Tag: Nonfiction

Unveiled

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II Cor. 3:13-18; Ex. 34:34-35

When Moses descended from the presence of God for the second time, bringing the record of God on slabs of stone, the people of Israel avoided him in terror. Though Moses himself, having spent so much time bathed in the glory of God and having no desire for power for himself, was completely unaware that Glory beamed from his own face, the people could see it all too well. The selfish fear that drove them to cover their ears at the voice of God held them apart from His presence in Moses. From that time forward, Moses was only able to speak with God without covering his face, a shadowy reminder of exactly how great a separation existed between God and the people through whom He had chosen to work His will.

Like the veil shading Moses’s face from a people unwilling to approach God, the system of governance included in that stone record served as a curtain over their reluctant hearts. Every act prescribed within it emphasized the darkness human choices had allowed to stain the world, contrasting it starkly with the pure light of the perfect God. Every event in the future of the nation would prove the necessity of the rigid and often harsh methods required under that legal system in order to prove desire for connection with God. Even such unmistakable symbols of their need were twisted to be self-serving, and in the end they resorted to murderous destruction rather than expose themselves to His light.

When God Himself stepped from His grave in physical form and returned to Heaven in the cloud of glory that had filled the Tabernacle and shone through Moses’s face, the need for that separation to be emphasized ended. The hope and promise that underlay everything the nation of Israel experienced became present reality. Many, uneasy in the freedom and open communion found in the spirit of the resurrected Son, clung to the rigidity of the Israelite legal system. As God ripped the covering, the barrier, away they hung on for dear life and so barricaded themselves from true fellowship with Him.

Those who let longing for God outweigh their fear became like Moses, transformed into a vessel for the glory of God. The selfishness that held darkness between them and God was banished. The need for the rigid rules and rituals engraved on stone slabs was burned away by the fire of God’s presence.

Unlike Moses, who wore the veil himself as a reminder to others, our veil is only a reflection of ourselves. If we maintain a separation from God’s offered freedom by clinging to physical structures that keep control within our hands, we have a veil of our own choosing. Only by relinquishing all control, by exchanging fear for desperate longing, are we unveiled and able to stand in the Glory that is God.

Cultural Religion

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As someone who enjoys learning history, I have noticed a human tendency to confuse culture with morality. Every society throughout history has developed its own cultural norms: clothing styles, hair styles, living arrangements, traditions, entertainment, etc. These cultural norms are usually responses to environmental factors like economics, weather, or topography. The key word regarding any cultural element is “develop.” Environmental factors change. People migrate to and from other areas, bringing their own cultural elements with them.

In every instance of change, conflict arises between cultures. Both hold the other to be immoral in their standards. (Pants instead of skirts?! Rock and roll?!) The children exposed equally to both easily absorb elements of both creating an entirely new culture, considered immoral by both original cultures alike.

In the midst of all of this cultural change and conflict, actual moral principles are often discarded in order to defend culture. Life is only valued among those holding to the desired culture. Property is only protected for those who embrace the desired culture. Kindness is only allowed or acknowledged between those of the same culture. Wear the prescribed clothes, enjoy the prescribed entertainment, speak the prescribed language, practice the prescribed traditions, work the prescribed jobs. Different is evil and must be prevented at all costs.

The God-created will and capacity to choose combined with our longing for security and belonging repeatedly embroils humanity in this turmoil. Our choices become our religion, and our religion becomes a prison. We cast even our own freedom to choose into a dungeon dug out of our own fear, shackled by compulsion that only feeds our terror and rage.

God created us with the ability to be creative, to adapt, to learn, to make independent decisions based on both need and desire. Like a single human body is made up of millions of cells with different functions, of hundreds of parts performing different tasks, so is humanity made up of incredible variety. What one cannot do, another can. What one cannot understand another can teach. What one cannot imagine another can produce. Without what the one does, the other cannot meet its potential.

If we never allow any challenge to our cultural norms, we leave no room for self-reflection. Without self-reflection we cannot grow, and growth is essential to human life. Traditions are not evil. New is not evil. Turning either into a religion that vilifies anyone else is.

