A Gift of Flesh and Bones

The moment the breath of life was exhaled through the nostrils of man, each bone, muscle fiber, nerve, and limb had been sculpted in the exact location to fulfill its intended and specific purpose. The man wasn't the first creation. The artist had already designed a solar system, the sun, the expanse of the sky and the round solid earth. He had created the waters of the seas and caused the rivers and streams to come up from beneath. He had planted and grown a garden full of all kinds of trees that were pleasing to the eye. The man had been shown many creatures. He gave them names. There were birds, fish, livestock, each having an opposite according to its own kind. The Lord God had created an entire eco-system where symbiotic relationship, everything working together in glorious symphony, played all around the man. Life meant purpose, union, relationship, connectedness, not only with the creation but most importantly with the creator himself. It was glorious. Glorious, like the One by whom and for whom it was created. The Lord God saw that man was alone, the only one of his kind, and it was not good. Being the imagineer and detail-oriented wonder He is, the Lord God knew exactly what was needed to fulfill and complement the man. This creation would have an intended and specific purpose. The artist allowed the man the honor and privilege of being part of this plan, and the outcome was going to be beyond anything he would ever imagine.  
The man was caused to fall into a deep sleep, a rib was taken from him and used to form the new creation. Every bone, muscle, nerve, and curve was sculpted in the exact place for its intended and specific purpose. The Lord God was forming what would be a suitable "ezer" for the man. One equal to him in humanity, one of his own kind, with the breath of life breathed into her. The Lord God brought her to the man. As Adam studied this gift, he discovered that she was like him in many ways, but different in others. Not made with feathers, fur or scales like the fish, they were both formed from the same material, flesh and bone sharing the same abilities to reason, speak, smile, laugh and respond to each other. She was made in man's likeness as an opposite of his own kind. No suitable helper had been found -- not until that moment. Adam called her woman, because she was taken out of him and formed, made with flesh both in kind and creation. God had used Adam's flesh to cover her wound, making her flesh of his flesh. She was his to be with in both body and soul, to eat of good fruit, to be fruitful and multiply. The Lord God had offered what the man knew he couldn't have made or created himself.  

"This is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; 

and she shall be called 'woman' for she was taken out of man." 

 
Creation, a beautiful representation of what already existed in the heavenly realms. God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit existing together in unity and connectedness. Creation, the shadow of their image both in form and function. They were there at the beginning. "In the beginning, was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning."(John 1:1) "Let us make man in our image in our likeness..."   She shall be called "mine" for she was taken out of man. Poetically wondrous. She shall be called "mine" for she was taken out of man. Prophetically amazing.  

Man walked with the I AM who walked in the garden in the cool of the day. The father, Creator of our being. Our teacher, sustainer, helper, caretaker, everything that we were designed to reflect through the gifts he gave us. Awe was to be felt at the sound of His name, for he had created everything from nothing. It was very good. Then one sad day, all was lost. The wholeness was fractured causing a wound. We had been told to avoid what was going to hurt us, but despite a loving father's warning, rebellion reigned in our hearts. Before the ten commandments were given to Moses on the mount, one had already been broken. We didn't honor our father. When we heard Him walking in the garden in the cool of the day, we hid (as guilty children often do.) We knew we hadn't listened and that something terribly wrong had happened because of it. It was not good.    

