The sun sets on Bethlehem’s horizon, dragging with it the heat of the day. The dark and the chill of the night creep in, spread across the land, find their way through open windows, cracks in walls, find their way into skin and bones, make themselves at home. A people living in darkness kneel in darkness, heads bowed by a weight they cannot shake, and beg God for mercy. Beg him for a miracle. Plant yet more tears in the poisoned soil of their lives.

The first Christmas day has risen and fallen. The wait is over. Jesus is here. But for every joyful shepherd or seeking wiseman, there are thousands who go to sleep that night still waiting for their miracle. Still unaware that God has not only heard and answered, but become. Immanuel. Redemption has arrived.

The wait is over, yet still they wait. Still they wake in the middle of the night, plagued by trembling heart and aching soul. They cry out in the all too familiar refrain: “How long, Lord, how long?” For all they can see, the promise of God is still unfulfilled. For all they know, there is nothing to believe in but silence and emptiness.

Across town, the promise lays asleep in a manger. The miracle sleeps. Light asleep in darkness.

 

This will not be the last time Jesus sleeps. This will not be the last time the power of Jesus underwhelms, delays, displays itself as apparent inaction. The storms will come and Jesus will sleep in the sinking boat. The dead will be buried and Jesus will sleep for three more nights. The cross will kill and Jesus will sleep.

If I am honest, sometimes I wonder if he is sleeping still. We wait and wait and cry and beg for mercy. For miracle. We hang all our hopes on him and wonder if he will ever show up. Jesus sleeps and we resign ourselves to our inevitable end.

Christmas tells a different story: Immanuel, God with us now. Jesus has shown up, though maybe not in the way we expected. The promise has been fulfilled, even if our eyes can’t see it. The miracle is a reality long before we ever see the proof. Jesus sleeps, but the storm will be calmed, the dead will rise, all things will be redeemed.

“Though the fig tree does not bud
and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
and no cattle in the stalls,
 yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
I will be joyful in God my Savior.”

(Habakkuk 3:17-18)

“He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—

how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?”
(Romans 8:32)

Bridges and ships and safety nets,
long since left in ashes.

I find the edge again,
force broken bones to rise,
fall again.

-----------------------------------

 

As many of you know, I am not a big fan of most of what passes as CCM on the radio these days (or, for that matter, pretty much anything on the radio). But once in a while something comes out that strikes a chord in me, and this song struck me with this: defiance.

Yes, defiance. Don’t be fooled by appearances, or the way it sounds, or the fact that the Newsboys aren’t the Newsboys anymore. Listen to the opening lines:

“In this time of desperation

when all we know is doubt and fear
there is only one foundation:
 
We believe.
We believe.
We believe.”




Do you see it? Defiance against all that we see around us. And yet I couldn’t help but think: this is absurd. The song goes on to say all these different things we believe as Christians. Jesus. The Resurrection. The Second Coming. New life. These are things we believe in in spite of the fact that everything around us screams the opposite. The evidence we have, the facts we see cannot be ignored: desperation, doubt, and fear. And yet… we believe.

And yes, it is absurd. I understand why our critics scoff. It is as if we stand at the shore of the Red Sea with an Egyptian army bearing down on us and say, “We believe we can still escape… and defeat the enemy.” It is as if we stand in front of a fiery furnace and say, “We believe the flames will not burn us.” It is as if we kneel, crushed by the power of shame and sin, and say, “We believe grace is more than enough to raise us up again.”

Absurd… if we are wrong. But if we serve a God who performs last-minute rescues, if we serve a God who specializes in doing the impossible, if we serve a God whose love is the most powerful force in the universe… then absurdity becomes breathtaking power. All we see and know and can imagine is not the only reality. This is not as good as it gets. God is not done yet. He gets the last word.

“And the gates of hell will not prevail
for the power of God has torn the veil.
Now we know Your love will never fail.
We believe. We believe. We believe.”

So join with me and say: we believe.