Romans 14:16–20 (CSB): Therefore, do not let your good be slandered, for the kingdom of God is not eating and drinking, but righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit. Whoever serves Christ in this way is acceptable to God and receives human approval. So then, let us pursue what promotes peace and what builds up one another.

A unified human body cannot by nature include only cells of the exact same type. It is unified precisely because of its many different parts working in harmony. Humanity cannot by nature be uniform either. Only by celebrating and harmonizing our myriad individuality can we function as a unified whole. Culture cannot become religion.

A Child’s Mite

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Once when Jesus was teaching in the temple courtyard he watched people coming to leave their tithes in the treasury boxes. Apparently that had become something of a show, with large amounts being brought. I imagine that, considering Pharisaical policing of detail, a great deal of arguing and haggling over correct calculations occurred around the temple gates where the boxes stood. While all that display was going on, a beggar woman entered the courtyard. A widow with no family to care for her, she belonged to the ranks of the needy for whom those treasury funds were supposed to provide. She quietly moved to the boxes and dropped in two mites, tiny copper coins that equalled a fraction of today’s penny. When Jesus praised her faith as an example to his followers, He pointed out that those tiny coins were all she owned yet she offered them for others.

This morning my eight year old son dug into his wallet for money to give. He brought out a handful of wadded cash, including a ten dollar bill that I knew was a treasured possession. I asked him if he was sure, if he knew what was in his hand and really wanted to give it. His response was immediate. “Oh yes, I want to put my ten dollar bill in!” When the basket was passed, that ten and a few ones besides went in accompanied by a delighted grin. The almost empty wallet went back in his pocket and occasioned no further thought from its owner.

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Like the widow, my little son depends entirely on others for his needs. The money in his wallet is carefully hoarded from birthday gifts or “pay” for helping family members. Opportunities to increase that little stash are few and far between, but that never even entered his mind. In his mind, the money placed in that basket is a gift to God, and he wanted God to have all of it.

Both the widow and my son understood that something much greater than their mite covered their needs. They knew that God’s love holds far more power than a handful of cash or any physical wealth. In the simplicity of that trust, no room existed for questions or calculations. All that they thought of was what they could offer in love. What they truly offered was not two tiny coins or a ten dollar bill, and their gift filled more than a single moment. They offered a faithful heart and filled eternity with it.

Performance Worship

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The term “performance worship” appears frequently in certain religious circles, usually referring to specific behaviors or practices that carry emotional appeal. The term is something of an oxymoron, but the idea of insincere approach to God – of “performing” rather than offering – is far from neglected. God addresses this error in his people over and over throughout their history, and it looks very different from our usual definition.

When Saul faced the Philistines near Gilgal, the army he led was far smaller and less well equipped than that of the enemy. Samuel was delayed in arriving to appeal for God’s help, and some lost courage. Saul was so concerned that his ragtag soldiers would flee and he would lose his newly appointed kingship that he decided to perform a public sacrifice. He wasn’t concerned about God’s help; if he had been he wouldn’t have been worried about losing the army. He performed the ritual for his own benefit, to make himself look connected to God so that the soldiers would have more confidence in him and not run away. When Samuel did arrive shortly after this performance, he told Saul that it had cost him everything God had so carefully prepared for him. Offering the sacrifice was not wrong, any more than Samuel offering it was wrong. The sole difference lay in the fact that Saul’s act was one of performance rather than worship.

The prophet Micah wrote to the people of God during their height as a kingdom, yet he rebuked them. Temple life and ritual thrived, and the smoke of meat and incense rose constantly. Unfortunately, at the same time, rulers and judges took bribes and made decisions that increased their own power; priests and teachers worked for hire and said whatever made sure they would continue to be paid. They did all this claiming God’s authority and protection, using His Name and His proscribed rituals as a grand performance solidifying their position and control. Micah told them that no amount of blood or incense, not even the surrender of their own children, could convince God of their righteousness in that state. What He expected was both far simpler and far more difficult. They had to love Him more than themselves and place their trust in Him rather than in their own control.

