08/20/08
Encore!
Jill Carattini
I have never been so tired as I was when I stepped on that plane; neither have I been so happy for so many empty seats. I was dreaming of a two hour nap before I even found my place. Of course, as is usually the case in situations like these, when one is intent on being anti-social and insistent on having earned the right to be so, I found myself not only with a companion, but with an animated, loquacious, first-time traveler. The young woman beside me had been a child as she watched the events of September 11th unfold and had determined then never to travel by airplane--that is, until today, when events reared a need to break her own rule. She was terrified and excited and inquisitive all at once. She also noticed things I’m fairly certain I have never noticed in all my years of travel, commenting with elation, curiosity, or confusion on every single one of them. By the time we landed, I not only had a new friend, I was wide awake to the disheartening reality of all I fail to see around me.
It would seem that repetition has a way of lulling us to sleep; monotony a way of robbing us of sight, or else leaving us in the stupor of disinterest. Real life examples are readily available. How many news stories do we need to hear about violence or suffering, racial oppression or injustice, before we fail to hear them at all? For that matter, how many stories about something small but positive do we really take in before we respond in boredom? How many times do we need to sit on an airplane or see the bird outside our window before the marvel of flight simply goes without notice? Like most adults, we learn to tolerate the repetitious by learning to operate on auto-pilot.
And yet, I am certain, even among the most skilled of auto-pilots, there was a time when we found ourselves, like every child, delighting in the monotonous, longing for another minute with grandpa, another page of the story, another trip down the slide. The incongruity is unmistakable. How can our failure to see be blamed on monotony, unconscious living attributed to the repetitive, when at one point monotony and repetition were not only tolerated but invigorating? Blindness can easily be blamed on the world around us--and there is certainly reason to consider the daily effects of all that bombards our senses--but perhaps this is too easy an answer. Perhaps the scales on our eyes are multiplied not by the many repetitions in life, but by our failure to see life in the many repetitions around us.
Jesus spoke of the kingdom as belonging to the likes of little children, and many have speculated the child’s ability to see the world with wonder as one of the reasons for it. G.K. Chesterton saw the child’s ability to revel in the monotonous as another. The child’s cry for more, reasoned Chesterton, is a quality of the very God who created them. “It is possible that God says every morning, ‘Do it again’ to the sun; and every evening, ‘Do it again’ to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we. The repetition in Nature may not be a mere recurrence; it may be a theatrical encore.”(1)
For the child on the slide or the toddler with a story, “Do it again!” is far from a cry of boredom or routine, but a cry for more of life itself. This is likewise the joy of the psalmist, the cry of the prophets, and the call of Christ: “Consider the lilies, how they grow...if God so clothes the grass of the field...how much more will he clothe you?” (Luke 12:27-28). Jesus asks that we consider the kingdom around us like little children, and thus, something more like God--finding a presence in faithful recurrences, grace in repetition, rumors of another world in the ordinary world around us. Here, even those within the most taxing of life’s repetitions--the daily care of an aging parent, the constant burden on the shoulders of those who fight against injustice, the labor of hope in a difficult place--can find solace. “But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope,” said Jeremiah in the midst of deep lament. “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning...‘The Lord is my portion,’ says my soul, ‘therefore I will hope in him’” (Lamentations 3:22-24, emphasis mine).
Morning by morning, the daily liturgy of new mercies comes with unapologetic repetition to all who will see it, the gift of a God who revels in the creation of yet another daisy, the encore of another sunset, the discovery of even one lost soul.
Jill Carattini is senior associate writer at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Atlanta, Georgia.
Copyright (c) 2008 Ravi Zacharias International Ministries (RZIM)
(1) G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1995), 65-66.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Eyes Fixed on the Shepherd
This story is making its way around. David Jeremiah used it on his blog yesterday from which Ryan Whitley borrowed it for his blog. Now I’m borrowing from him. Good story!
