Nonfiction – Page 12 – The Word Worker

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.”

Book Review: A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle

In my quest to read aloud all of my childhood favorites to my own children, this was the latest challenge. It is a challenging read in many ways, although as a child I simply enjoyed it for the adventure. I had no idea at the time how much my heart was being shaped.

Three unlikely heroes – the children Meg, Charles Wallace, and Calvin – are summoned to cross time and space in order to save their long-missing father. The villain is evil itself, centralized in a disembodied brain on a far-distant planet, but with shadows that threaten to engulf Earth itself. The children are the only ones capable of rescuing their father, according to the beings of light that summon them, but before they can succeed they must face the potential darkness within themselves and learn to banish it.

Though the language is simple, the lessons for the reader are deep. Love is more rare but stronger than hate. Emotions are only as bad or good as how we use them. Cold logic can be dangerous if misapplied. Confidence and arrogance are not the same thing. Character traits are neither good or bad; their nature depends upon their application. Evil disguises itself as order, safety, equality, and comfort, but truth is always discernable for those willing to look beneath the surface.

My favorite thing about this book is the contextual use of scripture and literary quotes. When Meg doubts her ability to do what is required, the reassurance given is that “God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise, and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things of the mighty.” When Calvin is told where to find the missing father, the hint is given in the form of a quote from Shakespeare’s The Tempest. In this very natural way the meanings of some of the deepest principles become plain to children.

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.

Book Review: The Legend of Luke by Brian Jacques

An ancient weapon. A missing father. A warrior son. An infamous villain. A community of happy woodland creatures. Aged companions. A tale waiting to be told.

A tale Martin desperately needs to know. All his life he has carried his father’s sword and used it to defend the helpless and innocent. His prowess with a sword and his good heart has earned him a warrior’s renown, as well as many loyal friends, but until he knows what happened to his father Martin cannot rest.

Long ago, an evil pirate captain who terrorized the seas raided Martin’s home and killed many, including Martin’s mother. His father, Luke, though a kind, peaceful farmer, vowed to avenge the deaths and destroy the tyrant once and for all. He left his sword with his baby son and promised to return victorious, but Martin never saw him again.

Martin’s friends, wanting only for him to be happy, organize a journey to Martin’s old home in search of answers. Few of them have any experience with adventuring or battle, but what they lack in skill they make up for in determination. Along the way they attract an unlikely collection of helpers and companions, who with imagination and ingenuity help them reach their destination safely.

None of them expect what they actually find when they reach Martin’s childhood home. The end of their quest begins a true tale of friendship, courage, and heroism. Martin will finally know what happened after his father embarked on his own quest, and why he never returned.

My kids chose this book for our bedtime read, and as we made our way through it a few chapters at a time, they quickly fell in love with the adorable woodland characters. We laughed together over the creatures zany antics, cheered for their courageous exploits, and cried when they were sad. This is a must read for all ages and a captivating read-aloud for families.

Book Review: Hans and Peter

Hans and Peter are best friends with opposite problems. One hates living in the basement, one hates living on the top floor. They dream of building a beautiful house with no basement or top floor where their families can live together.

One day the boys take a walk and find an empty shack on an abandoned construction site. Who could it belong to? The boys have the perfect idea; they could fix up the shack to be their own little house.

With several amusing mishaps and the help of some encouraging friends, the boys spend their days making their dream happen. The shack may not be the house of their dreams, but they are so proud to show it off to their friends and families. Even the owner of the shack approves of their work and promises them a job building real houses when they grow up.

This book is such a delightful inspiration for children. Hans and Peter encourage young readers to work hard for what they want, to learn from their mistakes, and to ask for help when they need it. It also serves as a reminder that the imagination of childhood, when encouraged, forms the foundation of adult success. This is a favorite in our household and I hope it remains one for years to come.

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.”