For Shame, My Brothers

How do we interpret the look on ‘our Lord’s’ face in this picture? I know that it’s hokey, something that Berean would try and get us to pay $47 for, but think about what the picture means. Is Jesus crying over the stock market? Is he crying over people ravaged by natural disasters? Is he crying over the state of our nation’s politics? Is he crying over global politics? Is he crying over the blood of his martyrs that anonymously perform the act of greatest faith every day? Or is he crying over the blood of his martyrs that is safe and sound in its mortal coils, trying desperately to find any other mode of service than being poured out for their brother?

James, Hannah, my wife and I had the pleasure of fellowship last night over my birthday dinner (I’m officially 24 as of 5:45 pst today). As the meal passed, so too did the talk of our fantasy football league and several other entertainingly prosaic topics. And then we tried to fix the world. After many long diatribes, pleas and admonitions about the role of our government in a world filled with unjust regimes committing unspeakable atrocities against their own defenseless people, James broke through the deadlock. We had discussed military intervention, economic sanctions, isolationalist policies and imperialist strategies, but then James hung a sharp left and said, “Well, I believe that what we’re talking about is really the work of the church. That’s probably why we don’t agree.”

It took some time for James’ comment to sink in, but it hit the nail on the exact head. It was beside the point whether or not our government went to war with theirs. It was our business to be concerned with the Body in Iraq specifically and the Middle East generally, and how we support them. Does that mean we go to Iraq and live, preach, and intercede with the gospel by laying down our lives? Surely not! We should be sure to make a bulletin point about it, though. To go there ourselves, though? That’s a death wish! That’s irresponsible! . . . That’s the call of our LORD! A good friend of mine for all their might tried to do just such a thing and met incredible resistance from their friends and family. Not that they were hoping to give their life up, but had shed the trepidation of such an act. I don’t know if I ever properly encouraged them due to the shame their actions brought upon my own head, highlighting the flippancy and convenience of my own faith.

Is being a martyr even on the American church’s radar? How many of our children would know what that word means? How many of our adults? Our elders? Our pastors? The most common context I hear the word in is a pejorative reference to someone who is trying to be manipulative, and yet it was the calling and result of the Apostles. It was the main goal of God’s envoy to Earth. Jesus, I don’t know even how to begin to think about how this impacts my life, but take my fear of laying what I have before Your feet for service. To die is gain, and to live is Christ, my friends. Right? I’m trying to convince myself of that as I write. What does that really mean?

Spel-unk!

I started this post talking about James Lyons and some things we talked about this afternoon concerning the future of the planet and its implication on the universe. I will now finish this post by talking about me and some things that I think about concerning the future of my universe. Namely myself.

After finally posting following my six month break, I have re-realized that I enjoy writing. I enjoy it a great deal, in fact. I enjoy it so much that I took a large amount of time out of writing a paper to write a game preview for my fantasty football league. I enjoy the compensatory action of expression without mediation. It's my neurotransmitters to the keyboard. Nothing in between. I enjoy the self satisfied sensation coursing through me while re-reading a fine bit of text I banged out. I enjoy the twinge of shame when I can't rework a paragraph to say just what I think it should. I enjoy writing a great deal because it lets me explore myself.

Today, however, as I sat down to think about what to write it occurred to me that I have embarked on one of the most dangerous and imposing tasks I have ever undertaken. I have taken the time to think about who I am and what I want to say. What will I find on this journey of self exploration? Do I faithfully believe that what is uncovered will be a new creation, unfolding like a sunday school coloring assignment? Conversely, I fear I will discover banality and void. Now that the concept has sprung into my mind, however, it owns me. I am much more terrified of my unknown self than of any lurking horror that may await me deep in my unprobed emotional depths.

So exciting, huh? Blogging, synonymous with personal spelunking. If you know me, write me an insightful comment about who I am. Not a platitude, but something that you know to be true about me from a personal experience. Heck, do it anonymously. And take the time out to explore yourself. Hannah made some super insightful statements about her life, which have inspired me and will hopefully in turn inspire you. Take the time to explore yourself.

And I promise to make the next post more personally relavant to you.

Nevada lies

I was shocked out of my self imposed cyber silence yesterday by a sight so appauling that I could not in good conscious let it pass. Blatant state-sponsored spurious propaganda. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for propaganda. I mean, look at what it's done for us in the past! Got us out of a depression, let us know that we just had to make it into space to beat those Godless commie bastards, and lets us place the blame for natural disasters singly on our Heads of State. I wouldn't trade propaganda for the world. But when I saw this license plate, I could not stand the perversion. 'People grow things here . . .' Really?! It's NEVADA! 9/10 of the state is blasted desert waste land, and the rest of inarable alpine. People grow extra arms in NV from living on top of nuclear waste disposal sites, which I guess would technically qualify as growing things, but that's a really unfair way to couch it. Not to mention the utterly horrific diction. 'People grow things here.' Unbelievable.

I've had several other scintillating thoughts in the last two days, but I couldn't possibly waste them all in one post. Stay tuned for a spate of thoughts from yours truly.