If you are on the edge of something beautiful, say: we believe. If you are shattered in defeat, say: we believe. Wherever you are, whatever you face, say: we believe. Because there are blessings unseen in the hands of God just for you. It is terrifying, I know, but throw yourself into belief, fall into the unknown, and trust that Jesus will never fail you.

 We believe.

“Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed” (John 20:29).

I love you through a glass darkly,

dimly I perceive you in these pleasures –

light on my face, warmth on my skin.

Would I love you the same

under a cold and distant sun?

You shine nonetheless –

foolish, wasteful to my shaded eyes,

wasted as I love the love, leave the lover.

I cannot escape, cannot run far enough.

You pursue me with a thousand gifts –

glimpses of you just beneath the surface,

just behind the veil of your disguise.

Even in your shadow, I see you and know:

I do not yet see, do not yet know,

cannot comprehend and yet cannot deny.

All my blind stumbling, desperate grasping –

yours is the face I wish to find. 

I begin at the end.

Not because I can see it on the horizon. Not because I can see the path to it. Not because I can see, but precisely because I can’t.

If I am brutally honest, I do not even believe in this end. I look around at the rubble and ash, and think: impossible. There is no way from here to there.

Which is why I must write about the end now. Because at the end, there is redemption.

There must be.

It is the hardest truth to believe, but the only one I cling to when I doubt everything else: the redemption of all things.

Even now, I think again: impossible! There are some things too horrible, some wounds that cut too deep. Crushed beneath the weight of injustice, suffering, death… can there really be redemption at the end?

There must be.

The redemption of all things.

Yes, even that.

And not just a bandage. It is not enough for the past to be merely wiped away. We require redemption.

Strength from weakness. Life from death. A crown of beauty from ashes.

We require a love powerful enough to redeem us beyond mere restoration.

Impossible.

And yet…

• What was meant for evil, God used for good.
• Dry, dead bones coming to life.
• Lazarus hears the Voice of the Resurrection and the Life… of all things.
• All things work together for the good of those who are His.
• Restoration of all the years the locusts stole.
• Death swallowed up in victory.
• The God become man, who came to die, not just to destroy our curse, but to redeem it with His life in us – better off broken and redeemed than never lost at all.

Jesus, the Redeemer of all things.

Impossible, and yet there is no other hope. There is no other name.

Jesus.

“To what then should I compare the people of this generation, and what are they like? They are like children sitting in the marketplace and calling to each other,

‘We played the flute for you,

but you didn’t dance;

we sang a lament,

but you didn’t weep!’

For John the Baptist did not come eating bread or drinking wine, and you say, ‘He has a demon!’ The Son of Man has come eating and drinking, and you say, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is vindication by all her children.” (Luke 7:31-35)

There is a lot packed into this short passage, but for now I just want to focus on one thing: Jesus. Who is Jesus in this passage?

In this world, there are many who seek to sway others with their influence. Whether at home or at work, in politics or religion, there are those who expect that when they use their power to elicit a certain response in others, they will get it. And for the most part, they are not disappointed. For the most part, people are willing to dance to the tune being played.

It is interesting, on the other hand, that there are always people who are impossible to please; they are determined to be dissatisfied no matter what you do. Their standards shift and change depending on who they are currently upset with. This was the case with the Jews. When they turned against John the Baptist, they criticized him for abstaining from food and drink; when they turned against Jesus, they criticized him for consuming food and drink[1]. You can’t win with these people.

http://jesusistheword.org/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/jesus-is.png

This is what Jesus is pointing out here. He was reaching out to them in every way he could, but they refused to accept him. Instead, they expected him to play by their rules, but he didn’t. They wanted him to be swayed by their influence and desires, but he wasn’t.

I love this about Jesus. In a world where people – even good, strong leaders – are swayed under pressure, Jesus stands firm. Who is Jesus in this passage? Jesus is Jesus. He always has been. He always will be.

He is the one person you can always, always count on to be himself no matter what. And because Jesus is true to himself, he will be true to you. No one can sway his opinion of you. No one can convince him to love you less. No one can deter him from his life-mission to fully redeem you. He will keep reaching out to you in every way possible at every chance he gets.