The Pharisees in the time that Jesus walked the earth considered themselves the enforcers of law. They policed the smallest aspects of everyday life, demanding details that were not specified by God but that created an appearance of difference from “heathens.” They wore special clothes, recognized only teachers in specific hierarchies that had evolved from their own conceits, and quickly suppressed anything that even hinted at disagreement. Jesus called them whitewashed graves, and said they were like cups that had been polished outside but the inside had never even been washed. The Pharisees offered nothing of themselves to God; instead they performed dramatically to draw eyes to themselves and ensure their continuing stranglehold on the hearts and minds of the people.

This performance, this outward appearance, not only had nothing to do with holiness, but actively shut the doors of Heaven on souls who might otherwise have seen God. All the attention had been diverted; all the focus followed the wrong leader. Jesus said that such performers expended all their efforts on making converts, but that they weren’t converting souls for God; they were turning people into the children of Hell.

God isn’t looking for performers, for individuals who love ritual and law but have no love for God. He doesn’t care about traditions, even those intended to create an appearance of holiness. Those are performance, not worship. God wants hearts crushed under the weight of separation that reach out for Him in need and longing. He wants souls eager to see Him, so eager they never stop looking, so eager they see His work at every turn. He wants minds humbled by failure that beg for mercy. He wants people so filled with gratitude for salvation that they exude joy in every way that He created possible. He wants true worship that allows His light to shine in them like in Moses’ face on Mt. Sinai.

To Outline or Not to Outline

Anyone who participates in the writing community for very long will certainly run into the great debate. Should authors outline before writing or not? I suspect the heat of the discussion stems from academic writing instruction, in which outlines are necessary for structuring arguments and organizing large volumes of factual information.

Certainly outlining can be a helpful tool in fictional worldbuilding as well. For a complex plot involving multiple characters and storylines, keeping track of where everyone and every event fits into the pattern is quite a challenge. Many authors do feel the need to outline their entire plot before getting started just to keep themselves on track.

Many others have a different process altogether. Their stories grow from a visual image, a title idea, a character sketch, or some other small detail, without any clear story to plan. For them, the story develops one person, event, or detail at a time. Each stems from the last like a tree putting out new shoots in spring. Such authors must start writing the beginning before the next step develops. Waiting to start until outlining the plot from beginning to end would mean their stories were never written at all.

As a “pantser” myself (by the seat of my pants – pantser), I acknowledge that this does present certain disadvantages. Where a plotter may have to cut thousands of extra words in the first edit, a pantser often adds thousands to fill in holes caused by meandering creation. Extra edits are often required (at least in my experience) to separate character voices and hone individual character arcs that might have been clearer if planned from the beginning. Writing time itself may be longer; where someone who can outline an entire story may be able to quickly work through their plan, a pantser may have difficulty with continuous writing due to constantly having to figure out the next step of the story.

I have tried outlining stories from the beginning, hoping to discover that clear path to the end, or even the end at all. That effort cost me months of productivity. I simply could not make things happen. So, a pantser I will continue to be, drifting along a piece of a scene at a time, taking the time required for all of the bits of story in my head to put themselves together.

To outline or not to outline, “that is the question.” How do you answer?

Squandering God’s Estate

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Jesus told a story of two brothers. The older brother fulfilled society’s expectations of a dutiful son. He worked alongside his father, maintaining and supervising the family estate. He never broke the rules, never disappointed his father, never neglected his responsibilities.

The younger brother was the family wild card. He chafed at responsibility and expectations, and when he reached manhood he demanded that his father hand over whatever his part of the inheritance would be worth so that he could go out on his own. He was sure he could find a better life for himself than drudging away under his father’s thumb. When his father, instead of rebuking his restlessness, gave him what he wanted, the young man traveled as far from home as he could get. With no one he had ever known to see or comment on his lifestyle, he indulged every desire and filled his life with every pleasure he could imagine.

On the surface the brothers look like polar opposites: one the responsible, respected son; the other rebellious, thoughtless, and selfish. But the story doesn’t end there, and the young men are both full of surprises. The younger brother woke up one day to find all of his money gone; he had done nothing to replenish his resources, had been entirely focused on his “good life” until he could no longer pay for his pleasures. Then, as drought set in and work was scarce, he took the most demeaning job in his society in the hard realization that he had wasted his truly good life. He had squandered every blessing ever given him, including that of a father who only wanted the best for him.

