One of the most fantastic things about the holidays has got to be my mom's cooking.
Sure, holidays at the grandparents are great, and my in-laws are fantastic, but I grew up eating what my mom made and it will always symbolize home for me. Something about her stuffing, her mashed potatoes...heck, even her cinnamon rolls taste different in my parents' house even if I recreate the recipe perfectly. There's an element of familiarity and warmth that comes from the atmosphere, of reconnecting to happy memories, complete triumphs, and utter defeats. I have a history with those meals, and they will forever be a part of me.
I think that's what Christ is getting at with His last supper. While scholars can debate the merits of transubstantiation, the meaning of there being dual cups in (I believe) Luke, and other academic endeavors, I feel in my innermost being that what Christ is doing with this humble meal of bread and wine aims to call us home.
No matter what happened throughout the week, whether there were happy memories, complete triumphs, utter defeats, or most likely an emotionally taxing combination of all three, when we place the body and blood on our tongues we can feel home. We are reminded of our salvation, the greatest gift of all time and (usually) one of our happiest memories. We are brought back to our triumphs in the Lord. We can savor our defeats, because we know Christ has been made stronger through them, and we are made stronger in Him.
Crackers and juice are just crackers and juice. I've eaten saltines my entire life, and grape juice is always a classic. But for some reason, sitting amongst my brothers and sisters in the Lord, that simple meal brings me home, into the presence of my Lord, where I truly belong.
"You make known to me the path of life; you fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand." Psalm 16:11
Monday, December 13, 2010
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Fail.
Someone has apparently spit in Ryan Murphy's milk.
For those who don't know, Ryan Murphy is the creator of Glee. Last season, Glee was must-see TV for Abby and me, and yet this season there's been something off about it. I wasn't sure what it was until tonight's episode, called "Grilled Cheezus." It was all about religion and faith and our dependency on the Flying Spaghetti Monster in the sky. The Christians in this show were caricatures and jokes, and you could almost feel the angst seeping through the pages of script written by people who had been wronged by supposed agents of love. Something was definitely wrong.
I hate how Christians are portrayed in the media, but as I continued to watch, I was hit with a more disturbing realization: I hate how we portray ourselves more.
In Acts 11:26, Luke throws in a little side note about the church in Antioch. This was the first place that Christians were called Christians. That word in Greek means, loosely, little Christs. The citizens of Antioch, a pagan place, saw the way the believers were acting and felt compelled to call them little Christs, as if their behavior mimicked that of Jesus. I asked my students today, "If you realized that by calling yourself a Christian you were really calling yourself little Christ, would the name fit?" I know that from my vantage point, the answer is no.
One of the openly gay characters on Glee, Kurt Hummel, said he can't believe in a God who would "make him gay and then tell His followers to mock and ridicule him." While the theology of this statement is revolting on many levels, that's not what this post is about. The sick thing is that we have propagated that belief. The world looks at us, as a body, and says that we hate, discriminate, show prejudice, and punish people who don't share our beliefs. We show hate, not love, to minorities, women, gays, foreigners, other denominations, other religions...basically everyone who doesn't fit our cookie-cutter version of ourselves. When the world sees how I treat others, am I trying to make more little Christs or more little Jasons?
I'd like the media, or the world, or anyone really to see Christians for what we should be: people who show love to everyone and make the world a better place. I'm tired of TV shows where Christians are idiots or close-minded or the bad guys or naive. But more than that, I'm tired of the TV shows being right. I want our name back, and it needs to start with me.
"All the nations you have made will come and worship before you, O Lord; they will bring glory to your name." Psalm 86:9
For those who don't know, Ryan Murphy is the creator of Glee. Last season, Glee was must-see TV for Abby and me, and yet this season there's been something off about it. I wasn't sure what it was until tonight's episode, called "Grilled Cheezus." It was all about religion and faith and our dependency on the Flying Spaghetti Monster in the sky. The Christians in this show were caricatures and jokes, and you could almost feel the angst seeping through the pages of script written by people who had been wronged by supposed agents of love. Something was definitely wrong.
I hate how Christians are portrayed in the media, but as I continued to watch, I was hit with a more disturbing realization: I hate how we portray ourselves more.
In Acts 11:26, Luke throws in a little side note about the church in Antioch. This was the first place that Christians were called Christians. That word in Greek means, loosely, little Christs. The citizens of Antioch, a pagan place, saw the way the believers were acting and felt compelled to call them little Christs, as if their behavior mimicked that of Jesus. I asked my students today, "If you realized that by calling yourself a Christian you were really calling yourself little Christ, would the name fit?" I know that from my vantage point, the answer is no.
