Eschatology.
For those of you who could care less about Greek-based theological terms, eschatology is the study of the end times, the final days on this earth, often specifically concerned with the Book of Revelation in the Bible.
What has been quite interesting here in Hilton Head, SC is that many of the people here take the book quite literally, expecting rapture and tribulation, the beast and the four apocalyptic horsemen, the 1,000 year reign of Christ on the earth and the rule of a certain anti-Christ.
Me? Not so much. Jesus said that the day of His return will come "...as a thief in the night..." and I put my trust in that. Who am I? I'm student at a Christian college with a very limited epistemological perspective of this world.
In short, I don't know a lot about a lot. This included.
Many a conversation has been held in my office (of all places) between people talking about how it would stink to be on a plane during the rapture, or how they've visited the hill where Jesus left and where he will return again, or how reading Revelation it is very clear that we are in the last few years, that soon and very soon the world will fade into oblivion with those under the wing of Christ whisked away to heaven.
There sits me, quiet. The last thing I want to do is to get into a heated argument over the meaning of Revelation, the literary and generic aspect of Scripture, and the entire inerrant / infallibility fiasco argument. If there's one thing I learned in life, sometime you avoid the argument until you cannot any longer, after all, there's no point of arguing with anyone if you're doing it merely to prove your correctness and another's fault. Rather, to argue means that such a subject means so much to me that I wish dearly for the others to see where I come from and even more dearly, I wish them to accept what I say.
That's easier said than done. Righteous indignation is not fought without difficulty.
Lately I've been reading Richard Hays Moral Vision of the New Testament and, as I've said before, it amazes me how deeply the return of Christ drastically affected the authors of the New Testament. Mark felt the coming was soon, and his gospel reflected that, whereas Matthew was admitting not to know such an hour. Paul's eschatology was much different in his first letters than his last letters and John passionately preached hope to those being persecuted and discriminated, stating that when Christ returns all will be made better.
Whether you're Paul, Mark, Pastor Roy or Blake Jurgens this matters. After all, this is the end of this world as we know it (and I feel fine) we're talking about, regardless of whether we may have very dogmatic views or just eager expectation of the coming of Christ, whether we are looking towards tomorrow, next week, next year, or two thousand years from now.
I want Jesus. I need Him. The thing is let us not forget in the midst of our planning for the future that He is here, working about us. How awesome is that?!? That the Creator of the universe works in us, us of all people! He works in rough and gruff construction workers, in sleepy hotel managers, grumpy mechanics, and even in silly psychologists and philosophers...every day!!! And our response?
We're working towards his kingdom. Til then, we are pilgrims on a journey, travelers on the road, and merchants without a place to rest their heads. Our work? To bring the love of Christ to those here, to be His hands and His feet.
My fellow believers. In this way, we are as close to heaven on earth that this planet will get until He comes again? How cool is that? That we of all people are the ropes and chains which are, inch by inch, slowly pulling heaven down here to this earth. Sure, we are frayed ropes, cracked chains, and our strength is insufficient on it's own terms, but when we are enforced with His spirit, we becomes strong. Two ropes are not easily broken, three not easily snapped, and a multitude unbreakable as long as they are weaved together by their heavenly Father. Heaven is coming, someday...just don't ask me when...but it comes. Be excited!!!
Even if there's no rapture...sorry premillennialist folks!
Love u all.
Staying busy, pray often.
Blake
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
A Few of My Favorite Things . . .
After reading Brandon Haan's list of his current favorites, I realized that I as well have things that are my favorites currently (some people too). God blesses us in many different ways...so here how I've been blessed lately (some big profound ways...some not so profound...)
1) Michael Trent; He's the lead singer / guitarist of one of my favorite bands The Films. Well, lately I treated myself to his self-titled solo album and his alt-country album he put out with Cary Ann Hearst titled Shovels and Rope. Utterly Amazing! He has this ability to put into simple words humorous and heart-breaking stories. Earlier this summer The Films put out their new album Oh, Scorpio which began to show a new side to the band, a more folk / country tinged side, which was, as usual for the band, simple yet intricately creative and enjoyable. Need I say more, buy these three albums...they are all extremely different and yet carry a consistent, lyrically and melodically thrilling theme.
2) Richard Hays' book The Moral Vision of the New Testament. I never truly realized how varying the gospel and epistle writers differed on their comprehensive ethical visions until reading this book. Hays, a professor at Duke Divinity, spent the last 10 years on and off trying to synthesize all these accounts into one ethical philosophy that can, in one way or another, overlap each and every books ethical themes and views. It has been eyeopening, enlightening, and insightful. Who knew how deep eschatology affected the 1st century Christian ethical system, or how many apparent paradoxes exist in the moral vision of the New Testament. If you like a lengthy book that subscribes to detail and you enjoy a book that is a bit eggheaded pick it up, give it a read.
3) The beach; after all, I'm here in South Carolina for only 3 and 1/2 more weeks...one thing I will miss when I leave is my after-work runs to the beach. 2 miles there, 2 miles back, and nice quite time in between. The sea air, the soft sand, the cooling summer sun behind me, what an awesome world we live in!
4) Selfless people; when you work in a community like Grace, you begin to see how selfless some people are. The thing is you have to look really hard to find such people. for such people often are so selfless they try not to bring such attention to themselves. I've tried to emulate that, to be more Christ-like and realize the suffering servent mindset that Henri Nouwen talked so much about during our Fellow's reading of The Wounded Healer. Whether this selflessness means taking a back seat on a project, sacrificing study time for a much-needed talk, or to spend a beautiful afternoon visiting the old, the grouchy, and the sick, it is refreshing and beautiful and an honor to witness such serventhood.
5) My family; they're up for the weekend. Good times ahead.
6) Housemates...even tho I haven't seen them in a while it's something to look forward to. I love my house, 7 guys under one roof, 6 of them decent charecters...and then there's Tim Slager (just kidding...sort of). The senior year of college will be odd, much more odd than leaving high school, so I can't wait to once again reside at the Beltline Manor, playing Super Smash Bros on the N64, watching Saturday morning TV, and trying not to be too mean to Branden.
7) My sexy friend Nate Door coming to end my trip...road trip back to MI.
8) The book of Matthew...I've been working through sections of the Beatitudes and other portions of the book, digging deep into comentaries and translating the Greek...between that and Hays Moral Vision... I've really been blessed in learning a lot...not just in experiance this summer, preforming baptisms in the ocean, offering communion to the elderly, leading worship, or much more, but also in the knowledge I've been graced with...tho it still amazes me how God can shove what I need to know in when I need to know it (i've got a lot more to learn still)
9) Chamber's My Utmost for His Highest; Hana and I have been diving into this during out nightly talks. It has been great to have one-on-one discussion from two people who can see things so differently with Christ at the forefront. She has enlightened me and I sure hope I've done the same for her! Everyone needs someone to confide in, to trust, to tell the stupid and mundane to over and over again...and I'm glad I got her!
10) Life; it is a joy to be alive. Happiness is founded upon hap, chance, luck. Joy never ceases, it does not fade, it is God smiling upon us and us responding by putting him first. Rejoice in the Lord always and again I say, rejoice! Grace Community has been 7 weeks of joy and truly God has given me such a gift to be here. I hope you all know how much i appreciate being here.
And I appreciate you
you all are my favorites.
Blake
1) Michael Trent; He's the lead singer / guitarist of one of my favorite bands The Films. Well, lately I treated myself to his self-titled solo album and his alt-country album he put out with Cary Ann Hearst titled Shovels and Rope. Utterly Amazing! He has this ability to put into simple words humorous and heart-breaking stories. Earlier this summer The Films put out their new album Oh, Scorpio which began to show a new side to the band, a more folk / country tinged side, which was, as usual for the band, simple yet intricately creative and enjoyable. Need I say more, buy these three albums...they are all extremely different and yet carry a consistent, lyrically and melodically thrilling theme.