Hundreds of years later while the earth still groaned knowing that something terribly wrong had happened, God began to create. In the womb of a chosen servant He created a baby. Every bone, muscle, nerve and limb was designed with intention and a specific purpose. This baby grew to be a man in stature and wisdom. When God brought Him to us, we studied him and saw that He was like us in form with the same ability to reason, laugh, feel emotion, and breathe, but He was also different in many ways. He walked with us, reconnecting us with the Father we had been separated from, lovingly warning us which things to avoid for both our protection and ultimate joy. He liked to go into the garden and pray in the cool of the day. He gave us purpose and breathed the breath of life back into Lazarus and those he resurrected from the dead. He told us He is the one prophesied to come and in Him we would bear much fruit, being fruitful in spirit, and multiply, becoming fishers of men. We were meant to be the shadow of the reality, of the image that exists in the heavenly realms. "I am in you, and you are in me," he says.  "I am the vine, and you are the branches. With me, you will bear much fruit. Apart from me you can do nothing." You will be my bride, and shall be called "mine" for you are a part of me.  
In this created man, the Father brought a suitable "ezer" to us. A perfect gift. Jesus. This man was put into a deep sleep, his body was broken and his flesh was used to cover the wound made when man and woman had disobeyed and brokenness occurred. God breathed the breath of life back into His nostrils on the third day, and Jesus left the tomb to go reconcile Himself with those he called his own. "Look at my hands and feet. It is I myself! Touch me and see; a ghost does not have flesh and bones, as you see I have," he says to the disciples. He was flesh of their flesh, bone of their bone. Not a ghost, or an apparition. He was a man, a gift made in their own likeness. Humanity and God wrapped up in one. After forty days, He ascended into the heavens to be with the Father. He says that he is preparing something for His children. A place where those He calls mine will be with Him once again. Being the imagineer and detail-oriented Creator he is, that place is going to be beyond anything our minds could ever imagine. And it will be very good. Glorious and awe inspiring, just as it was in the beginning.  
 

My Haunting

On my Facebook post, I recently used the phrase, I'm being haunted. It might sound hyperbole, but in my mind, heart and spirit, I am being haunted. My friend asked me what is going on and commented, that sounds ominous. Well, she's right. It is ominous. Ominous things are menacing, threatening, scary, foreboding, and very unwelcome. For some, the word haunted might conjure creepy shows dealing with ghosts, demons and supernatural evils. Well, I'm not experiencing shaking tables and ghoulish spirits but there is something compulsively and excessively bothering my spirit to the point that it has at moments overcome me with deep despair, and a feeling of oppression in my soul. I know what it is. I'm familiar with it because I experienced something similar to it about ten years ago. Since, I've been used to it coming and going like an occasional high wave washing up on the sand. It hasn't stayed for long during those times. But for the past week and a half, it has been lingering. I'm at the point of annoyance. It has occurred to me that perhaps the best way to allow it to float away is to stop enabling it to linger in my mind. Maybe the pen will be my sword. I'll warn you that it's not the most uplifting story, nor will it be easy for some to read. The following images are the ones that stand out most. Together they form a story. I know not a complete one because they are only based on my view of the situation. Everyone in my family would have something different to say, but these are snapshots of moments that I experienced. The span of time was seven months, and I don't know everything. Much was never talked about. But it was real. My mother's unexpected illness and painfully lonely death is my haunting.  


SNAPSHOTS

• Walking in the door to see her head on the bar not knowing why she was crying.  
• Hugging her trying to think of words to console her as she cried on my shoulder telling me she wanted to always be here for me.  
• Her looking at me while talking with a friend on the phone saying she knew I was the reason she should fight it.  
• Holding the syringe while she became annoyed at my timidity to give the shot in her hip
• The horrifying image of her strong body slowly turning to a bloated frail skeleton.  
• My grandmother's understandable forcefulness trying to get mother to eat peaches even though she felt sick and weak from her chemo.  
• Seeing her try to wear a wig but give up wearing a handkerchief.  
• With tape bounded around her wrists from being poked so much with needles for iv's, she sat at the table putting puzzles together to give her something to do.  
• Watching her cry and agonize how hard it was for her to handle it all while my grandmother made her recite the Serenity Prayer.  
• Not knowing what to say to my grandmother when she sat at the kitchen table crying knowing that her daughter was not getting better.  
• Getting yelled at for attending a grief support group with my boyfriend at the time's mother who loved me through all of it.  
• Crying on my aunt's bar because I was tired of being told how I didn't love my mother because I wasn't spending every moment by her bedside.
• Not knowing the answer to the question of why my mother was sick because she was so young.  
• Sitting next to my mother hoping she might have something special to pass down to me only to listen to her apathetic voice saying it doesn't matter who ended up with things, because none of it mattered.  
• Watching a woman begin fighting as hard as she could, only to end up laying in a hospital bed after receiving radiation. Listening to doctors convince her to take medicine even though they knew it probably wouldn't heal her.  
• Never hearing her tell me that she was going to die. That the medicine wasn't working, but overhearing it in conversations my grandmother was having. Watching my mother despair knowing her life was finished.  
• Watching Hospice come to the house during the final weeks. Telling us what to expect and how much longer.  
• Entering her room one day, and in a moment that seemed both chaotic (as I watched my grandparents cleaning up the waste the body releases before it ends its existence), and surreal, I sat at her bedside and watched as her chest began to move in a sharp, shallow way. I watched her breathe her last breaths, while my grandparents were oblivious that their daughter was leaving. Seeing the sadness, and hearing my grandfather ask me if she was dead, I got up and left the room to call my aunt. Mom had died.  
• I don't remember crying. There were people, plants, caskets to go pick out, rides to the church, the cemetery. The awkwardness of wondering what my aunt and grandmother would feel that my dad had brought my step-mom to the funeral.  
• Wondering where I would live now. My dad lived in a different city, but all my friends and family lived there. I was fifteen. I was self-absorbed. Looking back, I was completely detached and in a foreign land of confusion with no guide. It was survival. It was unexpected tragedy in a disconnected and messed up family.  

