Weekly Thoughts

1) I got something in the mail which made me giddy.

2) There are some new pens in my backpack. I was very excited to use them - still am. Kinda nerdy. Kinda white. White-n-nerdy.

3) Playing my lovely banjo this Sunday at church! So y'all ought'n ta be at da churrch for sum wurshipin'!

4) "Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect." Romans 12:2

5) I lived in a castle this week.

6) Looking forward to the end of September.

7) Most of our vocabulary needs re-defining now that we're Christians. Because God is big and we are not.

8) More than once this week all my words have failed to convey how I feel. Paradox after paradox has been my fail-safe.

9) Grad-school has more busy work than under-grad.

10) "My fragile life is secure under your sovereign grace." Don't typically like the rap, but for some reason this song resonates with me.

A Breath

Imagine something with me.

You’re in a cave, dark (pitch-black), cool, and eerie. You know it’s a tomb, you know it contains a body; you know it contains what remains of the physical body of Jesus.

You saw him just a few days ago, hanging from a cross, looking more like a hunk of meat than a man. You heard him give up his spirit; you saw the spear go in and out of his side. You know he’s dead.

The silence of the tomb is overwhelming. So quiet it hurts your ears, so still, so full of death.

Then it happens. So small, yet so profound against the prevailing silence, a breath was just taken! There is life in that ‘dead body.’ Soft and steady breathing.

Jesus’ death was loud, it was violent, and it was gruesome and bloody and seen by many. The Curtain was torn in two, an earthquake happened; there was darkness at noontime. Shouts and hate and the final words of Christ, “It is finished,” the proclamation of proclamations.

Jesus’ resurrection was quiet, a breath in the dark. But what it accomplished is more resounding than the darkness or the earthquake or the shouts, “Jesus took in that breath and shattered all death with his life.”

Imagining forth to the peace we have in him, his breathing alone in the tomb secures our hope.

Jesus’ first breath in the dark of the tomb will resound for all eternity.

Re-defining Good

A while back in one of those “thoughts” posts I wrote the following: “The goodness of God draws us to repentance. I think our definition of 'good' is too small, too shallow, too flimsy.” I want to think that through a little more.

It’s easy to look at goodness and only think of lovely things, of happy times. Those times when we’re feeling freest and strongest. When things seem to be going swimmingly and all is ‘right’ in the world.

Let me get to the point more directly. We need to re-define ‘good.’

We need to re-define it because we know the goodness of God draws us to repentance. We know he is the director of the orchestra of life and therefore the beautiful highs and the terrible lows are all part of the symphony of the plan of God.

I look to the death of a good friend and cannot help but think, “That was the goodness of God drawing my heart to repentance.” I look at the struggles of my own heart and mind and must admit, “These are the goodness of God drawing me to repentance.” I look at the wonder of my nephew and must confess, “This is the goodness of God drawing me to repentance.” I look at the Big Dipper in the night sky and know, "There is the goodness of God drawing me to repentance." 

Repentance: the turning away from sin to Jesus.

Goodness: the actions of God to give me (us) God.

There’s more redefining to do. All our words must be re-understood. For God is God and we are not, therefore we are feebly weak in our grasping at vocabulary. ‘Cause good might not always feel 'good'; and love won’t always feel like 'loving'; and hope won’t always feel like flying.

(Picture from Steve Coleman)