I have been in a funk lately, all full of discontent and disquiet. Nothing has been making me happy and most of my mental moments have been self-centered whining and complaining. I am sure I'm not the only one who encounters this, my relentless mental criticism of everyday things for a season. I was quite suddenly aware that God didn't seem to be very close or making anything better in my life.
Last night was a particularly difficult struggle. I slept for fifteen minutes and woke up fully aware and ready to go as if I'd slept eight hours. For the next three hours I was tossing and turning, praying and complaining to God, wondering why He wasn't apparently available to ease my struggles. No matter how much I kept telling myself the truth of the situations I was pissy about, no matter how many scriptures I brought to mind, no matter how much I begged and pleaded for Him to make everything better again, nothing worked. I was in chaos, weakly fending off the volley of lies from the enemy. Briefly I had the thought when things were at their worst that I should catch up on all the devotions i had been neglecting all week because of our family vacation. Grumpily, and in Eeyore's unmistakable voice, I brushed the thought aside saying, "Well...if prayer isn't going to work I don't see why reading the Bible will change anything..."
This morning I woke up in very much the same mood. Everything felt wrong. I was without joy. It didn't take much for mine Kinder to grate on what was apparently my last nerve like they had every day for the last week. There was a huge list of things to do just to keep the apartment in a status that didn't invite vermin or disease. Why was I bothering anyway? Nobody appreciates it. If I happened to disappear the kids would only notice because a snack or meal was late, and my wife would likely only notice because she didn't come home to "Guess what your (insert child) did today? We've got to do something about him/her". When was the last time I was happy? When was the last time I felt appreciated? And LORD why aren't you doing something about it?!?!
I sucked it up, manned up, bit the bullet, fed and washed the kids, loaded them up into the car, dropped the boy off at pre-school and begrudgingly agreed to take my daughter to our favorite cafe to do home school. I didn't want to. I couldn't think of a single reason why I should "reward" her with that. Apparently that's what my parenting had boiled down to lately...transaction based.
She got her Italian Cream soda, I got my Hazelnut latte, and we broke out the books. To my chagrin I noticed that we were not two days behind, but three days instead. She started her Language sections and I opened my Bible.
I am convinced that there is this moment of anticipation that occurs, perhaps experienced by the Lord or perhaps the angels, when you've had a bad time and you finally reach for that Bible. You open the cover, flip through the pages, maybe begrudgingly, maybe out of duty.
Today it was John 6, a familiar passage that I was almost petulantly skimming over. I mean, it's the Feeding of the Five Thousand. I have read it a bajillion times, seen the cartoon, had a t-shirt. I stopped and forced myself to remember that it is the word of God so maybe I should give it the respect of actually reading each sentence. I was mildly amused that there is a bit of a hidden miracle after the feeding and after Jesus walking on water. Verse 21 says "Then they willingly received Him into the boat, and immediately the boat was at the land where they were going." Yeah. Not enough to feed 5k people and walk on water, He teleports the boat.
I read through how the 5k follow him to Capernaum already wanting to make Him a king the day before. They find Him and oddly ask Him when He came there. His response rang like a gong in my soul, in my situation.
"Most assuredly, I say to you, you seek Me, not because you saw the signs, but because you ate of the loaves and were filled."
I hurt. I crumpled. I repented.
So many times I want to believe I'm better and smarter than many of the people in the Bible. I chuckle at Peter, shake my head at the Pharisees and yet each of them is a reflection of my own heart. It is no less true of me and the 5k.
I want Him to be king because of the good stuff I'm going to get. I am going to my stomach filled, my days full of lollipops and sunshine, and if I don't it is His fault. I will go my own way, rate my sins on a scale so that I don't feel too guilty about the ones I enjoy, read his New Testament commands an decide whether I feel like it or not, do my devotions based on whether it's interesting or convenient and then act surprised when my mind is full of chaos and I can't seem to hear or feel the presence of the Lord.
In Nordic culture, in the time of Beowulf, the man who became king was the man who gave treasure away. He was only beloved by his people so long as he kept giving them things. If the gravy train ever stopped the people would find a new king. I have to wonder if that is not an apt metaphor for how we in America tend to think of God. It is clearly a trap I fall into.