Why does this haunt me today? That's easy to pinpoint. I'm healing from a surgical procedure. It was nothing serious, in fact, when I'm all healed, my quality of life will be even better than before. And it was great before, so realistically, I should just be enjoying my time of recovery. Instead, as I lay here with my feet propped up, and my daughter and son have to help me with even the smallest of tasks, I hate it. Not because I don't think it's good for them to learn how to serve others, but because I'm still being compulsively and excessively bothered in my spirit by this haunting. I transfer my fear that my children will have an image like I did singed into their psyches unreasonably, and I despise it. As I sit here I face the fact that even twenty-one years later, the past still has a hold on me. Yes, there was tragedy in my life, but I desire to be as Joseph and see that what was meant for evil or despair, God meant for good. My life is not anyone else's, it's mine how He purposes it. I am His and what that promises me is liberty under His grace, abundant love from a powerful, loving Father and a promise that He will never leave or forsake me. That is a power and promise I never saw nor heard through my family in our time of tragedy. It's a horrible and terrifying way to face suffering. But may the Lord allow it to be different with me. May I be a faithful servant through suffering, hardship, and blessing. I swing my sword and may the haunting go away.


 


 

Guilty As Charged

     It was early morning and Jesus was sitting down teaching all the people who were coming to Him.  A large scuffling of feet mixed with a woman's wailing distracted them.  With strong hands cuffed around her arms, a group of prominent religious leaders dragged the woman towards the center of the court and set her firmly in front of Jesus.

"Teacher, this woman is an adulterer!  We bear witness that she was in the very act of it when we caught her," the men spoke, disgusted at her wretchedness.

"Now, in the Law Moses commanded to us, it says that such a woman is a sinner and should be stoned.  What then do You say we should do?" they asked, their hearts filled with malicious intent to trap and accuse Jesus.

Jesus was quiet and stooped down to write on the ground.  Impatient with His pause, the prominent religious leaders persisted that Jesus give them His answer.  As Jesus stood up before them, the group of men hushed ready to hear His verdict.

"He who is without sin among you, let him be the first to throw a stone at her," he said to them.

After speaking this, He stooped down and continued writing on the ground.  The group of leaders slowly began to dwindle, leaving one by one, the older men first.  Only Jesus was left, and the woman in the center.  He stood up and said to her, "Woman, are there any left that accuse you?  Is anyone left that condemns you?"  "No one, Lord," she answered.  Then Jesus said, "Neither do I condemn you.  Go, and from now on do not sin any more." (John 8:1-11 paraphrased)

I sat amazed at the scene that had just played in front of me.  My heart began to stir with affection towards the man called Jesus as I realized the depth of His words.  Of all those men, who among them had legitimate claim as one without sin?  Who had the right to throw the first stone at the guilty, adulterous woman? ... Jesus did.  But what did He throw at her?... Grace, mercy and freedom from condemnation.

     

A painful death of stones hitting her body with brute force would have been the lawful punishment due her had Jesus not spoken for her.  But for His unmerited favor at that moment, the story would have had an alternate ending.  I wanted to follow the woman.  What happened after she left the temple?  Did she run home relieved and a bit confused?  As she sat at her table the next morning was she filled with awe?  Did a sudden giddiness that her many sins had been forgiven by the man others were calling "the Lord" fill her soul?  Did her giddiness turn into an unexplainable joy?

