Category: Nonfiction

Killing God

In the Sinai law system, God provided specific celebrations that would remind the Israelites of important concepts they needed to hold onto. The first celebration of each year was of course Passover and the Festival of Unleavened Bread. This eight day long celebration was intended to remind the people that God had delivered them from a life of servitude and poverty and demonstrated His undefeatable power. The last celebration of the year was the Festival of Shelters. During this celebration the people gathered palm fronds and other greenery traditionally used to greet and honor royalty and used them to build temporary shelters in which they would live for a week. The Festival was an opportunity to remember the years of homelessness and helplessness in the wilderness when every necessity came from the King of Kings. These memories were intended to create the awareness of need for God, of need for a Provider and a Deliverer. They, along with the other sacrifices and celebrations, promised an ultimate deliverance and a final reconciliation with the Anointed One, the Priest-King.

After three years of wandering and willing dependence, Christ sent word ahead and made preparations for entering Jerusalem for the Passover feast. Based on what we are told in scripture, this was unusual behavior for Him. Like all other Jews, he had travelled to Jerusalem without fanfare three times every year for the festivals. This time He made sure His coming would be known. As it was Friday afternoon, the people would have been gathered near the temple preparing for the sacrifices of the following day, or scurrying to their homes to eat the Passover lamb with their families. The temple itself would have been filled with frantic activity as the priests and Levitical workers contained thousands of animals and prepared to lead the people in song and sacrifice.

The moment Jesus approached the city, however, everything changed. Forgotten were the Passover sacrifices, forgotten were the humble meals set on family tables. The palm fronds and greenery of the Festival of Shelters filled the streets as the people hailed the Anointed One and His deliverance. They knew. They had watched and listened for three years. They understood that the moment for which the Sinai law had prepared them had arrived.

The Jewish leaders also understood, and knew that the system upon which they had built power and wealth was ending. Already the people abandoned them for the true King. They were left with only one last-ditch effort to convince the people that He was a fraud. So they killed God.

In their worldly wisdom it was an effective move. In the aftermath even Christ’s closest followers and friends were confused. Had they been wrong? How could man dispose so easily of God? For fifty days the Jewish people lost conviction completely, convinced by a mock trial and a lot of frenzied shouting that they could not believe the evidence of their own senses. The leaders, knowing full well the gravity of what they had done, spent that fifty days looking over their shoulders, exceeding their legal boundaries in order to control any activity that might expose their betrayal. To their horror they could not win. The living God would collect His harvest and their fields would be left to languish.

How often do men fear losing what this world can give them so much that they are willing to kill God to keep it? How often do we as humans allow dramatic lies and frantic noise to convince us that the Anointed One is anything less than the King of Kings? The Jewish leaders knew they hadn’t succeeded, and the knowledge made them paranoid and controlling. For a century they continued to attempt to kill God, knowing already that they could not win. The lamb had sacrificed himself, the Passover had occurred, the Day of Atonement had arrived, and the world had received its King. Will we continue such a worthless fight, or will we abandon our tents for the shelter of the Throne?

The Mercy Seat

On the Day of Atonement the High Priest carried the blood of the sacrificial bull and goat behind the veil and sprinkle it on the mercy seat. This was a symbol of God’s cleansing and sealing the people for His own holy purpose. It was also a solemn moment, as on the Day of Atonement the Lord Himself hovered behind the veil in the form of the cloud by which He guided His people to their promised home.

For the Israelites this was something to be longed for, a connection that only the divinely chosen representative was allowed to make with God. It was a moment for which the entire nation made solemn preparation, a moment of purification for every individual within the nation. It was the day that the death of sin was covered, overwhelmed, with the life of blood.

The word that is translated “mercy seat” literally means atonement, or reconciliation. This ceremony of blood, the solemn entrance to the separated presence, symbolized the restoration of a broken relationship. Because death brought by sin had broken the relationship between God and His children, only life offered could restore it.

The blood of the bull and the goat only symbolized the life, however. In order to offer the blood, the life of the bull and goat had to be ended. Only one could truly offer an unendable life, and that was God Himself.

Because He is Life, Christ is not only the blood spattered on the mercy seat, but the atonement the blood represented. Without the blood, even the High Priest could not approach God or make connection with Him. Without God’s gift of His own unendable life, none of us could approach Him either. The Israelites could not earn reconciliation by perfect law-keeping; in fact, keeping the law was an act of love for a protective father rather than an act of appeal to a vengeful lord. We cannot earn atonement either; our faith is not in our own goodness, but in His loving grace, His offered life. Our obedience is not an attempt to win an argument with a prosecuting lawyer; it is the adoration of a child with his arms around the father’s neck as he is held on the mercy seat itself.

