“Christ who is our life”

These days are spent in libraries and 24 hour diners, poring over the identity of Jesus Christ, His person, His work, His motivation and joy.

I believe the greatest danger in the Christian life is deception, namely,  “having our minds corrupted from the simplicity that is in Christ” (2 Corinthians 11:2-4). Time and time again Christ warned his followers not to be deceived, for many false Christs will come in his name.

There is only one Christ through whom we are saved. There is only one vine, there is only one fountain of life, there is only one door into the holy of holies.  Every other way leads to death.

“beware lest anyone cheat you (literally plunder you or take you captive) through philosophy and empty deceit, according to the tradition of men, according to the basic principles of the world, and not according to Christ. For in Him dwells all the fullness of the Godhead bodily; and you are complete in Him, who is the head of all principality and power.”  Colossians 2:8-10

It’s not good enough to trust the idea of Jesus and follow his moral principles. Those who would escape the condemnation must be joined to Christ in His death. They must behold the bleeding Savior on the tree and trust Him as their only hope of eternal life. For if we are joined to Christ in His death, surely then His resurrection becomes ours. And when Christ appears in glory, we too shall appear in glory. For the one born again, his or her life is hidden in Christ. Ah, to actually walk in the newness of life, and to experience the exchanged life.

wisdom teeth and manners

I had my wisdom teeth pulled a few weeks ago. I must confess, I had been dreading that day for a long time. I wanted to have my teeth pulled awake, to save a couple hundred bucks. My brother said when he had his pulled, they gave about 13 shots per tooth. So when I was only given two shots per tooth, I looked at the doctor: “is that all?” “yeah, the worst part is over.”  He was right, if there was any pain, it was only mental after that.

I only made 3 visits to the doctor. My first visit was for my consultation. As he was looking at the xrays and such, The doctor asked what my plans were in school. I mentioned political science, and out slipped these words I knew not would come out: “justice for the poor.” How idealistic of me.

My second visit was to get the teeth pulled. Walking into the room, the doctor said “you know, I’ve been thinking about you. I think you should drop school and go ahead and enter government.” Then I got my shots, and was left alone for 20 minutes. Those 20 minutes all I could think about were those words “justice for the poor.”  What good could I ever do for the poor and needy as a county/whatever kind of representative? What Kentucky needs is revival. If all Kentucky gets is a Governor who prays three times a day to Jesus, will the poor be any better off?

Obama talks of civility at the national prayer breakfast. He’s right. America needs better manners, all this murdering and theiving needs to go, but how? Wilberforce claimed God had set two great objects before him. One we know, the abolition of the slave trade, but do we remember “the reformation of manners”? How do you reform a nation’s manners?

If Jesus is a High priest and a King, He embodies the opposite of seperation of church and state. I simply don’t know what to do about that.

a shout in the dark

Walked into the house today, and saw a book with a large print title “Battle Cries.” It was laying on a pile of puzzle pieces, 1000 pieces to be exact. I flipped open the book, landed on a paged describing “war cries.” It mentioned a great effort made by the diaphragm under the lungs to release a cry. The book said those in the martial arts use such cries at the moment of their release of strength.

My first thought was the loud shout made by the Jewish Nazarene who was nailed onto a tree, suffocating. Who gives a war cry after 6 suffocating hours, nailed on a tree up in the air? After that cry, a Roman centurion said “Truly this Man was the Son of God!” But I should just quote the historical reference:

“Now when the sixth hour had come, there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour. And at the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, ‘Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?’ which is translated, ‘My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?’ Some of those who stood by, when they heard that, said, ‘Look, He is calling for Elijah!’ Then someone ran and filled a sponge full of sour wine, put it on a reed, and offered it to Him to drink, saying, ‘Let Him alone; let us see if Elijah will come to take Him down.’ And Jesus cried out with a loud voice, and breathed His last. Then the veil of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. So when the centurion, who stood opposite Him, saw that He cried out like this and breathed His last, he said, ‘Truly, this Man was the Son of God!’” – Mark 15:33-39

Did you notice it was dark? You could hardly see Jesus or the others crucified next to Him. You could hardly see anything at all, but you could hear. And amid the gasping and groaning of the two thieves, one loud cry pierced the slithering dark atmosphere. Those standing around jumped, their hairs stood on end. It was a war cry. The Roman Centurion, I think, knew it. The last public sound byte of the Jewish Nazarene.