This truth thrills me, fills me with confidence. Our weary souls find rest in his constancy! Jesus is Jesus. Always.

---

[1]It is also interesting to note that while Jesus was and is the friend of sinners, he was not the glutton and drunkard they claimed he was. If we wish to follow in Jesus’ steps and become a friend to sinners, we can also expect to be falsely accused of all kinds of things.

In Luke 7, Jesus goes to Capernaum. A Roman centurion’s servant was deathly ill and so he asked some of the Jewish elders to go ask Jesus to intervene.

“When they reached Jesus, they pleaded with Him earnestly, saying, ‘He is worthy for You to grant this, because he loves our nation and has built us a synagogue.’” (7:4)

This is interesting because the Jews did not like the Romans. But they liked this Roman because he had done some nice things for them (and maybe he would keep doing nice things for them). They make their case to Jesus basically like this: he has done nice things for us so you should do nice things for him. Apparently they weren’t paying attention to the whole love your enemies thing in chapter six.

But again, we aren’t so different, are we? We often follow the same logic: if I do nice things for God, then he will do nice things for me. This is the basis upon which we try to make trades with God. This is how we try to bargain with him. Or, if we are not that active, this is at least how we expect God to treat us. Thus, we spend a lot of time trying to establish our own worth.

This makes the response of the Roman centurion all the more interesting. Here is this outsider to the faith, this guy who has barely earned their conditional acceptance, and he is the only one who gets it right:

“Jesus went with them, and when He was not far from the house, the centurion sent friends to tell Him, ‘Lord, don’t trouble Yourself, since I am not worthy to have You come under my roof. That is why I didn’t even consider myself worthy to come to You.’” (7:6-7)

http://www.inspirationalposter.org/poster-6635-6093652/jesus-heals-centurions-servant-matthew-viii-5-13-giclee-print/

This centurion takes a completely opposite approach to his Jewish advocates. They said, “This guy is worthy, so help him out.” But he says, “I am not worthy, please help me.” And here is the reason why he says that: he realizes that the good that Jesus can and will do for us is not based on who we are, but on who Jesus is.

“But say the word, and my servant will be cured. For I too am a man placed under authority, having soldiers under my command. I say to this one, ‘Go!’ and he goes; and to another, ‘Come!’ and he comes; and to my servant, ‘Do this!’ And he does it.” (7:7-8)

The power comes from Jesus, not from us. It is based on his authority, not our worth. You can rest easy. You can stop trying to prop up your own worth with flimsy attempts at good works and a polished exterior. Instead, you can turn to Jesus and trust fully in his goodness and his love. That is what faith is all about. You can hang all your hopes on him; he will not fail you.

“Jesus heard this and was amazed at him, and turning to the crowd following Him, He said, ‘I tell you, I have not found so great a faith even in Israel!’ When those who had been sent returned to the house, they found the servant in good health.” (7:9-10)

I was nominated for the Liebster Award by Melissa at Joy Faith & Dirt. And while I don’t really know entirely what that means, it seemed fun and interesting, so here we go…

Here are the rules!

1.  Post the award on your blog.

2.  Thank the blogger who nominated you and link back to their blog.

3. Write 11 random facts about yourself.

4.  Nominate 11 bloggers who you feel deserve this award and have less than 1,000 followers. 

5.  Answer 11 questions posted by your presenter and ask your nominees to answer 11 questions.

My 11 Random Facts:
1. My favorite animal is a red fox.

2. I have recently become a fan of anime.

3. I have written four poetry books.

4. I have four more in the works.

5. I really enjoy the post-apocalyptic and dystopian genres.

6. I’m a pyro.

7. I love camping, canoeing, and backpacking.

8. My favorite genres of music are soothing acoustic folk and melt-your-face-off hard rock.

9. Photography is one of my favorite hobbies.

10. I’m currently writing in my 24^th journal.

11. Tacos are awesome.

The 11 Questions Asked Me:

1. If you were stranded on an island, what one thing would you want to take with you (no people)? Assuming I can’t take something to get me off the island (like a boat or teleportation device), and that I’m actually stranded, I would take a hatchet.