     

There were others that witnessed the scene.  The people had gathered to listen to Him teach, and what a lesson He had taught them in that moment!  Perhaps they were amazed.  Quite possibly there were many sinners in the crowd around Him.  Sinners who had come to the temple to present offerings to cover their guilt.          

    

Did they go tell others, catching the ears of others like her?  Others like the harlot who had the audacity to enter into a prominent religious leader's house upon hearing that Jesus was there.  Bringing an Alabaster jar of expensive perfume, she did a taboo thing and entered the scene without a head covering.  As she stood behind Him weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears, wiping them with her uncovered strands, kissing them and pouring precious perfume over them.  Because she had been forgiven much, being near Jesus and worshipping Him was worth more than the approval of the arrogant man reclining at the table silently scoffing her as a sinner.  Accusation against her mattered not because she was desperate for what she heard Jesus could bestow on her, an unclean sinner.

     

Jesus made certain she didn't leave His presence disappointed.  In a brilliant moment, He praised her before her accusers, pouring over her the forgiveness for her many sins and a peace that would pass all understanding.  "Go in peace," he said.  She was now saved by His unmerited favor.

     

Just as Jesus did for the woman caught in adultery, He did for the harlot who washed His feet.  There was no need for a guilt offering that day.  Jesus covered them.  He bestowed forgiveness over them.  Sinners having nothing to offer but guilt, tears and vulnerability, He spoke on their behalf.  He so compassionately and lovingly covered them with what only He could give.  He was enough.

  

     "Then He said to Thomas, 'Put your finger here and observe My hands.  

Reach out your hand and put it in my side.  Don't be an unbeliever, but a believer.'" (John 20:27)

Lord, stir in us a new longing this Easter.  A longing for what only You can give, making us believers, restoring any doubt that we might have in You.  May Your death and propitiation for our sins be enough.  There is no longer any need for guilt offerings because You speak on our behalf.  As we kneel at Your feet and pour out our souls, bestow on us words that are life giving.  Words of peace for our broken souls.  Restore in us a faith and belief that it's You.  You are enough for us.  Amen  

          

    

    

    

If God's the Team Captain,Then I'm Not Playing

     Recently, during an otherwise casual conversation, a good friend of mine asked me a very difficult question.  I say it's difficult because I personally know people who attend certain churches depending on how this question is answered, and people who choose not to attend church because of how it's answered.  Her question was based on what she had been reading and learning in scripture, when God called a people to Himself through Abraham, a people He entered into covenant with and blessed.  A chosen nation.  Her question?  Why would a loving God not choose everyone?  Why did He choose through Abraham?

 Great question.  Hard question.  My first tendency was to shrug my shoulders and say,  I have no idea, and move the conversation elsewhere.  But I was gently reminded of the verse that says I need to be ready to share the hope in which I profess.  I do profess a belief in the LORD, the same Lord she was asking about, and she knew it.  No running could escape the fact that I had just been hit hard and a response was desired.  I immediately prayed that the Lord would shut my stupid mouth so that I wouldn't rattle off some nonsensical thing.  I love my friend, so I wanted to give her the most solid answer I could give within my limited understanding of an all-powerful, all-knowing God.  

Suddenly, it hit me clearly that her question wasn't one pertaining to theology, in fact, she had no idea of anything in that realm.  Her question had everything to do with the nature of God.  She wanted to know about Him.  Isn't God supposed to be loving?  In her mind, a God that would choose this man Abraham and not others isn't characteristic of a loving God.  A loving God would choose everyone.

The best visual I came up with at that moment was the one of adoption.  I have a brother because of the process of adoption.  I know many couples who have flown to international destinations, in all cases more than once, to adopt children.  We see celebrities with tons of money, and abundant resources adopt children from all over the world.  I asked her what her feeling is of people like this?  What is her overall perception of people who go into orphanages and choose a child, or more than one child to adopt?  Does she consider them unloving because they don't choose all of the children? Sure, a valid argument could be that those people aren't God and are bound by laws, money, and other circumstances beyond their control.  Had they more money or ability, they could adopt more.  But the main question pointed back to the person doing the adopting.  Did she consider them unloving because they chose a specific child to adopt and enter into familial relationship with?