"In his book, A Turtle on the Fencepost, Allen C. Emery tells of a night he spent on the Texas plains with a shepherd who was keeping two thousand sheep. The shepherd prepared a bonfire for cooking supper and providing warmth. The sheep dogs lay down near the fire as the stars filled the sky.Suddenly Emery heard the unmistakable wail of a coyote with an answering call from the other side of the range. The dogs weren’t patrolling at the moment, and the coyotes seemed to know it. Rising quickly, the shepherd tossed some logs on the fire; and in this light, Emery looked out at the sheep and saw thousands of little lights.Emery writes, “I realized that these were reflections of the fire in the eyes of the sheep. In the midst of danger, the sheep were not looking out into the darkness, but were keeping their eyes set toward the shepherd.”
Our society has plenty of grass covered hills that lead many sheep to wander from the flock, believing them to be greener pastures. They decide to trust their own sight rather than the Shepherd’s leadership to provide for their needs. Sports, hobbies, money, work, gadgets, family, relationships, etc. may look appetizing and may be nutritious but if outside the leadership of the shepherd, seemingly good things may be a dangerous distraction. When darkness comes stray sheep will find themselves all alone, still surrounded by delicious grass but completely vulnerable to the enemy.
Hearing again from the mother of Protestant reformer John Calvin, we learn how to avoid the appeal of greener pastures:
“Whatever weakens your reasoning, impairs the tenderness of your conscience, obscures your sense of God, or takes away your relish for spiritual things; in short, if anything increases the authority and power of the flesh over the Spirit, then that to you becomes sin, however good it is in itself.”
Goodness (or pleasure from) a product of creation must not serve as a substitute for the goodness of (and pleasure from) the presence, leadership and blessing of the Creator/Shepherd. His rod and his staff may seem unpleasant as they keep us in line when all is well but are much more appreciated when bashing the roaring lion between the eyes when he tries to devour us. For correction and protection, the rod and staff are sources of comfort to those who trust and have faith in the leadership of the Shepherd. With eyes fixed on him, we can be assured the pastures to which he leads us will be the greenest of all.
Psalm 23:1-6 A PSALM OF DAVID.The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. 2 He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. 3 He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. 4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. 5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. 6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever.
"In his book, A Turtle on the Fencepost, Allen C. Emery tells of a night he spent on the Texas plains with a shepherd who was keeping two thousand sheep. The shepherd prepared a bonfire for cooking supper and providing warmth. The sheep dogs lay down near the fire as the stars filled the sky.Suddenly Emery heard the unmistakable wail of a coyote with an answering call from the other side of the range. The dogs weren’t patrolling at the moment, and the coyotes seemed to know it. Rising quickly, the shepherd tossed some logs on the fire; and in this light, Emery looked out at the sheep and saw thousands of little lights.Emery writes, “I realized that these were reflections of the fire in the eyes of the sheep. In the midst of danger, the sheep were not looking out into the darkness, but were keeping their eyes set toward the shepherd.”
Our society has plenty of grass covered hills that lead many sheep to wander from the flock, believing them to be greener pastures. They decide to trust their own sight rather than the Shepherd’s leadership to provide for their needs. Sports, hobbies, money, work, gadgets, family, relationships, etc. may look appetizing and may be nutritious but if outside the leadership of the shepherd, seemingly good things may be a dangerous distraction. When darkness comes stray sheep will find themselves all alone, still surrounded by delicious grass but completely vulnerable to the enemy.
Hearing again from the mother of Protestant reformer John Calvin, we learn how to avoid the appeal of greener pastures:
“Whatever weakens your reasoning, impairs the tenderness of your conscience, obscures your sense of God, or takes away your relish for spiritual things; in short, if anything increases the authority and power of the flesh over the Spirit, then that to you becomes sin, however good it is in itself.”