The older brother came home from working one day to find the house in a fever of celebration; the rebellious son had returned in humility and had been received with joy. The son who had been outwardly responsible and respectable immediately revealed his true heart, a knot of well-hidden resentment and rebellion. All the while he did what was expected, he hated responsibility, wished for the pleasure his brother pursued, and resented what he perceived as lack of appreciation from his father.

Both brothers shared the misunderstanding that their inheritance was a physical thing: money, possessions, etc. Neither understood their father’s love and provision for them as being his true estate. Both threw away, squandered, the relationship that was their father’s truest legacy.

Jesus told this story to Jewish leaders who complained that He welcomed sinful people into his presence. Those sinful people were the brother who had thrown everything away for his own pleasure, and who had been humbled and drawn back to the father’s embrace. The leaders were the “responsible” son who secretly harbored a rebellious heart. Neither those who had wasted their lives in rebellious lifestyles or those who prided themselves on outward righteousness had appreciated the love of God. They viewed God’s “estate” as an oppressive system of rules and demands; the only difference was whether they rebelled openly or secretly.

Jesus came to show us His true estate. He came to demonstrate the open arms of the father and the joy of belonging with Him. He came to show the difference in being a son and being a slave. Those who recognize the blessing of belonging to God approach Him with a longing to serve in gratitude and love, and receive the treatment of sons with awe and wonder. Those who see themselves as sons strictly because of their own outward fidelity, expecting privileges that ultimately get them out of such fidelity, behave like slaves. They throw away their inheritance for the sake of selfish pride.

The great news is that, no matter how we have squandered our portion, our condition is not final unless we make it so. The younger son was welcomed home with great celebration. The older son was reminded that he had always had access to what he sought, he had just been looking from the wrong direction. We will never stop being God’s children as long as we live, no matter how we waste our time and His chasing the wrong dreams. He will always be there to welcome us home. But why squander any of it? Why throw away a love, an eternal estate, so full as His?

What Are We Looking For?

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The Pharisees and other Jewish leaders ostracized anyone who broke what they thought was part of God’s law. They spent their days watching for infractions, railing about rules, and arguing about minutae. When God Himself visited them, they rebuked Him using their interpretation of the law He wrote, the law He was; then they killed Him rather than admit they were wrong.

Jesus looked for the smallest signs of faith, sometimes extending compassion and help in order to spark life in broken souls. He lived by love rather than rules. He was intimate with “sinners” and held the “righteous” at arm’s length. Hearts were changed by being in His presence. Crowds followed Him everywhere, drawn by what He offered. A feast day parade to the temple reversed course into a reception for the King. The only people given harsh treatment were the heartless enforcers.

What we look for in people matters. The Jewish leaders looked at Zaccheus and saw a greedy thief. Jesus looked at him and saw an eager heart. The Jews looked at the Samaritan woman and saw an adulterous descendant of a rebellious people. Jesus looked at her and saw a woman searching for a Savior. The Pharisees looked at the crowds following Jesus and saw lazy, unholy rabble. Jesus looked at them and saw sheep longing for a shepherd’s love and protection.

The Pharisees were certain that salvation came from their own actions, their own perfect rule following. They lost sight of the law giver and of the souls to whom it was given. They believed that they trusted God, but when given the chance to prove it they dug into their self-imposed framework instead and lashed out at anyone who threatened their perception of their own perfection.

Matthew 23:13, 15 (CSB): “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! You shut the door of the kingdom of heaven in people’s faces. For you don’t go in, and you don’t allow those entering to go in. Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! You travel over land and sea to make one convert, and when he becomes one, you make him twice as much a child of hell as you are!”

Jesus delivered the above rebuke over exactly that behavior, that approach to their fellow humans. He also said anyone who hindered another from a relationship with God by their need for control would be better off drowned in the deeps with a millstone around the neck. Jesus didn’t see people with such an attitude as sheep; he saw them as wolves slathering to rip the flock to shreds and eat them for lunch.

