(I realized the full post is really long winded. If you want a Biblical backdrop go ahead and read it. If not, maybe this is enough.)
Joseph goes on a fantastic journey throughout his life. It starts with his dreams of his family bowing to him. Of course, because we have the whole story we know that they were given to him by God, but when did he know that? It never says, and I am going to assume that he was human like us, and thought they were cool dreams that he wanted to come true. It was a dream of power, of fame, and of recognition. I know I have dreams like that.
Yet there is a pivotal moment in his life, and probably one of the more scary: he is sold into slavery. He is placed in a mundane and unfair situation with no hope of escape. He is not recognized, he is scorned and mistreated. Somewhere in all of this he came to have a relationship with God that was blessed the rest of his life (not free from trouble, just blessed). And in this relationship he begins to have an accurate view of himself (as can be seen as he interacts with Potiphar's wife) and he begins to have an obedience that eventually leads the the exact fulfillment of his childhood dreams (Gen. 41-45). So it is in the humble obedience and godly handling of whatever situation he finds himself in that gains him access to his dreams. He didn't push and shove to get there, he was pushed and shoved. While in prison he makes the comment that he was there unfairly (Gen. 40:15), but the whole while he keeps his eyes on obeying God. Even when he is first faced with interpreting a dream (for which he becomes Biblically famous) he says, "Do not interpretations belong to God?" (v. 8) and we can see that in every conversation his attitude is first on honoring God. Because of his humble focus on honoring God, he ends up honoring his dreams, not intentionally, but through honoring God. Through the fulfillment of his dreams, his parents are honored by him and through him.
30 May 2007
Arrogant Dreams
"I guess I just want to understand what it means to honor God- how I can follow my dreams and do what I think is the right thing for me to do but the whole while keep my ears and eyes open to God so that if He has something else in mind for me, I'll know it. Also, along with wanting to gain general knowledge about the bible and the life of Jesus, it would be amazing if there was something in there to guide me through figuring out how to honor my parents without giving up all of my wishes."
This was sent to me by a good friend, as they were (are) wrestling with some very important questions in life. I have delayed any answer because I have been thinking on it (for a grand total of an hour...)
Other friends have expressed interest in this topic, so I am in no way trying to answer these questions, but more begin a conversation or at least pique you to thought.
Every time I thought to myself in prayer, "How can you pursue your dreams without dishonoring God?" Two things came to mind: 1) You can't. 2) Joseph.
I say, "You can't," because the only way for a dream to be honoring to God in its pursuit is if it is God's dream given to you. So technically, you can't pursue your dreams, but as your proximity to God increases, the honest desires of your heart more reflect His.
Joseph. When most people think of the name in Biblical terms they usually either think of Mary's husband or the dreamer with the technicolored coat. But I think the Joseph of Genesis 37 and 39 (the one we usually think of as the dreamer) sheds light on the question of honoring God, your parents, and your dreams. Maybe.
The first things we find out about Joseph is that (Gen. 37:1-3)
1) He is young to be sheparding,
2) He is a tattle-tale,
3) He's the favorite child.
When I read this again it sounded like a receipt for a brat, and my memory took me back through the tides of time to elementary school. Invariably there was at least one kid who was cocky to no end. Usually they had reason to be so stuck-up, and that was the worst part. They totally abused their position, but it looked like they did everything right. They were smart and athletic, the teachers all liked them, and they never got in trouble, but never ceased finding other people to get in trouble. Its like a mini police; a spy. Untouchable but unwelcome. This is how I see Joseph here; he fits the formula to the tee.
But he doesn't stop there. He has a dream: "Please listen to this dream which I have had; for behold, we were binding sheaves in the field, and lo, my sheaf rose up and also stood erect; and behold, your sheaves gathered around and bowed down to my sheaf." (v. 6, 7)
Isn't that aggravating? Can he really not know that this will infuriate all his brothers? I believe him that this is his dream, but the kid is being a jerk. I mean, really. I would've been angry. And then he tells them another dream, this time including his parents among those bowing to him. But these were his dreams. They taste, smell, and act cocky.
(The weird thing here is that his brothers get jealous of him after the second dream, and his father "keeps the saying in mind." (v. 11) Why are they jealous?)
Now the next thing that separates Joseph from his brothers: When they go up to Shechem to graze the flock, he stays behind with his dad. Then, when his dad sends him up to his brothers he has the audacity to wear the very coat which initially inflamed their anger. (v. 12, 32) He just can't stop with his abuse of power. But his brothers had all that wrath saved up; and they were quick to release it. They had barely seen him and they plotted how to kill him (v. 18).
Okay, skipping through some of the details and trusting that you will read these two chapters, Joseph finds himself a slave on the way to Egypt. I wonder what happened on this trip, because when he makes it to Egypt he doesn't appear at all to have any shading of arrogance that defined him so clearly before. On arriving in Egypt, he is taken into the house of Potiphar, Pharaoh's officer of the bodyguards (Gen 39:1).
The LORD was with him in Potiphar's and he succeeded in everything he laid his hand to. When noticed, he was placed in charge of the entire household of this officer. All responsibilities: the other slaves, the food, the livestock, the furniture; it was all in Joseph's care. The crazy part is that God continued his blessing and prospered the house of Potiphar under Joseph. (v. 3-5) It got so extreme that Potiphar didn't even concern himself with anything except what he ate. (v. 6) Now that is trust!
Then along comes Potiphar's wife: Rich, well clothed, and hungry for action. She asks again and again for this handsome guy to pleasure her in bed, and again and again he refuses. And it is in this relationship that we see how humble he's come: "Behold, with me here, my master does not concern himself with anything in the house, and he has put all that he owns in my charge. There is no one greater in this house than I, and he has withheld nothing from me except you, because you are his wife. How then could I do this great evil and sin against God?" (v. 8, 9)
He knows his place.
From there his life takes all sorts of turns and twists, and he makes interesting demands and curious career moves, but lets get back to the question of honoring God, parents, and dreams.
Joseph goes on a fantastic journey throughout his life. It starts with his dreams of his family bowing to him. Of course, because we have the whole story we know that they were given to him by God, but when did he know that? It never says, and I am going to assume that he was human like us, and thought they were cool dreams that he wanted to come true. It was a dream of power, of fame, and of recognition. I know I have dreams like that.
Yet there is a pivotal moment in his life, and probably one of the more scary: he is sold into slavery. He is placed in a mundane and unfair situation with no hope of escape. He is not recognized, he is scorned and mistreated. Somewhere in all of this he came to have a relationship with God that was blessed the rest of his life (not free from trouble, just blessed). And in this relationship he begins to have an accurate view of himself (as can be seen as he interacts with Potiphar's wife) and he begins to have an obedience that eventually leads the the exact fulfillment of his childhood dreams (Gen. 41-45). So it is in the humble obedience and godly handling of whatever situation he finds himself in that gains him access to his dreams. He didn't push and shove to get there, he was pushed and shoved. While in prison he makes the comment that he was there unfairly (Gen. 40:15), but the whole while he keeps his eyes on obeying God. Even when he is first faced with interpreting a dream (for which he becomes Biblically famous) he says, "Do not interpretations belong to God?" (v. 8) and we can see that in every conversation his attitude is first on honoring God. Because of his humble focus on honoring God, he ends up honoring his dreams, not intentionally, but through honoring God. Through the fulfillment of his dreams, his parents are honored by him and through him.
So there are some intro thoughts. :)
This was sent to me by a good friend, as they were (are) wrestling with some very important questions in life. I have delayed any answer because I have been thinking on it (for a grand total of an hour...)
Other friends have expressed interest in this topic, so I am in no way trying to answer these questions, but more begin a conversation or at least pique you to thought.
Every time I thought to myself in prayer, "How can you pursue your dreams without dishonoring God?" Two things came to mind: 1) You can't. 2) Joseph.
I say, "You can't," because the only way for a dream to be honoring to God in its pursuit is if it is God's dream given to you. So technically, you can't pursue your dreams, but as your proximity to God increases, the honest desires of your heart more reflect His.
