Somehow, in a moment of distracted frustration (there we go, that’s what I was looking for), I let my mind wander around a bit. Off its leash, it meandered right on over to a place I love to be. Momentarily, as my mouth watered at the thought of a fresh Mantecol melting on my tongue, I found myself sitting in a plaza in Buenos Aires, smelling the diesel and wondering where I might go grab a cafe con leche.
Argentina happens to be one of my favorite places on earth. So my mind wanders there often.
But I don’t have any great hopes of being there again any time soon. And even if I did, I’m not sure it would accomplish so much except to make me really happy about being there for a while.
Kind of like alfajores and dulce de leche will get me pretty excited for a couple of days. Until they are all gone.
They don’t last.
::
Seems it’s so easy for us to think of things and put our energy into things that won’t last. At least it is for me.
As I looked at the order confirmation on my screen, I wondered why, when I was distracted I didn’t think of more eternal, more valuable things than a Mantecol bar. Why, when I was frustrated, did I look for comfort in something that would be gone faster than Girl Scout cookies (that’s fast). Why was I thinking of being satisfied right here, right now, so much more quickly than about my eternal hope? My new country?
How I’d love to be able to tell you that when my mind wandered freely today that I had mental sightings of One, seated on a burro, taking in the honor and worship as all of Jerusalem welcomed their King.
That in moments of discouragement, rather than amusing myself on Google, my heart would instead cry out “Hosanna! Save us!”
That I’d at last learned to let my mind drift naturally to eternity.
::
All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them. (Hebrews 11:13-16)
My head is turned back, looking at a nearly used-up Saturday that is now mostly behind me. The menfolk are doing basketball in Sioux Falls and fighting through yet another late (or should I say early?) season blizzard, leaving me a free day at home. I had a long list of goals for today:
More frowny faces there than check marks, I suppose. But it’s not for lack of trying. I did attempt some of those things and was met with defeat. So I gave up. Figure there’s always tomorrow, right?
::
During one of my distracted moments (distracted, frustrated — call it what you like), I opened another tab and punched “Argentine food” into Google, located a great Latino market website and promptly ordered a box of alfajores, a couple of tubs of dulce de leche and a Mantecol candy bar.
“Thank you for your order” popped up on my screen and I thought, “What’d I do that for?”
I’ve lived for years without alfajores and dulce.
And “shop for Argentine treats” is sure not on my list of things to do today.
::
Somehow, in a moment of distracted frustration (there we go, that’s what I was looking for), I let my mind wander around a bit. Off its leash, it meandered right on over to a place I love to be. Momentarily, as my mouth watered at the thought of a fresh Mantecol melting on my tongue, I found myself sitting in a plaza in Buenos Aires, smelling the diesel and wondering where I might go grab a cafe con leche.
Argentina happens to be one of my favorite places on earth. So my mind wanders there often.
But I don’t have any great hopes of being there again any time soon. And even if I did, I’m not sure it would accomplish so much except to make me really happy about being there for a while.
Kind of like alfajores and dulce de leche will get me pretty excited for a couple of days. Until they are all gone.
They don’t last.
::
Seems it’s so easy for us to think of things and put our energy into things that won’t last. At least it is for me.
As I looked at the order confirmation on my screen, I wondered why, when I was distracted, I didn’t think of more eternal, more valuable things than a Mantecol bar. Why, when I was frustrated, did I look for comfort in something that would be gone faster than Girl Scout cookies (that’s fast). Why was I thinking of being satisfied right here, right now, so much more quickly than about my eternal hope? My new country?
How I’d love to be able to tell you that when my mind wandered freely today that I had mental sightings of One, seated on a burro, taking in the honor and worship as all Jerusalem welcomed their King.
That in moments of discouragement, rather than amusing myself on Google, my heart would instead cry out Hosanna! Save us!
That I’d at last learned to let my mind drift naturally to eternity.
::
2009/04/04 | Categories: Uncategorized | 1 Comment »
The next day the great crowd that had come for the Feast heard that Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem. They took palm branches and went out to meet him, shouting,
“Hosanna!”
“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”
“Blessed is the King of Israel!” Jesus found a young donkey and sat upon it, as it is written,
“Do not be afraid, O Daughter of Zion;
see, your king is coming,
seated on a donkey’s colt.”