2) Richard Hays' book The Moral Vision of the New Testament. I never truly realized how varying the gospel and epistle writers differed on their comprehensive ethical visions until reading this book. Hays, a professor at Duke Divinity, spent the last 10 years on and off trying to synthesize all these accounts into one ethical philosophy that can, in one way or another, overlap each and every books ethical themes and views. It has been eyeopening, enlightening, and insightful. Who knew how deep eschatology affected the 1st century Christian ethical system, or how many apparent paradoxes exist in the moral vision of the New Testament. If you like a lengthy book that subscribes to detail and you enjoy a book that is a bit eggheaded pick it up, give it a read.
3) The beach; after all, I'm here in South Carolina for only 3 and 1/2 more weeks...one thing I will miss when I leave is my after-work runs to the beach. 2 miles there, 2 miles back, and nice quite time in between. The sea air, the soft sand, the cooling summer sun behind me, what an awesome world we live in!
4) Selfless people; when you work in a community like Grace, you begin to see how selfless some people are. The thing is you have to look really hard to find such people. for such people often are so selfless they try not to bring such attention to themselves. I've tried to emulate that, to be more Christ-like and realize the suffering servent mindset that Henri Nouwen talked so much about during our Fellow's reading of The Wounded Healer. Whether this selflessness means taking a back seat on a project, sacrificing study time for a much-needed talk, or to spend a beautiful afternoon visiting the old, the grouchy, and the sick, it is refreshing and beautiful and an honor to witness such serventhood.
5) My family; they're up for the weekend. Good times ahead.
6) Housemates...even tho I haven't seen them in a while it's something to look forward to. I love my house, 7 guys under one roof, 6 of them decent charecters...and then there's Tim Slager (just kidding...sort of). The senior year of college will be odd, much more odd than leaving high school, so I can't wait to once again reside at the Beltline Manor, playing Super Smash Bros on the N64, watching Saturday morning TV, and trying not to be too mean to Branden.
7) My sexy friend Nate Door coming to end my trip...road trip back to MI.
8) The book of Matthew...I've been working through sections of the Beatitudes and other portions of the book, digging deep into comentaries and translating the Greek...between that and Hays Moral Vision... I've really been blessed in learning a lot...not just in experiance this summer, preforming baptisms in the ocean, offering communion to the elderly, leading worship, or much more, but also in the knowledge I've been graced with...tho it still amazes me how God can shove what I need to know in when I need to know it (i've got a lot more to learn still)
9) Chamber's My Utmost for His Highest; Hana and I have been diving into this during out nightly talks. It has been great to have one-on-one discussion from two people who can see things so differently with Christ at the forefront. She has enlightened me and I sure hope I've done the same for her! Everyone needs someone to confide in, to trust, to tell the stupid and mundane to over and over again...and I'm glad I got her!
10) Life; it is a joy to be alive. Happiness is founded upon hap, chance, luck. Joy never ceases, it does not fade, it is God smiling upon us and us responding by putting him first. Rejoice in the Lord always and again I say, rejoice! Grace Community has been 7 weeks of joy and truly God has given me such a gift to be here. I hope you all know how much i appreciate being here.
And I appreciate you
you all are my favorites.
Blake
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
It's All About The Benjamins, Baby
Under the reign of Emperor Valerian Rome again induced into a phase of vigorous persecution of Christians during the years between 253 and 260. In the city of Rome lived it's governor, Marcianus, who followed the ruling and verdicts of Valerian to a T. He blissfully killed Christian leaders without a second thought, after all, Marcianus was concerned with one thing and one thing only.
Drachma. Coin. Benjamins. Money. You get it.
It consumed him, ate him up, night and day thinking and pondering, scheming and plotting, planning and obsessing just how to gain more financial clout.
By word of mouth, one fateful day, Marcianus heard a legend, an urban myth so to say, that the Christians living in Rome were in possession of many riches. Gold and silver, jewels and cattle, strings of pearl and clothes of purple dye. Marcianus drooled at the thought of such riches, riches which had been under his nose the entire time. He immediately called Lawrence, the distributor of the goods of the church in Rome, to stand before him. It was them that he promptly ordered with a regal gesture and a wicked, unconfined smile, to tell him where all these riches of the church were being held. Lawrence nodded his head and asked the greedy governor to allow him three days to gather all these riches and to bring them before the governor. Marcianus agreed, smacking his gums. For three nights Marcianus waited, his eyes twinkling whenever he thought about all the treasures that were soon to come. He couldn't eat, he could barely sleep, all he could do was consume his daily thoughts with pictures of golden vases, emerald studded statues, and piles upon piles of precious coins.
On the third day, he eagerly ordered Lawrence to stand before him, commanding him to present these riches to him in order that he may take them for himself. Lawrence walked the governor outside his hall and stretched out his arm towards the stairs descending from the great hall.
Beggars, the homeless, the old and the dirty, the decrepit and the blind, the lame and the weak. Hundreds of them. "These are the precious riches of the Church." Lawrence proclaimed proudly "They are the treasure in which faith in Christ reigns, in whom Christ has His dwelling place. What more precious jewel can the church have than those in whom Christ promised to dwell?"
Marcianus raged. He burned. He screamed from the stairs "Light the fire! Do not spare the wood! This villain has tried to deceive the emperor. Away with him! Whip him with scourges, jerk him with hooks, buffet him with fists, bash him with clubs. Does this traitor joke with the emperor? Pinch him with fiery tongs, wrap him in burning plates, bring out the strongest chains, and the fire forks, and the grated bed of iron. Put the bed on the fire and when it is red hot, bind the traitor on it hand and foot and roast him, broil him, toss him, turn him! Torture him every way you can or you will be tormented yourself!"
And they did just that.
For those with little to lose, Christ is such an infinite gain! Just read the Beatitudes of Matthew 5...Blessed are the poor in spirit, the mourners, the weak, the meek, the persecuted, the peacemakers...why are they blessed? If anything, they are far from blessed! This standard Christ establishes here is impossible from the start, why...because who wants to be poor in spirit, a mourner, weak or meek, or persecuted? None of us!!! Yet, what reward, what a blessing; to be called children of God, to taste sweet grace, to reach what Pastor Roy calls "your last healing".
Heaven is so near, yet so far. Am I ready for it? Seriously. Am I prepared to see the face of my savior the way I am, caked in the muck and mire that is my sin, my shortcomings, my frailties? Am I prepared to let go of those secret desires and lusts which pervert my very self? Am I willing to make myself poor for His kingdom?
His grace is so good. So very good. Are we truly the riches of His kingdom? Can it be true? Me? Really?!?
I thirst deeply for heaven, I hope you feel the same!!!
Pray often
Love always
Have hope
Oh, and enjoy life! Be joyful! God is too good to us not to rejoice, and again I say, rejoice!
Blake
Drachma. Coin. Benjamins. Money. You get it.
It consumed him, ate him up, night and day thinking and pondering, scheming and plotting, planning and obsessing just how to gain more financial clout.
By word of mouth, one fateful day, Marcianus heard a legend, an urban myth so to say, that the Christians living in Rome were in possession of many riches. Gold and silver, jewels and cattle, strings of pearl and clothes of purple dye. Marcianus drooled at the thought of such riches, riches which had been under his nose the entire time. He immediately called Lawrence, the distributor of the goods of the church in Rome, to stand before him. It was them that he promptly ordered with a regal gesture and a wicked, unconfined smile, to tell him where all these riches of the church were being held. Lawrence nodded his head and asked the greedy governor to allow him three days to gather all these riches and to bring them before the governor. Marcianus agreed, smacking his gums. For three nights Marcianus waited, his eyes twinkling whenever he thought about all the treasures that were soon to come. He couldn't eat, he could barely sleep, all he could do was consume his daily thoughts with pictures of golden vases, emerald studded statues, and piles upon piles of precious coins.
On the third day, he eagerly ordered Lawrence to stand before him, commanding him to present these riches to him in order that he may take them for himself. Lawrence walked the governor outside his hall and stretched out his arm towards the stairs descending from the great hall.
Beggars, the homeless, the old and the dirty, the decrepit and the blind, the lame and the weak. Hundreds of them. "These are the precious riches of the Church." Lawrence proclaimed proudly "They are the treasure in which faith in Christ reigns, in whom Christ has His dwelling place. What more precious jewel can the church have than those in whom Christ promised to dwell?"