One of the openly gay characters on Glee, Kurt Hummel, said he can't believe in a God who would "make him gay and then tell His followers to mock and ridicule him." While the theology of this statement is revolting on many levels, that's not what this post is about. The sick thing is that we have propagated that belief. The world looks at us, as a body, and says that we hate, discriminate, show prejudice, and punish people who don't share our beliefs. We show hate, not love, to minorities, women, gays, foreigners, other denominations, other religions...basically everyone who doesn't fit our cookie-cutter version of ourselves. When the world sees how I treat others, am I trying to make more little Christs or more little Jasons?
I'd like the media, or the world, or anyone really to see Christians for what we should be: people who show love to everyone and make the world a better place. I'm tired of TV shows where Christians are idiots or close-minded or the bad guys or naive. But more than that, I'm tired of the TV shows being right. I want our name back, and it needs to start with me.
"All the nations you have made will come and worship before you, O Lord; they will bring glory to your name." Psalm 86:9
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Mellowing With Age
Want to know what I did today? Went to work, came home, fixed dinner, watched soccer and baseball, worked out, finished the baseball game, and then went to bed. Or, to put it another way, I did things that would cause my 18 year-old self to beat me senseless. What happened to me??
I couldn't stand soccer or baseball until a couple of years ago, and now I love both of them. It's a strange change...I can't really explain why or when, it just happened. I wore a Man U jersey to work today and my Rangers t-shirt to work out, which is still surreal to me. I'm not sure how I got to this stage, but I sure do enjoy it.
Today at school I had the good fortune to walk in on a great conversation about baptism and the concept of an evolving faith. I didn't really know what I was doing when I was baptized, because I have such a deeper understanding of love and sacrifice now than I did at 14. I'm sure when I have kids, grandkids, my own house, and various other life-milestones that my understanding will only deepen and continue to change.
That's one of the things I appreciate, even cherish, about my relationship with Christ. It's going to change, evolve, adapt. I'll be wrong about some things, miss some things, and be dead on for others. And one day, sooner or later, I'll be able to look around and see Him and wonder to myself "how did I get here?" And Christ will say to me, "Well done good and faithful servant. Don't worry about the 'how', just enjoy it."
No Scripture today. It's late and we're talking about the Rangers. I think I get a pass.
I couldn't stand soccer or baseball until a couple of years ago, and now I love both of them. It's a strange change...I can't really explain why or when, it just happened. I wore a Man U jersey to work today and my Rangers t-shirt to work out, which is still surreal to me. I'm not sure how I got to this stage, but I sure do enjoy it.
Today at school I had the good fortune to walk in on a great conversation about baptism and the concept of an evolving faith. I didn't really know what I was doing when I was baptized, because I have such a deeper understanding of love and sacrifice now than I did at 14. I'm sure when I have kids, grandkids, my own house, and various other life-milestones that my understanding will only deepen and continue to change.
That's one of the things I appreciate, even cherish, about my relationship with Christ. It's going to change, evolve, adapt. I'll be wrong about some things, miss some things, and be dead on for others. And one day, sooner or later, I'll be able to look around and see Him and wonder to myself "how did I get here?" And Christ will say to me, "Well done good and faithful servant. Don't worry about the 'how', just enjoy it."
No Scripture today. It's late and we're talking about the Rangers. I think I get a pass.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Filling in the Gaps
I found out yesterday that a new class has been added to my load at WCS: Senior Bible. See, all of the other classes have actual biblical titles like Old Testament Survey or Acts and the Pauline Epistles. Senior Bible is special...its the stuff we couldn't figure out any place to put it, like Hebrews or James or 1 and 2 Peter, as well as an emphasis on the parables of Christ.
I'm actually excited about this assignment. Granted, its more work and another prep to do for each day, but it also fills in the story. I was amazed last year how my biblical knowledge increased over the verses I covered in class, but found myself lacking in two main areas: the Gospels and the stuff no one understands. Conveniently, a lot of that is what Senior Bible is! So at this time next year I will have literally studied and taught every book of the Bible.
There isn't any big insight from this, other than its of course important to read God's Word. I'm just pumped I get to do it with some students who need to hear what God has to say to us.
Here's to an excellent year!
"Then he said to me, 'Son of man, eat this scroll I am giving you and fill your stomach with it.' So I ate it, and it tasted as sweet as honey in my mouth." Ezekiel 3:3
I'm actually excited about this assignment. Granted, its more work and another prep to do for each day, but it also fills in the story. I was amazed last year how my biblical knowledge increased over the verses I covered in class, but found myself lacking in two main areas: the Gospels and the stuff no one understands. Conveniently, a lot of that is what Senior Bible is! So at this time next year I will have literally studied and taught every book of the Bible.
