There is much I do not understand. Much that will always remain a mystery. Much that I will always marvel at with childlike awe; much that will consume my attention for an amount of time that I’ll never know because I am transfixed; much will always be unattainable for this mind to grasp.
But beauty remains there, even in the mysterious. It is rapturous, a sunrise or sunset. Though they’ve happened from the beginning of time we still marvel at them. Every night the sun goes down and the colors shock; every morning the sun comes up and the cool gentile radiance warms us. The stars circling in the heavens on a clear night and in the outskirts of Wichita they are nearly indistinguishable from each other. The smile of a baby, the warmth of a dear hug, the love of a mother, the tenderness of a good father, the smell of a new (or really old) book all of these things are beautiful. But even beauty I will never fully know.
I will never behold with my own eyes the depths of the seas. I will never see the sunrise from the moon. I will never fully understand the love of Picasso. I will never fully grasp the depth of Mozart and Bach. I will never savor the full goodness of French cuisine. I will never fully gain an intimate eloquence with the English (or any) language and Shakespeare will always be a difficult read. But I feel I know something.
Rather I feel I know some things. I concur with John Newton, “I know only two things, that I am a great sinner and Christ is a great Savior.” This is all I will ever know for certain. Though the constellations will change and the sun cease to rise and set in due time, this one fact remains completely unassailable. Jesus Christ came to save sinners.
All my ranting and raving and kicking and screaming will not change it. All my looking to something or someone else to save me will not change it. All my hatred of this idea of me being fraught with sin cannot change it. All the sophisticated ethical debates I can conjure up against this idea cannot change it. It remains completely the same and has so for centuries and ages and will for eternity (past and future). Jesus Christ saves sinners.
I feel that all beauty and all radiance and all splendors may be lumped together and it would be incomparable to the sheer beauty of these two knowable things that Jesus Christ saves sinners. Though tears run freely at this thought and though the stars shine for this one purpose and though the trees raise their arms for this one purpose and though the sun sets and rises for this one purpose it does not compare to the simple idea that Jesus Christ came to save sinners.
Though our sin runs deeper than we’ll ever know Jesus’ finished work runs deeper. Though our curse is our nature Jesus’ nature is our new nature. Though our righteousness is as filthy rags Jesus’ righteousness is given to us. Though we can never pay this debt back we are seen as paid for.
“I know only two things, that I am a great sinner and Christ is a great[er] Savior.”
Monday, November 15, 2010
Interesting Conversation
I love the morning. When the sun still sleeps and the hustle and bustle of the street outside my house has yet to begin, before the classes reign my day, and before the wisdom of a leader is needed. When the silence is interrupted by the seemingly deafening sound of the refrigerator cooling down. Here, in this time, my soul is rested. Sleep no longer does the trick. Blissful silence in Scripture that is where my rest is now, the thoughts of the great men of old written in their sermons or in their books have become the conversations my soul and mind long for. The way a sentence is warped and whipped into compliance and their lovely use of proper English helps to calm my tattered mind.
There are few I now know who I converse with that help my mind they way reading these men do. I covet time with these people. It is, most likely, a very prideful thing I’ve made a habit. Leeching their time to calm my heart. Grabbing a pint with them and discussing the weighty matters is what my heart loves. Sitting on the couch with a peacefully sleeping dog between us while we indulge in sweet heart felt conversation puts at ease a world of fears. Sipping a cup of coffee and reading puritanical thoughts back and forth is a prescription few doctors would give.
But to engage in the superfluous conversations that most Christians babble through, that is a tedium and wear. We are redeemed. We are related. But we talk only about the weather and the kids. We talked about jobs and food, but we shy away from the deep talks… ‘Shy’ really is the best word to use here, the timidity of our cowardly hearts presses us to not reveal who we are.
My guilt in this matter runs deep, and indeed it is the reason I write. Superfluous conversations where we glance cleanly off the surface and never now the deeper heart lying within. I do not understand why we talk in such fashion. Is it our upbringing? Is it our sin? Is it our culture?
Our creepy porcelain face is harder to break than we ever thought or imagined. It remains intact though the sledgehammer crashes down on it. In some groups we splay our hearts open so well and reveal the brokenness within while in others we are a ‘neatly packaged person without a care in the world’… We’ve become good liars. The veil between us and everybody else is a thick one and we’ve hung it so sturdily and mightily I doubt it can be removed in one lifetime.
“Honesty is the best policy” though not written in Scripture is a breath of fresh air in the land of conversations and a good attempt to break the porcelain face with a nuke.