Balanced, or Teetering?

Parenting often feels like walking a tightrope. Without a balance pole. Meeting physical needs of growing bodies can alone feel like an insurmountable challenge. That pair of shoes you just bought last month that already don’t fit. The three hundred dollars worth of food that didn’t last a week. Then there are the emotional needs, theirs and yours. Because in the middle of all the midnight wake-up calls you might lose your sanity. One of the most difficult juggling acts of 21st century parenting is the seeming war between the digital world and the physical world.

With digital technology at the center of almost every occupation, and surrounding every aspect of our lives, we have an urgent need to teach our children how to use it, to wire the areas of the brain stimulated by its use to employ the digital world without becoming sucked into it. At the same time, all the skills previous generations possessed to interact with the physical world must also be preserved. Not just the skills of interpersonal communication without the aid of a keyboard, but basic skills and knowledge of the earth’s practical workings. Its a lot of information to cope with, and often the two worlds seem so opposite that they cannot be reconciled.

So, like everything else, these become family affairs. Minecraft wars with Dad become the preferred recess activity. Old phones get wiped and become tablets filled with games, music, approved video content, and books. Always books. Screen limits don’t apply to reading. Imagination runs wild and ingenuity is trained in the midst of shouts of laughter and good-natured competition. Technology usage becomes irrevocably connected to memories of family and lessons learned gently.

When school is over, with the sun at its warmest and responsibilities fulfilled, the outdoors calls. Those creative connections teased by the digital world are tested against the physical one. The flotsam of the passing winter becomes the building material of childhood games. Sprouting plants will be examined, tested in mud pies, and transplanted into fairy gardens. Fallen branches will become the tools of the trainee woodsman, deadwood and rocks a boy’s rickety fort which will fall down and be rebuilt more securely from the mistakes of the first. Emerging insects and amphibians find temporary homes where they are studied and cared for until the dusk brings release.

Tomorrow it will rain and there will be no outdoor afternoon play. Perhaps they will be lost in the digital world longer than today; perhaps they will transfer their creative energy to dolls, legos, or art. Maybe we will use the extra time for a more thorough cleaning day. Another day will be too beautiful for concentration, and not only the digital world but physical responsibilities will be discarded, forgotten for the joys of dirty hands and outdoor adventures. The acrobat teeters from one side to the other, almost plunging to the ground below with every step, yet using the swing back and forth to stay balanced on that tiny wire that connects us to platform from which our children will be able to stabilize themselves and begin on their own tightrope walk.

“Follow Me”

Purpose

Matthew 4:18-22 “As he was walking along the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon (who is called Peter), and his brother Andrew. They were casting a net into the sea – for they were fishermen. ‘Follow me,’ he told them, ‘and I will make you fish for people. Immediately they left their nets and followed him. Going on from there, he saw two other brothers, James the son of Zebedee, and his brother John. They were in a boat with Zebedee their father, preparing their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father and followed him.”

Priorities

Matthew 10:34-39 “Don’t assume that I came to bring peace on the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I came to turn a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; and a man’s enemies will be the members of his household. The one who loves a father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; the one who loves a son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. And whoever doesn’t take up his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Anyone who finds his life will lose it, and anyone who loses his life because of me will find it.”

Preparation

Mark 8:34-38 “If anyone wants to follow after me, let him deny himself take up his cross, and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life because of me and the gospel will save it. For what does it benefit someone to gain the whole world and yet lose his life? What can anyone give in exchange for his life? For whoever is ashamed of me and my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, the Son of Man will also be ashamed of him when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.”

Preoccupation

Luke 9:57-62 “As they were traveling on the road someone said to him, ‘I will follow you wherever you go.’ Jesus told him, ‘Foxes have dens, and birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.’ Then he said to another, ‘Follow me.’ ‘Lord,’ he said, ‘first let me go bury my father.’ But he told him, ‘Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and spread the news of the kingdom of God.’ Another said, ‘I will follow you, Lord, but first let me go and say goodbye to those at my house.’ But Jesus said to him, ‘No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.'”

Protection

John 10:27-30 “My sheep hear my voice, I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all. No one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand. I and the Father are one.”