The faithful reflect the nature, the character, the viewpoint, of Jesus Himself. If our claims to faith are accompanied by a fine toothed comb or a twist of the wrench, whose character is reflected? What is it we are truly seeking?

Mustard Seed Faith

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The mustard tree is a fascinating plant. Its tiny seed is one of the smallest in the world, and must be collected by soaking the pit of the mustard fruit for several days and then straining the resulting pulp through a cloth. The seed germinates quickly but grows incredibly slowly. Its most rapid growth occurs when planted near a water source; its roots seek out water, sensing it and growing toward any source, even breaking through pipes or well walls to access it. However, the tree can live and thrive on less than 8 inches of rainfall per year in some of the hottest, driest climates on Earth. The hotter and more consistent the sunlight, the healthier the tree, and clay that grows little else nourishes it. The leaves resemble those of succulents, and are often consumed for their moisture by desert animals and people. When in dryer conditions the mustard tree may only grow to about six feet tall, but in wet environments will grow up to 25 feet, an imposing sight.

On three separate occasions Jesus explained the power of faith using the image of the mustard seed. He said that even faith as small as a mustard seed could do such impossible things as moving a mountain from one place to another or uprooting a mature tree to plant it in the sea. I have known the analogy all my life, but grasping such a thing is difficult when we tend to think of big and small as opposite limits of size.

God doesn’t think in limits. Just as a day and a thousand years are the same to Him, big and small hold no meaning in a physical sense. Instead, he sees potential. The tiny mustard seed has no strength of its own, no power to impress our human sensibilities, yet in the harshest, most unexpected conditions, life can be induced to spark within it. The germs of faith wake under similar circumstances. Like the mustard tree, faith does not become full overnight. It grows, millimeter by millimeter, over a lifetime. It can outlast some of the hardest circumstances life can throw at it, although often in hard times it merely exists, eking out drops in desperation but not finding enough to grow any larger. When the nourishing rain of an answered prayer, an encouraging word, a relief from a trial arrives, it grows again and fills new leaves with nourishment to hold in reserve for the next difficulty.

Also like the mustard tree, the roots of faith reach out endlessly with insatiable need. Faith knows its source, and will move in that direction only no matter what gets in the way. It cannot be stopped; even when we feel like we are barely hanging on, faith looks for any sign of God in the darkness and dirt of life and drinks it thirstily. If there were no water to be found, the tree would die – it cannot manufacture its own nutrition – but those roots can find and use any trace of moisture. Faith without nourishment would be nothing -a shriveled, rotten trunk – but unlike water God is always there to be found.

When Jesus’ disciples woke Him in the storm, He told them their faith was weak and small but He still stopped the storm. When they failed to cast out demons in His name He told them their faith was weak and small but He still cast out the demons. When a man begged for healing for his son and said he wanted to believe but needed help making faith stronger, Jesus healed the man’s son. When Moses hid in the wilderness for forty years because what he thought he was supposed to do for God failed, God became fire in a bush and told him he was chosen for a purpose because of his faith. How many more have been planted while tiny and insignificant, then nourished by God’s eager help into trees of faith to feed and harbor weak and searching souls?

“It’s like a mustard seed that a man took and sowed in his garden. It grew and became a tree, and the birds of the sky nested in its branches.” Luke 13:19 CSB

God will feed any faith we are capable of placing on Him, including the mere desire to have faith. Are you a mustard seed? How high will you grow?

God in the Moments

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This morning I woke up with a heart that felt like lead in my chest. The future lay in shadows that I could not penetrate, and I doubted even the point of me. I did not think anything I tried to do came to anything. I felt as if all my gifts from God were useless, extras in the grand scheme, discardable. I felt discardable.

I buried my head in my pillow with tears pouring down my face, and I cried to my God for answers. “Why does everything have to be so hard? Why does no one want what you gave me to give? What exactly is it that you want from me? Why am I failing?”

As I lay there, my husband wrapped his arms around me and spoke in my ear. He reminded me of our children’s answers to some recent questions, answers that filled me with awe at the hearts of children. Children who have seen God. “You are not pointless.”