At first his disciples did not understand all this. Only after Jesus was glorified did they realize that these things had been written about him and that they had done these things to him. (John 12:12-16)
::
Once in a while I imagine what it must have been like for the disciples to walk with Jesus, in person, every day. They saw the miracles in real time. They heard the teaching firsthand. They cheered (privately) when Jesus confronted the Pharisees, rejoiced (quietly) when he pulled tax money out of the mouth of a fish, and high-fived each other (exuberantly) when He filled their nets with many days’ catch all at once.
They walked with the Redeemer every single day.
::
At those times when belief comes hard for me, I imagine that they had an advantage over me.
They heard His voice: the intonation, the expression, the emotion.
They looked into His eyes.
It had to be so much easier for them.
And then I read passages like John’s account of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, mere days before He would be lifted up.
Just moments before He would lay Himself down.
And I realize that it was tough for them some days too.
::
By this time, the disciples had seen Jesus turn water into wine, heal a bunch of people from all kinds of ailments, feed thousands with scraps, walk on the top of the water, and raise Lazarus from the dead. And yet, John reports that he and his companions still didn’t get it.
“At first his disciples did not understand all this. Only after Jesus was glorified did they realize . . .”
They saw.
They saw a lot.
But it occurs to me that seeing is just not believing.
::
I don’t know who they thought Jesus really was. They knew He was somebody.
Somebody important.
But despite all they’d seen and all they’d heard, they didn’t see who He was.
Not until later.
What they saw didn’t mean then what it would mean another day.
::
One day, not long after they watched their Hope breathe His last, hanging in agony on rough hewn timbers, bruised, battered, and bleeding, at last they understood.
We know from John’s account here that they did eventually get it. We know from the book of Acts.
And we know from the lives they went on to live, and for most, the deaths that they would go on to die.
::
Seeing may not be the same as believing.
But once believing, it’s amazing what one can see.
::
The next day the great crowd that had come for the Feast heard that Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem. They took palm branches and went out to meet him, shouting,
“Hosanna!”
“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”
“Blessed is the King of Israel!” Jesus found a young donkey and sat upon it, as it is written,
“Do not be afraid, O Daughter of Zion;
see, your king is coming,
seated on a donkey’s colt.”
At first his disciples did not understand all this. Only after Jesus was glorified did they realize that these things had been written about him and that they had done these things to him. (John 12:12-16)
Once in a while I imagine what it must have been like for the disciples to walk with Jesus, in person, every day. They saw the miracles in real time. They heard the teaching firsthand. They cheered (privately) when Jesus confronted the Pharisees, rejoiced (quietly) when he pulled tax money out of the mouth of a fish, and high-fived each other (exuberantly) when He filled their nets with many days’ catch all at once.
They walked with the Redeemer every single day.
::
At those times when belief comes hard for me, I imagine that they had an advantage over me.
They heard His voice: the intonation, the expression, the emotion.
They looked into His eyes.
It had to be so much easier for them.
And then I read passages like John’s account of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, mere days before He would be lifted up.
Just moments before He would lay Himself down.
And I realize that it was tough for them some days too.
::
By this time, the disciples had seen Jesus turn water into wine, heal a bunch of people from all kinds of ailments, feed thousands with scraps, walk on the top of the water, and raise Lazarus from the dead.
And yet, John reports that he and his companions still didn’t get it.
At first his disciples did not understand all this. Only after Jesus was glorified did they realize . . .
They saw.
They saw a lot.
But it occurs to me that seeing is just not believing.
::
I don’t know who they thought Jesus really was. They knew He was somebody.
Somebody important.
But despite all they’d seen and all they’d heard, they didn’t see who He was.
Not until later.
What they saw didn’t mean then what it would mean another day.
::
One day, not long after they watched their Hope breathe His last, hanging in agony on rough hewn timbers, bruised, battered, and bleeding, at last they understood.
We know from John’s account here that they did eventually get it. We know from the book of Acts.
And we know from the lives they went on to live, and for most, the deaths that they would go on to die.
::
Seeing may not be the same as believing.
But once believing, it’s amazing what one can see.
::
2009/04/01 | Categories: Belief & Doubt | Tags: belief, doubt | 1 Comment »
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