Until.

In another shroud of darkness, a thick darkness covering the entire earth, just as the lights go out before a movie or drama, the same Nazarene’s voice will pierce the trembling silence. God no longer silent. He who held His peace for a long time, now shouting. The mystery of God no longer a mystery, but God in open sight to all earth beings, escorted on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory. It’s probably better to quote Jesus Himself predicting his arrival:

“Immediately after the tribulation of those days the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light; the stars will fall from heaven, and the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then the sign of the Son of Man will appear in heaven, and then all the tribes of the earth will mourn, and they will see the Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory.” Matthew 24:29-30

Paul says it too, emphasizing the shout, I might add:
“But I do not want you to be ignorant, brethren, [ . . . ] For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of an archangel, and with the trumpet of God.” - 1 Thessalonians 4

Hey, it’s God’s drama. Why wouldn’t He shout? God really goes for the thriller on this one. I guarantee it’ll make you and me both jump. It sure beats a 1,000 piece puzzle.

Elizabethtown

well this has been a post long time in coming.

Can I just say, it was very difficult for me to move back to Elizabethtown. I thought the day would never come, or if it did, I would be shot like an arrow with visions of glory. But the day did come, and it was a patchwork sky of gray and rain the whole 9 hour drive with no polished arrow, and no glory.

I thank God He has moved me though. As dearly as I miss IHOP and Tim and Ryan and Jesse, Brian and Sarah and Danielle, the Engles and the Westergards and so so many more, I’ve a Shepherd and Overseer of my soul who leads me with perfect wisdom. Even if home is a brook called Cherith, I’ll take it.

College starts this week, which means I’m picking up where I left off 5 years ago! I’m thankful for the opportunities before me, and glad that I’ve a Father in heaven who loves me with an everlasting love. That’s one thing school can’t teach, for no mind can comprehend a love that has no end.

God, send revival to my heart, and to my city, Elizabethtown.

So I grew up around pottery… but this guy made me laugh, his skill and ease was just too much.

Come, Holy Spirit, Heavenly Dove

Come Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, with all Thy quickening powers;
Kindle a flame of sacred love in these cold hearts of ours.
In vain we tune our formal songs, in vain we strive to rise;
Hosannas languish on our tongues, and our devotion dies.
Dear Lord, and shall we ever live at this poor dying rate?
Our love so faint, so cold to Thee, and Thine to us so great!
Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, with all Thy quickening powers;
Come, shed abroad a Saviour’s love, and that shall kindle ours.
~ Isaac Watts 1707

the prodigal pilgrim

some put their hope in the fatherland, others, the motherland.
i wait for another land.
and as i wait,
i find my heart’s flame flicker short by winds contrary, from the north.
winds whispering of glistening white,
albeit cold, havens where fires are want.
they tease my efforts.
they balloon my soul with fears.
they compel my eyelids shut.

faithless, treacherous winds. well did Hosea speak of you as empty: ‘Ephraim feeds on the wind.’

though my fire dims, and my spirit lies within me broken,
yet my soul, remember him whose name is Faithful.
and by faith’s enlightened eye, look up, even as servants look to their master.
for though he chasten, surely he too will receive, if thou art his son?

resolved. to tear this visa and depart. a homeland not of this world I seek,
but the heartland of my father, where citizenship consists in one embrace.

Fragrances, Harps, and Flavors

A sensory sampler of the past two days:

The home-like smell of clay at the potter’s studio.
The sound and sight of a harp duet in a most serene setting.
The flavor of crisp zucchini bread.
The welcome presence of my father, the artist who sees beauty where others do not.

God’s handwriting.