Joseph. When most people think of the name in Biblical terms they usually either think of Mary's husband or the dreamer with the technicolored coat. But I think the Joseph of Genesis 37 and 39 (the one we usually think of as the dreamer) sheds light on the question of honoring God, your parents, and your dreams. Maybe.
The first things we find out about Joseph is that (Gen. 37:1-3)
1) He is young to be sheparding,
2) He is a tattle-tale,
3) He's the favorite child.
When I read this again it sounded like a receipt for a brat, and my memory took me back through the tides of time to elementary school. Invariably there was at least one kid who was cocky to no end. Usually they had reason to be so stuck-up, and that was the worst part. They totally abused their position, but it looked like they did everything right. They were smart and athletic, the teachers all liked them, and they never got in trouble, but never ceased finding other people to get in trouble. Its like a mini police; a spy. Untouchable but unwelcome. This is how I see Joseph here; he fits the formula to the tee.
But he doesn't stop there. He has a dream: "Please listen to this dream which I have had; for behold, we were binding sheaves in the field, and lo, my sheaf rose up and also stood erect; and behold, your sheaves gathered around and bowed down to my sheaf." (v. 6, 7)
Isn't that aggravating? Can he really not know that this will infuriate all his brothers? I believe him that this is his dream, but the kid is being a jerk. I mean, really. I would've been angry. And then he tells them another dream, this time including his parents among those bowing to him. But these were his dreams. They taste, smell, and act cocky.
(The weird thing here is that his brothers get jealous of him after the second dream, and his father "keeps the saying in mind." (v. 11) Why are they jealous?)
Now the next thing that separates Joseph from his brothers: When they go up to Shechem to graze the flock, he stays behind with his dad. Then, when his dad sends him up to his brothers he has the audacity to wear the very coat which initially inflamed their anger. (v. 12, 32) He just can't stop with his abuse of power. But his brothers had all that wrath saved up; and they were quick to release it. They had barely seen him and they plotted how to kill him (v. 18).
Okay, skipping through some of the details and trusting that you will read these two chapters, Joseph finds himself a slave on the way to Egypt. I wonder what happened on this trip, because when he makes it to Egypt he doesn't appear at all to have any shading of arrogance that defined him so clearly before. On arriving in Egypt, he is taken into the house of Potiphar, Pharaoh's officer of the bodyguards (Gen 39:1).
The LORD was with him in Potiphar's and he succeeded in everything he laid his hand to. When noticed, he was placed in charge of the entire household of this officer. All responsibilities: the other slaves, the food, the livestock, the furniture; it was all in Joseph's care. The crazy part is that God continued his blessing and prospered the house of Potiphar under Joseph. (v. 3-5) It got so extreme that Potiphar didn't even concern himself with anything except what he ate. (v. 6) Now that is trust!
Then along comes Potiphar's wife: Rich, well clothed, and hungry for action. She asks again and again for this handsome guy to pleasure her in bed, and again and again he refuses. And it is in this relationship that we see how humble he's come: "Behold, with me here, my master does not concern himself with anything in the house, and he has put all that he owns in my charge. There is no one greater in this house than I, and he has withheld nothing from me except you, because you are his wife. How then could I do this great evil and sin against God?" (v. 8, 9)
He knows his place.
From there his life takes all sorts of turns and twists, and he makes interesting demands and curious career moves, but lets get back to the question of honoring God, parents, and dreams.
Joseph goes on a fantastic journey throughout his life. It starts with his dreams of his family bowing to him. Of course, because we have the whole story we know that they were given to him by God, but when did he know that? It never says, and I am going to assume that he was human like us, and thought they were cool dreams that he wanted to come true. It was a dream of power, of fame, and of recognition. I know I have dreams like that.
Yet there is a pivotal moment in his life, and probably one of the more scary: he is sold into slavery. He is placed in a mundane and unfair situation with no hope of escape. He is not recognized, he is scorned and mistreated. Somewhere in all of this he came to have a relationship with God that was blessed the rest of his life (not free from trouble, just blessed). And in this relationship he begins to have an accurate view of himself (as can be seen as he interacts with Potiphar's wife) and he begins to have an obedience that eventually leads the the exact fulfillment of his childhood dreams (Gen. 41-45). So it is in the humble obedience and godly handling of whatever situation he finds himself in that gains him access to his dreams. He didn't push and shove to get there, he was pushed and shoved. While in prison he makes the comment that he was there unfairly (Gen. 40:15), but the whole while he keeps his eyes on obeying God. Even when he is first faced with interpreting a dream (for which he becomes Biblically famous) he says, "Do not interpretations belong to God?" (v. 8) and we can see that in every conversation his attitude is first on honoring God. Because of his humble focus on honoring God, he ends up honoring his dreams, not intentionally, but through honoring God. Through the fulfillment of his dreams, his parents are honored by him and through him.
So there are some intro thoughts. :)
18 May 2007
Five Porticoes and One Lame Reason
Last night was Bible Study. I missed it for the third week in a row. First it was final projects, then final exams, and this week was new roommates. Two people moved in yesterday.
But I missed Bible Study. I asked Gen to send me what they had studied, and I got a text message last night full of Bible verse with the tag "Correlating sin and pain." I took some time today to go over the passages myself, and I believe God had a very different message for me.
In John 5:1-18, Jesus heals the lame man by the Sheep Gate at the pool of Bethesda. As I was reading this third passage from Bible Study, I said for the third time, "I've read this a million times!" But praise God that His thoughts are above our thoughts!
"Do you wish to get well?"
The sick man answered him, "Sir, I have no man to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, but while I am coming, another steps down before me." (v. 6-7)
I am struck by this response. Jesus never asked him how it was that he wasn't yet healed. Nor was He asking how the sick man would try to become healed. He simply asked if the long-term pool-patient wanted healing.
In answering the man provides an excuse. "I couldn't do it because of something else. Once that's taken care of, I'll be set."
I read it, then realized I wasn't reading. It's what I say all the time to Christ. Everyday, in fact. I cry out to Him, "What is going on in my life?" (see "Driftwood and the Cross") and when He says, "Do you want to be healed?" I answer, "I can't make it into the water for these excellent, limiting reasons." But that's not what He asks. When He says, "Do you want wisdom?" Who am I to say, "I don't read enough books." That's not an answer, yet I answer in such a fashion on a regular basis. It's something I need to work on. When asked a question by my Lord, I ought to just answer it, eh.
The other piece of this which stands out to me is in v. 10 and 11. The Pharisees asked the healed man, "It is the Sabbath, and it is not permissible for you to carry your pallet."
But he answered them, "He who made me well was the one who said to me, 'Pick up your pallet and walk.'"
The mainstream, those who knew the law the best, they were the ones who instead of taking part in this man's community and experiencing the healing power of Christ with him chastised him for not conforming to their norms. He was out of line; either making them look bad or casting a poor light on their oh-so-important reputation, and it was unacceptable.
But I love the poignancy of the healed man's response, and I believe we as Christians can forget it's importance. "He who healed me of my infirmary was the one who commanded me so." Christ has healed us; why do we simply bow our heads to the cultural-religious norms? I am reminded of one of my favorite animated comedies, "Over the Hedge." Its a great movie, if you haven't seen it, you really should! :) Near the beginning, one of the characters, a very spunky and energetic squirrel finds the Hedge. As the eclectic group of foragers stand in awe of the size of the Hedge, they believe it to be powerful and therefore name is Steve. (Since things with names are a lot less scary, quoth the porcupine) At that moment you hear a human voice from the other side say, "Come over here, young man!" And the squirrel hangs his head and says, "Okay." And begins walking towards the Hedge.
I see the similarity to myself. Yet the healed man stands firm, knowing that despite the clout of the challengers, the one who healed him commanded him, and He is greater and for no other reason (though there are many) than His healing ability, He is worth obeying.
Cool stuff.
