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

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

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

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

Update

I have a smoldering fire in my soul to do...something. Pray that God hits the ignition switch and that He speaks and acts through me, whenever and wherever that opportunity may appear.

"Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?" And I said, "Here am I. SEND ME." Isaiah 6:8

Perception

A short preface: When we left Houston yesterday, it was 74 degrees and painfully muggy...to the point where loading presents into the car left me glistening with what I assume was sweat, but it felt more like funk from the air settling on to my body. Needless to say, escaping Houston was the best gift of all this holiday.

When I woke up this morning, Abby looked out the window and exclaimed excitedly: "It's snowing!" And sure enough, there is a howling, wet, cold, snowy mess congregating in the great city of Abilene. Cars, houses, roads, and people who stand still for too long end up covered in the white stuff, giving A-Town an ethereal look to compliment my first Christmas Eve as a married dude.

The funny thing is, I would go outside and walk around in this and revel in the goodness all morning. Coats and hats are beautiful things. My wife, and the rest of my family, would rather sit inside and watch it through the windows, almost like a zoo where it's fun to look but not touch. The snow is an inviting, beautiful gift from God to me, and a wet nuisance to everyone else. It's all in the perception.

So imagine you are a member of the 1st century Jewish elite (I know, not a hard stretch is it?) and you're waiting for a sign from God, ANY SIGN, that His promised Messiah is coming. You start to hear reports of a child being born, angels visiting, and strange cosmic harbingers that maybe, just maybe, will signal the end of the suffering and oppression. And then, you finally make it to Jerusalem and find this child...and he is a poor child born in a barn to an unwed mother who supposedly is a "virgin." You may be a Jewish priest and not a physician, but you know thats unlikely at best.

You would be crushed! This isn't a king, a warrior, a Savior! This is a weak, poverty stricken child whose father is a carpenter! And then later on, he becomes a carpenter, meaning he took up his family's trade and probably passed on being a true rabbi, which at the very least should be a necessary step in leading the Jews to salvation. This is a waste of time and a waste of hope...another year gone without help from a supposedly caring God.

On the flip side, imagine you are a poor Jewish person, or even later on, a Gentile believer, who has been excluded from society and never given an inch of anything in your life. You are under the regime of a tyrannical king who would just as soon kill you than actually fix your problems. You've been told there is a Savior, a new King, who has come to save EVERYONE. He specifically mentions the poor, the meek, and goes out of His way to love those who may have never felt love. This is a ruler, with power and authority, who gives His life in order that everyone may spend eternity with Him. This is an amazing gift, and a sign that God truly cares about us all!

Jesus' life is all about perception. Those who had a set idea of what a Messiah was "supposed" to be were disappointed and gave up. Those who saw the gentle carpenter for what He was--the embodiment of love and peace--had abundant life.

So when you see Christmas, and specifically see Christ in other people, do you see a nuisance, or do you see love? What is your perception of Christ and His sacrifice?

"Go back and report to John what you have seen and heard: the blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is preached to the poor. Blessed is the man who does not fall away on account of me." Luke 7:22-23

Flat-Lined

For a long time, whenever I discussed art history I basically skipped from the earliest known records (like the Venus of Willendorf...woof.) right past the Middle Ages and straight to the Renaissance. The Renaissance harnessed the Classical power of the human form noted in amazing Greek and Roman sculpture with a new-found respect and love of color: vibrant, rich, passionate hues that give life to those lucky enough to be captured by them. From then on, it was always Renaissance, Baroque, Romantics, Impressionists, etc., etc., until the Fauvists and Modernists made me aesthetically unhappy.

Upon further reflection, however, the art of the Middle Ages possesses more than I ever wanted to give it credit for revealing. There is something to be said for the passion and love of showing a rudimentary, yet loving, Christ. The Middle Ages produced art that was flat, fairly monotone in color, and completely lacking of dazzling depth or style. Even the composition was a bit stunted. And yes, it's 2-D, something James Cameron would surely scoff at and mock. Yes, the colors leave something (or everything) to be desired. But in those simplistic drawings and paintings, there is love. There is the pain of a Savior in anguish, compassion of a Lord who loves the unloveable. I'm not sure Jesus would be comfortable with his powerful radiance in Raphael's Ascension or even being the center of attention in The Last Supper.

There's something to be said about a King who preferred peasants over worldly royalty, who picked poverty over wealth, who chose death over what the world sees as power. I think the various artists of the Middle Ages got that message--Christ was someone who preferred to be in the background, loving, serving, and giving. His message wasn't contained in the show, the color, or the presentation, but in the emotion and devotion behind the scenes. I think He would have been drawn to the flat, colorless, almost cartoonish pieces of art because they came from the heart.

In the same way, we need to get back to the heart of the matter in our service of God. Whether songs like Heart of Worship or the story of the Pharisees in Luke 11:

"Woe to you Pharisees, because you give God a tenth of your mint, rue and all other kinds of garden herbs, but you neglect justice and the love of God. You should have practiced the latter without leaving the former undone.

"Woe to you Pharisees, because you love the most important seats in the synagogues and greetings in the marketplaces.

Jesus is calling the Pharisees out because they care more about the show than the action; more about appearances than the heart. We have that problem today, the same problem I suffer in Art History: we care more about the outside than the inside, more about the pretty colors than the meaning. Jesus rages against that machine more than once, but its a message we let slip through our fingers all the time.

So here's to a flat, bland, disproportionate Savior, willing to do the dirty work and die so that I might live a deep, colorful, full life in His service. Amen!

"I hate, I despise your religious feasts;
I cannot stand your assemblies.

Even though you bring me burnt offerings and grain offerings,
I will not accept them.
Though you bring choice fellowship offerings,
I will have no regard for them.

Away with the noise of your songs!
I will not listen to the music of your harps.

But let justice roll on like a river,
righteousness like a never-failing stream!" Amos 5:21-24