Do I love the King or do I love the peace He gives me? Do I love the King or do I love the joy? Do I love the King or the fact that He answers my prayers? Do I love the King because of what He has blessed me with or because of who He is?
Personally I would have to say that my reaction to adversity (Where's God? Why hasn't He fixed this?) proclaims my oh so palsied heart. With very many in my faith, I'm sure, I want to do whatever I have to in order to get the effect rather than falling in love with the cause.
As always, "I believe! Lord, help my unbelief."
Pax,
W
Tuesday, April 26, 2016
Sunday, April 3, 2016
Thomas, known as The Doubter...
Over the Easter holiday one of my greatest spiritual pet peeves came to the forefront. Amidst all of the "He has risen"s and reflexive "He is risen indeed!"s, while Christians spoke of the joys of the resurrected life, and how wondrous the actual event must be, there was, as always, the maligning of a particular disciple of Jesus.
Thomas. Thomas the doubter. Doubting Thomas.
I mean, look at him over there, sulking in a corner, testy whenever anyone brings up the rumored resurrection. Silly Thomas. Puny in Faith Thomas. What kind of disciple is he going to grow up to be if he can't even believe in the resurrection after the crucifixion. If he'd just get that big brain out of the way he could experience so much joy. Why was he one of the Twelve again if he wasn't going to believe in miraculous things? I may not be a spiritual giant, but I'm sure no Doubting Thomas, amiright?
If you've spent some time with me over the course of this blog then you know that I have more than a little respect for Thomas the Apostle. Though I am of a protestant bent, I claim him as my "patron saint". Traditionally he is the patron saint of architects and an eastern country that we'll name in a bit. He died on December 21st, in the year 72.
In my original version of this post I went down a list of the three times Thomas speaks up in the Gospel of John. It was actually quite an academic approach...which is probably why I scrapped it. I'm not much for the academic form and process. I'm a story teller. So lets skip the bits that set up my point that Thomas was the one guy in the room who was going to say what everyone was thinking. You can find them. Let's skip the bits that establish my point that of all the apostles he was probably the most intellectually honest. You can do your own homework. You're smart enough. Let's skip that and get to the bit of the story that actually earned Thomas the title and made it an insult or at least a disparaging term among both Christians and non-Christians alike.
The week had been a big one so far. From the triumphal entry, to the Last Supper, to the garden arrest, to the crucifixion, it was a lot to take in and process. Imagine walking into Jerusalem, the Holy City where God met with the High Priest in the Holy Temple, with the crowds cheering for your teacher. You couldn't help but get excited about what might be coming next. The largest city in all of Israel, the capital, and you suddenly realize that your teacher and your fellow disciples apparently have the will of the people on your side. Everyone is shouting for joy to God...well, everyone but the pharisees and saducees but you're not sure the last time you actually saw any of them do anything but scowl and murmur together trying to cook up some sort of trick question for your teacher. The atmosphere would have been electric. Anything could happen, even the overthrow of the pagan Roman occupiers.
Jesus routs the money changers and merchants from out of the temple. Now the Roman's aren't the only ones who are going to get it in the new kingdom, so to is the corrupted Jewish system. A full cleansing of Israel seems eminent.
The upper room is filled with candle light, Your teacher disrobes, grabs a towel and a basin, and begins to watch each of his student's feet. It is a crazy juxtaposition, a upside down sense of duty and honor, so much so that it is not surprising that Peter initially refuses to allow it. The master is above the servant, the teacher worthy of more honor above the student. To Jesus it is the foundation of His Kingdom, He says, just how things are and work. Later Jesus describes the inevitability of His death. He has been on about his death for ages, but many of his students disregard it as crazy talk. How can a King establish a Kingdom by dying? It must be somewhere later down the road, or perhaps it's a symbolic death. Kingdoms are upturned, and thrones usurped by a King's death, not established.
Then Judas is called out as a betrayer. The teacher doesn't even act angry about the fact of his betrayal. He even bids the man to go and do it rather than stop him. But the meal continues.