2. What's your biggest accomplishment to date? Probably the process of writing Shadows & Scars

3. What place do you most want to visit? New Zealand or China

4. How do you find material for your blog? By reading my Bible, books, news stories, and various online sources

5. What made you want to start your blog? I like to write

6. Have you always been a writer? Pretty much since grade school.

7. What's your favorite outdoor activity? camping

8. If you could convince everyone of one particular thing, what would it be? To give me two cents (or at least their two cents worth)

9. What is your favorite time of day and why? Late at night, because it is calm and quiet

10. Are you a chocolate or vanilla type of person? Chocolate

11. If you had to become an animal, which one would you choose and why? Red fox, because they are awesome.

My 11 Questions For My Nominees:

1. Are tacos your favorite food? If not, why?

2. What does the fox say?

3. What is your favorite book that most people haven’t heard of?

4. What is the best website in existence?

5. Where’s Waldo?

6. If you could meet one person from the past, who would it be and what one question would you ask him/her?

7. What is the best writing advice you’ve received?

8. What do you do for fun?

9. Which Bible character frustrates you the most, and why?

10. If you were invited on a one-way colonization flight to Mars for you and your family, would you go? Explain.

11. What is the most interesting dream you’ve ever had?

My Nominees!!!

1. Joy Faith & Dirt

2. Et Cetra 

3. Snellections

4. New Beginnings

5. Vivere Vix Deus

6. Terrace Light

            I was supposed to nominate 11 blogs, but you guys are so awesome I only had to nominate half(ish) that number! Huzzah.

“Why do you look at the speck in your brother’s eye, but don’t notice the log in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Brother, let me take out the speck that is in your eye,’ when you yourself don’t see the log in your eye? Hypocrite! First take the log out of your eye, and then you will see clearly to take out the speck in your brother’s eye.”

I used to think this passage was talking about two types of sins: bigger sins and smaller sins; and that if you had one of the bigger sins (a log), it was foolish of you to try to help remove a smaller sin (a speck) from someone else’s life. Which kinda made sense at the time, and of course made for some humorous imagery.

What I’ve come to realize, however, is that the context of this passage is what Jesus has just said a few verses earlier: “Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive and you will be forgiven” (6:37). The log which prevents you from seeing clearly enough to help with someone else’s speck is not some random larger sin. The log in your eye is specifically the sin of judging. It is the spirit of judgment and condemnation.

Realizing this came as quite an ironic twist to me. It is often those who think they don’t have any sin (or at least not any big sins) in their life that are the most likely to be judgmental in dealing with another person’s sin. I know; I’ve been that person. On the other hand, those who see their own sin – and the mercy that covers them – are the ones who are able to see clearly enough to support another in their own struggle against sin.

I think the point is this: if you want to help someone else, you first have to remove your judgmental attitude towards them. You have to come to them in a spirit of love and forgiveness. Then, and only then, can you be an agent of God’s redemptive spirit in their life.

“If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners love those who love them. If you do what is good to those who are good to you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners do that. And if you lend to those from whom you expect to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners to be repaid in full. But love your enemies, do what is good, and lend, expecting nothing in return.”

Love your enemies. It is a sobering passage, to say the least. If I’m honest, it does more than step on my toes a little – it calls me out, revealing that much of what I call “love” is nothing more than self-interest. But that’s a topic for another time. Right now, I want to jump down a few verses to what I believe is a key to understanding what is often missed about this passage – or, at least what I missed for a long time.

After summing up what it looks like to love your enemies, Jesus tells us what it would mean if we were to live out such love:

“Then your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High. For He is gracious to the ungrateful and evil. Be merciful, just as your Father also is merciful.”

This may sound obvious, but Jesus is telling us that he wants us to love like this because this is exactly how God the Father loves. When we love like this we are living as God’s children because that is how he loves. Jesus came to show us what the Father is really like, to correct our misguided notions about him. I think this is one of those moments.