There isn't any big insight from this, other than its of course important to read God's Word. I'm just pumped I get to do it with some students who need to hear what God has to say to us.
Here's to an excellent year!
"Then he said to me, 'Son of man, eat this scroll I am giving you and fill your stomach with it.' So I ate it, and it tasted as sweet as honey in my mouth." Ezekiel 3:3
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Redux
Confession: I like soccer.
I enjoy watching it, I enjoy reading about it, I think the skill and passion is unreal. The idea of running as much as Michael Bradley does in one two-hour stretch makes my abs hurt, and I'm just laying here watching. However, my father does not. At all. He calls me regularly to make fun of it, calling it "my sport." He can't handle the prima donna nature of most of these athletes (I'm looking at you South America and Eastern Europe) and the flopping. Oh the flopping. During the Ghana/USA match, a Ghanian player attempted a bicycle kick, missed, landed awkwardly, looked up and saw that he had missed, and immediately started screaming like he'd been shot. No one touched him, no one was within 15 feet of him, but after he made a complete fool of himself he had to do something. I agree with my dad on this...its absolutely insane. They feel they are entitled to all the attention and drama, and that if someone had the audacity to touch them, they should pay dearly (with a frightening piece of yellow card stock) as if it was a national crime. I spend more time yelling at them to suck it up and keep playing than I do anything else. It is, in a word, frustrating.
My current reading project is an interesting one: They Like Jesus But Not the Church, by Dan Kimball. In it, he discusses how the new emergent generation (which is quite a generalization, but that's not what I'm writing about. This time.) has become so disconnected from the church because of what we've done to it. I can't disagree with this point; in fact, one of my favorite quotes from the book is by Bono when he states, "It's hard to tolerate Christians. I don't see how Jesus does it." If that doesn't sting a little, then you need to reexamine your priorities.
There's a brief history lesson in the book, detailing the early church and how it looked to those on the outside looking in. One of my favorite parts of church history is our Incest/Cannibal stage. Those who weren't part of the cult of Christianity heard us call each other brother and sister (and then marry each other...) and saw us partake of a ceremony eating the body and blood of Christ and immediately thought "these people are NUTS." I don't blame them...to the uninformed, that looks a lot like incestuous relationships and cannibalism were the norm and fully supported by all parties involved. The way the early Christians defused this potentially hairy situation (which was compounded by claims of treason...worshipping a Lord that isn't Caesar) was by getting out and actually talking to those not in the church. We actually used kindness and words and explained ourselves. Shocking.
So lets roll the calendars forward a couple thousand years. We're in an era where Christians are labeled as bigots, intolerant, hateful, thrifty, elitist...I'm sure you can come up with more unfortunate names we've accrued over the years. Especially if you're in the churches of Christ, we are unfairly (sometimes...) burdened with the sins of others as well as a skewed public perception. Yet, instead of getting out and fixing the problem, we tend to curl up in the fetal position and wail about the "world" and how mean they are and the evils of this lost generation.
That's the beauty of Kimball's book: this "lost generation" is actually receptive to Christ! They want to learn about Him, about what it truly means to love. We have just done a terrible job of showing that love to them, so there is this massive disconnect between Christ and His people. So the next time you feel like complaining about being misunderstood or like the world is against Christianity, ask yourself what you've done to alter that perception. If the answer is nothing (like it is for me), then shut up and play ball. We've done nothing to earn this right to complain. Just like the soccer players, when someone slights us even the tiniest bit, we think its breaking the Geneva Convention. Really, we need to shake the dirt off, and get back out there on the pitch to keep fighting for our Lord.
"Therefore, in the present case I advise you: Leave these men alone! Let them go! For if their purpose or activity is of human origin, it will fail. But if it is from God, you will not be able to stop these men; you will only find yourselves fighting against God." Acts 5:38-39
My current reading project is an interesting one: They Like Jesus But Not the Church, by Dan Kimball. In it, he discusses how the new emergent generation (which is quite a generalization, but that's not what I'm writing about. This time.) has become so disconnected from the church because of what we've done to it. I can't disagree with this point; in fact, one of my favorite quotes from the book is by Bono when he states, "It's hard to tolerate Christians. I don't see how Jesus does it." If that doesn't sting a little, then you need to reexamine your priorities.
There's a brief history lesson in the book, detailing the early church and how it looked to those on the outside looking in. One of my favorite parts of church history is our Incest/Cannibal stage. Those who weren't part of the cult of Christianity heard us call each other brother and sister (and then marry each other...) and saw us partake of a ceremony eating the body and blood of Christ and immediately thought "these people are NUTS." I don't blame them...to the uninformed, that looks a lot like incestuous relationships and cannibalism were the norm and fully supported by all parties involved. The way the early Christians defused this potentially hairy situation (which was compounded by claims of treason...worshipping a Lord that isn't Caesar) was by getting out and actually talking to those not in the church. We actually used kindness and words and explained ourselves. Shocking.