But I missed Bible Study. I asked Gen to send me what they had studied, and I got a text message last night full of Bible verse with the tag "Correlating sin and pain." I took some time today to go over the passages myself, and I believe God had a very different message for me.
In John 5:1-18, Jesus heals the lame man by the Sheep Gate at the pool of Bethesda. As I was reading this third passage from Bible Study, I said for the third time, "I've read this a million times!" But praise God that His thoughts are above our thoughts!
"Do you wish to get well?"
The sick man answered him, "Sir, I have no man to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, but while I am coming, another steps down before me." (v. 6-7)
I am struck by this response. Jesus never asked him how it was that he wasn't yet healed. Nor was He asking how the sick man would try to become healed. He simply asked if the long-term pool-patient wanted healing.
In answering the man provides an excuse. "I couldn't do it because of something else. Once that's taken care of, I'll be set."
I read it, then realized I wasn't reading. It's what I say all the time to Christ. Everyday, in fact. I cry out to Him, "What is going on in my life?" (see "Driftwood and the Cross") and when He says, "Do you want to be healed?" I answer, "I can't make it into the water for these excellent, limiting reasons." But that's not what He asks. When He says, "Do you want wisdom?" Who am I to say, "I don't read enough books." That's not an answer, yet I answer in such a fashion on a regular basis. It's something I need to work on. When asked a question by my Lord, I ought to just answer it, eh.
The other piece of this which stands out to me is in v. 10 and 11. The Pharisees asked the healed man, "It is the Sabbath, and it is not permissible for you to carry your pallet."
But he answered them, "He who made me well was the one who said to me, 'Pick up your pallet and walk.'"
The mainstream, those who knew the law the best, they were the ones who instead of taking part in this man's community and experiencing the healing power of Christ with him chastised him for not conforming to their norms. He was out of line; either making them look bad or casting a poor light on their oh-so-important reputation, and it was unacceptable.
But I love the poignancy of the healed man's response, and I believe we as Christians can forget it's importance. "He who healed me of my infirmary was the one who commanded me so." Christ has healed us; why do we simply bow our heads to the cultural-religious norms? I am reminded of one of my favorite animated comedies, "Over the Hedge." Its a great movie, if you haven't seen it, you really should! :) Near the beginning, one of the characters, a very spunky and energetic squirrel finds the Hedge. As the eclectic group of foragers stand in awe of the size of the Hedge, they believe it to be powerful and therefore name is Steve. (Since things with names are a lot less scary, quoth the porcupine) At that moment you hear a human voice from the other side say, "Come over here, young man!" And the squirrel hangs his head and says, "Okay." And begins walking towards the Hedge.
I see the similarity to myself. Yet the healed man stands firm, knowing that despite the clout of the challengers, the one who healed him commanded him, and He is greater and for no other reason (though there are many) than His healing ability, He is worth obeying.
Cool stuff.
Lenses
I need to relearn this...
My relationship with God is not where either one of us want it to be, and I have to take full responsibility of that.
A hard lesson is how to listen to God.
So often people take this is a New Age way of emptying your mind. Intellects call it a "crutch" or a "blindness," and people of Eastern religions call it "fake." They are both right. We are not called to be empty headed. The God of intellect, reason, and imagination is OUR God. We are very much called to be engaged in our world, but through the point of view of Christ.
One "spiritual practice" from last year was to take a few minutes each day to be silent. Not to be empty, but to be silent. In that silence I would recount with as much accuracy as possible what I had done the past twenty-four hours, and how it was or was not glorifying to God. Amazing how much I learned by engaging my mind in a godly way! It wasn't ignoring everything, it was ordering everything under the lens of Christ's Glory.
My relationship with God is not where either one of us want it to be, and I have to take full responsibility of that.
A hard lesson is how to listen to God.
So often people take this is a New Age way of emptying your mind. Intellects call it a "crutch" or a "blindness," and people of Eastern religions call it "fake." They are both right. We are not called to be empty headed. The God of intellect, reason, and imagination is OUR God. We are very much called to be engaged in our world, but through the point of view of Christ.
One "spiritual practice" from last year was to take a few minutes each day to be silent. Not to be empty, but to be silent. In that silence I would recount with as much accuracy as possible what I had done the past twenty-four hours, and how it was or was not glorifying to God. Amazing how much I learned by engaging my mind in a godly way! It wasn't ignoring everything, it was ordering everything under the lens of Christ's Glory.
Psalms 145
This is an e-mail I sent to my parents earlier today, and ties in to my earlier post, "The Flight of the Phoenix," and shows very readily how gracious our God is!
I have had it running through my head since about 10 AM this morning.
Becky Taylor had asked for some help moving her things out of her apartment, so John Pinney and I headed over there at 9:30 AM. We were done pretty quick, and I was going to head to the Summit for lunch, but it was far too early.
As normal, I started thinking of finances, because I knew I had some Pacific Cash to use up. I knew that I had a credit in my account from co-op because I only had to pay half tuition, and knew I had left a few hundred dollars in their, only part of it being used for Pacific Cash. Since it was still morning and I had time to kill, I headed over to the Finance Office to see if I could get some of that money back. I expected between $150-300, because I knew it wasn't much. I had already taken a bunch out.
When I got there and the lady looked up my account I noticed the bottom line read "-$1500", and I thought to myself, "Dear Lord, I cannot pay that type of money right now!" How had I been that far in the hole? I knew something couldn't be right about it, but they trust their system.
She turned to me and said, "Looks like you have some Financial Aid that carried over from the Spring Semester; would you like to receive a refund check?"
It floored me. I didn't really know how to respond, but she started filling out the refund form, so I guess I told her yes. As I walked out, Psalms 145 came to mind:
"The LORD is gracious and merciful;
Slow to anger and great in lovingkindness.
The LORD is good to all,
And His mercies are over all His works.
All Your works shall give thanks to You, O LORD,
And Your godly ones shall bless You.
They shall speak of the glory of Your kingdom
And talk of Your power;
To make known to the sons of men Your mighty acts
And the glory of the majesty of Your kingdom.
Your kingdom is an everlasting kingdom,
And Your dominion endures throughout all generations.
"The LORD sustains all who fall
And raises up all who are bowed down.
The eyes of all who look to You,
And You give them their food in due time.
You open Your hand
And satisfy the desire of every living thing."
(v. 8-16)
And I was singing it all the way home. Shane and Shane put a great melody to verse 8 and 9, and it was on my lips all morning!
Jehovah Jirah!
in Him,
me.
I have had it running through my head since about 10 AM this morning.
Becky Taylor had asked for some help moving her things out of her apartment, so John Pinney and I headed over there at 9:30 AM. We were done pretty quick, and I was going to head to the Summit for lunch, but it was far too early.
As normal, I started thinking of finances, because I knew I had some Pacific Cash to use up. I knew that I had a credit in my account from co-op because I only had to pay half tuition, and knew I had left a few hundred dollars in their, only part of it being used for Pacific Cash. Since it was still morning and I had time to kill, I headed over to the Finance Office to see if I could get some of that money back. I expected between $150-300, because I knew it wasn't much. I had already taken a bunch out.
When I got there and the lady looked up my account I noticed the bottom line read "-$1500", and I thought to myself, "Dear Lord, I cannot pay that type of money right now!" How had I been that far in the hole? I knew something couldn't be right about it, but they trust their system.
She turned to me and said, "Looks like you have some Financial Aid that carried over from the Spring Semester; would you like to receive a refund check?"
It floored me. I didn't really know how to respond, but she started filling out the refund form, so I guess I told her yes. As I walked out, Psalms 145 came to mind:
"The LORD is gracious and merciful;
Slow to anger and great in lovingkindness.
The LORD is good to all,
And His mercies are over all His works.
All Your works shall give thanks to You, O LORD,
And Your godly ones shall bless You.
They shall speak of the glory of Your kingdom
And talk of Your power;
To make known to the sons of men Your mighty acts
And the glory of the majesty of Your kingdom.
Your kingdom is an everlasting kingdom,
And Your dominion endures throughout all generations.