Marcianus raged. He burned. He screamed from the stairs "Light the fire! Do not spare the wood! This villain has tried to deceive the emperor. Away with him! Whip him with scourges, jerk him with hooks, buffet him with fists, bash him with clubs. Does this traitor joke with the emperor? Pinch him with fiery tongs, wrap him in burning plates, bring out the strongest chains, and the fire forks, and the grated bed of iron. Put the bed on the fire and when it is red hot, bind the traitor on it hand and foot and roast him, broil him, toss him, turn him! Torture him every way you can or you will be tormented yourself!"
And they did just that.
For those with little to lose, Christ is such an infinite gain! Just read the Beatitudes of Matthew 5...Blessed are the poor in spirit, the mourners, the weak, the meek, the persecuted, the peacemakers...why are they blessed? If anything, they are far from blessed! This standard Christ establishes here is impossible from the start, why...because who wants to be poor in spirit, a mourner, weak or meek, or persecuted? None of us!!! Yet, what reward, what a blessing; to be called children of God, to taste sweet grace, to reach what Pastor Roy calls "your last healing".
Heaven is so near, yet so far. Am I ready for it? Seriously. Am I prepared to see the face of my savior the way I am, caked in the muck and mire that is my sin, my shortcomings, my frailties? Am I prepared to let go of those secret desires and lusts which pervert my very self? Am I willing to make myself poor for His kingdom?
His grace is so good. So very good. Are we truly the riches of His kingdom? Can it be true? Me? Really?!?
I thirst deeply for heaven, I hope you feel the same!!!
Pray often
Love always
Have hope
Oh, and enjoy life! Be joyful! God is too good to us not to rejoice, and again I say, rejoice!
Blake
Friday, July 17, 2009
Can You Die From A Sneeze?
Anton Chekhov knew how to weave a good story (Pardon my length here, there is a point...eventually)
There was a man named Ivan Cherviakov (the Russian word for 'worm' is cherviak, an intended pun no doubt), a fine office manager, was sitting in the opera, attentively cocking an ear towards the melodious lyrics as he gazed warmly through his opera glasses. When suddenly his throat tickled, his eyes watered, and his nose twitched ever so slightly. With instantaneous reflex he lay aside his brass glasses and wrenching back his neck let go a monstrous sneeze.
Ac-CHOO!!!!
He pulled out a white handkerchief, glancing to his left and right, taking inventory of any disturbance his little uproar may have caused. But it was only a sneeze, a mere sneeze at that. Everyone sneezes at times, policemen, politicians, even interns in South Carolina (like this one); it wasn't a big deal, no one ever died from a sneeze. Seeing no returning glances of disapproval, he returned to the music only to behold a horrible sight for right in front of him sat a bald older gentleman who currently was wiping his dome clean of the sudden shower of sticky moisture.
It was gross.
But this wasn't any man. No, this was General Brizzhalov (a play on the Russian verb meaning 'to spray'...go figure), a distinguished government official and an important politician in the district, not to mention a decorated war veteran. Embarrassed to say the least, Cherviakov leaned forward ever so slightly, tapping gently upon the General's shoulder;
"Pardon me, sir...your excellency...I ask your forgiveness, for I just sprayed you, my deepest regrets sir."
"Never mind son, never mind"
"No sir, what I am saying is that I sneezed....I mean, my deepest apologies to you and any inconvenience I may have caused your greatness."
"Son, it's alright. No harm done, now please let me listen if you'd be so kind."
The General turned around, facing the stage as Cherviakov once again sat in his chair, reclining slightly as he placed his hand to his face, feeling slightly upset. Upset enough where he couldn't enjoy the opera. The General did not deserve such disrespect. Of course not, the man was a military genius! He deserved an eloquent and sincere apology. Again, Cherviakov leaned forward.
"Sir, your utter greatness...I have deeply erred here and I ask humbly for your forgiveness attaining to these matters" Cherviakov bowed his head, a bead of sweat rolled past his ear.
"It's quite alright..."
"No sir, i insist I have made a huge mistake and...well, I should be able to control such things..."
"Please, Please just let it go...I wish to pay attention. No more of it!"
Cherviakov returned a third time to his seat, distraught, after all, the General did not even care to hear his entire apology, well-worded and eloquent. This irked him during the entire opera, the entire walk home, and even as he slipped into bed, keeping him up all night.
The next morning he rose early, got a haircut, bathed and slicked back his hair, and dressed in a brand new suit before going down to the office of the General. Indeed, maybe a personal visit and an outright and full apology in its full legality and regality would suffice the General's forgiveness and graces. So, Cherviakov entered, waited for a good 45 minutes, and then entered the office of the General, bowing his head as the General re-arranged papers before speaking in a deep, loud voice.
"Sir, your honor, most trusted honor, I do not know if you recall but last night at the opera I was the man who sneezed and, to my deepest regret, sprayed you. Sir, I have made a horrid mistake, a deep and horrid mistake and do solemnly hope that this matter may be resolved in some way."
The General shook his head and smiled, annoyance filling his eyes "Such pointless apologies...no harm, go now, go!" and the General ushered the next official in with a wrist flick. But Cherviakov was even more nervous than when he arrived and he inched closer to the General.
"Your greatness, most humbly let me explain..."
"Sir." The General grumbled slightly "Please drop this, you are forgiven."
Cherviakov heard the tone of the General's voice though rather than the words. He pondered how upset the General was, so upset that his filthy forgiveness was mere pocket change to such a powerful official whom he had so ignorantly offended. Cherviakov turned red, his heart quickened and skipped as he loosened his collar and wiped sweat from his brow. The General must be angry, no, furious at me! Oh God!!! What a fool I must be! His pace quickened as he followed the General out of the office.
"But Sir!...if I may trouble you...I repent fully of this error I have made...please, accept this token..."
"Seriously, are you joking son? Please leave." He pointed to the door.
Cherviakov grew dizzy, this wasn't a joke, this was serious, too serious to just leave alone. The General must be completely dishonored and it was his fault, HIS!!! Cherviakov went home, wringing his hands as he felt the lining of his stomach melt from the stress. Should he write a letter to the General? Send a basket or flowers? Maybe he needed to sleep on it, but he didn't sleep, not a wink...
He returned to the office the next morning, dressed to impress. But his face was pale, his eye black with heavy rings under his lids. His lips were cracked and his nails had been bitten down as far as one could bite them. He rushed into the General's office without invite, falling to his knees in a quasi-grovel.
"Sir, your utter greatness and honor, I did not mean for yesterday to be a joke...yes, um...I pondered it last night and saw my foolishness in such act and found it laughable to apologize so fervently for a sneeze...a sneeze of all things!...But may I...may i, your excellence, apology quite sincerely for my grievous actions yesterday..."
"Get OUT!!!" The General yelled, his face as red as Cherviakov's was white. He pumped his fist towards the door, flinging his papers across the floor.
"Please sir, my greatest and most utter apologies..." He cowered along the rug, reaching upon the General's desk.
"GET OUT NOW!!!" The General stomped his feet, shaking with rage.
Something snapped in Cherviakov, he waddled home, opened the door and leaving it so he fell onto his sofa and...he died.
Dark, huh?
'My Utmost For His Highest' today, the 17th of July (the 126th anniversary of this classic tale) speaks of how real, affective fasting by the pastor is not from food or beverage, it is fasting from speaking with such eloquence as the distract the hearers from the good news. The pastor is, as Chambers says, a representative of God, a teacher who is meant to teach rather than impress others with his infinite terminology, intelligent jargon, and his many leather-bound books upon shelves of rich mahogany. Any such over-working or wording is adding to the message that is meant to spoken.
Do I dance around in my words? Am I speaking too much when I really had it right the first time? Are we, as Christians, filling our language full of religious and philosophical idioms that those who don't know Jesus Christ won't even attempt to open up to Him since we, those who follow Him, have already alienated them with our language and exclusivism? I know we don't always try to be such, but I look at me and see that; a lot of knowledge is a pretty powerful tool, a bit too powerful I feel at times for this 21-year old Michigander who still has quite a bit to learn about application of such knowledge (that's wisdom, I surely hope it comes with age!)