So lets roll the calendars forward a couple thousand years. We're in an era where Christians are labeled as bigots, intolerant, hateful, thrifty, elitist...I'm sure you can come up with more unfortunate names we've accrued over the years. Especially if you're in the churches of Christ, we are unfairly (sometimes...) burdened with the sins of others as well as a skewed public perception. Yet, instead of getting out and fixing the problem, we tend to curl up in the fetal position and wail about the "world" and how mean they are and the evils of this lost generation.
That's the beauty of Kimball's book: this "lost generation" is actually receptive to Christ! They want to learn about Him, about what it truly means to love. We have just done a terrible job of showing that love to them, so there is this massive disconnect between Christ and His people. So the next time you feel like complaining about being misunderstood or like the world is against Christianity, ask yourself what you've done to alter that perception. If the answer is nothing (like it is for me), then shut up and play ball. We've done nothing to earn this right to complain. Just like the soccer players, when someone slights us even the tiniest bit, we think its breaking the Geneva Convention. Really, we need to shake the dirt off, and get back out there on the pitch to keep fighting for our Lord.
"Therefore, in the present case I advise you: Leave these men alone! Let them go! For if their purpose or activity is of human origin, it will fail. But if it is from God, you will not be able to stop these men; you will only find yourselves fighting against God." Acts 5:38-39
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Vanilla Worship
Yes, its been two months. Sorry. All four of you who read this.
Since my last update, we've ended the school year, graduated a great class of kids, I've been to Uplift at Harding University, and Abby has finished her summer clinic rotation. We leave for South Dakota in four days, and that will begin our whirlwind tour of this great nation of ours. Hopefully I'll be able to post some great things about our travels, but let's be honest: I don't update so well.
Uplift was a fantastic experience. I got to know a bunch of the kids at Sugar Grove really well, met some incredible people like our counselor, Goldfish (a.k.a. Trever), and really got the spiritual boost I need to jumpstart into summer. Being a teacher has it's benefits, like summers off, but it also means lots of free time by myself when Abby is so busy, so I've had to find ways to keep myself busy, and constantly napping just won't cut it. I got a ton of great books at Harding and I've been hacking away at some other books I've had throughout the year, so it was a great starting point.
Something struck me as we were sitting in worship one night, hands and voices raised to our God in praise. Every camp has its spiritual high, and every youth ministry has its "don't let it end here guys" speech, which inevitably fails miserably. I think I found one of the key culprits for that failure, and it may cause some of you to stop reading, respecting, or even acknowledging me: Church.
Now, I'm sure there are some angry thoughts swirling through your head right now, but hear me out. Our kids, and even the adults, at camp are immersed in worship. We get up praising God, we learn about Him, we fellowship with likeminded people, we worship some more, and then (at Uplift at least) we have multiple baptisms and everyone is just soaking in the Spirit. And then, after five days of camp, we come home, the vibes start to fade, and then we hit Sunday morning worship and it just falls flat. We are used to vibrancy and life, excitement and passion, and for most of us in the CoC, normal Sundays just don't deliver that. We stand when we are told to stand, we sit when we are told to sit, we pray (or "pray") when others pray, we absorb or deflect the message, and then we figure out where to eat lunch. After the high of camp, church can be incredibly deflating.
Here's the goofy thing though: that's how it should be every week. We should be so moved by the Spirit that amazing, unbelievable things happen throughout the week, and we have this immense build up and we just can't wait to get to Sunday mornings to tell everyone about it, and then we're confined by this building and this structure and formality and we're literally bursting at the seams to get back out into the world and let God shine His glory all over this mess once again! Can you see it? Sunday morning should be the most boring part of our week! Christ didn't do His miracles primarily in the temple; He did them amongst the people. There's a reason Eutychus fell asleep listening to Paul in Acts 20--teaching is all fine and dandy, but God shows His power outside those walls. I certainly can't think of any story in the Bible that starts with "after an orderly worship service and an altar call..."
We need the church for support and rejuvenation, but to rely on a Sunday service to get us through the week is preposterous. If anything, we should rely on the week to get us through Sunday, so we can get back out and experience God in the world. Imagine a world where camp isn't a spiritual high, but church is a spiritual low!
That's certainly a situation God can work with.