Goodness (or pleasure from) a product of creation must not serve as a substitute for the goodness of (and pleasure from) the presence, leadership and blessing of the Creator/Shepherd. His rod and his staff may seem unpleasant as they keep us in line when all is well but are much more appreciated when bashing the roaring lion between the eyes when he tries to devour us. For correction and protection, the rod and staff are sources of comfort to those who trust and have faith in the leadership of the Shepherd. With eyes fixed on him, we can be assured the pastures to which he leads us will be the greenest of all.
Psalm 23:1-6 A PSALM OF DAVID.The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. 2 He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. 3 He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. 4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. 5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. 6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Collapsible Walls
A Slice if Infinity
08/14/08
Collapsible Walls
I'Ching Thomas
At certain times of the year, an extremely ferocious wind from the mountain blows through the city of Bursa in Turkey. This wind, named Lodos by the locals, is so strong that if you were anything short of a 100 pounds, you would be blown off the street when it hits.
A few years ago, when Lodos was making one of its many visits, a grade school building collapsed and tragically killed six schoolchildren. Later, officials blamed the poor structure of the building's walls for the cause of the crash. The public claimed that had the walls been properly constructed according to safe building standards, the school would have been able to withstand the destructive blow of Lodos and the unfortunate incident would not have occurred.
In a separate incident, some musicians were tearing down parts of their house to build a music studio. Imagine their horror when they found newspaper stuffed between the bricks of the walls of the house! Apparently, the contractor appointed to build the house used paper to gap between bricks to save on costs and make more money from the project.
Such reports sound peculiarly like what Jesus warned in one of his parables. In Matthew 7:24–27, he tells of two builders--one wise and another foolish. The houses of both builders look sturdy in fine weather, but the test always comes with the storm. The one who built his foundation on the rock had his house still standing after the rain and flood, but the house of the foolish man came crashing down after the storm, as it was built on sand.
The original audience of this parable knew very well what Jesus was talking about, since theirs was a land known for its torrential storms. Through this familiar analogy, Jesus was warning his followers that only those who take heed of his teachings and live out what they had learned from him will withstand the storms of life and ultimately the final test on judgment day. Any shortcuts or shoddiness will eventually be revealed.
The devotion of those who pretend to have faith, those who simply pay lip service, those who have faith in faith instead of trust in Jesus, will be tested and proven powerless and unable to hold up under pressure. Even those who merely have an intellectual commitment to the teachings of Christ will find that their structure will fool no one when the storms of life come.
In Ezekiel 13:10–13 a similar warning is given to those who cover up the weak wall that they have built with whitewash. The Lord assures that the storm will come and the foundation of those whitewashed walls will be leveled along with the destruction of its builder. Clearly we live at a time in history when the storm is beating endlessly against the foundation of our walls from all directions. Our belief in an absolute standard of morality is confronted by relativism; our conviction in the authority of scripture is challenged; our reverence in the person of Christ is mocked, and our attempt to live a simple lifestyle is constantly distracted by the lure of consumer advertising and its promise of a better life.
Yet, there are no two ways about it: if we are to be like the wise builder, then we must construct our foundation on the rock by practicing the righteousness we have learned.
As Thomas a Kempis writes in The Imitation of Christ, "To many the saying, 'Deny thyself, take up thy cross and follow Me,' seems hard, but it will be much harder to hear that final word: 'Depart from Me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire.'" We will find that the cost demanded of us is no less than a radical submission to the exclusive lordship of Jesus. However, the reward comes when we find our house still standing after the final storm leaves and when the sun breaks through again.
I'Ching Thomas is associate director of training at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Singapore.
08/14/08
Collapsible Walls
I'Ching Thomas
At certain times of the year, an extremely ferocious wind from the mountain blows through the city of Bursa in Turkey. This wind, named Lodos by the locals, is so strong that if you were anything short of a 100 pounds, you would be blown off the street when it hits.
A few years ago, when Lodos was making one of its many visits, a grade school building collapsed and tragically killed six schoolchildren. Later, officials blamed the poor structure of the building's walls for the cause of the crash. The public claimed that had the walls been properly constructed according to safe building standards, the school would have been able to withstand the destructive blow of Lodos and the unfortunate incident would not have occurred.