The mark of a true Christian teacher? One who makes hard things easy, difficult terms relatable, and takes the darkness and lights it. If it is only because of my preaching and teaching that people desire to be better, then they will never find Jesus Christ. As Socrates and Gorgias; an two-bit junk bond trader can be an orator, but a teacher, a true teacher...now that's a challenge!
If we, as Christians, wish to share the good news, maybe we need to stop being concerned with the elegance and well-worded presentations and start with Christ (it's a good place to start) and stop trying to put a medium rare filet Mignon where a juicy quarter pounder will fit quite nicely.
So yes...sneezes can kill.
Pray often, love you all!
Blake
There was a man named Ivan Cherviakov (the Russian word for 'worm' is cherviak, an intended pun no doubt), a fine office manager, was sitting in the opera, attentively cocking an ear towards the melodious lyrics as he gazed warmly through his opera glasses. When suddenly his throat tickled, his eyes watered, and his nose twitched ever so slightly. With instantaneous reflex he lay aside his brass glasses and wrenching back his neck let go a monstrous sneeze.
Ac-CHOO!!!!
He pulled out a white handkerchief, glancing to his left and right, taking inventory of any disturbance his little uproar may have caused. But it was only a sneeze, a mere sneeze at that. Everyone sneezes at times, policemen, politicians, even interns in South Carolina (like this one); it wasn't a big deal, no one ever died from a sneeze. Seeing no returning glances of disapproval, he returned to the music only to behold a horrible sight for right in front of him sat a bald older gentleman who currently was wiping his dome clean of the sudden shower of sticky moisture.
It was gross.
But this wasn't any man. No, this was General Brizzhalov (a play on the Russian verb meaning 'to spray'...go figure), a distinguished government official and an important politician in the district, not to mention a decorated war veteran. Embarrassed to say the least, Cherviakov leaned forward ever so slightly, tapping gently upon the General's shoulder;
"Pardon me, sir...your excellency...I ask your forgiveness, for I just sprayed you, my deepest regrets sir."
"Never mind son, never mind"
"No sir, what I am saying is that I sneezed....I mean, my deepest apologies to you and any inconvenience I may have caused your greatness."
"Son, it's alright. No harm done, now please let me listen if you'd be so kind."
The General turned around, facing the stage as Cherviakov once again sat in his chair, reclining slightly as he placed his hand to his face, feeling slightly upset. Upset enough where he couldn't enjoy the opera. The General did not deserve such disrespect. Of course not, the man was a military genius! He deserved an eloquent and sincere apology. Again, Cherviakov leaned forward.
"Sir, your utter greatness...I have deeply erred here and I ask humbly for your forgiveness attaining to these matters" Cherviakov bowed his head, a bead of sweat rolled past his ear.
"It's quite alright..."
"No sir, i insist I have made a huge mistake and...well, I should be able to control such things..."
"Please, Please just let it go...I wish to pay attention. No more of it!"
Cherviakov returned a third time to his seat, distraught, after all, the General did not even care to hear his entire apology, well-worded and eloquent. This irked him during the entire opera, the entire walk home, and even as he slipped into bed, keeping him up all night.
The next morning he rose early, got a haircut, bathed and slicked back his hair, and dressed in a brand new suit before going down to the office of the General. Indeed, maybe a personal visit and an outright and full apology in its full legality and regality would suffice the General's forgiveness and graces. So, Cherviakov entered, waited for a good 45 minutes, and then entered the office of the General, bowing his head as the General re-arranged papers before speaking in a deep, loud voice.
"Sir, your honor, most trusted honor, I do not know if you recall but last night at the opera I was the man who sneezed and, to my deepest regret, sprayed you. Sir, I have made a horrid mistake, a deep and horrid mistake and do solemnly hope that this matter may be resolved in some way."
The General shook his head and smiled, annoyance filling his eyes "Such pointless apologies...no harm, go now, go!" and the General ushered the next official in with a wrist flick. But Cherviakov was even more nervous than when he arrived and he inched closer to the General.
"Your greatness, most humbly let me explain..."
"Sir." The General grumbled slightly "Please drop this, you are forgiven."
Cherviakov heard the tone of the General's voice though rather than the words. He pondered how upset the General was, so upset that his filthy forgiveness was mere pocket change to such a powerful official whom he had so ignorantly offended. Cherviakov turned red, his heart quickened and skipped as he loosened his collar and wiped sweat from his brow. The General must be angry, no, furious at me! Oh God!!! What a fool I must be! His pace quickened as he followed the General out of the office.
"But Sir!...if I may trouble you...I repent fully of this error I have made...please, accept this token..."
"Seriously, are you joking son? Please leave." He pointed to the door.
Cherviakov grew dizzy, this wasn't a joke, this was serious, too serious to just leave alone. The General must be completely dishonored and it was his fault, HIS!!! Cherviakov went home, wringing his hands as he felt the lining of his stomach melt from the stress. Should he write a letter to the General? Send a basket or flowers? Maybe he needed to sleep on it, but he didn't sleep, not a wink...
He returned to the office the next morning, dressed to impress. But his face was pale, his eye black with heavy rings under his lids. His lips were cracked and his nails had been bitten down as far as one could bite them. He rushed into the General's office without invite, falling to his knees in a quasi-grovel.
"Sir, your utter greatness and honor, I did not mean for yesterday to be a joke...yes, um...I pondered it last night and saw my foolishness in such act and found it laughable to apologize so fervently for a sneeze...a sneeze of all things!...But may I...may i, your excellence, apology quite sincerely for my grievous actions yesterday..."
"Get OUT!!!" The General yelled, his face as red as Cherviakov's was white. He pumped his fist towards the door, flinging his papers across the floor.
"Please sir, my greatest and most utter apologies..." He cowered along the rug, reaching upon the General's desk.
"GET OUT NOW!!!" The General stomped his feet, shaking with rage.
Something snapped in Cherviakov, he waddled home, opened the door and leaving it so he fell onto his sofa and...he died.
Dark, huh?
'My Utmost For His Highest' today, the 17th of July (the 126th anniversary of this classic tale) speaks of how real, affective fasting by the pastor is not from food or beverage, it is fasting from speaking with such eloquence as the distract the hearers from the good news. The pastor is, as Chambers says, a representative of God, a teacher who is meant to teach rather than impress others with his infinite terminology, intelligent jargon, and his many leather-bound books upon shelves of rich mahogany. Any such over-working or wording is adding to the message that is meant to spoken.
Do I dance around in my words? Am I speaking too much when I really had it right the first time? Are we, as Christians, filling our language full of religious and philosophical idioms that those who don't know Jesus Christ won't even attempt to open up to Him since we, those who follow Him, have already alienated them with our language and exclusivism? I know we don't always try to be such, but I look at me and see that; a lot of knowledge is a pretty powerful tool, a bit too powerful I feel at times for this 21-year old Michigander who still has quite a bit to learn about application of such knowledge (that's wisdom, I surely hope it comes with age!)
The mark of a true Christian teacher? One who makes hard things easy, difficult terms relatable, and takes the darkness and lights it. If it is only because of my preaching and teaching that people desire to be better, then they will never find Jesus Christ. As Socrates and Gorgias; an two-bit junk bond trader can be an orator, but a teacher, a true teacher...now that's a challenge!
If we, as Christians, wish to share the good news, maybe we need to stop being concerned with the elegance and well-worded presentations and start with Christ (it's a good place to start) and stop trying to put a medium rare filet Mignon where a juicy quarter pounder will fit quite nicely.
So yes...sneezes can kill.
Pray often, love you all!
Blake
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Keep a Song in your Heart
So, usually, when I'm in a good, chipper mood, I will usually say to those I am fond of (and those who I have just met) to "Keep a Story in your heart". I really have no idea where in the world I picked that phrase up, but it sounds like something some guy like me would say to someone like you who is currently reading this anecdote. There was never any reasoning behind it, at least until a couple of years ago when I became enthralled with Barth's narrative, post-liberal theology, which focuses deeply upon the narrative value of the Bible, so now I have at least some excuse to tell people to "Keep a Story in their heart."