"Men of Israel, listen to this: Jesus of Nazareth was a man accredited by God to you by miracles, wonders and signs, which God did among you through Him, as you yourselves know." Acts 2:22
Since my last update, we've ended the school year, graduated a great class of kids, I've been to Uplift at Harding University, and Abby has finished her summer clinic rotation. We leave for South Dakota in four days, and that will begin our whirlwind tour of this great nation of ours. Hopefully I'll be able to post some great things about our travels, but let's be honest: I don't update so well.
Uplift was a fantastic experience. I got to know a bunch of the kids at Sugar Grove really well, met some incredible people like our counselor, Goldfish (a.k.a. Trever), and really got the spiritual boost I need to jumpstart into summer. Being a teacher has it's benefits, like summers off, but it also means lots of free time by myself when Abby is so busy, so I've had to find ways to keep myself busy, and constantly napping just won't cut it. I got a ton of great books at Harding and I've been hacking away at some other books I've had throughout the year, so it was a great starting point.
Something struck me as we were sitting in worship one night, hands and voices raised to our God in praise. Every camp has its spiritual high, and every youth ministry has its "don't let it end here guys" speech, which inevitably fails miserably. I think I found one of the key culprits for that failure, and it may cause some of you to stop reading, respecting, or even acknowledging me: Church.
Now, I'm sure there are some angry thoughts swirling through your head right now, but hear me out. Our kids, and even the adults, at camp are immersed in worship. We get up praising God, we learn about Him, we fellowship with likeminded people, we worship some more, and then (at Uplift at least) we have multiple baptisms and everyone is just soaking in the Spirit. And then, after five days of camp, we come home, the vibes start to fade, and then we hit Sunday morning worship and it just falls flat. We are used to vibrancy and life, excitement and passion, and for most of us in the CoC, normal Sundays just don't deliver that. We stand when we are told to stand, we sit when we are told to sit, we pray (or "pray") when others pray, we absorb or deflect the message, and then we figure out where to eat lunch. After the high of camp, church can be incredibly deflating.
Here's the goofy thing though: that's how it should be every week. We should be so moved by the Spirit that amazing, unbelievable things happen throughout the week, and we have this immense build up and we just can't wait to get to Sunday mornings to tell everyone about it, and then we're confined by this building and this structure and formality and we're literally bursting at the seams to get back out into the world and let God shine His glory all over this mess once again! Can you see it? Sunday morning should be the most boring part of our week! Christ didn't do His miracles primarily in the temple; He did them amongst the people. There's a reason Eutychus fell asleep listening to Paul in Acts 20--teaching is all fine and dandy, but God shows His power outside those walls. I certainly can't think of any story in the Bible that starts with "after an orderly worship service and an altar call..."
We need the church for support and rejuvenation, but to rely on a Sunday service to get us through the week is preposterous. If anything, we should rely on the week to get us through Sunday, so we can get back out and experience God in the world. Imagine a world where camp isn't a spiritual high, but church is a spiritual low!
That's certainly a situation God can work with.
"Men of Israel, listen to this: Jesus of Nazareth was a man accredited by God to you by miracles, wonders and signs, which God did among you through Him, as you yourselves know." Acts 2:22
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Slapping the Gorilla
One of my favorite pop culture references is the Fonz "jumping the shark." For those that don't know, during a later episode of Happy Days, Arthur Fonzarelli was water skiing when, at just the right moment for drama, a SHARK came towards him. So logically, he just jumped over it. As if years of fish hadn't figured out that move already. Most people point to this moment in the show as its downfall, the moment it became so ridiculous it was a parody of itself and completely useless. In later years, this phrase has been challenged by "nuking the fridge." If you haven't seen Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull, watch the first ten minutes and you'll understand.
One of my students recently began another class (History, not Bible) by proclaiming "Mr. Bishop (not me, the History teacher), have I ever told you what I want to do to a gorilla?" Now, there are an infinite number of possible phrases and ideas that could follow that set-up, and every single one of them is hilarious, especially given the particular student involved.
His plan was that he was so annoyed by the fact that gorillas seemingly just sit around, he wanted to run up to one and slap it as hard as he could, then run away. Of course, in this scenario, the gorilla is wearing a heavy-duty shock collar AND there is a small army with tranquilizer guns trained on the poor primate, but thats neither here nor there. The point is, the kid wants to SLAP A GORILLA FOR FUN.
This is not the first time something completely ridiculous and incomprehensible has come from this young man this year. Nor will it be the last I suspect, and there's only 3 weeks left. He's that good. But it got me thinking: What happened to my creativity?
I'm involved on our chapel planning team, as well as teaching bible, and Abby and I are beginning a new venture at church within the next couple of weeks (stay tuned!), so the outlets are there. But for some reason, something as gloriously brilliant as gorilla slapping hasn't crossed my mind. When I think of high school and college and all of the fantastically idiotic/entertaining things I did, it makes me nostalgic and frustrated with my current self.