The telephone rang, asking if the kids could interrupt their routine to haul firewood. A cold front is coming and hard workers were needed to lay in a good supply. The hard workers asked for were my children, because they would certainly get it done. It’s what they have been taught. “You are not failing.”

My tears still flowed, my heart still screamed, and I reached out to friends for prayer. Four dear sisters heard my cry and felt my pain. Messages flooded in; prayers, empathy, wisdom, and love filled my screen. “You have been called for a purpose.”

My husband remembered a lunch meeting with a brother. Their conversation turned to frustrations, doubts, and fears that this friend and fellow worker shared with us. Commonalities that would have continued to have been suffered alone otherwise. In the sharing perspective was discovered in each other’s struggle. “You are needed.”

Family called with an invitation to a donut feast. A loved dog had died and cheer was needed. Orders were taken, favorites recorded, and two dozen donuts purchased. The laughter of children, sticky fingers, and sugary faces followed a shared supper. Grief receded into togetherness. “You are wanted.”

I went to shower and turned on the radio as I often do. My daily shower provides a few minutes of reflection and music provides a focus. Words of faith and reassurance streamed like water over my head. All the feelings I had poured out to my Lord, all the answers given through the events of the day, culminated in those strains of praise. “You’re gonna be okay!” “I am not alone!” “I will trust in you!”

My heart still aches. The causes of my feelings still exist and will continue. But in my moments of pain God heard me. In the words of friends He was there. In the calls for help and fellowship He was there. In my quiet hours He was there. God is in all my moments, and in seeing Him there I can dry my tears. In His presence I find again my reasons and my joy.

Recession Christmas, Part 3: Hard Blessings

Part of Christmas tradition is the giving of gifts. It has been argued that this tradition has become too commercialized, that focus on gifts detracts from what is important. I certainly saw advertisements that missed the point and pushed the idea of social status rising from gift quality or price. However, the concept of giving gifts stems from the core of God’s nature and is one of the ways humans in our limited capacity can try to reflect Him in our lives.

Gift giving is one of our favorite family traditions, and rather than allow financial restrictions to cast shadows on our joy, we decided to let it motivate us to deeper intention. Wish lists became highlights of interests and favorites. The kids used their own money saved from birthday gifts and odd jobs for family to buy things like stickers or art supplies, or used their talents to make gifts to suit the receiver’s personality. I raided my fabric stash and used outgrown clothes to make hand-sewn treasures.

It was a simpler approach, reminiscent of a time when life was simpler, but there was nothing easy about it. Handmade gifts take time. A lot of time, squeezed between the usual chores and responsibilities that don’t vanish because holidays are coming. Artwork requires both work space and space for drying paint, which in our full little house means the dining table. Sewing with scraps and old clothes means working with materials that weren’t designed for small projects or for particular work with needle and thread. It means aching eyes and fingers from hours of close work creating straight, invisible stitches. Handmade gifts make surprises difficult, as everyone is working right in front of each other.

The hard tried to take over as Christmas drew closer, raising stress levels and encouraging distractions. Tears flowed, panic attacks occurred. It’s harder for adults to remember the important things than for kids, it would seem. It was the kids who kept us grounded with their excitement for everyone to open the gifts they had made.

When the time came to wrap everything and fill stockings, the true blessings began to be revealed. What we had feared would be a sparse spread had grown to as many or more packages as usual. They were small, but so much thought and effort had gone into every single one that they seemed larger than life. On Christmas morning, stockings that had felt underfilled were received with unmitigated joy. Sticker sheets and snacks produced reactions associated with gifts of gold and incense. Paintings and purses were pored over and strutted with as if made by the world’s finest creators.

Simplicity isn’t easy; it never was. In so many ways our lives are much easier now than when life was simpler. There’s nothing wrong with easy, but sometimes having everything at our fingertips makes us a little too focused on what we can have. Love isn’t about stuff or money, it’s about what we are willing to give up or go through for someone else. Nothing we did was extraordinary; our usually easy lives made hard begin to feel burdensome, but hard carried love that would never have been seen otherwise. Sitting in their little piles of love offerings, our kids declared our recession Christmas to be the best ever. They understood better than we did the blessing of love found in hard simplicity.