"The LORD sustains all who fall
And raises up all who are bowed down.
The eyes of all who look to You,
And You give them their food in due time.
You open Your hand
And satisfy the desire of every living thing."
(v. 8-16)
And I was singing it all the way home. Shane and Shane put a great melody to verse 8 and 9, and it was on my lips all morning!
Jehovah Jirah!
in Him,
me.
16 May 2007
Flight of the Phoenix
I sat in the leather armchairs in our dining room, and looked through the entry way full of sturdy shoes and sweatshirts into our livingroom lined with couches and tapestries. I found myself thinking, "Man, but I am spoiled."
See, I had just received a phone call from the Mental Health Emergency Response Clinic of Phoenix, Arizona.
"Excuse me, sir. Have you ever heard of a Ronald McDaniels?" the man asked.
"I have heard of a Ron McDaniels, but I didn't know he was in Phoenix."
"Oh, well, we are trying to assess his situation, and he is unable to answer our questions right now, but your number was on his body." My heart sank, because I knew exactly who he was talking about.
One night last summer, just as we said "Amen" after thanking God for revealing Himself to us through His word during Bible Study, there was a knock at the door. Behind the knock was a man in an electric wheelchair, his wild gray beard covered his chest down to his naval, trying unsuccessfully to cover the grimy clothes doing a poor job concealing the equally dirty skin underneath. It was clear this fellow had lived many hard years in an unforgiving city.
"Excuse me, sir. But my scooter has a flat, do you have an air pump? All it needs is an air pump. See I can get around just fine, but I need air, and this other guy over here," he pointed to a neighboring house down the street, "gave me some air, but its already flat again." He kept going for a while, talking with enough animation for a theater, explaining to us why he was in our neighborhood with a flat tire. "Oh, geez, I am so tired." He said, letting his entire weight fall into the nook of his seat. "I drive around hours a day, and now my tire is flat, man. And when I go home," he held up his bandaged arm, "well, things are good there, either. My mom says she loves me, but my brother-in-law and I sure don't get along. You know he threw me out of my scooter the other night? Yeah, and there wasn't even a reason!" The stories kept coming, and a few guys went in search of an air pump. While they were gone he noticed someone had a Bible. "I see you are studying the Word," he said. "Are you believers?"
And THAT started the real conversation. It lasted several hours. Apparently he had been very involved in pentecostal ministry for many years on the streets of Stockton before he became a paraplegic. He talked on and on about how the Lord has used him, and he continued to give us advice and admonishment, "In the Lord." He seemed quite sincere, but our knowing what HE did was quite important as well.
At the end of the night he had showered and had repaired his tire, and he was off.
Ironically, we had been studying how to respond to outreach in real ways. The Lord is not slow in keeping His promises.
As the weeks went on, Ron was in and out of our house, sometimes sleeping, sometimes showering, but always talking. He would talk about the Lord, he would talk about his family, and he would talk about his fiance. She lived on the East Coast, and they loved one another, he said. It took her several months, but she eventually made it out here, and we were able to meet her. Not more than a few days after that, they took off to Arizona because her son was in some sort of trouble. After that, my communication with him was spotty at best. I heard his fiance was causing trouble; then that she was the greatest thing to happen to him, several weeks later. I never really knew what was going on, but he had told me he was coming back to California. I told him we'd love to help in any way we could, but we couldn't give him a bed and three square a day; we were college kids, I thought he'd understand. I'm sure he did, but I am not sure he ever made it back to California.
Right now he's in Phoenix, unable to respond to questions. I began praying; the only thing I knew to do. There is so much pain. My mind wandered to another friend who is on the streets. She is clearly mentally unstable, and she also staid here a few nights. We ended that, not feeling morally immune, and we haven't heard from her since. When she left she said there was a letter she was waiting for; we've received 15, all from various government programs or mental clinics. I fear she would also be unable to respond to questions if anyone found her body.
It is a hard reality to swallow, and it makes me sick. Not because people I know and care about are lost and dying, but because I look around myself while listening to my Bose speakers, and think, "Why? Why is the wealth so unequally distributed? Why am I still so wealthy?"
And that's really what brought it home for me.
See, I am going to Kenya this summer, and the ticket costs $2200, and I don't have much more than that in my checking account. I have several months' rent to pay this summer, and currently no job. Once summer session is done, I'm headed up North where my Dad'll have things for me to do, but that's like robbing the monastery. I've been worried recently that I won't have enough money to keep going to college consistently, and I may need to take a semester just to work. We'll see.
But I was so pre-occupied with it all. It consumed me; it governed what I did and did not do. I used to always be the chauffeur because I had a large vehicle and I like driving, but I've been asking other people to drive because I am afraid of coughing up the dough to fill up. And it is so stupid. Look around, I tell myself, look at those who you say you love who are without a penny, dropped by every safety net established, and dropped by compassion as well. Completely abandoned, the most attention these people get are when they are unable to respond to questions, their bodies found God-knows-where.
It makes me a little more humble, realizing how caught up I've become praying for poor-little-me when there are real issues out there not being dealt with because I am too self-centered. It is humbling, and in that state of humility I find my prayers become a lot more honest, and I weep for these people.
I hope these tears Jesus has given me for these people are not alone, and I trust in His plan that they are not.
See, I had just received a phone call from the Mental Health Emergency Response Clinic of Phoenix, Arizona.
"Excuse me, sir. Have you ever heard of a Ronald McDaniels?" the man asked.
"I have heard of a Ron McDaniels, but I didn't know he was in Phoenix."
"Oh, well, we are trying to assess his situation, and he is unable to answer our questions right now, but your number was on his body." My heart sank, because I knew exactly who he was talking about.
One night last summer, just as we said "Amen" after thanking God for revealing Himself to us through His word during Bible Study, there was a knock at the door. Behind the knock was a man in an electric wheelchair, his wild gray beard covered his chest down to his naval, trying unsuccessfully to cover the grimy clothes doing a poor job concealing the equally dirty skin underneath. It was clear this fellow had lived many hard years in an unforgiving city.
"Excuse me, sir. But my scooter has a flat, do you have an air pump? All it needs is an air pump. See I can get around just fine, but I need air, and this other guy over here," he pointed to a neighboring house down the street, "gave me some air, but its already flat again." He kept going for a while, talking with enough animation for a theater, explaining to us why he was in our neighborhood with a flat tire. "Oh, geez, I am so tired." He said, letting his entire weight fall into the nook of his seat. "I drive around hours a day, and now my tire is flat, man. And when I go home," he held up his bandaged arm, "well, things are good there, either. My mom says she loves me, but my brother-in-law and I sure don't get along. You know he threw me out of my scooter the other night? Yeah, and there wasn't even a reason!" The stories kept coming, and a few guys went in search of an air pump. While they were gone he noticed someone had a Bible. "I see you are studying the Word," he said. "Are you believers?"
And THAT started the real conversation. It lasted several hours. Apparently he had been very involved in pentecostal ministry for many years on the streets of Stockton before he became a paraplegic. He talked on and on about how the Lord has used him, and he continued to give us advice and admonishment, "In the Lord." He seemed quite sincere, but our knowing what HE did was quite important as well.
At the end of the night he had showered and had repaired his tire, and he was off.
Ironically, we had been studying how to respond to outreach in real ways. The Lord is not slow in keeping His promises.
As the weeks went on, Ron was in and out of our house, sometimes sleeping, sometimes showering, but always talking. He would talk about the Lord, he would talk about his family, and he would talk about his fiance. She lived on the East Coast, and they loved one another, he said. It took her several months, but she eventually made it out here, and we were able to meet her. Not more than a few days after that, they took off to Arizona because her son was in some sort of trouble. After that, my communication with him was spotty at best. I heard his fiance was causing trouble; then that she was the greatest thing to happen to him, several weeks later. I never really knew what was going on, but he had told me he was coming back to California. I told him we'd love to help in any way we could, but we couldn't give him a bed and three square a day; we were college kids, I thought he'd understand. I'm sure he did, but I am not sure he ever made it back to California.