Paul states in Philippians 4 that he can do all things through Christ who strengthens him. This attitude led him to nearly die multiple times, to jail, to foreign countries, and to immense amounts of suffering and inconvenience.
I want that attitude. I want to have such a strong faith in Jesus that I have the confidence to slap a gorilla, or at least do something bold for my Lord.
"Lord, I believe! Help my unbelief!" Mark 9:24
One of my students recently began another class (History, not Bible) by proclaiming "Mr. Bishop (not me, the History teacher), have I ever told you what I want to do to a gorilla?" Now, there are an infinite number of possible phrases and ideas that could follow that set-up, and every single one of them is hilarious, especially given the particular student involved.
His plan was that he was so annoyed by the fact that gorillas seemingly just sit around, he wanted to run up to one and slap it as hard as he could, then run away. Of course, in this scenario, the gorilla is wearing a heavy-duty shock collar AND there is a small army with tranquilizer guns trained on the poor primate, but thats neither here nor there. The point is, the kid wants to SLAP A GORILLA FOR FUN.
This is not the first time something completely ridiculous and incomprehensible has come from this young man this year. Nor will it be the last I suspect, and there's only 3 weeks left. He's that good. But it got me thinking: What happened to my creativity?
I'm involved on our chapel planning team, as well as teaching bible, and Abby and I are beginning a new venture at church within the next couple of weeks (stay tuned!), so the outlets are there. But for some reason, something as gloriously brilliant as gorilla slapping hasn't crossed my mind. When I think of high school and college and all of the fantastically idiotic/entertaining things I did, it makes me nostalgic and frustrated with my current self.
Paul states in Philippians 4 that he can do all things through Christ who strengthens him. This attitude led him to nearly die multiple times, to jail, to foreign countries, and to immense amounts of suffering and inconvenience.
I want that attitude. I want to have such a strong faith in Jesus that I have the confidence to slap a gorilla, or at least do something bold for my Lord.
"Lord, I believe! Help my unbelief!" Mark 9:24
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Saturday
Easter is always a fun time of the year. Aside from the ridiculous amounts of candy, the costumes--er, outfits that people wear to church on Easter make it worthwhile almost by themselves. One of my students described a crocodile leather/peacock feather combination that makes me long for time travel so I might witness its beauty with my own eyes. Easter rocks.
I do have to admit, for purely selfish reasons, Easter is also great because we get Good Friday off. Any day off from school to recharge my frayed battery is welcome. Good Friday--the moniker, not the actual holiday--has always bugged me (whats so good about torture and death? Can't we go with Necessary Friday or Cross Friday or something?) and so not having to teach on Good Friday was a blessing in disguise. I actually started to cringe everytime I said Good Friday...just seems wrong to me.
Of course, Sunday is also a fantastic day. My favorite scene in The Passion of the Christ is the end, when Christ rises as the stone is rolled back. It's a beautifully done scene, and after watching it the first time in the theaters I was ready to charge into the abyss for God. It is a powerful reminder of just how amazing the gift of our risen Savor really is: God fought death and won, and He did it for me. Praise His name! I'm glad the world still shuts down to recognize such an important day in our history...we haven't completely lost control of Easter yet. (Although there's something inherently hinkey about the name "Easter" and everything that goes into it...it's a pagan holiday honoring a Christian miracle. But that can be another post.)
What I realized while planning my Easter summary for class is that we seem to have forgotton one of the days. Christ died, was in the grave for three days, and rose again. We got the death, we got the resurrection, but what about the third day? Or in this case, the second day? What about Saturday?
Very little is known about Saturday. We know its a Sabbath day, so there wouldn't be any work (this is why the women went to the tomb on Sunday...they couldn't on Saturday) but other than that, we don't get much detail, even from Luke the master storyteller and reporter. So what happened on Saturday?!
I can only imagine what Jerusalem must have been like on the day after. There are two groups of people; disciples who aren't quite sure what hit them and Jews who aren't quite sure what's coming.
The disciples have spent the last three years following this man, hanging on every word, every action, and have developed the faith and courage to say that He was the Son of God, the Messiah, the Savior of the world. They've left jobs, hometowns, families, wealth, everything and followed this man, and now He's dead. He said He would rise on the third day, but that had to be a long twenty-four hours, wondering if they're going to be the next to die, to be beaten, to be crucified.