The Bible teaches the truth that God is love, and love encompasses everything He chooses to do.  From Genesis to Revelation, a beautiful picture is painted. The all-powerful, all-knowing God who walked with Adam and Eve in the garden, appeared to Moses and revealed His name, YHWH, meaning I AM.  The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob went before His people and behind His people protecting and continually forgiving them for their transgressions and disobedience to Him as Lord and father.  He chose to send warnings through prophets, established the greatest kings that ever ruled over Israel, and out of His love came to walk among us, as one of us, in Jesus.  He demonstrated His love to us by choosing to lay down his life, allowing himself to be beaten, slapped, mocked, denied, and nailed on a wooden cross, a most humiliating and criminal way to die.

Do we sometimes revert back to junior high or high school, when we're standing in line waiting to be picked by the team captain, you know, the popular, athletic kid, and feel our face become hot because we're the last to be picked?  Do we say, if God is going to be team captain, then I'm not playing because He only picks the pretty, holy people, one of whom I never will be, or would want to be for that matter?

Did God choose the man named Abraham?  Yes.  Why did he choose him?  I honestly don't know.  I don't even want to think that I can fathom what God is doing.  I do know that God's track record proves itself showing Him to choose from all ends of the spectrum, from the adulterers to the virgin, from the tax-collector to the poor in spirit, from those wrestling with demons, to the ones who are diseased.  He chooses from those who are well-educated and religiously trained, to those everyone else rejects.  He chooses women, kings, cupbearers, slaves, the list goes on.  If we seriously consider what He has done, and continues to do, it's clear that He deserves all the credit in the world, because despite what biases we might carry, He is and always will be loving.

He Takes Notices

 So the latest news is... Haiti needs help and the world is falling apart.  The orphan rate is rising as I write this and our bank accounts can barely cover our bills much less take care of the world's needs.  We are made to feel guilty and pitied because we don't know what it means to live simply.  We own houses that have carpeting instead of mud floors, roofs made with tiled shingles instead of straw, and a pantry containing food.  We've cut back, cut out, and trimmed, given LOTS of money and still we are chastised for owning too much.  We're American; therefore, we are gluttonous, arrogant, and selfish.  It's our responsibility to take care of people who are oppressed, down and out, uneducated, and stricken with poverty.  We are faced with one of two extremes.  We have abundance and others don't, so shame on us.  Or, we need to embrace the American dream.  It's our God given right to pursue those things.  We're damned if we do, damned if we don't.

I watched the documentary, "Reporter" on television two days ago.  The journalist traveled into the Congo documenting the effects the many years of civil war has had on their country.  Passing through the small villages that had been pillaged, he faced starving people, bitter people, and confused people.  With diamond mines and abundant resources at its fingertips, the country has the potential to be one of the richest in the world.  But instead, it's one of the most poverty stricken.  The reporter wrote that in the end, it was difficult to maintain hope the poverty would cease. Interestingly though, he didn't leave feeling guilty.  He left with a desire for the people of the Congo to one day share in the blessing that is having food, strong shelter and peace.  

Feeling overwhelmed and saddened by the heartbreaking images, I was reminded of the Israelites in Exodus, Chapter 1.  The Israelites were oppressed under taskmasters who ruthlessly beat and controlled them.  Verses 13 & 14, "They worked the Israelites ruthlessly and made their lives bitter with difficult labor in brick and mortar, and in all kinds of fieldwork.  They ruthlessly imposed all this work on them."  The fear that their newborn sons were going to be killed was so great that it caused one Levite woman to prepare a papyrus basket and place her son in the Nile, watching as he was rescued by Pharaoh's daughter.  That baby boy was soon named Moses and was raised in Egypt, the land in which his own people were enslaved.

How interesting...