Right now he's in Phoenix, unable to respond to questions. I began praying; the only thing I knew to do. There is so much pain. My mind wandered to another friend who is on the streets. She is clearly mentally unstable, and she also staid here a few nights. We ended that, not feeling morally immune, and we haven't heard from her since. When she left she said there was a letter she was waiting for; we've received 15, all from various government programs or mental clinics. I fear she would also be unable to respond to questions if anyone found her body.
It is a hard reality to swallow, and it makes me sick. Not because people I know and care about are lost and dying, but because I look around myself while listening to my Bose speakers, and think, "Why? Why is the wealth so unequally distributed? Why am I still so wealthy?"
And that's really what brought it home for me.
See, I am going to Kenya this summer, and the ticket costs $2200, and I don't have much more than that in my checking account. I have several months' rent to pay this summer, and currently no job. Once summer session is done, I'm headed up North where my Dad'll have things for me to do, but that's like robbing the monastery. I've been worried recently that I won't have enough money to keep going to college consistently, and I may need to take a semester just to work. We'll see.
But I was so pre-occupied with it all. It consumed me; it governed what I did and did not do. I used to always be the chauffeur because I had a large vehicle and I like driving, but I've been asking other people to drive because I am afraid of coughing up the dough to fill up. And it is so stupid. Look around, I tell myself, look at those who you say you love who are without a penny, dropped by every safety net established, and dropped by compassion as well. Completely abandoned, the most attention these people get are when they are unable to respond to questions, their bodies found God-knows-where.
It makes me a little more humble, realizing how caught up I've become praying for poor-little-me when there are real issues out there not being dealt with because I am too self-centered. It is humbling, and in that state of humility I find my prayers become a lot more honest, and I weep for these people.
I hope these tears Jesus has given me for these people are not alone, and I trust in His plan that they are not.
14 May 2007
Birch Dragons
Most people, when thinking of Sacajawea are reminded of a young First Nations girl who was of invaluable assistance to the Lewis and Clark expedition, in which the first Europeans found the Pacific Ocean by foot.
However, what few people know is the extent to which she helped them.
As Lewis and Clark headed across the natural and breathtaking mid-America, there were times when sleep came hard. The two explorers found themselves inexplicably nervous, and even fearful. There was no rhyme or reason, as far as their pale eyes could see.
It was because of this that they sought a Native guide. During one encounter, a First Nations person was able to communicate the question, "Do you fear at night?" Not understanding the meaning, but most certainly knowing the answer they vigorously nodded, "Yes." After a difficult and arduous interpretation of what nodding means, they were on their way now knowing to seek a guide. Somehow the nervousness was tied directly to their campsites, but they couldn't put a finger on it.
In fact, it wasn't until the mid-nineteenth century biologist and biogeologist Franz Unger began to study the possible causes under the lens of Humboldtian science that the Birch Dragon was revealed the the scientific world.
Birch Dragons, as their interpreted name would suggest, live in birch trees and are attracted to fire. It is a semi-suicidal tendency, similar to a honey bee's sting. They are small in size, comparable to an ordinary ant, but red-stripped. They can typically withstand high temperatures, and use this as a defensive mechanism to ward off enemies. If this defense fails, the Birch Dragon contains a natural acid that is released in death or extreme defense. Different from the related pederin, the acid of the Birch Dragon (nemocodin) acts as a psychological switch of the hippocampus.
While it is widely known that the amygdala is our fear receptor, nemocodin does not actually cause fear. Rather, as a governor on a car limits the speed the vehicle can attain, the hippocampus limits the "rate of fear" (if you will) at which people become afraid by ignoring specific signals determined to be an unsubstantial fear trigger. Nemocodin simply removes this limiter, allowing any sort of childish trigger to cause fear. Nervousness is more common effect, as most rational adults subconsciously explain away the fear, but there is still that nagging impulse trying to warn them of a danger they cannot perceive.
Combining these two discovered attributes of the Birch Dragon, it was deduced that when Lewis and Clark would pitch camp in or near a grove of birch trees, their campfire would attract the Dragons, which would then invariably drown in their stew, or become stuck on a cooking piece of meat. Because of their small size they were never noticed by the explorers, but the ingestion of nemocodin would create a nervousness which was unexplainable to them until modern science.
But Sacajawea knew of the relationship between fires and birch trees, even if she didn't know of the Birch Dragon's role exactly, and she was able to guide them to camp in birch-free zones, allowing them to sleep with increased confidence and continue more vigorously on their journey.
And if you believe that tale, my friends, I have a bridge in the backyard you can buy.
However, what few people know is the extent to which she helped them.
As Lewis and Clark headed across the natural and breathtaking mid-America, there were times when sleep came hard. The two explorers found themselves inexplicably nervous, and even fearful. There was no rhyme or reason, as far as their pale eyes could see.
It was because of this that they sought a Native guide. During one encounter, a First Nations person was able to communicate the question, "Do you fear at night?" Not understanding the meaning, but most certainly knowing the answer they vigorously nodded, "Yes." After a difficult and arduous interpretation of what nodding means, they were on their way now knowing to seek a guide. Somehow the nervousness was tied directly to their campsites, but they couldn't put a finger on it.
In fact, it wasn't until the mid-nineteenth century biologist and biogeologist Franz Unger began to study the possible causes under the lens of Humboldtian science that the Birch Dragon was revealed the the scientific world.
Birch Dragons, as their interpreted name would suggest, live in birch trees and are attracted to fire. It is a semi-suicidal tendency, similar to a honey bee's sting. They are small in size, comparable to an ordinary ant, but red-stripped. They can typically withstand high temperatures, and use this as a defensive mechanism to ward off enemies. If this defense fails, the Birch Dragon contains a natural acid that is released in death or extreme defense. Different from the related pederin, the acid of the Birch Dragon (nemocodin) acts as a psychological switch of the hippocampus.
While it is widely known that the amygdala is our fear receptor, nemocodin does not actually cause fear. Rather, as a governor on a car limits the speed the vehicle can attain, the hippocampus limits the "rate of fear" (if you will) at which people become afraid by ignoring specific signals determined to be an unsubstantial fear trigger. Nemocodin simply removes this limiter, allowing any sort of childish trigger to cause fear. Nervousness is more common effect, as most rational adults subconsciously explain away the fear, but there is still that nagging impulse trying to warn them of a danger they cannot perceive.
Combining these two discovered attributes of the Birch Dragon, it was deduced that when Lewis and Clark would pitch camp in or near a grove of birch trees, their campfire would attract the Dragons, which would then invariably drown in their stew, or become stuck on a cooking piece of meat. Because of their small size they were never noticed by the explorers, but the ingestion of nemocodin would create a nervousness which was unexplainable to them until modern science.
But Sacajawea knew of the relationship between fires and birch trees, even if she didn't know of the Birch Dragon's role exactly, and she was able to guide them to camp in birch-free zones, allowing them to sleep with increased confidence and continue more vigorously on their journey.
And if you believe that tale, my friends, I have a bridge in the backyard you can buy.
13 May 2007
The Fourth Thousand Cubits
A few of you probably have no idea where this blog title comes from, and for good reason. It's pretty random.
It comes from Ezekiel 47, where an angel takes Ezekiel on a fantastic journey lasting 4000 cubits. On this experience which starts as a little trickle of water from the back door of the temple, Ezekiel has a vision of the power the Body of Christ has. By the fourth thousand cubits, the river is so vast that he cannot cross as he has at every previous thousand cubits. At that point the angel asks him, "Son of man, have you seen this?" Then brings him back to the bank of the river where many trees of all kinds flourish on either bank.