As for me, I love stories. I love Greek mythology and epic prose, the Chinese saga "Journey to the West; the story of Monkey", and other great writers such as Russia's short story genius Anton Chekhov, the creative and thoughful musing of writers such as C.S. Lewis, William Barclay, and Jake Eppinga, and who can beat a good campfire story as told by a good friend? Stories make this world go around, they are passed on from generation to generation by word of mouth, by dog-earred pages and covers, and even in the horribly addicting habit called facebook-chat. It is through stories that we become attatched, mere figures and charecters suddenly become real. A person other than ourselves suddenly becomes merged with ourselves; so much so that we move from individuality to sympathy to complete empathy. What an amazing gift the story is! After all, isn't that what our lives are.
Well, how about songs? Yeah, music. I love music. A lot of it. Everything from the folksy sounds of Iron and Wine and Good Old War to the energy-filled banter of Bayside and The Films to the melodic guitars of The Fall of Troy and Between the Buried and Me to the classic (and irreplacable) sound of LA's own Jim Morrison and The Doors (gotta love The Doors!!!) So, you'd think that this week's assignment, leading worship at Grace Community, would be right up my alley. WRONG! Here's the thing about music, I like to sing, love the play guitar, and all that. But, I'm not the preforming type. I'll talk to hundreds buck-naked without a problem, but when it comes to pulling out the ol' gui-tar and harmonica five or six people scare the bejeebes out of me.
Not just preforming. Leading. Both morning services. No Cliff (our music director) as he is gone. Just me, a bunch of other people playing along, and a whole bunch of people on the other end of the sanctuary.
help
Here's the great thing about a heavenly Father. I stink. I really stink. I can screw up quite easily. Just ask Hana; after going out together for a delightful dinner with my host family we walked back to my car in the dark, full and happy. Sadly, what seemeda very simple drive off the island in the light was a much more difficult drive back onto the island. To make it short, I suck driving in the dark...like an old man wearing sunglasses. Needlesstosay, I am very blessed that she can stand a little adventure in her life, because an hour later we finally found 278 towards Hilton Head.
So, I stink. I am not always 100%...actually, closer to around 5%, maybe 5.8% on a good day. I am a few eggs short of a basket, a few sandwiches short of a picnic, and about 28 grand short of a college education.
But God isn't. Enough said. I come up short often. I've got a hot cup of coffee for 2.78$ and I'm 95 cents short, a 8.75$ movie ticket and I'm in need of an Honest Abe, a new home is a wad of cash but all I'm coming up with is whatever I find under the sofa and between my car seats. Yet, in spite of my inability to make it on my own, he provides. Maybe not that extra 95 cents when we want it, but more than just change for a caffine buzz. No matter the mess I get in, and no matter how deep the debt of my sin I occur, he never ceases to, like a parent with a checkbook, write away my multitude of mistakes and leaves me debt free.
Me. Blake Jurgens. Lost in South Carolina in the dark Blake Jurgens.
So, here I am. Huge task, huge responsibility, and no experiance. What kind of grace has come my way this week? The sweetest. Grace that kicks like an energy drink. Grace that goes from zilch to 60 in under 3 seconds, Grace that sets water on fire.
Two things; First...give worship leaders slack (Tracie and Pooh-Bear...if you read this, I respect you guys SO much...well, at least you Tracie...that was a joke, of course I respect you Nick) honestly guys and gals, it's a real whollup of work. I've learned how to use more software in the past 48 hours than I ever cared to learn about, and to think that God uses silly people like myself to master programs like those to put together our Sunday worship, it blows me away. It is more than plucking at ivorys Sunday morning and picking a couple songs; it involves planning and deep thinking and prayer and a couple dozen sofeware items.
Second; what a priviledge to be serving His kingdom in worship! For the first few hours of this entire process semi-bitter thoughts rambled through my head, after all, I didn't want to be this guy. But, the deeper I've gone, the more I grow to enjoy it, and the more I respect those who do this every week. Amen to that! (my first southern Amen...typed of cource)
Concluding, may the music of Christ run through your veins. May you sing out of utter joy overflowing from every chasim of your being. May He bless you, take you in His arms, and, by grace, teach us to walk.
Oh yeah, Keep a story in your heart!
Love always.
Blake
As for me, I love stories. I love Greek mythology and epic prose, the Chinese saga "Journey to the West; the story of Monkey", and other great writers such as Russia's short story genius Anton Chekhov, the creative and thoughful musing of writers such as C.S. Lewis, William Barclay, and Jake Eppinga, and who can beat a good campfire story as told by a good friend? Stories make this world go around, they are passed on from generation to generation by word of mouth, by dog-earred pages and covers, and even in the horribly addicting habit called facebook-chat. It is through stories that we become attatched, mere figures and charecters suddenly become real. A person other than ourselves suddenly becomes merged with ourselves; so much so that we move from individuality to sympathy to complete empathy. What an amazing gift the story is! After all, isn't that what our lives are.
Well, how about songs? Yeah, music. I love music. A lot of it. Everything from the folksy sounds of Iron and Wine and Good Old War to the energy-filled banter of Bayside and The Films to the melodic guitars of The Fall of Troy and Between the Buried and Me to the classic (and irreplacable) sound of LA's own Jim Morrison and The Doors (gotta love The Doors!!!) So, you'd think that this week's assignment, leading worship at Grace Community, would be right up my alley. WRONG! Here's the thing about music, I like to sing, love the play guitar, and all that. But, I'm not the preforming type. I'll talk to hundreds buck-naked without a problem, but when it comes to pulling out the ol' gui-tar and harmonica five or six people scare the bejeebes out of me.
Not just preforming. Leading. Both morning services. No Cliff (our music director) as he is gone. Just me, a bunch of other people playing along, and a whole bunch of people on the other end of the sanctuary.
help
Here's the great thing about a heavenly Father. I stink. I really stink. I can screw up quite easily. Just ask Hana; after going out together for a delightful dinner with my host family we walked back to my car in the dark, full and happy. Sadly, what seemeda very simple drive off the island in the light was a much more difficult drive back onto the island. To make it short, I suck driving in the dark...like an old man wearing sunglasses. Needlesstosay, I am very blessed that she can stand a little adventure in her life, because an hour later we finally found 278 towards Hilton Head.
So, I stink. I am not always 100%...actually, closer to around 5%, maybe 5.8% on a good day. I am a few eggs short of a basket, a few sandwiches short of a picnic, and about 28 grand short of a college education.
But God isn't. Enough said. I come up short often. I've got a hot cup of coffee for 2.78$ and I'm 95 cents short, a 8.75$ movie ticket and I'm in need of an Honest Abe, a new home is a wad of cash but all I'm coming up with is whatever I find under the sofa and between my car seats. Yet, in spite of my inability to make it on my own, he provides. Maybe not that extra 95 cents when we want it, but more than just change for a caffine buzz. No matter the mess I get in, and no matter how deep the debt of my sin I occur, he never ceases to, like a parent with a checkbook, write away my multitude of mistakes and leaves me debt free.
Me. Blake Jurgens. Lost in South Carolina in the dark Blake Jurgens.
So, here I am. Huge task, huge responsibility, and no experiance. What kind of grace has come my way this week? The sweetest. Grace that kicks like an energy drink. Grace that goes from zilch to 60 in under 3 seconds, Grace that sets water on fire.
Two things; First...give worship leaders slack (Tracie and Pooh-Bear...if you read this, I respect you guys SO much...well, at least you Tracie...that was a joke, of course I respect you Nick) honestly guys and gals, it's a real whollup of work. I've learned how to use more software in the past 48 hours than I ever cared to learn about, and to think that God uses silly people like myself to master programs like those to put together our Sunday worship, it blows me away. It is more than plucking at ivorys Sunday morning and picking a couple songs; it involves planning and deep thinking and prayer and a couple dozen sofeware items.
Second; what a priviledge to be serving His kingdom in worship! For the first few hours of this entire process semi-bitter thoughts rambled through my head, after all, I didn't want to be this guy. But, the deeper I've gone, the more I grow to enjoy it, and the more I respect those who do this every week. Amen to that! (my first southern Amen...typed of cource)
Concluding, may the music of Christ run through your veins. May you sing out of utter joy overflowing from every chasim of your being. May He bless you, take you in His arms, and, by grace, teach us to walk.