Persecution

John 12:23-27 “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Truly I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains by itself. But if it dies, it produces much fruit. The one who loves his life will lose it, and the one who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. If anyone serves me, he must follow me. Where I am, there my servant also will be. If anyone serves me, the Father will honor him. Now my soul is troubled. What should I say – Father, save me from this hour? But that is why I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name.”

The Family That Works Together

It’s a lost art, families working together. Here and there you will find a small family owned business that includes the kids, but thanks to child labor laws that is rare. Our family doesn’t work together because of business. It’s our life.

Our lifestyle is somewhat non-traditional. My husband doesn’t work a traditional job; he is supported by a relatively small congregation to preach the Word. That means he gets to be around all the time, part of the daily dynamic of our household! We homeschool our kids, which means that they are also always around creating the daily dynamic of our household! I don’t work outside the home; I clarify that way because I can assure you that I do indeed work! I choose to stay home with my children because I know God gave them to me for a reason, and my family is my number one priority. We don’t live in a large, up-to-date, fashion-plate mansion (although I certainly wouldn’t argue with the space!). Being a one-income household means that we have what we need, and we have learned over the years what need really means. We never go without and often have extra for some things we want, but by now our wants are actually pretty small.

We do not have central heating/AC in our small, rather ramshackle house, which means that inthe winter we crank up the wood heater. We are blessed to have access to family-owned property where we can cut our own firewood, which saves us hundreds if not thousands of dollars in heating bills every year. Cutting firewood, however, is a big job, which is where the whole family comes into the picture.

That’s dad out in front, setting the example of how to work hard and efficiently. Everyone has a job to do. Dad carefully chooses and fells the trees, cuts them into manageable logs, and makes sure we fit as many of those logs in the wagon as it will hold. The kids fetch and carry, then push and pull. Mom supervises the fetchers so that no one breaks his or her back trying to pick up something too large or tries to get away with carrying less than they are able. (Believe me, both have been attempted. Often.)

These winter afternoons of working together have created some of our favorite memories of family time. Movie nights, game nights, family dinners, and other “normal” modern interactions are all more enjoyable becauseofthebonds and lessons that are built from thise memories. Our kids get along better because those family jobs teach them the skills involved in cooperation. They learn to be observant of other people’s movement in the space around them so they don’t fall over each other or cause injury. They learn to assess a task and figure out the best way to complete it. They learn to communicate with each other in order to work as a team.

Lest you leave this blog thinking that all this gives us perfect children, let me assure you that no one has cleaned off the dining table today and there are toys all over the floor. And you haven’t heard my six year old’s ringwraith screech of fury or seen my four year old’s crocodile tears. As you can see from the photo below, capability does not always equate with desire. That might bother me if I wanted perfection, but I don’t. My children will grow up with values of hard work and family instilled in them both by example and experience. That’s a goal worth taking the time to fulfill.

Enslaved or Redeemed?

When the Israelites saw the Egyptian horses, chariots, and warriors bearing down upon them in the hollow of the mountain with the sea at their side, they forgot everything they had seen over the previous year. They forgot the devastation wrought in Egypt, devastation that had never been seen in a thousand years of Egyptian history. They forgot how their masters had voluntary enriched them as they exited the land, overflowing their baggage with gifts of gold and silver. They forgot that God had so impressed a heathen nation with His sovereignty that many joined themselves to the Israelites in exodus.

In that moment of panicked forgetfulness God’s power to save them never even occurred to them. All they could see was death ahead of them. In that moment the future was too hard, too frightening. They considered even the soul-crushing slavery of Egypt easier than the promise of redemption. They rejected the payment for salvation.

Fortunately for them, God had a long plan for them. On that occasion the moment of redemption would be what taught them to trust the Redeemer. All they had to do was “stand” and “be quiet” while the flood that revealed their road to freedom drowned their enslavers. It was an undeniable lesson, the first of many.

A thousand years later, the remnant of Israel would be offered a different kind of redemption. Jesus would tell them to know truth, the truth of Him, and they would be truly free. Their response was to deny their enslavement, deny the long plan promised by that flood that freed them the first time, and create a new flood of the Savior’s blood to crash down in judgment over their own heads. Only afterward would they understand the redemption of that flood, the redemption they could have seen so easily if only they had remembered to “stand” and “be quiet.”

Today God’s people have been redeemed. The long plan is accomplished, and we are no longer enslaved. Yet time and again when given the opportunity we so easily slip back into those chains of doubt, fear, misplaced reliance on fickle masters and cheap promises. Like the Israelites, we face an uncertain present and decide that at least when we were enslaved we knew what we were getting. It may not have been fun, but it was familiar and we didn’t have to think about it. It felt safe.