The angel tells him, "These waters go out towards the eastern region and go down into Arabah; then they go towards the sea, being made to flow into the sea, and the waters of the sea become fresh. It will come about that every living creature which swarms in every place where the river goes, will live. And there will be very many fish, for these waters go there and the other become fresh; so everything will live where the river goes. And it will come about that fishermen will stand beside it; from Engedi to Engeglaim there will be a place for the spreading of nets. Their fish will be according to their kinds, like the fish of the Great Sea, very many. But its swamps and marshes will not become fresh; they will be left for salt. By the river on its bank, on one side and on the other, will grow all kinds of trees for food. Their leaves will not wither and their fruit will not fail. They will bear fruit every month because their water flows from the sanctuary, and their fruit will be for food and their leaves for healing."
And that is a powerful image of what God desires of our sanctuaries -our bodies and our communities!
It comes from Ezekiel 47, where an angel takes Ezekiel on a fantastic journey lasting 4000 cubits. On this experience which starts as a little trickle of water from the back door of the temple, Ezekiel has a vision of the power the Body of Christ has. By the fourth thousand cubits, the river is so vast that he cannot cross as he has at every previous thousand cubits. At that point the angel asks him, "Son of man, have you seen this?" Then brings him back to the bank of the river where many trees of all kinds flourish on either bank.
The angel tells him, "These waters go out towards the eastern region and go down into Arabah; then they go towards the sea, being made to flow into the sea, and the waters of the sea become fresh. It will come about that every living creature which swarms in every place where the river goes, will live. And there will be very many fish, for these waters go there and the other become fresh; so everything will live where the river goes. And it will come about that fishermen will stand beside it; from Engedi to Engeglaim there will be a place for the spreading of nets. Their fish will be according to their kinds, like the fish of the Great Sea, very many. But its swamps and marshes will not become fresh; they will be left for salt. By the river on its bank, on one side and on the other, will grow all kinds of trees for food. Their leaves will not wither and their fruit will not fail. They will bear fruit every month because their water flows from the sanctuary, and their fruit will be for food and their leaves for healing."
And that is a powerful image of what God desires of our sanctuaries -our bodies and our communities!
Firepit
Okay, I am going on a posting frenzy!
This weekend, on our camping trip at Caples Lake, we were camping in the only dry patch of ground we could find. Turns out we were fifteen feet from the mostly frozen lake and fifteen feet from the nearest snow bank, sleeping on soft sand and among boulders of sheeting granite.
>>On a side note, the lake was about 70% frozen over. I threw a rock about 3/4 the size of my fist on to one floe and the rock bounced and landed, without breaking through the ice! In California in May, that is crazy!
>>Another side note: I didn't sleep from 3-5:30 am because I was too cold. During that time, I tried to pull in the hood of my sleeping back in to help protect the warmth quickly leaving my elbow, but I couldn't because there was frost on the hood, and when I told the early bird in the morning, she said there was frost on the tops of all our bags! It was cold, believe me.
However, besides how cold it got in the middle of the night, we needed a fire to cook our food. Luckily we were some of the first to be there from winter so there was plenty of dry driftwood, and after overcoming the Zippo that refused to light we had a nice roaring fire. Except for the wind. And the smoke. The whole night, it seemed, we were constantly running from one side of the fire to the other, fleeing the smoke yet seeking the warmth and light. After we had eaten dinner and were settled down for a nice quiet evening, the wind decided it was ready to be still as well. As we beheld the glory of the stars and juggled lazy conversation about the glory of the Creator of the stars, one member of our group made the comment, "The fire is just embers now. Ah, no smoke!" I looked down and noticed the glowing red coals, realized my legs were hot and my eyes were clear, and said, "There's a sermon analogy in that."
I remember back to the flamboyant and passionate fire, which raced from side to side, throwing as much heat and light as it could where ever the wind would allow it. No amount of wood was ever enough, it gobbled it down quickly, and it took a while before there was a good base of coals. And there was so much smoke! It was awful, getting into everyone's eyes, coupled with the wind it never could be predictable or reliant. And the embers, in stark contrast, had a solid bed of searing heat, evenly emanating from the core and felt by everyone present. There was no smoke, no wind. Nor was there a need to frantically throw as much fuel on as possible, because there was no worry of its dying out, and it was predictable in its heat emission.
Like the early fire, young Christians are often passionate, hurried, and in need of much fuel. Others must quickly load as much on as possible to fuel the flames that lick where ever there is opportunity, but there is so much smoke. So many impurities which cannot be turned into warmth-giving flame, and must simply be burned away. Yet often many people get stung in the eyes because of this, and they curse the fire for its burning. Others are grateful for the warmth in whatever condition. But as that fire grows, it builds a firm foundation of coals from the mounds of fuel given by those in the beginning and throughout. Slowly the wind dies down and so do the frantic flames, and there is a solid, red hot pile of wisdom and experience, ready to be a consistent and constant guide to others who are just being lit.
Just thought it was cool. :)
>>The question is begs, then, is this: If embers are predictable but less bright that young flames, which is better? On the one hand, an open flame can be seen from farther away and attract those out in the cold, but a pile of embers is longer-lasting, hotter, better for cooking, but only known and felt by those closer.
Also, taking the analogy WAY past its scope: what about bonfires? That's revival, baby! But what happens when it gets out of control and burns the forest, hurting many and leaving a charred hillside? How do we create a Christianity in our lives that is contagious, consistent, and in control?
This weekend, on our camping trip at Caples Lake, we were camping in the only dry patch of ground we could find. Turns out we were fifteen feet from the mostly frozen lake and fifteen feet from the nearest snow bank, sleeping on soft sand and among boulders of sheeting granite.
>>On a side note, the lake was about 70% frozen over. I threw a rock about 3/4 the size of my fist on to one floe and the rock bounced and landed, without breaking through the ice! In California in May, that is crazy!
>>Another side note: I didn't sleep from 3-5:30 am because I was too cold. During that time, I tried to pull in the hood of my sleeping back in to help protect the warmth quickly leaving my elbow, but I couldn't because there was frost on the hood, and when I told the early bird in the morning, she said there was frost on the tops of all our bags! It was cold, believe me.
However, besides how cold it got in the middle of the night, we needed a fire to cook our food. Luckily we were some of the first to be there from winter so there was plenty of dry driftwood, and after overcoming the Zippo that refused to light we had a nice roaring fire. Except for the wind. And the smoke. The whole night, it seemed, we were constantly running from one side of the fire to the other, fleeing the smoke yet seeking the warmth and light. After we had eaten dinner and were settled down for a nice quiet evening, the wind decided it was ready to be still as well. As we beheld the glory of the stars and juggled lazy conversation about the glory of the Creator of the stars, one member of our group made the comment, "The fire is just embers now. Ah, no smoke!" I looked down and noticed the glowing red coals, realized my legs were hot and my eyes were clear, and said, "There's a sermon analogy in that."
I remember back to the flamboyant and passionate fire, which raced from side to side, throwing as much heat and light as it could where ever the wind would allow it. No amount of wood was ever enough, it gobbled it down quickly, and it took a while before there was a good base of coals. And there was so much smoke! It was awful, getting into everyone's eyes, coupled with the wind it never could be predictable or reliant. And the embers, in stark contrast, had a solid bed of searing heat, evenly emanating from the core and felt by everyone present. There was no smoke, no wind. Nor was there a need to frantically throw as much fuel on as possible, because there was no worry of its dying out, and it was predictable in its heat emission.
Like the early fire, young Christians are often passionate, hurried, and in need of much fuel. Others must quickly load as much on as possible to fuel the flames that lick where ever there is opportunity, but there is so much smoke. So many impurities which cannot be turned into warmth-giving flame, and must simply be burned away. Yet often many people get stung in the eyes because of this, and they curse the fire for its burning. Others are grateful for the warmth in whatever condition. But as that fire grows, it builds a firm foundation of coals from the mounds of fuel given by those in the beginning and throughout. Slowly the wind dies down and so do the frantic flames, and there is a solid, red hot pile of wisdom and experience, ready to be a consistent and constant guide to others who are just being lit.
Just thought it was cool. :)
>>The question is begs, then, is this: If embers are predictable but less bright that young flames, which is better? On the one hand, an open flame can be seen from farther away and attract those out in the cold, but a pile of embers is longer-lasting, hotter, better for cooking, but only known and felt by those closer.