When I come to this passage, I usually read it, feel depressed about the lousy quality of my love, and determine to try harder. I focus exclusively on what it says about how I love or don’t love. What I rarely do is focus on what this says about how God loves. And I rarely think about whether or not I am interacting with God as he presents himself. Instead, I tend to treat God as if he plays by our rules.

How often do we live as if God is the embodiment of everything this passage says is not love?

• As if God only loves those who love him?
• As if God is only good to those who are good to him?
• As if God only gives to us when he expects us to do something for him in return?

Even sinners do this, and yet too often we treat God as if his love is no better. Listen to the subtle implications of conversations you hear around you (and inside your own mind) and tell me this isn’t true.

We tend to believe that if we do the things God likes, he will do nice things for us, but if we do the things God doesn’t like, then he will do bad things to us. I know it seems that way sometimes. That’s why we try to bargain with God. That’s why, too often, we try to impress God with our goodness. That’s why we hide from him when we’ve sinned.

Now don’t get me wrong – there are blessings for living in tune with God, and there are consequences for disconnecting ourselves from him, but the point is this: yes, God blesses the faithful, but, astonishingly, God also blesses the unfaithful!

In Matthew’s version of this passage, Jesus says that God causes the sun to shine and the rain to fall, not just to benefit the good, but the evil as well. It is as if God can’t contain himself! He is so full of love for us – all of us – that he just keeps pouring out good things all around us, knowing that most won’t even lift their heads to thank the source from which their blessings come. What a gift to God, then, to thank him for his gifts! But even if we don’t, that doesn’t change his love – it just keeps overflowing like the sun spilling over the horizon, like the rain bursting from the sky onto parched and thirsty ground.

He just gives, and gives, and gives…

And his giving only fills him with more to give!

What if I lived like that?

What if I lived as if God really loves me like that?

I wonder if all this trying to be better would be replaced with streams of living water flowing – overflowing – from within. I wonder if I would love because he first loved me.

Sometimes I find that I’ve become so familiar with the words of Jesus that I overlook just how turn-the-world-upside-down they are. Consider the earthshaking implications of just two of the famous Beatitudes:

“Blessed are you who are hungry now,

because you will be filled.

Blessed are you who weep now,

because you will laugh.”

The economy of the Kingdom of God is a strange one. You’re actually better off when you have less or when you have lost. You are better off because to be filled after being empty is better than always having been full.

I guess in a way this makes sense. Imagine sitting down at dinner to eat your favorite food (tacos, am I right?), but consider how different you’d feel if you hadn’t eaten since breakfast in contrast to if you’d be been snacking all day and didn’t have an appetite anymore. You actually enjoy eating more if you are hungry. Or think of how sweet a drink of water is when you are parched, or how immensely pleasurable it is to lie down and sleep after a hard day of work. Sometimes we actually enjoy things more when we’ve been lacking them. 

However, this mindset runs completely counter to the way we usually think in this world. Consider the latest ads you’ve seen on TV or billboards. How do the values they suggest compare to what Jesus talks about here?

Jesus says that those who are happy are those who are poor, hungry, weeping, and despised… yet we spend most of our effort seeking to be rich, well-fed, laughing, and admired. What is Jesus trying to say? I don’t think he is not saying “Don’t seek happiness” but rather, “Don’t seek happiness that will only last on this earth” and “Even if you are not ‘happy’ now, you can still be ‘happy’ because your emptiness will be filled, resulting in more happiness than if you had never experienced emptiness.”

This is mystery, to be sure. It is also a mystery why we rarely live in accordance with the truth that Jesus has given us. Think of a time recently when something you wished for didn’t happen and you were left with that hollow ache of disappointment. We tend to get stuck there and live as if that emptiness is the truth, when in reality it is only the prelude to God filling us with boundless joy.

I do not mean to diminish the suffering we encounter here on earth, but rather to point out that to the degree in which our suffering is great (and it is), the power of God to redeem our pain is even greater!

Which brings us to the greatest mystery in the economy of the Kingdom of God: our own redemption. I don’t know if any of us can fully wrap our mind around this, but join me in trying to let it sink in:

We are closer to God in our redeemed state than if we had never fallen.