Moses grew up as an Egyptian and when he later fled to Midian, he was recognized as an Egyptian, not a Hebrew.  He stayed in Midian and was given the comforts of a place to live, a wife and a son.  He acquired all of this while his own people suffered harshly.  Do we chastise Moses?  Couldn't he have used his influence as the grandson of the Pharaoh to make some changes and stop the oppression?  After all, he did observe it with his own eyes.  Or maybe Pharaoh was just too big and powerful to fight against.  It's not fair of us to judge Moses.  That's God's business, not ours.  

But just as Moses had observed the suffering with his own eyes, someone else had been observing too.  The Israelites cried out because of their suffering, and "God saw the Israelites, and He took notice." vs 25 (emphasis mine)

He... took... notice.  I am reminded with these three words that perhaps it's not always up to me to rescue everyone who is oppressed and poverty stricken.  Perhaps it's not even America as a whole.  Is it possible that it's up to God?  That He is the one who sees and takes notice and decides when it's time for His people to be rescued?  And is it possible that He'll choose to use those recognized as Haitians, Ugandans, Africans, Chinese, etc. to go back into their countries and bring their own out of the oppression?  Who would know the Chinese better than those born and raised in China?  Who would know the biases and prejudices between tribes and villages better than those who were raised in them?

Is it a far stretch to imagine that among all of those hurting and suffering in Haiti, the Congo, or any poverty stricken area there isn't one child of His groaning and crying out to God on behalf of his or her people?  Can I be comforted knowing that God sees the suffering, and will choose when the time is right to liberate His people from their oppression?  Praise be the answer is undoubtedly, Yes.

God is not fooled.  He knows of the sufferings and pains of all who are oppressed by dictators, sickness, hard times, forced labor, beatings, hunger, poverty, and sexual abuse.  He knows and He takes notice.  It will never fall solely on us.

I don't know about you, but that encourages me.  




        

Getting My Hands Dirty

     I wonder how many of us have had our fill today. Our fill of food, fill of struggle, fill of pleasantry. We have all been filled with something. One of the things I've been filled with is the thought of poverty. Not poverty in the context of money, but poverty in the context of destitute living. As I was cleaning up my desk, I came across a notecard on which I had written:

"He who works his land will have abundant food, but the one 

who chases fantasies will have his fill of poverty." (Proverbs 28:19) 

     As a person who has no problem allowing my imagination to take me to faraway places, this is such a vital verse for me. So often I catch myself sitting around chasing fantasies in my head.  I began wondering if anyone else does the same. How many of us are foolishly praying for our territory to be expanded when it's comprised of nothing but barren soil?  Do we really want more of nothing?  Are we sitting around waiting for the "thing" that we believe will lead us to the happily-ever-after instead of shoving our hands in the dirt and working our land?

• Do I desire to raise God-fearing, respectful children, but succumb to them when they throw their fits when I say no? 
• Do I desire to lose weight, but refuse to acknowledge my poor eating habits and refuse to exercise using busyness or lack of interest as an excuse? 
• Do I desire a great relationship with my husband, but refuse to admit where I might be failing, ready to point the finger at him? 
• Do I desire to cultivate strong friendships, but bail at the first sign of hardship, disagreement, or difficult circumstance?
• Do I desire a deep relationship with the Lord, but refuse to spend time praying or studying the Bible? 

     I can think of so many more. The point is, all of the beginning scenarios are only fantasies if I'm not willing to get my hands dirty and start cultivating from the ground up. I've got to examine the soil around me, and most importantly, in me. What needs to be added? What needs to be cleared away? I'm learning that until I'm willing to sweat, and start digging, I'll never grow a crop much less an abundance of food. If all I do is chase the possibilities, the fantasies, I will end up living in a destitute state, with my fill of poverty.
     So does this mean that I'm going to stop dreaming and envisioning wonderful possibilities? Not hardly. But I am praying that the fantasies won't be purely fiction once I begin to work this ground around me. And I pray that out of the abundance of food, the Lord might allow me to share it with others who might be needing a little bit of sustenance while they work their own land.

Because You Say So

     Why do I continue to doubt God?  Maybe it's because I'm a human being with only a finite capability to understand the world around me.

     I get so encouraged reading about the moments in scripture when Jesus's own disciples grappled with their doubt.  Even though they physically walked side-by-side with Jesus, that didn't change the fact that they, like me, were nothing but clueless humans trying to understand what the all-knowing God was doing.