Oh yeah, Keep a story in your heart!
Love always.
Blake
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Uncertified Marriage Counselor
Yeah, believe me, don't let me be your marriage counselor...at least not yet.
Today I've been looking through the curriculum the pastors here at Grace Community use when going thru pre-marital counseling, which is about 30 years old (yikes!). I'll be honest, it is very Conservative, very evangelical, very Bible-belt type teaching (the tapes are from Pastor Roy's former professor from Columbia International here in South Carolina) and seemingly archaic. I mean, as a Christ-Follower (with a LOT of help) I can understand the systematic message that these tapes are presenting; a biblical perspective of marriage which I can, minus a few theological and oral dis-agreements, relate to. But, what of those who are immersed into this culture where such monikers are mere religious jargon with little or no weight? How do you explain 'grace' 'justification' 'trinitarian doctrine' and all those other fun terms to those who have lived their entire lives alienated from this language? Christian theology is written in the language and philosophical language of the Ancient Greeks. Why? Because this was the academic culture the early church fathers came from, most academic language was pulled from such brilliant Greeks as Plato, Aristotle, and many others. Christians may deny such influence, but it is blatantly obvious that though Christianity today may seem unique in language and mission, back in the early days it was heavily influenced by the culture of that day; to ignore that is to misunderstand the finer points of the Bible (especially in a day where Scripture has come under such academic analysis and questioning...something Christians need to learn to welcome...a story for another day)
Anyways, about marriage...for how much I can disagree with the piece I am currently reading while jamming to Wilco and 1997, I can't help but see a couple things that are crucial, especially for those of you looking for that "special someone" out there, or even those guys and gals out there who have already found that blessed treasure you feel called to spend the rest of this life with (oh Pooh Bear!)
First, what is marriage? It is a reflection of who God is, the relationship of God to himself. It is a life of self-reciprocating love; not mere romance or passion (this is the reason why 50% of marriage fail, they are founded on passion and romance) but that one you feel called to be with it one who can share your relationship with Christ. That together you are one, without change, confusion, division, or separation (talk about Chalcedon-esque language!).
Second, a marriage should be designed by God, and built by husband, wife, and God. This is a joint effort. What does this mean? First, both husband and wife, if they are truly be one, MUST be unified in Christ first and foremost. I Corinthians 6:14 states that "Be not unequally yoked with an unbeliever, for what accord (fellowship / unity) can you have with one who is not a believer?" Isn't that true, painfully and obviously true?!? If the most important thing in one's life is their relationship with Christ, if the person you love is any form of antithesis to that, then how can such a couple stand? Their purposes for marriage are distorted, for one put Jesus first, the other their lover first. The end result is that the inordinate loves become unbalanced, neither can bear nor understand the other.
Finally, what kind of marriage can work merely on passion? I look at me here, I am 21, decently good looking (no Orlando Bloom or underwear model) fun-loving, happy...all those good things. But, those things change, the abs disappear under a layer of flab, the face becomes less defined and the hairs either gray or just fall out. The eyes grow dim, the ears grow weak, the legs cease working and before you know it, you're old. I may be a sight for sore eyes now (if that even, this point will be quite disputed) but what about in 10 years? 20 years? 40 years? What of when I am cenial, grumpy, and fidgety? What about if I start wetting the bed, smelling like a old man, or when I get age spots all across my arms? Passion lasts for moments, it is fickle and empty, though fun, it is fun. Passion actually has a place; we enjoy it, it is God's gift to us. But, you can over-use a gift / use it poorly. What love is a marriage found on? It is found on joy, it is found on pleasure of company, it is found on sacrifice and prayer, found on a purpose higher than any bank account, career promotion, or house in the Hamptons.
Who am I looking for? Who do I want to love? This;
I want a Christ-Follower, I want a Christ-Follower who puts Jesus first, herself last, and others in between. I want a Christ-Follower who will take the shaft for me sometimes, as I will for her. I want a Christ-Follower who can sit and smile with me, can marvel in awe each day anew at how good God is, who can pray in the morning and at night with me, even when the eyes are heavy and so is the heart. I want someone who is happy often, and joyful always.
I want someone like Jesus. Give me Jesus. That's who I want, heck, it's who I need.
I'll take mistakes too, I'm good at those if you haven't noticed yet.
Alright, back to work. Love you all!
Blake
Today I've been looking through the curriculum the pastors here at Grace Community use when going thru pre-marital counseling, which is about 30 years old (yikes!). I'll be honest, it is very Conservative, very evangelical, very Bible-belt type teaching (the tapes are from Pastor Roy's former professor from Columbia International here in South Carolina) and seemingly archaic. I mean, as a Christ-Follower (with a LOT of help) I can understand the systematic message that these tapes are presenting; a biblical perspective of marriage which I can, minus a few theological and oral dis-agreements, relate to. But, what of those who are immersed into this culture where such monikers are mere religious jargon with little or no weight? How do you explain 'grace' 'justification' 'trinitarian doctrine' and all those other fun terms to those who have lived their entire lives alienated from this language? Christian theology is written in the language and philosophical language of the Ancient Greeks. Why? Because this was the academic culture the early church fathers came from, most academic language was pulled from such brilliant Greeks as Plato, Aristotle, and many others. Christians may deny such influence, but it is blatantly obvious that though Christianity today may seem unique in language and mission, back in the early days it was heavily influenced by the culture of that day; to ignore that is to misunderstand the finer points of the Bible (especially in a day where Scripture has come under such academic analysis and questioning...something Christians need to learn to welcome...a story for another day)
Anyways, about marriage...for how much I can disagree with the piece I am currently reading while jamming to Wilco and 1997, I can't help but see a couple things that are crucial, especially for those of you looking for that "special someone" out there, or even those guys and gals out there who have already found that blessed treasure you feel called to spend the rest of this life with (oh Pooh Bear!)
First, what is marriage? It is a reflection of who God is, the relationship of God to himself. It is a life of self-reciprocating love; not mere romance or passion (this is the reason why 50% of marriage fail, they are founded on passion and romance) but that one you feel called to be with it one who can share your relationship with Christ. That together you are one, without change, confusion, division, or separation (talk about Chalcedon-esque language!).
Second, a marriage should be designed by God, and built by husband, wife, and God. This is a joint effort. What does this mean? First, both husband and wife, if they are truly be one, MUST be unified in Christ first and foremost. I Corinthians 6:14 states that "Be not unequally yoked with an unbeliever, for what accord (fellowship / unity) can you have with one who is not a believer?" Isn't that true, painfully and obviously true?!? If the most important thing in one's life is their relationship with Christ, if the person you love is any form of antithesis to that, then how can such a couple stand? Their purposes for marriage are distorted, for one put Jesus first, the other their lover first. The end result is that the inordinate loves become unbalanced, neither can bear nor understand the other.
Finally, what kind of marriage can work merely on passion? I look at me here, I am 21, decently good looking (no Orlando Bloom or underwear model) fun-loving, happy...all those good things. But, those things change, the abs disappear under a layer of flab, the face becomes less defined and the hairs either gray or just fall out. The eyes grow dim, the ears grow weak, the legs cease working and before you know it, you're old. I may be a sight for sore eyes now (if that even, this point will be quite disputed) but what about in 10 years? 20 years? 40 years? What of when I am cenial, grumpy, and fidgety? What about if I start wetting the bed, smelling like a old man, or when I get age spots all across my arms? Passion lasts for moments, it is fickle and empty, though fun, it is fun. Passion actually has a place; we enjoy it, it is God's gift to us. But, you can over-use a gift / use it poorly. What love is a marriage found on? It is found on joy, it is found on pleasure of company, it is found on sacrifice and prayer, found on a purpose higher than any bank account, career promotion, or house in the Hamptons.
Who am I looking for? Who do I want to love? This;
I want a Christ-Follower, I want a Christ-Follower who puts Jesus first, herself last, and others in between. I want a Christ-Follower who will take the shaft for me sometimes, as I will for her. I want a Christ-Follower who can sit and smile with me, can marvel in awe each day anew at how good God is, who can pray in the morning and at night with me, even when the eyes are heavy and so is the heart. I want someone who is happy often, and joyful always.