Takes my breath away.

We think that the product of our sinful acts is only more corruption, and without Jesus this would be true, but through Him, the power of redemption is stronger, not just than sinfulness, but even than sinlessness!

If you doubt, turn your eyes to the Cross. Upon the canvas of our sinfulness is painted the most beautiful picture of love ever seen. But that sacrifice was not just a display, it is an invitation for you to accept Jesus. He loves you and He is the only one who can redeem all things – yes, even that.

“On a Sabbath, He passed through the grainfields. His disciples were picking heads of grain, rubbing them in their hands, and eating them. But some of the Pharisees said, ‘Why are you doing what is not lawful on the Sabbath?’

Jesus answered them, ‘Haven’t you read what David and those who were with him did when he was hungry – how he entered the house of God, and took and ate the sacred bread, which is not lawful for any but the priests to eat? He even gave some to those who were with him.’ Then He told them, ‘The Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath.’”

Sometimes you think you know Jesus, and then he does or says something totally unexpected. For me, this passage was one of those moments.

Of course, I have no problem with what Jesus and his disciples were doing. I’m like, “Wow, way to overreact Pharisees. They’re just picking and eating grain.” But then comes Jesus’ response. I expect him to say something about how he and his disciples aren’t really breaking the Sabbath, and how it is instead the Pharisees’ own misguided understanding of the Sabbath that is the problem here. And that is kind of what he does, but the example he uses is unsettling.

He references the story from 1 Samuel 21, when David and his men are on the run from Saul. They’re hungry. Starving? Probably not. But when you’re on the run from the king of the land, food can be scarce. So David goes to the temple and asks the priest for some bread. The only bread available is the bread from the Table of Showbread, so the priest gives this to David. Sounds reasonable, right?

Except: it is unlawful for any but the priests to eat this bread! David and his men are breaking the law. The priest who gives the bread to them is breaking the law. When this story is told in the Old Testament, it is morally ambiguous at best. Yet here Jesus is using it to defend his disciples’ actions!

I realized that this unsettled me because I misunderstood the nature of the law and our relation to it. I thought the goal was to avoid breaking the law. But it’s not. The goal is to obey the law… and sometimes that means breaking it.

In Matthew’s version of this story, Jesus cites a second example in his disciples’ defense. He says, “Or haven’t you read in the Law that on Sabbath days the priests in the temple violate the Sabbath and are innocent?” (Matthew 12:5)

Again, this makes sense to me, but the way Jesus says it has the wheels in my head spinning. You can break the law and still be innocent? Jesus doesn’t say that the priests working on the Sabbath don’t break the Sabbath – but rather that they do and yet, somehow, are still obeying the law. This has profound implications. It means there are sometimes things in life more important than avoiding breaking the law. Like feeding hungry people. Like serving others in ministry. And that you may have to break the letter of the law in order to fulfill the spirit of the law.

Then it hits me: the point of the law is not the law; the point of the law is people. It is designed to show us how to love God and love one another. Our purpose is not to serve the law. The law exists to serve us – to guide us towards the true path of love and ultimately to Jesus himself.

In fact, that is what Jesus seems to be saying: “The Sabbath was made for man and not man for the Sabbath. Therefore the Son of Man is Lord even of the Sabbath” (Mark 2:27-28). The Sabbath, like the rest of the law, was given to us by God, not so we would serve it, but so it would serve us – preserving and enriching our life. The law lays the foundation of God’s character: love. If, in striving to keep the letter of the law, we act in an unloving way, we are no longer really keeping the law.

Think about it: you can technically be a member of those of “keep the commandments of God” and yet actually be living contrary to the law of God. While at the same time there could be those who, to human eyes, break a commandment and yet are actually living out the law of God. This was certainly the case between the Pharisees and Jesus.

Although I’ve been thinking about this for quite some time now, I’m still not sure I’ve wrapped my mind around all the implications. I don’t have all the practical applications figured out. But I know this: it is not enough to simply go through the motions. I want to know Jesus, the Lawgiver, so that I can truly live in accordance with what he desires for me.