What if the Israelites had refused to stand and be quiet? What if they had flown the flag of surrender and allowed Pharaoh to reclaim them? What if they had returned to the uncomfortable security of slavery? What if they hadn’t endured the deprivation and difficulty of the wilderness road? What if they had never stepped across the river into the land of promise? What if they had never allowed themselves to be redeemed?

A Beautiful Mess

Last night I made pumpkin sweet rolls to surprise my kids for Thanksgiving breakfast. I only do things like this for one reason – the reaction. The truth is that I hate cooking, especially baking. It’s tons of work, takes a ridiculous amount of time, and overheats the house. Often ingredients must be mixed just so or the recipe will fail. Cooking for a big family uses soooo many dishes! And we’re not talking about a few small bowls, we’re talking giant mixing bowls, pots, and baking dishes. I’ve never had a dishwasher worth having, and handwashing all those dishes takes forever. Ingredients get everywhere, like the flour all over the counter in my picture, even under countertop appliances which then must be moved for cleaning.

But despite being such a huge part of cooking, none of that is really what it is all about. Something about good food reaches all the way to the soul with power to change, create, and connect. The look on my kids’ faces and their excited squeals, the joyful conversation as they stuff their faces with sticky goodness, the gooey hugs and kisses, all outweigh the things I hate about cooking. The mess becomes as beautiful as those sweet rolls, filled and drizzled all over with delicious joy.

Moment of Truth

It was three in the afternoon. The hilltop and city walls were lit with torches that smoked and sputtered. The sun had disappeared at noon and not even a single star could be seen in the unnaturally dark sky. Crowds of people shoved against a perimeter of Roman shields, shouts and raucous laughter filling the eery darkness. Behind the crowd near the city, desperate weeping could just barely be heard by a careful listener, but went unheeded by anyone. A stern-faced centurion stood within the perimeter at the base of three rough posts on which hung three men. Their bodies dripped sweat and blood from uncountable wounds, and their labored breathing and cries of pain could be heard even above the crowd.

Though one of the crucified men railed furiously at the crowd and echoed their taunts, and another hung limp and unresponsive, the crowds attention seemed to be focused on the man hanging on the center pole. His body was so badly mauled as to be barely recognizable, and sticky blood oozed from the thorny crown shoved deep into his skull. A moment before he had uttered a single cry of abandonment, his voice filled with pain. It was that cry that had riled the crowd and prompted the weeping.

As the mob began to quiet once more, the man shouted in a voice not weakened by hours of torture, a voice that echoed from the city walls and left a hush hovering over the hilltop. His head fell forward in the silence, his agonized breathing as still as the mob.

Immediately the mountain shook, throwing many in the throng to the ground. Despite the quaking of the earth, a wild shout went up from the mountain, a hideous celebration of death. The weeping women had fallen on their faces and lay wailing in despair, held by a few men who gazed at the dead man with stricken eyes. Only the centurion and his soldiers, fighting to maintain their footing at the top of the rocky hill overlooking the valley, saw what happened beyond the frenzied crowd.

The earthquake had shaken open the many sealed tombs in the hillside, leaving gaping holes out of which walked living figures trailing strips of burial linen. The figures left the tombs and made their way up the mountain into the city, leavimg the centurion gaping in terrified fascination. His eyes travelled to the drooping figure hanging above him, and his trembling knees gave out. He fell against the pole, shaking hands gripping its trunk, forehead resting against lifeless feet. He glanced over his shoulder at the people, who no longer tried to break the shield line now that their hated enemy was dead. No one seemed to have noticed anything that had just happened. Jewish leaders, their meticulously groomed beards stiff over their embroidered robes, haggled with an officer over their approaching holy day almost as loudly as they had mocked the dead man a few moments before.

An old woman, staggering in the arms of a man whose face was drawn and set, approached the crosses through a gap in the gradually dispersing crowd. The centurion rose quickly and stepped away, waving to silence the indignant officers attempting to stop such unlawful proceedings. The woman took his own place at the victim’s feet, stroking them with her fingers and laying her wet cheek in the blood stains. Her companion stared at the lifeless face above, swallowing repeatedly.

The centurion moved hastily away to the edge of the embankment, removing his helmet and running fingers over his closely cropped hair. His eyes went to the sign above the victim’s head and his mind played the man’s last words over and over. He had chosen to die, the centurion realized with shock. He watched more of the dead leaving the tombs, understanding that somehow this man who had behaved so strangely on the cross had been responsible. With sudden conviction, he strode back to the cross and rested his hand on the waiting man’s shoulder. “This man raised the dead but chose to die,” he said simply as the man nodded mute agreement. “He could only have been the son of God.”