I want someone like Jesus. Give me Jesus. That's who I want, heck, it's who I need.
I'll take mistakes too, I'm good at those if you haven't noticed yet.
Alright, back to work. Love you all!
Blake
Monday, July 6, 2009
Sharks, Squids, and Faith
I have a secret passion for crypto-zoology, more like a minor obsession actually. Ever since I was an elementary school tyke there was this insurmountable curiosity embedded deep within that drove me to check out every book available about Sasquatch and UFOs, the Chubakabra and Nessie, giant squids and other demons of the dark and deep corners of the ocean. Even today, I can't help but turn on Monster Quest on History Channel during my lunch on my off days, crossing my fingers that somewhere, just maybe, some hidden species might reappear out of nowhere, baffling scientist and average joe alike, a creature taken straight out of the prehistoric.
For example, in Japan a new species of shark has been discovered, monikered the 'frill shark'. This is what scientists consider one of the most ancient of all shark species, existing as far back as 100 million years ago. Her back was huntched, her gills were frilly and bright red, her eyes glazed over with narrow fins and rows of teeth which had multiple sharp points diverging from each tooth. She was amazing. Scientsits figure such creatures live 3000+ feet below the surface of the ocean in places where man has never stepped. This is no surprise considering that mankind has explored more of the surface of the moon than the surface of the ocean floor.
Or take my favorite, the giant squid, a creature whose only contact with humanity has been washed up carcasses along the beach of the occational sucker indentation on an unlucky sperm whale. For years, scientists have tried numerous techniques to capture on camera these beautiful monsters. Finally, one group had the idea to attatch a camera to a 5 foot humboldt squid, sending it deep into the ocean. Imagine their surprise when a large, dinner plate sized eye and a devious tentacle skimmed across the view of the lens, a massive squid estimated to be at least 40-50 feet long.
Wow.
How awesome is our earth, a massive sphere where each and every day new species suddenly pop out of nowhere, some of them straight out of Jurassic Park by the looks of them! With out internet and cable TV, our cell phones and airplanes, our rockets and ipods, we have forgotten how vast this world is. Thousands of miles of jungles lay uncharted and unexplored, acres of ocean floor are untouched by man, and on the highest of mountain peaks live animals we have never even heard of. From the island of Tazmania to the jungles of Paupa New Guinia, to the Marianja Trench, to the Canadian Wilderness, all of this full of mystery and awe. And we have not scratched the surface even with out numerous gadgets and trinkets and our supposed 'infinite knowledge'.
We don't know it all. Einstein said the greatest treasure in life is an enigma, for it is for the undiscovered, the unknown, the seemingly impossible, that man strives, dreams, and lives for. To get one glance of a Tazmanina Tiger, a picture of Megamouth shark, to touch a creature so little known to man, what a dream!
We don't know it all. It's easy to say we do, that we have our ducks in a row, our eggs have been counted and our numbers are checked and double-checked. How horrible to realize that this is not the case. Socrates acknowledged himself in the fact that what he knew best was how little he actually knew. Are we able in this day and age to humble ourselves so greatly as to admit that there are many mysteries that we may never solve, answers we may never get, and chances that we will never have again? Scary, isn't it. No one likes not to know, no one wants a less then 100% chance if we can get it. We want proof, we want pictures, we want odds and statistics and charts and graphs and video footage with a CNBC report.
Crypto-zoology is one thing, I don't mind that mystery in my life. When it comes to other things, that is a much different story. Faith is a funny thing, because it isn't something we want necessarily. So often we want faith to be knowledge or understanding. But it can't be, and it kills us. No matter what one may say or do, two things are unprovable. That God does not exist and that God does exist. We can present stats and creation and all that good stuff found in apologetics, and in the end, we come to the problem we started with; faith. Faith; you can't live with it and you can't live without it. Sometimes it's easy. Nate Door i trust, he has proven that to me many times, and I have faith that Nate Door, in a clutch situation, will be there for me. Other people, not so much.
How about God? Yeah. Doesn't it seem hard, no, near impossible at times? Kierkegaard made it clear that even if something is impossible for man to know, it does not logically entail that such thing is impossible in and of itself, but that sucks. That really sucks. We want to know, we want to think we can know it, we want to build a wall of confidence and say that we have facts and no one can take that away, but to contain God to facts is like trying to keep a puppy from jumping into a pit of balls; it can't be done. How can we place our infinite, omnipotent, omniscient God and place him into nice, neat rows in order to fit into our agenda, our formulas, our treasties. There is a point where logic and reason break down, where our epistomelogical confidence breaks down, where even the most brilliant and well-spoken must say they do not understand how so many innocent people can die, how such a darling daughter is now paralyzed from the waist down, how cancer can ravage a gentleman's body.
Faith goes hand-in-hand with humility. If you think you can walk on up, pulling your pants up high, throwing facts and intelligent terms around and can prove your faith through numbers and stats, you're dead wrong. What is faith?
Faith is a doctor. A good doctor who practiced out of his house for nearly 30 years. For almost as long he had a large, friendly German Shepherd named Rex. Now Rex was a big dog, a nice dog, but a big dog, and everyday he would follow the doctor down the stairs and up to the mat of the door that led into the large room where the doctor would practice his medicine and take in patients. And every day the doctor would pat Rex on the head, tell him to stay put, and would walk into the room, leaving Rex laying by the door, piering patiently into the office. One day, the doctor took in a pateint who had cancer, a bad cancer that was ravinging hate upon his body. The man was troubled, he was grief-stricken, and as the doctor checked his blood pressure the man voiced his doubts. After all, what kind of God would ever allow someone to get cancer, how could you have faith in a God like that? The doctor paused, setting his stethiscope aside before looking the man in his eyes, turning his head towards Rex across the room before turning back. "You see Rex there. He's going on 17 years right now. And never once has he stepped foot in this room. Not once, ever. But watch this." The doctor slowly paced towards the door, standing a couple meters away from the frame and whistled, waving his hand toward the now attentive mutt. Rex paused, his ears flitched, his tongue licked his wet nose as he whimpered, shuffling his feet for a few moments. The doctor finally got down on his knees and called out his name "Rex." At that instant Rex bounced from the frame of the door in a giant leap, landing in the doctor's arms as he showered his bearded face with kisses.
"See that" the doctor said "all he needed was to hear his master's voice"
Our master's voice. Can we measure faith objectively? No. But to hear our master's voice...maybe we needed to listen more intently, maybe we need to turn down our ipods and background noise, maybe we need to rid ourselves of the things polluiting our lives. But to hear our master's voice, to hear him calling to us, telling us it's ok to jump for he will catch us.
That is faith.
Will we ever know God? Not perfectly, not exhaustively, not completely. But how little we know, we surely can know this;
Jesus loves me
this I know
for the Bible tells me so
little ones
to Him belong
they are weak, but He is strong
And you don't have to be a crypto-zoologist to know that!
Pray often
Love more often
Thanks for reading. Love you all
Blake
For example, in Japan a new species of shark has been discovered, monikered the 'frill shark'. This is what scientists consider one of the most ancient of all shark species, existing as far back as 100 million years ago. Her back was huntched, her gills were frilly and bright red, her eyes glazed over with narrow fins and rows of teeth which had multiple sharp points diverging from each tooth. She was amazing. Scientsits figure such creatures live 3000+ feet below the surface of the ocean in places where man has never stepped. This is no surprise considering that mankind has explored more of the surface of the moon than the surface of the ocean floor.
Or take my favorite, the giant squid, a creature whose only contact with humanity has been washed up carcasses along the beach of the occational sucker indentation on an unlucky sperm whale. For years, scientists have tried numerous techniques to capture on camera these beautiful monsters. Finally, one group had the idea to attatch a camera to a 5 foot humboldt squid, sending it deep into the ocean. Imagine their surprise when a large, dinner plate sized eye and a devious tentacle skimmed across the view of the lens, a massive squid estimated to be at least 40-50 feet long.
Wow.