In a separate incident, some musicians were tearing down parts of their house to build a music studio. Imagine their horror when they found newspaper stuffed between the bricks of the walls of the house! Apparently, the contractor appointed to build the house used paper to gap between bricks to save on costs and make more money from the project.
Such reports sound peculiarly like what Jesus warned in one of his parables. In Matthew 7:24–27, he tells of two builders--one wise and another foolish. The houses of both builders look sturdy in fine weather, but the test always comes with the storm. The one who built his foundation on the rock had his house still standing after the rain and flood, but the house of the foolish man came crashing down after the storm, as it was built on sand.
The original audience of this parable knew very well what Jesus was talking about, since theirs was a land known for its torrential storms. Through this familiar analogy, Jesus was warning his followers that only those who take heed of his teachings and live out what they had learned from him will withstand the storms of life and ultimately the final test on judgment day. Any shortcuts or shoddiness will eventually be revealed.
The devotion of those who pretend to have faith, those who simply pay lip service, those who have faith in faith instead of trust in Jesus, will be tested and proven powerless and unable to hold up under pressure. Even those who merely have an intellectual commitment to the teachings of Christ will find that their structure will fool no one when the storms of life come.
In Ezekiel 13:10–13 a similar warning is given to those who cover up the weak wall that they have built with whitewash. The Lord assures that the storm will come and the foundation of those whitewashed walls will be leveled along with the destruction of its builder. Clearly we live at a time in history when the storm is beating endlessly against the foundation of our walls from all directions. Our belief in an absolute standard of morality is confronted by relativism; our conviction in the authority of scripture is challenged; our reverence in the person of Christ is mocked, and our attempt to live a simple lifestyle is constantly distracted by the lure of consumer advertising and its promise of a better life.
Yet, there are no two ways about it: if we are to be like the wise builder, then we must construct our foundation on the rock by practicing the righteousness we have learned.
As Thomas a Kempis writes in The Imitation of Christ, "To many the saying, 'Deny thyself, take up thy cross and follow Me,' seems hard, but it will be much harder to hear that final word: 'Depart from Me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire.'" We will find that the cost demanded of us is no less than a radical submission to the exclusive lordship of Jesus. However, the reward comes when we find our house still standing after the final storm leaves and when the sun breaks through again.
I'Ching Thomas is associate director of training at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Singapore.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
My Journey to Apologetics
Asking lots of questions has been a characteristic of my personality for as long as I can remember. My reasoning starts with broad purpose and ends with narrow specifics, leaving lots of questions pertaining to details without a defined purpose. “Why?” was a question I learned annoyed most people if asked too often, especially of those in authority, but one I very often needed answered. According to Myers Briggs, I am an ENFP. One of my counseling professors described my mind as a jumbled mess of details, lacking the efficiency of the larger percentage of the population who have brains that neatly process and categorize information. In other words, I have to sort through “the mess” before I can use the details. Efficiency often eludes me since I often never make it to the details. Other stereotypes that apply to me are: “messy,” “scatterbrained,” “not detail oriented,” “visionary,” “dreamer,” etc.
I confessed faith in Christ for the first time when I was eight years old. I think my motives were more informed by wanting to be included when the Lord’s Supper was passed than by conviction. Nevertheless, that was where my journey began.
Not long after my profession of faith, I became aware of a disturbing disparity between what the Bible says and the way people live. I did not interact very well socially. My feelings were easily hurt which made me easy prey for school yard predators. There were occasions I fought back but I typically cried afterward no matter how well I did. My social environment was not very different in church. I went to school with most of the other kids, many of whom were just as mean. I asked my teachers questions but did not get relevant answers. Most of the responses I remember tried to make the Bible relevant to culture, subject to “interpretation.” One response I remember that most notably disturbs me now given its blatant contradiction to Scripture is “God did not make you to be a doormat.” (See “Doormat Theology” on my blog.) I never learned persecution is to be expected. I was never taught the blessing of suffering. I did not understand why I could only reach the “mountaintop” on youth trips. I was unable to connect meaning with rituals like “quiet time.”