There are few I now know who I converse with that help my mind they way reading these men do. I covet time with these people. It is, most likely, a very prideful thing I’ve made a habit. Leeching their time to calm my heart. Grabbing a pint with them and discussing the weighty matters is what my heart loves. Sitting on the couch with a peacefully sleeping dog between us while we indulge in sweet heart felt conversation puts at ease a world of fears. Sipping a cup of coffee and reading puritanical thoughts back and forth is a prescription few doctors would give.
But to engage in the superfluous conversations that most Christians babble through, that is a tedium and wear. We are redeemed. We are related. But we talk only about the weather and the kids. We talked about jobs and food, but we shy away from the deep talks… ‘Shy’ really is the best word to use here, the timidity of our cowardly hearts presses us to not reveal who we are.
My guilt in this matter runs deep, and indeed it is the reason I write. Superfluous conversations where we glance cleanly off the surface and never now the deeper heart lying within. I do not understand why we talk in such fashion. Is it our upbringing? Is it our sin? Is it our culture?
Our creepy porcelain face is harder to break than we ever thought or imagined. It remains intact though the sledgehammer crashes down on it. In some groups we splay our hearts open so well and reveal the brokenness within while in others we are a ‘neatly packaged person without a care in the world’… We’ve become good liars. The veil between us and everybody else is a thick one and we’ve hung it so sturdily and mightily I doubt it can be removed in one lifetime.
“Honesty is the best policy” though not written in Scripture is a breath of fresh air in the land of conversations and a good attempt to break the porcelain face with a nuke.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
The Wretch Delivered
O wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord.’ Romans 7:24-25
I remember when I first read this verse. It’s clear with in my mind, like it just happened. It was more forceful than a ton of bricks (I imagine a ton of bricks has quite a bit of force). I had read Romans before but it didn’t stick out, until this time. I’m not sure what was happening in my life which made it seem so very apparent that this verse was my perfect adjective, all I remember is reading and weeping.
Things haven’t changed much since then, I still read it and still tears come to my eyes. While teaching and the opportunity comes to quote it I must muster my courage and fight back the onslaught of tears. When walking to class and it is brought so clearly into focus within my minds eye I must slow my gate and focus on where I am so as not show up to class with red eyes.
Indeed it is my perfect adjective. Though I am a whore Jeremiah or Hosea don’t compare, though the Gospel is all I teach 2 Corinthians 5:21 doesn’t cut it, though I quote it often Isaiah 48:9-11 isn’t about me. Romans 7:24-25: if there were a dictionary about verses my face would be next to this one.
After three years of signing off letters, e-mails, and Facebook messages with it I still remember its meaning and still feel its weightiness. I hope this never changes, I hope I’m always a wretch in need of deliverance; I hope this body of death always surrounds me and reminds me of who delivers me; I hope I always give thanks to God through Jesus. I hope when I despair and sadness fills the sky from horizon to horizon I recognize I’ve been delivered because God has done it through Jesus.
So until my time comes for God to call me home the banner, which will fly above my heart, is this: “O wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord.” And once I’m home I’ll lay this banner at his feet and by his grace say, ‘Here is who I am thanks to you. Delivered.’ Only then will the wretchedness fall from this body of death and only then will I obtain a body of life and only then will this verse no longer be my perfect adjective.
I remember when I first read this verse. It’s clear with in my mind, like it just happened. It was more forceful than a ton of bricks (I imagine a ton of bricks has quite a bit of force). I had read Romans before but it didn’t stick out, until this time. I’m not sure what was happening in my life which made it seem so very apparent that this verse was my perfect adjective, all I remember is reading and weeping.
Things haven’t changed much since then, I still read it and still tears come to my eyes. While teaching and the opportunity comes to quote it I must muster my courage and fight back the onslaught of tears. When walking to class and it is brought so clearly into focus within my minds eye I must slow my gate and focus on where I am so as not show up to class with red eyes.
Indeed it is my perfect adjective. Though I am a whore Jeremiah or Hosea don’t compare, though the Gospel is all I teach 2 Corinthians 5:21 doesn’t cut it, though I quote it often Isaiah 48:9-11 isn’t about me. Romans 7:24-25: if there were a dictionary about verses my face would be next to this one.
After three years of signing off letters, e-mails, and Facebook messages with it I still remember its meaning and still feel its weightiness. I hope this never changes, I hope I’m always a wretch in need of deliverance; I hope this body of death always surrounds me and reminds me of who delivers me; I hope I always give thanks to God through Jesus. I hope when I despair and sadness fills the sky from horizon to horizon I recognize I’ve been delivered because God has done it through Jesus.
So until my time comes for God to call me home the banner, which will fly above my heart, is this: “O wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord.” And once I’m home I’ll lay this banner at his feet and by his grace say, ‘Here is who I am thanks to you. Delivered.’ Only then will the wretchedness fall from this body of death and only then will I obtain a body of life and only then will this verse no longer be my perfect adjective.
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