   Take Simon Peter for instance.  In Luke, chapter 5,  he and his business partners were going about the normal routine of washing their nets on the shore.  After a long, hard night of fishing they caught nothing.  Perhaps they were tired and frustrated about that.  Or maybe they knew that that was all part of being fishermen -- sometimes the nets come back empty.  Either way, they were done for the day.

     Enter Jesus.  Borrowing Simon Peter's boat, he asked Simon to put out a little from shore so he could sit and teach the people from it.  After he finished teaching them the word of God, he told Simon to take him out to deep waters for a catch.  Watch Peter's response...

     "Simon answered, 'Master, we've worked hard all night and haven't caught anything.  But because you say so, I will let down the nets.'" (Luke 5:5)

     What was his initial reaction?  He questioned Jesus.  Do you hear the hint of doubt in his statement?  Peter couldn't stop it from coming out, Um, excuse me master, we have already worked hard all night, and we caught nothing.  Doubting and questioning the master's plan and request, Peter was once again impulsively reacting without thinking. 

     But as many of us impulsive people do, he quickly recovered.  But because you say so, I will do it.  What happend next overwhelmed Simon and his companions to the point that the nets began to break, the  boat began to sink, and his business partners had to come help him out.  There was such a miraculous catch of fish that Simon and his companions were astonished.  Filled with healthy fear and awe, Simon worshipfully fell at the feet of his Master, proclaimed him as Lord, and confessed that he was a sinful man.  It was a pivotal moment for Simon, James and John; the moment that led them to leave everything, follow Jesus and become true "fishers-of-men."

     How often do I doubt like Simon Peter did.  Um, excuse me Lord, I've been doing that and it hasn't worked.  And how often do I respond with a shrug of my shoulders, a raise of my brow, followed by, Okay Lord.  I don't know how that's going to work, but because you say so, I'll go ahead and do it.  The state of my heart in that moment isn't one of worshipful obedience, it's one full of doubt and arrogant disbelief of my master's ability to see the bigger picture.

     But thankfully, the Lord's view isn't limited like mine.  He ignores my disbelief, takes what I see as impossibility and turns it into the miraculous, leading me to fall at his feet in reverent awe and healthy fear, confessing that I am but a sinner.  Encouragingly, he tells me not to fear, and uses that moment to increase my faith, so that I will have no other option than to learn to trust, leave everything behind and follow Him.    

    

    

A Tomato on the Vine

     Ever heard the cliche, "God works in mysterious ways?" Would using a can of chunky tomato sauce be considered a mysterious way?

    
     As I was making dinner, I noticed the heading "Hurry Up and Wait" on the label of the tomato sauce.  I immediately identified with that particular saying. There always seems to be a sense of urgency rushing inside of me. I rush, rush, rush and most of the time I end up having to wait for something (or nothing) to happen. I was interested to know what the writer meant with his hurry up and wait comment so I continued reading.

"Growing the sweetest tomatoes required more patience than you would ever imagine. The soil needed the richest nutrients and the vines needed tender-loving care. Each and every tomato needed many days basking in the warm sunshine. Great flavor could not be rushed. All this hard work has been rewarded with those delicious organic treasures ready to accent your recipes!"

     As I watched the deep red sauce pour into the pot, I wondered if any of us have really taken the time to understand the hard work and patience it requires to grow a tomato. My guess would be that most of us haven't. But the man on the can, who smiles proudly while holding a cluster of vine-ripened tomatoes, has and does. He knows and understands the hard work that must go into it because he is in the tomato growing business.

    
     I then felt a little nudging in my soul to go deeper with that thought. Had I ever taken the time to understand the hard work and patience it requires to grow a person? Do I truly understand the patience it requires to care for someone from the moment they are planted to the point of maturity?

    
     To this question, my shallow and sarcastic response was, "yeah, I have children." But as I delved a little deeper, and really pondered it, I realized that I had to change my answer. Having children gives me a taste of what it requires to raise a person, but not to grow them from the inside out. 