The Jews think that they have won. The nuisance that has threatened their precious heirarchy is dead, the rebellion seemingly squashed. However, at the moment Jesus died, some incredibly weird things happened: the dead rising from split open graves, earthquakes, the temple curtain being torn from top to bottom, storms. Something doesn't seem right about this "victory." They know the rumors as well, that Jesus was going to raise Himself from the dead on the third day, and so they're sitting there, enjoying a potentially short-lived triumph.
Two groups, both unsure about what comes next, sitting...and waiting.
I think that is why Sunday is such a day of joy. The fear, the apprehension, the chaos of Saturday leads into the unbridled joy of Sunday and our risen Lord. Terror turns into happiness, sadness into joy, and defeat into eternal victory. If we had a little more apprecation for Saturday in our lives, I think we'd be able to appreciate Sunday that much more.
"He is not here; He has risen, just as He said. Come and see the place where He lay." Matthew 28:6
I do have to admit, for purely selfish reasons, Easter is also great because we get Good Friday off. Any day off from school to recharge my frayed battery is welcome. Good Friday--the moniker, not the actual holiday--has always bugged me (whats so good about torture and death? Can't we go with Necessary Friday or Cross Friday or something?) and so not having to teach on Good Friday was a blessing in disguise. I actually started to cringe everytime I said Good Friday...just seems wrong to me.
Of course, Sunday is also a fantastic day. My favorite scene in The Passion of the Christ is the end, when Christ rises as the stone is rolled back. It's a beautifully done scene, and after watching it the first time in the theaters I was ready to charge into the abyss for God. It is a powerful reminder of just how amazing the gift of our risen Savor really is: God fought death and won, and He did it for me. Praise His name! I'm glad the world still shuts down to recognize such an important day in our history...we haven't completely lost control of Easter yet. (Although there's something inherently hinkey about the name "Easter" and everything that goes into it...it's a pagan holiday honoring a Christian miracle. But that can be another post.)
What I realized while planning my Easter summary for class is that we seem to have forgotton one of the days. Christ died, was in the grave for three days, and rose again. We got the death, we got the resurrection, but what about the third day? Or in this case, the second day? What about Saturday?
Very little is known about Saturday. We know its a Sabbath day, so there wouldn't be any work (this is why the women went to the tomb on Sunday...they couldn't on Saturday) but other than that, we don't get much detail, even from Luke the master storyteller and reporter. So what happened on Saturday?!
I can only imagine what Jerusalem must have been like on the day after. There are two groups of people; disciples who aren't quite sure what hit them and Jews who aren't quite sure what's coming.
The disciples have spent the last three years following this man, hanging on every word, every action, and have developed the faith and courage to say that He was the Son of God, the Messiah, the Savior of the world. They've left jobs, hometowns, families, wealth, everything and followed this man, and now He's dead. He said He would rise on the third day, but that had to be a long twenty-four hours, wondering if they're going to be the next to die, to be beaten, to be crucified.
The Jews think that they have won. The nuisance that has threatened their precious heirarchy is dead, the rebellion seemingly squashed. However, at the moment Jesus died, some incredibly weird things happened: the dead rising from split open graves, earthquakes, the temple curtain being torn from top to bottom, storms. Something doesn't seem right about this "victory." They know the rumors as well, that Jesus was going to raise Himself from the dead on the third day, and so they're sitting there, enjoying a potentially short-lived triumph.
Two groups, both unsure about what comes next, sitting...and waiting.
I think that is why Sunday is such a day of joy. The fear, the apprehension, the chaos of Saturday leads into the unbridled joy of Sunday and our risen Lord. Terror turns into happiness, sadness into joy, and defeat into eternal victory. If we had a little more apprecation for Saturday in our lives, I think we'd be able to appreciate Sunday that much more.
"He is not here; He has risen, just as He said. Come and see the place where He lay." Matthew 28:6
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Passive Agressive
We serve a peaceful God.
He is a being of love, passion, and most importantly, grace and compassion. God's greatest endearing quality is that He loves us. He is the only God that comes after us; all other religions are predicated on appeasing and placating an angry deity. I have recently been struck by the realization of just how insane Christianity is...it's illogical, unreasonable, and absolutely fantastic. What other God would willingly give of Himself--His blood, His Spirit, His life--so that unworthy beings such as myself could spend eternity in the heavens He created?! The biggest death in Christianity is God's own Son! God is a god of peace.
And that's what makes the end of the battle so incredible. As Paul tells us in Romans 16:20, "The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet."
The gravity of this quote is crushing. First, the extreme contrast between the God of peace and the act of crushing someone. God doesn't show wrath towards us, those who truly deserve it...He has pent up rage and He's going to unleash it all on Satan.