In the garden is where the dream begins to die. Heavily armed guards arrest the teacher, they take Him to where He is beaten and fraudulently accused of things He never did. Fist shaped bruises blossom on His cheek, a white pair to teeth lay on the floor, their roots crimson against the dirt. From there the teacher is taken from official to official, beaten by one, mocked by another, and that's when you begin to feel a creeping sense of dread. First it was shock, now it has turned sour in your stomach. The air is thick with it. Days ago your ears shuddered at the sound of praises, more thunderously the people cry their curses. The people are shouting for the innocent teacher's life to be sacrificed on the cross in the place of a murderous man. It was a shock to hear that Peter denied the teacher, but now denial seems to be an option as your survival instinct kicks in, as the crowd turn uglier than you've ever seen it. He is condemned to death. In the minds of the people it is for insurrection and/or blasphemy. It never fares much better for known associates of the condemned when it comes to insurrection, and you would be marked for life for blasphemy.
At the foot of the cross you hear the people mock Him. They question why, if He is so holy and the Son of God, He doesn't just pull Himself off the cross. You can't help but wonder that as well as you mourn what you are seeing. You put all your proverbial chips on this number. You saw miracles, healings, exorcisms, and now this? Why wouldn't He be able to. He dies, gives up His last breath. The sky goes dark, a great earthquake hits and you thank God for the confusion as fear gives way to panic and you slip away.
They mourned for days, all together in one place. Thomas wasn't immune to it. The dream was over, whatever dream each disciple had in their hearts. They were afraid, confused, and each of them questioning God I have no doubt. They were being hunted by the Romans already, the rumor being that they wanted to make sure the Disciples didn't try and rob the grave. The land was in a full blown panic over the teacher's death and the following signs. The temple veil was torn as if by an invisible hand. People walked out of their graves full of life again. What did it all mean? The temple veil was particularly troubling. Rumors of all kinds flew. Every hour someone brought them news. In the morning was when the women returned to them telling them the tomb was empty, and there was an angel. John and Peter took off like a shot to the tomb while the rest remained fretting and wondering what it could mean. Was it the Romans? The Temple Guard under the orders of the High Priest to cast shame and suspicion upon them? John and Peter return with the same story. The stone was rolled away, the cloths folded neatly. One by one they begin to assume. But not Thomas.
He wants it to be true, but no. He wishes it could be true. Jesus had raised the dead before, but...
"Thomas, come on, He said it Himself. In three days He would rebuild,"
"I know what He said. I was there. He said the Temple."
"Then you know it's possible. The body is a temple."
"There are a hundred things that are possible. We don't know what happened. The women didn't see, Peter and John didn't see what happened. We don't know."
"Why won't you entertain it at least?"
"I do! In my heart I want it to be true, but I can't say that it is true when I don't know it to be true."
"Come on, Thomas. Just believe. You're just sore because we saw Him and you didn't."
"No!" he chokes on his tears. "I won't. I won't believe until I touch the holes in his hands and put my hand in his side."
What picture do you have when you read the scene as Jesus appears in the room and invites Thomas to touch, and put his hand in the Lord's side? Does Thomas just walk up dispassionately, objectively, and examines the wounds? Does he ashamedly just ascent intellectually with a nod toward Jesus?
In my mind he is filled with holy fear as every possibility and impossibility coalesces into one reality for him. His hear leaps into his throat as Jesus stands open armed welcoming his examination. Jesus nods for him to go ahead and shaking Thomas makes the the rounds from hand, to hand, to His side.
A remarkable thing happens to Thomas. Peter declared that Jesus was the Son of God. Thomas, however, dropped to his knees and said, "My Lord and my God". That's huge. A Jewish man declared that Jesus was Lord and God...one and the same...the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob there before him. It is easy to assume that he was "late to the party" with this realization, but there is no indication that anyone else had made that connection.
Further remarkable things happen to Thomas. This "lesser disciple", as some treat him, went farther with the Gospel than any other. This doubter took the largest leap of faith, leaving behind culture, language, civilization, and every point of familiarity to follow the spirit's leading to India where he established at least 15 churches and what would become "the Oriental Orthodox Church". I can only imagine the shock it must have been for the English missionaries to come and find people who already knew the Gospel as a result of already being "Saint Thomas Christians".