Also, taking the analogy WAY past its scope: what about bonfires? That's revival, baby! But what happens when it gets out of control and burns the forest, hurting many and leaving a charred hillside? How do we create a Christianity in our lives that is contagious, consistent, and in control?
Livingston's Conversation
Really quick disclaimer: I wrote this about a year and a half ago after coming back from the "One Thing" conference in Sacramento which was put on by the Kansas City House of Prayer. That's why so many lines sound cheezy: they are lines from the worship songs we sang that night, and this story was running through my head as I sang them.
The door creaked slightly; maintenance would soon be down to fix it. Nothing was ever broken here, not for long at least. Plush carpet made the footprint of boots deep and silent, resembling the atmosphere of the entire building, though the intricate design of its ceiling could not be distinguished because it was so lofted. That also reflected the attitude of this place: removed; not due to its worth, but due to its proportioned commentaries on how the world should be more like it.
It was just a building, yet
An elderly man, thin with patience to match, gazed at
He hurried over to the counter, and with his arms folded across the marble, leaned a little forward.
“Hello. My name is
“There are many named ‘Aaron’,” the man’s voice reminded
Sharp eyes pierced
“Sir, please, listen. You’re right. I should have come more prepared, but the news I have for him can’t wait. He really needs to hear this!”
The piercing eyes didn’t falter, and
“Yes, well, had you any intelligence I would assume you knew there were better ways of getting him information than running in here like a madman.” He raised a hand to silence
As
“Fill these out. Processing will be sure to give you a call within 6 weeks, notifying you about whether or not you’ll be able to see Aaron. Though I doubt it, he’s got a lot of responsibility, you know.” This line was crisp, quick, and well practiced. With that, the man looked down and resumed what he was doing before the dreadful interruption (which was nothing more than staring at the back of the counter for all Livingston could tell), and completely ignored Livingston, even when he tried to begin another feeble conversation.
In a sigh of disgust,
The traffic was bad, and everyone seemed to be in a grumpy mood as the smog kept its slow siege against the lungs of the pedestrians. Every square inch of the city was occupied by someone, either walking too busily to acknowledge anyone’s presence or working themselves to death simply trying to survive the day.
On one street corner was a young boy without shoes holding a newspaper high over his head. The headline may as well have read, “BUY ME, ELSE THIS CHILD DIE.” On the opposite corner, a girl in her mid-twenties looked as though death had taken her about the neck, knocked her up, then left her to the cruel tortures of equally selfish men. Her clothing made no attempt to conceal her profession, for it hardly concealed anything. As
Suddenly, between the self-pity, anger, and difficulties of traffic, his car sagged under the weight of a passenger. Startled,
It was immediately clear that the passenger was no native of the city: his skin was smooth, but tough; his eyes gentle and stern; as though he had commanded armies and yet watched life born and die in his hands. His clothing was nothing special, as though he had bought it at a local kiosk to try to conceal his obvious misplacement. Though he was square and muscular, he was not intimidating, and yet
“Where are you going?” The passenger asked with a deep, smooth voice. His tone made it clear that he was only curious, and it helped that his entire frame was casual.
“Home.”
The man just nodded, and stared straight ahead.
“The door was locked.”
“Oh? Sorry. Perhaps I should have made an appointment.” The guest was trying to make a joke, but
After a few more blocks of silence the man just said, “You missed it.”
Even more puzzled now,
“Well, you’re home, of course!” A radiant smile beamed from the passenger, as though
“I live no where around here.”
“What you mean is that you have no home. You haven’t since your parents left the country.”
Swerving through traffic and turning into the next alley
“On what grounds do you say this?”
His even more unwelcome guest only smiled. After they had stared at each other,
“No, no. I am not answering to someone I don’t know. I’ll do the asking.”
Never leaving off his smiling, the man said, “Now you are beginning to remind me of the receptionist: too caught up in his own life to realize something good when it comes his way.”
“Good things down break into people’s cars,”
“I didn’t break in, if that is what is bothering you.”
“You’re outrageous,” for the first time
“You were looking for me, right? I love it when people seek me, so I make a point to make sure they find me.”
“Who are you??” The exasperation could not be more obvious in
“Well, I am Aaron. I came to you, because you sought me. You wanted to share with me, and Livingston, I have so much to share with you!”
“Now I know you are crazy!”
As
“As for Jimmy’s treatment of you, I am sorry. Know also that he has dealt with me as severely, though he didn’t even recognize me, as you have said.” A deep sigh came from the depths of him, and for a second
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“Is it because I don’t look as you expected?” In the man’s eyes were mixed pride and hurt. “Am I too lowly to share you dreams with? Or are your dreams not humble enough to serve me? Had you sought to glorify yourself before me, man who has no home?”
“What home do you have?” Was the best
Spreading his arms wide, the man said, “This. This is my home. Look about: you saw the palace, the boy, the prostitute. They are my family; with them I am home if they welcome me as family. Yes, if they welcome me as their father.” Another smile flashed across his face, “With you I am home, and you’re home with me if you choose it. I have already chosen you, do you choose me?”
“I had sought Aaron,”
“Why?” was the only response.
Carried away as he remembered his former glory, he continued, “There must be more than this,” he pointed to everything outside the car, stained and grimy. “Only life can satisfy, and it cannot be found here on the streets.” He looked questioningly at the man who was still composed as if they were having tea, and for the first time made himself vulnerable. “How do I get it?”
For the first time without a smile, the man replied.
“Die, and only in death can life be birthed. Only after pain can a mother hold her child.”
Nodding slowly,
“Have your way, so I may have life.”
“If I have my way, you will have nothing: I will have everything.”
“Are you so selfish?” Anger began to rise again.
Aaron shook his head slowly, and locked eyes with
“No. I am so worthy.”
With Livingston’s next words, Aaron’s heart erupted with joy, and he knew that
“Then let your glory fall.”
“Is this your desire?”
“I desire life to fall in this place, this city; I desire your seal on my heart to be stronger than the grave.” His past had taught him such allegiance, and now that he had discovered Aaron, he knew that only Aaron could offer such a claim as truth.
“Is this so? Have you ever been despised by your parents?”
“No, but they would applaud me for serving you.” Confusion again was a friend of
“Perhaps for serving me they would applaud you, but that’s not what I am asking you to do. I am asking you to die, and for that they would ridicule and shame you. All you love, all you have built, will be destroyed for it cannot contend with the greatness of my Name. Not only will you die, but all that you hate and all that hates you will come and dance upon your grave. When they find that you have been given life through my death (yes, I have already gone through that ordeal. You won’t ever do something I haven’t already), they shall raise the world against you. Every pebble with seek to fell you; crush you as if it were a mountain. Every dawn will seek to blister your skin. But as I have made all these and called you by name, so shall my Name sustain you.”
“Are you still so dead?” Aaron asked, not in hurt but in seeking
With a confident nod, and feeling that he had been given a mission,
“So be it.” Aaron’s eyes returned to
Now Aaron’s smile was so expansive,
“Why do you smile so?”
“Because my love for you is deeper than the foundations of the world. In fact, it was my love for you which laid these foundations.”
“Do you then find a perverse humor in our suffering?”
“On the contrary. There is no greater pain I feel than the incessant rejection of my own people. They suffer by their own choice; by their rejection of healing they are simultaneously choosing illness.” A look of sorrow great enough to make the mountains weep overwhelmed Aaron.
Now
“I have to know what you are thinking and what you are feeling!”
Through his own tears, a smile alighted on Aaron’s lips, “Why?”
“I am after your heart! I am after you!” The dichotomy of Aaron’s wisdom and emotion baffled
“What are you feeling?”
Aaron’s question caught
The smile on Aaron’s face was that of a friend who sympathized with the struggle of another, having themselves gone through it.
“Close.” He sighed, “The truth –do you seek it?”
“Find me, find pain. Ask for my seal, ask for your death.” He sat a little more upright, “But my passion is greater; my power unhindered by death. In fact, in death I am not dead but just as I created life, so life can never be apart from me.