    
     I can teach and encourage my children, but ultimately, I have no control over their reactions and responses as they encounter the world around them. I have no way of forcing my child to get rid of jealousy. I have no power to change my child's lack of motivation to do school work, or to get rid of the anxiety he/she feels. No, those issues are a reflection of what's going on inside their hearts. It's bad fruit growing on the branch. If I could reach in and prune those detrimental emotions, I would do it. But I can't. And just as I can't do it for my children, I am reminded that I cannot do it for myself.   

    
     Jesus teaches that he is the vine and his Father is the gardener.  "No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine." He doesn't stop there. "Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me."  No branch, not even one, can grow good fruit on its own, it needs Him. And just as the branch cannot do it, neither can I, not by myself.  He is the vine from which I need to grow. He doesn't expect me to have the strength or the power to change my heart. He is the patient grower providing me all the richest nutrients my soul needs. Quite simply, I am like a tomato growing from the Vine.

    
      My growth will not happen overnight. It cannot be rushed. Neither I nor my loved ones around me are professionals in the tomato growing business. We can encourage and support one another, but we need to understand that we are growing in this cluster together. And that is going to require more patience than we will ever imagine.

    

     Philippians 1:6  "Being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." I have confidence that God is not going to abandon His tomato growing business leaving us to wither and die. No, He planted this seedling as well as the seedlings around me. Although He had full knowledge of the work we would require to grow into maturity, He planted us anyways, promising that He, the perfect gardener, will see us through from seedling to ripened tomato.

What an encouragement.

Zombies, Skeletons and Vampires

What do zombies, hanging skeletons and vampires have in common?

They're all dead.


Halloween is upon us and if I didn't know any better, I would think that I live in the local cemetery. Our neighborhood is filled with kids, young and old alike, and for some reason mock gravestones, hanging skeletons, grim reapers and the creepiest, bloodiest things you can find are what they want to set out for Halloween. It's cool, mom.


The funny thing is most of them would probably pee their pants if they were to come across zombies, hanging skeletons or vampires. Zombies would eat them, hanging skeletons would warn them that something bad is going on in the neighborhood, and a vampire would suck the blood clear out of them until they were dead. No more children.

Morbid, right? Yes, it is Halloween after all.

I was reading Ephesians chapter two and came across the verses, "As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins, in which you used to live when you followed the ways of this world and of the ruler of the kingdom of the air, the spirit who is now at work in those who are disobedient.  All of us also lived among them at one time, gratifying the cravings of our sinful nature and following its desires and thoughts.  Like the rest, we were by nature objects of wrath."


Hmmm... how fitting.  


Perhaps there is a way to use all of this "scary stuff" to talk about death.  We all know what it means to be dead physically.  But to take it a bit deeper, what does it mean to be dead spiritually?   

Well, since it is Halloween, I have paraphrased the verse above, Ephesians 2:1-2, using pop culture references.  Fitting into the genre of horror and the most recent craze of zombies and vampires it is a metaphor about being dead in your sins and transgressions.      

I was a zombie, following a ruler, a spirit who is at work in those who are wreaking havoc and mischief. I was the walking dead, searching to satisfy my craving for flesh, following the ways of zombieland. Those ways did nothing to give me life. In fact, just as a vampire sucks all the blood out of its victim, so did the world around me, making me even more of a zombie. Everything about that world, it's smell, the way it looked, even its voice seduced me. I craved everything that was separate from God, following my primal nature, putting all my needs above anyone else's. I devoured and destroyed anything that stood in my way in order to feed my craving for flesh. By my nature as the walking dead, I was doomed to return to the grave.

That is definitely a gruesome and ugly picture.  But thankfully, there is good news.  

But because of his great love for me, God, who is rich in mercy, made me alive with Christ even when I was the walking dead -- it is by his voluntary and loving favor, his merciful and loving character that I was saved from being a zombie forever. I was brought back to life. I was born again.

Halloween is a holiday where we are encouraged to celebrate the sinister, mock death, and act a bit devilish. As I walk around this weekend and look at all the creepy images of blood and death, the "scary stuff," I pray that our hearts might be encouraged by the promise in Isaiah. One day, the Lord Almighty is going to swallow up death forever.   

"And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, 'Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and he will be their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.'"  (Revelation 21:3-4)

O death where is thy sting?