In my mind Thomas was a man who was extremely honest about himself and what he believed. I think his "doubt" was very much that of a grieving man who wanted to believe, but whose heart was broken. He wasn't going to admit what he had not seen and experienced. Perhaps it is a bit of pride in me, but I believe he and I would get along very well, kindred spirits cut from the same cloth, constantly assessing, reassessing, and questioning what we think we know in order to be sure we are grounded in the Truth. There is no shame in that, not character flaw to be mocked. Perhaps others are more blessed because they believe immediately. Peter may have been the "Rock", but given how far Thomas went and what he achieved I'd say he was certainly "sure footed".
Pax,
P
Thomas. Thomas the doubter. Doubting Thomas.
I mean, look at him over there, sulking in a corner, testy whenever anyone brings up the rumored resurrection. Silly Thomas. Puny in Faith Thomas. What kind of disciple is he going to grow up to be if he can't even believe in the resurrection after the crucifixion. If he'd just get that big brain out of the way he could experience so much joy. Why was he one of the Twelve again if he wasn't going to believe in miraculous things? I may not be a spiritual giant, but I'm sure no Doubting Thomas, amiright?
If you've spent some time with me over the course of this blog then you know that I have more than a little respect for Thomas the Apostle. Though I am of a protestant bent, I claim him as my "patron saint". Traditionally he is the patron saint of architects and an eastern country that we'll name in a bit. He died on December 21st, in the year 72.
In my original version of this post I went down a list of the three times Thomas speaks up in the Gospel of John. It was actually quite an academic approach...which is probably why I scrapped it. I'm not much for the academic form and process. I'm a story teller. So lets skip the bits that set up my point that Thomas was the one guy in the room who was going to say what everyone was thinking. You can find them. Let's skip the bits that establish my point that of all the apostles he was probably the most intellectually honest. You can do your own homework. You're smart enough. Let's skip that and get to the bit of the story that actually earned Thomas the title and made it an insult or at least a disparaging term among both Christians and non-Christians alike.
The week had been a big one so far. From the triumphal entry, to the Last Supper, to the garden arrest, to the crucifixion, it was a lot to take in and process. Imagine walking into Jerusalem, the Holy City where God met with the High Priest in the Holy Temple, with the crowds cheering for your teacher. You couldn't help but get excited about what might be coming next. The largest city in all of Israel, the capital, and you suddenly realize that your teacher and your fellow disciples apparently have the will of the people on your side. Everyone is shouting for joy to God...well, everyone but the pharisees and saducees but you're not sure the last time you actually saw any of them do anything but scowl and murmur together trying to cook up some sort of trick question for your teacher. The atmosphere would have been electric. Anything could happen, even the overthrow of the pagan Roman occupiers.
Jesus routs the money changers and merchants from out of the temple. Now the Roman's aren't the only ones who are going to get it in the new kingdom, so to is the corrupted Jewish system. A full cleansing of Israel seems eminent.
The upper room is filled with candle light, Your teacher disrobes, grabs a towel and a basin, and begins to watch each of his student's feet. It is a crazy juxtaposition, a upside down sense of duty and honor, so much so that it is not surprising that Peter initially refuses to allow it. The master is above the servant, the teacher worthy of more honor above the student. To Jesus it is the foundation of His Kingdom, He says, just how things are and work. Later Jesus describes the inevitability of His death. He has been on about his death for ages, but many of his students disregard it as crazy talk. How can a King establish a Kingdom by dying? It must be somewhere later down the road, or perhaps it's a symbolic death. Kingdoms are upturned, and thrones usurped by a King's death, not established.
Then Judas is called out as a betrayer. The teacher doesn't even act angry about the fact of his betrayal. He even bids the man to go and do it rather than stop him. But the meal continues.
In the garden is where the dream begins to die. Heavily armed guards arrest the teacher, they take Him to where He is beaten and fraudulently accused of things He never did. Fist shaped bruises blossom on His cheek, a white pair to teeth lay on the floor, their roots crimson against the dirt. From there the teacher is taken from official to official, beaten by one, mocked by another, and that's when you begin to feel a creeping sense of dread. First it was shock, now it has turned sour in your stomach. The air is thick with it. Days ago your ears shuddered at the sound of praises, more thunderously the people cry their curses. The people are shouting for the innocent teacher's life to be sacrificed on the cross in the place of a murderous man. It was a shock to hear that Peter denied the teacher, but now denial seems to be an option as your survival instinct kicks in, as the crowd turn uglier than you've ever seen it. He is condemned to death. In the minds of the people it is for insurrection and/or blasphemy. It never fares much better for known associates of the condemned when it comes to insurrection, and you would be marked for life for blasphemy.