“You spoke earlier of desiring my seal on your heart stronger than the grave. To prove strength, you must face your opponent. Do you desire your death? My seal is greater than life, and with it your self will not be able to exist. I will consume, destroy, transform. My fire is fierce and all consuming. But as it consumes you, so also will it fuel you, so you can lead others to me.
“If you seek my knowledge, know I have called you to suffer. Pain shall be your companion, rejection your bedmate. With a parched throat will you declare my glory; with an empty stomach will you feed the nations my compassion. Your feet will weary with wandering, for no home shall you have this side of death. As the fearful and the hypocritical are mocked for claiming me as a crutch, so shall my courage and persistence be your iron lung. Though the world be thrown against you, you shall not escape my presence. I will carry, guide, feed, and heal you.
“Know this lastly: Just as my life is more poignant than death, so is my wrath more terrible. By swearing yourself to me, my spirit will take you, mangle you, and drop you in misery as the world would call it. Your flesh shall be tried and twisted until you have nothing to offer but me. And what shall be your response?” Deep, unfathomable yet welcoming eyes held
“To declare your glory until you take the breath from my nostrils.”
The extravagant smile of Aaron was only offset by the grave expression of
“Then let us begin.”
“I give nothing, only Christ. Even in that I often fail. The battle for my soul is still fierce, the enemy is stubborn, and I am oft my own traitor. Yet, a day is coming (and this with all confidence) when Christ will be all that remains, and He shall be all I can give, for He will be all I have. In that moment I shall not fail; in that moment I shall gaze upon His face for eternity. In that moment I will be complete; I will be home.”
Driftwood and the Cross
"For I determined to know nothing among you except Christ, and Him crucified." - 1 Cor. 2:2
Ideally, I would do a study through the first few chapters of First Corinthians, because it is such an amazing and challenging book of the Bible. For now though, I just want to share a little of what God has been teaching me recently.
This weekend a few friends and I went camping at Caples Lake, which is between Stockton and Carson City, NV. While we were there, we happened upon a conversation about the newest things God had been teaching us. I shared that recently a few verses from 1 Corinthians had been on my mind.
This semester has been crazy for me. It has had some of the highest highs and lowest lows. There have been times of righteous pride and I have experienced the greatest brokenness. I have shared wisdom and mistakes with dear friends, and I have had to own up to a lot of who I am and who I am not. It has been challenging to come to grips with my view of myself and my view of my relationship with God.
Because of this, I have spent the last several weeks often finding myself asking God, "How can I be more consistent? How can I be more wise? How can I be more of who you want me to be, not in my own way, but on your terms?" Again and again, God brings back to me 1 Corinthians.
When I ask, "How can I be more consistent?"
God replies, "Determine to know nothing except Christ, and Him crucified."
When I ask, "How can I be more wise?"
God answers, "Preach Christ crucified, to Jews a stumbling block and to Gentiles foolishness, but to those who are being called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God."
And when I ask, "How can I be more of who you want me to be?"
He says, "I could not speak to you as spiritual men, but as to men of the flesh, as to infants in Christ. I gave you milk to drink, not solid food; for you were not yet able to receive it. Indeed, even now you are not yet able."
Ouch, God. That really hurt. And even ignoring God's direct rebuke to my childishness in Him, I look at the answers God gave and say, This isn't a morning devotional. This is real, and I don't even know what it means!
Usually when God speaks to me, it is pretty straightforward. Like if I say, "Yo, Yahweh, what's with that wisdom stuff?" He'll echo back something from Proverbs, something about fearing the Lord, enjoying rebuke, listening, or at least something that I can grab with my hands, turn it over and say, "Oh, I see what this needs to fit." Then start carving, planing, and laything my life so it can. But a response like, "Determine to know nothing except Christ, and Him crucified."
What does that mean?
What about the resurrection, says I? What about grace? Forgiveness? Witnessing? Sunday morning church, says I? And God replies, "Determine to know Christ crucified."
And I say, "How, Lord?"
And He answers (so faithfully!), "No man can lay a foundation other than the one which is laid, which is Jesus Christ. Now if any man builds on the foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw, each man's work will become evident; for the day will show it because it is to be revealed with fire, and the fire itself will test the quality of each man's work."
And this is the point I find myself: How can I know nothing but Christ, and Christ crucified to the point where I appear foolish to some, confusing to some, solid to others. How do I build in such a way as to receive a reward?
Sometimes I feel like a student walking through a hallway looking for a green door, but all I am wearing are green glasses. I think this is where I am wrong. Knowing nothing but Christ and Him crucified doesn't limit my vision, it expands it.
Maybe I am still too used to the the darkness, and my pupils haven't adjusted yet, because things are still a little blurry, still a little out of focus. But this I do know, and that is simply this: the prospect of knowing nothing but Christ, and Him crucified is sounding more and more exciting!
Ideally, I would do a study through the first few chapters of First Corinthians, because it is such an amazing and challenging book of the Bible. For now though, I just want to share a little of what God has been teaching me recently.
This weekend a few friends and I went camping at Caples Lake, which is between Stockton and Carson City, NV. While we were there, we happened upon a conversation about the newest things God had been teaching us. I shared that recently a few verses from 1 Corinthians had been on my mind.
This semester has been crazy for me. It has had some of the highest highs and lowest lows. There have been times of righteous pride and I have experienced the greatest brokenness. I have shared wisdom and mistakes with dear friends, and I have had to own up to a lot of who I am and who I am not. It has been challenging to come to grips with my view of myself and my view of my relationship with God.
Because of this, I have spent the last several weeks often finding myself asking God, "How can I be more consistent? How can I be more wise? How can I be more of who you want me to be, not in my own way, but on your terms?" Again and again, God brings back to me 1 Corinthians.
When I ask, "How can I be more consistent?"
God replies, "Determine to know nothing except Christ, and Him crucified."
When I ask, "How can I be more wise?"
God answers, "Preach Christ crucified, to Jews a stumbling block and to Gentiles foolishness, but to those who are being called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God."
And when I ask, "How can I be more of who you want me to be?"
He says, "I could not speak to you as spiritual men, but as to men of the flesh, as to infants in Christ. I gave you milk to drink, not solid food; for you were not yet able to receive it. Indeed, even now you are not yet able."
Ouch, God. That really hurt. And even ignoring God's direct rebuke to my childishness in Him, I look at the answers God gave and say, This isn't a morning devotional. This is real, and I don't even know what it means!
Usually when God speaks to me, it is pretty straightforward. Like if I say, "Yo, Yahweh, what's with that wisdom stuff?" He'll echo back something from Proverbs, something about fearing the Lord, enjoying rebuke, listening, or at least something that I can grab with my hands, turn it over and say, "Oh, I see what this needs to fit." Then start carving, planing, and laything my life so it can. But a response like, "Determine to know nothing except Christ, and Him crucified."
What does that mean?
What about the resurrection, says I? What about grace? Forgiveness? Witnessing? Sunday morning church, says I? And God replies, "Determine to know Christ crucified."
And I say, "How, Lord?"
And He answers (so faithfully!), "No man can lay a foundation other than the one which is laid, which is Jesus Christ. Now if any man builds on the foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw, each man's work will become evident; for the day will show it because it is to be revealed with fire, and the fire itself will test the quality of each man's work."
And this is the point I find myself: How can I know nothing but Christ, and Christ crucified to the point where I appear foolish to some, confusing to some, solid to others. How do I build in such a way as to receive a reward?
Sometimes I feel like a student walking through a hallway looking for a green door, but all I am wearing are green glasses. I think this is where I am wrong. Knowing nothing but Christ and Him crucified doesn't limit my vision, it expands it.
Maybe I am still too used to the the darkness, and my pupils haven't adjusted yet, because things are still a little blurry, still a little out of focus. But this I do know, and that is simply this: the prospect of knowing nothing but Christ, and Him crucified is sounding more and more exciting!
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