Though frustrated, my hunger to find the connection between life and truth led me to believe I was called to ministry. I felt best when I was serving others and adults affirmed me to be a good candidate. School also seemed a reasonable place to find answers. I could not have been more wrong. Education only confused me. The more I learned about church history, theology, and denominationalism the more frustrated I became. I expected to learn how it all fit together but only discovered more and deeper levels of disagreement and conflict. Despite growing in knowledge, my confidence diminished due to learning how little I really knew, how many of my questions remained unanswered, and how many new unanswered questions I discovered. My identity became even less defined as I became less certain of what I believed. I lived in shame for not living up to who I thought I should be. Unable to reconcile the dichotomy of my sinful and spiritual wills, I found comfort in defining my identity by who I hoped to become, choosing to ignore my then present feelings of fear and insufficiency. Despite the many very real spiritual encounters I had with God, I could not claim I was victorious over sin because it was still there. My hope was I would one day overcome it. I tried to act right even though I did not feel right. I tried to hide my weakness under a shroud of self-righteousness, affirmed by the approval of people who could not see through it. I constantly needed approval to maintain my own self-delusion that I was who I pretended to be, confirming my real identity and feelings remained hidden under my disguise.
The resulting despair and anxiety of my addiction and lack of direction were devastating. I looked for answers in counseling but found more contradiction. I discovered counselors, doctors, professors, pastors, and elders are all fallible, categorically proven by the misdirection, misunderstanding and misdiagnosis of people in whom I naively and unrealistically trusted. Opinions were revealed to be worthless in regard to truth. In my despair, I drifted further and further from the identity I hoped to achieve.
Eventually, like the prodigal son who was eating with the pigs, I accepted God was my only hope and His truth was the only constant, reliable source I could trust. I began my search for answers again, driven even harder by my even more desperate need to find them. I learned a great deal more in seminary and found answers to most of my questions, yielding confidence unlike I ever experienced. However, I still lacked the means to connect them all together. Armed with the sword of truth, I wielded it as a weapon in defense of myself rather than God during a time of brutal warfare with the enemy. Claiming for myself the integrity of the truth, I boldly sliced my attackers with proud indifference to their pain. I used it to expose weakness in others and defend my own. Proudly undefeated, I found myself all alone. Devastated yet again, this time by pride and self-pity, I discovered apologetics, through which God took my sword and used it against me. In solitude, he cut me to the depths of my heart, inflicted excruciating pain, exposed every dark shadow in my heart with blinding light and painfully rescued me from the darkness, bringing to convergence truth I thought I had learned, experiences I thought I understood. The scales fell from my eyes, opening them to the new blindness of His glory revealed, thus finally and objectively defining my identity and purpose.
Apologetics provides the discipline my brain needs to make sense of the quandaries of daily life, starting with the broad purpose, maintaining its integrity as it is applied to all the specifics, defining the purpose of every detail. It is a powerful battle strategy against the enemy. It is a Biblical model, especially demonstrated by Paul. I have continued to devour apologetic literature since I opened the first book, unable to consume enough. Its function for me is like a key needed to break a complex code to open the door to fellowship with God and man. It brings order to confusion. It is beyond opinion. It produces unity from diversity. It is a vehicle for exploring the depths of God that can be explored. Not everyone needs it. Thankfully, not everyone thinks like me. Since I need it, I’m thankful God provided it for me and used it to change me for the purpose of using it to change others.
I confessed faith in Christ for the first time when I was eight years old. I think my motives were more informed by wanting to be included when the Lord’s Supper was passed than by conviction. Nevertheless, that was where my journey began.