At the foot of the cross you hear the people mock Him. They question why, if He is so holy and the Son of God, He doesn't just pull Himself off the cross. You can't help but wonder that as well as you mourn what you are seeing. You put all your proverbial chips on this number. You saw miracles, healings, exorcisms, and now this? Why wouldn't He be able to. He dies, gives up His last breath. The sky goes dark, a great earthquake hits and you thank God for the confusion as fear gives way to panic and you slip away.
They mourned for days, all together in one place. Thomas wasn't immune to it. The dream was over, whatever dream each disciple had in their hearts. They were afraid, confused, and each of them questioning God I have no doubt. They were being hunted by the Romans already, the rumor being that they wanted to make sure the Disciples didn't try and rob the grave. The land was in a full blown panic over the teacher's death and the following signs. The temple veil was torn as if by an invisible hand. People walked out of their graves full of life again. What did it all mean? The temple veil was particularly troubling. Rumors of all kinds flew. Every hour someone brought them news. In the morning was when the women returned to them telling them the tomb was empty, and there was an angel. John and Peter took off like a shot to the tomb while the rest remained fretting and wondering what it could mean. Was it the Romans? The Temple Guard under the orders of the High Priest to cast shame and suspicion upon them? John and Peter return with the same story. The stone was rolled away, the cloths folded neatly. One by one they begin to assume. But not Thomas.
He wants it to be true, but no. He wishes it could be true. Jesus had raised the dead before, but...
"Thomas, come on, He said it Himself. In three days He would rebuild,"
"I know what He said. I was there. He said the Temple."
"Then you know it's possible. The body is a temple."
"There are a hundred things that are possible. We don't know what happened. The women didn't see, Peter and John didn't see what happened. We don't know."
"Why won't you entertain it at least?"
"I do! In my heart I want it to be true, but I can't say that it is true when I don't know it to be true."
"Come on, Thomas. Just believe. You're just sore because we saw Him and you didn't."
"No!" he chokes on his tears. "I won't. I won't believe until I touch the holes in his hands and put my hand in his side."
What picture do you have when you read the scene as Jesus appears in the room and invites Thomas to touch, and put his hand in the Lord's side? Does Thomas just walk up dispassionately, objectively, and examines the wounds? Does he ashamedly just ascent intellectually with a nod toward Jesus?
In my mind he is filled with holy fear as every possibility and impossibility coalesces into one reality for him. His hear leaps into his throat as Jesus stands open armed welcoming his examination. Jesus nods for him to go ahead and shaking Thomas makes the the rounds from hand, to hand, to His side.
A remarkable thing happens to Thomas. Peter declared that Jesus was the Son of God. Thomas, however, dropped to his knees and said, "My Lord and my God". That's huge. A Jewish man declared that Jesus was Lord and God...one and the same...the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob there before him. It is easy to assume that he was "late to the party" with this realization, but there is no indication that anyone else had made that connection.
Further remarkable things happen to Thomas. This "lesser disciple", as some treat him, went farther with the Gospel than any other. This doubter took the largest leap of faith, leaving behind culture, language, civilization, and every point of familiarity to follow the spirit's leading to India where he established at least 15 churches and what would become "the Oriental Orthodox Church". I can only imagine the shock it must have been for the English missionaries to come and find people who already knew the Gospel as a result of already being "Saint Thomas Christians".
In my mind Thomas was a man who was extremely honest about himself and what he believed. I think his "doubt" was very much that of a grieving man who wanted to believe, but whose heart was broken. He wasn't going to admit what he had not seen and experienced. Perhaps it is a bit of pride in me, but I believe he and I would get along very well, kindred spirits cut from the same cloth, constantly assessing, reassessing, and questioning what we think we know in order to be sure we are grounded in the Truth. There is no shame in that, not character flaw to be mocked. Perhaps others are more blessed because they believe immediately. Peter may have been the "Rock", but given how far Thomas went and what he achieved I'd say he was certainly "sure footed".
Pax,
P
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