Picture Bibles were my favorite. Jesus with the fishermen and all their fish. Cain and Abel. Josiah destroying the pagan idols. The crucifixion. Noah’s ark. At age 6, the Picture Bible was probably my best friend.
~~~~~~~~~~~~

Amid long trumpet blasts and rumbling thunder, amid an entire mountain engulfed in heaven’s fire and smoke, Yahweh wrote with His own hand upon two tablets of stone. Stone. With God’s own handwriting. Not a grilled cheese sandwich with Madonna’s face. God’s own – personal – handwriting on real, solid, lasting, cold stone.

And then Moses broke it.

So God had Moses chisel out two other tablets, upon which God would write again. His own handwriting. Again. Even God knew what it was like to lose a first draft…

Fast forward a couple thousand years.

Feast of Tabernacles. Being one of the highest feasts of the year, it always drew the largest and most colorful crowds. The city of Jerusalem always swelled dramatically in population, and every suburb was crammed with pilgrims. Day after day the pilgrims saw the sights, kept the vigils, observed the festival customs, listened to the rabbis in the temple, purchased a meal in the market, and headed back to their leafy booths to rest. It was enjoyable cool October weather, and there under the booths they could swap stories or reminisce on Israel’s deliverance from Egypt.

After the last day of the feast and the hectic week began to wind down in the city, one man spent his night out under the open skies on the mount of olives. Most pilgrims were packing their bags and planning their long trip home as he slept there on the hill.

In the morning, the man went down the hill and into the temple and began teaching. The crowds always were large around this man. No one ever spoke like him before, and many of the pilgrims wanted to hear him one last time before they made their long journey home. The man was a Rabbi, a teacher.

A stir happens in the back. The crowd parts. The noble and prestigious Pharisees bring a woman to the Rabbi. They accuse her of harlotry, and insist upon her being stoned, as Moses would have. They bring her to him, hoping to make the Rabbi squirm in the presence of the people and see his popularity fall flat.

The Rabbi steps out from under the portico. He bends down and begins writing on the dust of the temple floor. His own finger wrote on the ground. What did it say? I don’t know what it said. No one seemed to think it was important. What was important was him, and the words that were to come out of his mouth. All eyes were on his person. All ears strained to hear his decision.

Rewind.

Yahweh wrote on the tablets of stone for Moses. And Yahweh wrote on the dust … for who? His own personal handwriting! in the dust? Just to be smeared by feet and blown by the wind? Why didn’t anyone take a picture, or copy it down and frame it?

Stone or dust. God is content to write on both. No gold-leaf needed. For the moment the words take more attention than the Author himself, the letter is divorced from the spirit, bringing death. Had the people not focused on Jesus Christ in that hour, the harlot would have died.

no room to boast

This is why I will never make it in the blogosphere. Writer’s block. Writing methinks doesn’t ebb and flow for me, it just ebbs. And ebbs. And wanes. And pines until all I’ve left are yellow #2 Ticonderoga pencil shavings with nothing to show but graphite smeared fingers.

So, Biblical Studies. My first module covering the Pentateuch is nearly over. An observation or two I’d like to make: Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, they were fallen humans. Abraham had marriage issues, Isaac had child-raising issues, and Jacob had just about every other issue. Look at Jacob,

1. He grew up under a dad who showed favoritism
2. His mom helped him deceive his father
3. He thought bargaining with God might get him ahead
4. He had major marriage problems
5. He agreed to let his sons and daughters intermarry with the Canaanites
6. His children were involved with human trafficking
7. He seemed to be in constant conflict with someone, somewhere
8. At the end of his days he said “evil have been the days of the years of my life (Gen 47:9)”

Then there’s Judah, Jacob’s son, of whom 1 Chronicles 5:2 says “Yet Judah prevailed over his brothers, and from him came a ruler, although the birthright was Joseph’s” Judah? The one who has an entire chapter dedicated to him some parents wouldn’t let their children read because of the content, that Judah??

Some conclusions I’ve drawn: God was over the entire mess. He wouldn’t let them alone. He decided who to bless, and who would prevail. One could understand 2 brothers fighting over a birthright. But what happens when there’s 12 brothers? It passed to Joseph without comment. But in the same verse we see Judah mysteriously prevailing over his brothers. As far as I know anything, Judah prevailed by no merit of his own. It had to have been God’s sovereign hand.

God leaves no room for flesh to boast, this I’m learning. His foolishness is wiser than our wisdom.

The King: a lamb.
His family line: strewn with scandals and wicked kings.
His occupation: the common carpenter.
His disciples: misunderstood every other sentence he said.

He made Himself of no reputation. He humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted Him and given Him the name which is above every other name…

Let me not grow offended. God’s ways are perfect. Mystifyingly perfect.