Not long after my profession of faith, I became aware of a disturbing disparity between what the Bible says and the way people live. I did not interact very well socially. My feelings were easily hurt which made me easy prey for school yard predators. There were occasions I fought back but I typically cried afterward no matter how well I did. My social environment was not very different in church. I went to school with most of the other kids, many of whom were just as mean. I asked my teachers questions but did not get relevant answers. Most of the responses I remember tried to make the Bible relevant to culture, subject to “interpretation.” One response I remember that most notably disturbs me now given its blatant contradiction to Scripture is “God did not make you to be a doormat.” (See “Doormat Theology” on my blog.) I never learned persecution is to be expected. I was never taught the blessing of suffering. I did not understand why I could only reach the “mountaintop” on youth trips. I was unable to connect meaning with rituals like “quiet time.”
Though frustrated, my hunger to find the connection between life and truth led me to believe I was called to ministry. I felt best when I was serving others and adults affirmed me to be a good candidate. School also seemed a reasonable place to find answers. I could not have been more wrong. Education only confused me. The more I learned about church history, theology, and denominationalism the more frustrated I became. I expected to learn how it all fit together but only discovered more and deeper levels of disagreement and conflict. Despite growing in knowledge, my confidence diminished due to learning how little I really knew, how many of my questions remained unanswered, and how many new unanswered questions I discovered. My identity became even less defined as I became less certain of what I believed. I lived in shame for not living up to who I thought I should be. Unable to reconcile the dichotomy of my sinful and spiritual wills, I found comfort in defining my identity by who I hoped to become, choosing to ignore my then present feelings of fear and insufficiency. Despite the many very real spiritual encounters I had with God, I could not claim I was victorious over sin because it was still there. My hope was I would one day overcome it. I tried to act right even though I did not feel right. I tried to hide my weakness under a shroud of self-righteousness, affirmed by the approval of people who could not see through it. I constantly needed approval to maintain my own self-delusion that I was who I pretended to be, confirming my real identity and feelings remained hidden under my disguise.
The resulting despair and anxiety of my addiction and lack of direction were devastating. I looked for answers in counseling but found more contradiction. I discovered counselors, doctors, professors, pastors, and elders are all fallible, categorically proven by the misdirection, misunderstanding and misdiagnosis of people in whom I naively and unrealistically trusted. Opinions were revealed to be worthless in regard to truth. In my despair, I drifted further and further from the identity I hoped to achieve.
Eventually, like the prodigal son who was eating with the pigs, I accepted God was my only hope and His truth was the only constant, reliable source I could trust. I began my search for answers again, driven even harder by my even more desperate need to find them. I learned a great deal more in seminary and found answers to most of my questions, yielding confidence unlike I ever experienced. However, I still lacked the means to connect them all together. Armed with the sword of truth, I wielded it as a weapon in defense of myself rather than God during a time of brutal warfare with the enemy. Claiming for myself the integrity of the truth, I boldly sliced my attackers with proud indifference to their pain. I used it to expose weakness in others and defend my own. Proudly undefeated, I found myself all alone. Devastated yet again, this time by pride and self-pity, I discovered apologetics, through which God took my sword and used it against me. In solitude, he cut me to the depths of my heart, inflicted excruciating pain, exposed every dark shadow in my heart with blinding light and painfully rescued me from the darkness, bringing to convergence truth I thought I had learned, experiences I thought I understood. The scales fell from my eyes, opening them to the new blindness of His glory revealed, thus finally and objectively defining my identity and purpose.
Apologetics provides the discipline my brain needs to make sense of the quandaries of daily life, starting with the broad purpose, maintaining its integrity as it is applied to all the specifics, defining the purpose of every detail. It is a powerful battle strategy against the enemy. It is a Biblical model, especially demonstrated by Paul. I have continued to devour apologetic literature since I opened the first book, unable to consume enough. Its function for me is like a key needed to break a complex code to open the door to fellowship with God and man. It brings order to confusion. It is beyond opinion. It produces unity from diversity. It is a vehicle for exploring the depths of God that can be explored. Not everyone needs it. Thankfully, not everyone thinks like me. Since I need it, I’m thankful God provided it for me and used it to change me for the purpose of using it to change others.
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