Not Normal

As anyone who follows my blog knows, I have been silent for several weeks. This was not by choice, but by circumstance. I want to try to explain why because I hope to encourage others to embrace who they are in whatever situation they may find themselves.

Life is not one size fits all. Every person is an individual with unique characteristics and needs. When individuals are combined into families, the combination of however many individuals are involved becomes a new and unique personality. That sounds complicated enough, but as individuals within the family grow and change, the family personality grows and changes. Puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly one day fit differently the next.

Our family has an extra unique personality. For starters, there are eight of us. Consider the standard occupancy limits on things like vehicles or hotel rooms if you want to grasp how unique that is. In addition, we homeschool all six of our children and have from the beginning; our days are full of living books, hours outside, family projects, and conversation. To add another difference from “normal,” my husband is a preacher, so is present and involved in most daily life instead of only nights and weekends. And on top of all of it, as a family we manage extreme personalities, emotional disorders, and behavioral disorders.

We’ve been growing this family personality for twelve years (longer counting the time my husband and I dated), but it has been four years since the last addition. Until this year. This year God blessed us with our sixth child, a precious boy who needed a family. It was unplanned and unexpected, so the adjustment period has been consuming. We went from officially homeschooling three last year to officially five plus a preschooler thus year. We went from knowing every person in the house intimately to learning how a whole new individual fit into our family personality. Adjusting to the new family personality that individual helped create.

In short, our life has never been “normal,” and the last few months made us even less so. For many, this fact makes us unappealing, even crazy. For others, it makes us a novelty. The truth is that not being normal makes us awesomely normal. There is no such thing as normal; it’s an imaginary construct that we as individuals and families constantly stress ourselves out trying to achieve or at least pretend we have. In our stress and our pretense, we miss out on the beauty and variety of “not normal.” We miss out on everything different individuals have to offer each other.

Because we are not normal, I had to take a break from this aspect of myself as an individual. I had to focus on adding new elements to our family personality. I had to find our new normal. It won’t be the last time our life brings change. It won’t be the last time I have to step back and learn something new. It won’t be the last time I get to experience the beauty of “not normal.”

What If…

In the book of Mark we read about a man who was deathly ill, plagued with leprosy. This man had nothing left to lose, and threw himself at Jesus feet with a poignant faith born of desperate need. “If you are willing, you can make me clean.”

What if Jesus had practiced social distancing? It was the law, after all. The law He had given, in fact. Those who were sick with leprosy (a death sentence at the time and highly contagious) were unclean and anyone who came in contact with them became unclean. Lepers were cast out of society to die a slow, painful, lonely, poverty-stricken death.

What if when the leper fell on his face before Jesus and begged for healing, Jesus had stepped away to a safe distance? What if He had covered his face? What if He had demanded the leper follow the law to be examined by a priest and ritually cleansed before coming into His presence? What if He had ordered every other person nearby to declare themselves unclean from contact with the leper and be ritually cleansed by a priest before allowing them to interact with others, even their own families? What if He didn’t reach out and touch the leper with His own hand, didn’t look into his eyes and say, “I am willing?”

What if the law He had given was not about physical sickness at all? What if it was an object lesson about the importance of separating ourselves from the attitudes and behaviors of those who do not acknowledge God? What if it was about the corruption of a fearful and unbelieving heart? What if it was a reminder to look to Him for heart healing? What if God’s people got it wrong?

What if Jesus had stayed in Heaven? What if He kept His distance from all the corruption of men? What if He didn’t show His face on Earth so that men could know Him? What if He avoided the diseased and the outcasts to appease the misguided and self-absorbed people and to escape their constant verbal abuse? What if He didn’t speak about the depth and the wonder of His covenant, of the Kingdom which is not of this world, and fulfilled the Satan-driven desire of mankind for a perfect and safe physical life? What if He avoided the anger and rejection that tortured His body and broke His heart, that nailed His physical body to a cross and lifted His love so high that no one could avoid seeing it?

What if He didn’t come to be safe or comfortable or admired? What if being saved is not about being safe? What if following His example means I will look different, that I will never be accepted, that I will face misunderstanding and abuse at the hands of other humans? What if I stand beneath His cross, facing the world maskless, fearless, limitless, reaching out to hold the hands of the hopeless and lift them out of the pit?

What if?