The second part, and the most breathtaking, is that Satan will be crushed under OUR FEET. God is going to let us participate in the ultimate annihilation of our biggest enemy! We will have an entire lifetime of blessings, chaos, life, death, pain, and joy as God and Satan fight each other over our souls, and yet we KNOW the battle is over, and Satan will be crushed.
"With God we will gain the victory, and he will trample down our enemies." Psalm 60:12
He is a being of love, passion, and most importantly, grace and compassion. God's greatest endearing quality is that He loves us. He is the only God that comes after us; all other religions are predicated on appeasing and placating an angry deity. I have recently been struck by the realization of just how insane Christianity is...it's illogical, unreasonable, and absolutely fantastic. What other God would willingly give of Himself--His blood, His Spirit, His life--so that unworthy beings such as myself could spend eternity in the heavens He created?! The biggest death in Christianity is God's own Son! God is a god of peace.
And that's what makes the end of the battle so incredible. As Paul tells us in Romans 16:20, "The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet."
The gravity of this quote is crushing. First, the extreme contrast between the God of peace and the act of crushing someone. God doesn't show wrath towards us, those who truly deserve it...He has pent up rage and He's going to unleash it all on Satan.
The second part, and the most breathtaking, is that Satan will be crushed under OUR FEET. God is going to let us participate in the ultimate annihilation of our biggest enemy! We will have an entire lifetime of blessings, chaos, life, death, pain, and joy as God and Satan fight each other over our souls, and yet we KNOW the battle is over, and Satan will be crushed.
"With God we will gain the victory, and he will trample down our enemies." Psalm 60:12
Friday, January 29, 2010
Microscope
Part of the weird thing about loving science is that occasionally you slip into geek mode and become fascinated by something completely arbitrary. For instance, about once a month I'll stare at my hand while I wiggle my fingers because I can imagine the muscles, tendons, bones, vessels, and connective tissue working together to make something that seems so effortless happen. Then I move along to the nervous system and how freaky it is that an impulse takes such a miniscule period of time to make the finest of movements occur. And if its an especially good zone-out, then I'll begin to imagine cells and pores (and yes, as I'm typing I'm staring at my hands and feeling especially existential) and how amazing it is that a seemingly infinite number of cells comprises such a disturbingly large man.
Other times, I'll be driving (usually through the vast emptiness that is the I-20 corridor) and realize that the disturbingly large man is actually a small speck in the car, which is a small speck on the road, which makes me just like everyone else and leads to me feeling very, very tiny (which is a nice feeling, I have to admit) and vulnerable (not so nice).
Through it all though, the moments of self-realization and hippie freak-outs, there is one constant that comforts me: all of this, the cells, the cars, the roads, everything is created by a very loving and compassionate God. I was created for a purpose, no matter how small I appear or how much of an experiment I can feel like.
Donald Miller, in A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, puts it this way: "I like the part of the Bible that talks about God speaking the world into existence, as though everything we see and feel were sentences from his mouth, all the wet of the world his spit. I feel written. My skin feels written, and my desires feel written. My sexuality was a word spoken by God, that I would be male, and I would have brown hair and brown eyes and come from a womb. It feels literary, doesn't it, as if we are characters in books." (86)
It's nice to feel small...to feel created. Just as infants require care and protection because they are defenseless, the idea of being created by someone lets me know that someone is looking out for me. God put a lot of effort and skill into forming my body, and He puts just as much effort into protecting me and helping me through this world that has rejected Him.
"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; you works are wonderful, I know that full well." Psalm 139:13-14
Other times, I'll be driving (usually through the vast emptiness that is the I-20 corridor) and realize that the disturbingly large man is actually a small speck in the car, which is a small speck on the road, which makes me just like everyone else and leads to me feeling very, very tiny (which is a nice feeling, I have to admit) and vulnerable (not so nice).
Through it all though, the moments of self-realization and hippie freak-outs, there is one constant that comforts me: all of this, the cells, the cars, the roads, everything is created by a very loving and compassionate God. I was created for a purpose, no matter how small I appear or how much of an experiment I can feel like.
Donald Miller, in A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, puts it this way: "I like the part of the Bible that talks about God speaking the world into existence, as though everything we see and feel were sentences from his mouth, all the wet of the world his spit. I feel written. My skin feels written, and my desires feel written. My sexuality was a word spoken by God, that I would be male, and I would have brown hair and brown eyes and come from a womb. It feels literary, doesn't it, as if we are characters in books." (86)
It's nice to feel small...to feel created. Just as infants require care and protection because they are defenseless, the idea of being created by someone lets me know that someone is looking out for me. God put a lot of effort and skill into forming my body, and He puts just as much effort into protecting me and helping me through this world that has rejected Him.
"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; you works are wonderful, I know that full well." Psalm 139:13-14
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