How awesome is our earth, a massive sphere where each and every day new species suddenly pop out of nowhere, some of them straight out of Jurassic Park by the looks of them! With out internet and cable TV, our cell phones and airplanes, our rockets and ipods, we have forgotten how vast this world is. Thousands of miles of jungles lay uncharted and unexplored, acres of ocean floor are untouched by man, and on the highest of mountain peaks live animals we have never even heard of. From the island of Tazmania to the jungles of Paupa New Guinia, to the Marianja Trench, to the Canadian Wilderness, all of this full of mystery and awe. And we have not scratched the surface even with out numerous gadgets and trinkets and our supposed 'infinite knowledge'.
We don't know it all. Einstein said the greatest treasure in life is an enigma, for it is for the undiscovered, the unknown, the seemingly impossible, that man strives, dreams, and lives for. To get one glance of a Tazmanina Tiger, a picture of Megamouth shark, to touch a creature so little known to man, what a dream!
We don't know it all. It's easy to say we do, that we have our ducks in a row, our eggs have been counted and our numbers are checked and double-checked. How horrible to realize that this is not the case. Socrates acknowledged himself in the fact that what he knew best was how little he actually knew. Are we able in this day and age to humble ourselves so greatly as to admit that there are many mysteries that we may never solve, answers we may never get, and chances that we will never have again? Scary, isn't it. No one likes not to know, no one wants a less then 100% chance if we can get it. We want proof, we want pictures, we want odds and statistics and charts and graphs and video footage with a CNBC report.
Crypto-zoology is one thing, I don't mind that mystery in my life. When it comes to other things, that is a much different story. Faith is a funny thing, because it isn't something we want necessarily. So often we want faith to be knowledge or understanding. But it can't be, and it kills us. No matter what one may say or do, two things are unprovable. That God does not exist and that God does exist. We can present stats and creation and all that good stuff found in apologetics, and in the end, we come to the problem we started with; faith. Faith; you can't live with it and you can't live without it. Sometimes it's easy. Nate Door i trust, he has proven that to me many times, and I have faith that Nate Door, in a clutch situation, will be there for me. Other people, not so much.
How about God? Yeah. Doesn't it seem hard, no, near impossible at times? Kierkegaard made it clear that even if something is impossible for man to know, it does not logically entail that such thing is impossible in and of itself, but that sucks. That really sucks. We want to know, we want to think we can know it, we want to build a wall of confidence and say that we have facts and no one can take that away, but to contain God to facts is like trying to keep a puppy from jumping into a pit of balls; it can't be done. How can we place our infinite, omnipotent, omniscient God and place him into nice, neat rows in order to fit into our agenda, our formulas, our treasties. There is a point where logic and reason break down, where our epistomelogical confidence breaks down, where even the most brilliant and well-spoken must say they do not understand how so many innocent people can die, how such a darling daughter is now paralyzed from the waist down, how cancer can ravage a gentleman's body.
Faith goes hand-in-hand with humility. If you think you can walk on up, pulling your pants up high, throwing facts and intelligent terms around and can prove your faith through numbers and stats, you're dead wrong. What is faith?
Faith is a doctor. A good doctor who practiced out of his house for nearly 30 years. For almost as long he had a large, friendly German Shepherd named Rex. Now Rex was a big dog, a nice dog, but a big dog, and everyday he would follow the doctor down the stairs and up to the mat of the door that led into the large room where the doctor would practice his medicine and take in patients. And every day the doctor would pat Rex on the head, tell him to stay put, and would walk into the room, leaving Rex laying by the door, piering patiently into the office. One day, the doctor took in a pateint who had cancer, a bad cancer that was ravinging hate upon his body. The man was troubled, he was grief-stricken, and as the doctor checked his blood pressure the man voiced his doubts. After all, what kind of God would ever allow someone to get cancer, how could you have faith in a God like that? The doctor paused, setting his stethiscope aside before looking the man in his eyes, turning his head towards Rex across the room before turning back. "You see Rex there. He's going on 17 years right now. And never once has he stepped foot in this room. Not once, ever. But watch this." The doctor slowly paced towards the door, standing a couple meters away from the frame and whistled, waving his hand toward the now attentive mutt. Rex paused, his ears flitched, his tongue licked his wet nose as he whimpered, shuffling his feet for a few moments. The doctor finally got down on his knees and called out his name "Rex." At that instant Rex bounced from the frame of the door in a giant leap, landing in the doctor's arms as he showered his bearded face with kisses.
"See that" the doctor said "all he needed was to hear his master's voice"
Our master's voice. Can we measure faith objectively? No. But to hear our master's voice...maybe we needed to listen more intently, maybe we need to turn down our ipods and background noise, maybe we need to rid ourselves of the things polluiting our lives. But to hear our master's voice, to hear him calling to us, telling us it's ok to jump for he will catch us.
That is faith.
Will we ever know God? Not perfectly, not exhaustively, not completely. But how little we know, we surely can know this;
Jesus loves me
this I know
for the Bible tells me so
little ones
to Him belong
they are weak, but He is strong
And you don't have to be a crypto-zoologist to know that!
Pray often
Love more often
Thanks for reading. Love you all
Blake
Sunday, July 5, 2009
An Assignment
I have an assignment.
Jack Booy is an older man at our church; distinguished, carefully dressed, a man with compassion in his eyes and a soft voice that bears the weights of wisdom. Thursday night there was a party for two of our church's missionaries, a young couple named Josh and Mandy, who were heading to Michigan (hey, I know that place!) to work at a missionary college up in Jackson. It was while enjoying a delectable Subway sub and a plate of cole-slaw and fresh fruit that Jack reached across the table in a handshake. Jack and I have talked numerous times in passing, but actually sitting we were able to better indulge in more than just disjointed phrases of courtesy and small talk. It was then he gave me an assignment; a project so to say.
You see, Grace Community is an odd church, not odd as in the people here are odd...far from it, for they are no odder than I am. The church here in Hilton Head Island is small, shrinking, dwindling. I am used now to half full sanctuaries and worship services where the voices are loud and gracious, yet unable to fill the white corners of the ceiling. To be honest, it's depressing. Some services I dearly miss my community at Ivanrest CRC in Grandville. I miss the full sanctuary full of common faces, a variety of songs of praise, and a Mayberry-feel where "everyone knows your name". Here, much different. Sparse scatterings of familes across a room, 100-odd people in a room meant for many more, and at one point held itself to near-capacity. Many single moms with their children sit in the front, older couples in the middles, and drifters in the back. Very few youth exist, it is a community whose roots are fairly intact, but what of the leaves, what of the youth who will come to be the hands and feet of Christ when the old guard recieves their 'good and faithful servent' from their Heavenly Father?
Yet, there is more to it. Grace Communtiy carries 250 members (give or take a handful) and these 250 people support financially and spiritually almost 40 missionaries / mission groups. That means for every 6-7 people in the congregation here, 1 missionary is working somewhere in the holes and chasims of this world. Missionaries in China, in Kenya, in India, in Jordan and Syria, in Peru, and even in our country.
Jack's assignment; why. Why is this small, dwindling community such a breeding ground for passionate, Christ-led missionaries?
Breeding ground. My nomenclature there. After all, this church is just that. Josh and Mandy, his mom and dad did the same, his sister Joanna is here for the summer after teaching in a school for Missionary Kids in Jordan. Family after family here is so deeply embedded in the task of travelling to the neglected places in order to bring good news, after all, isn't that the etimology of the term "evangelical"? From the Greek word euangellein which combines angellein meaning 'to proclaim, announce, report' and eu which means 'good'. Thus, an evangelical is not one who specifically converts one, nor are they to merely be a tool of language and pronunciation. They are to bring good news, to, as St. Francis says "preach the good news and, if necessary, use words."
Breeding ground. Today, Grace Community had their 4th of July picnic. Combined service at 10 AM. Beautiful? Truly. To see a family interact is a joy, always, for you can always appreciate people whose affections go to depth that sins are forgiven, faults are ignored and even mocked, and most of all, that there is such love that goes beyond mere appreciation of charecter. That was the picnic; people who loved each other regardless of their inability to act in the manner of their Lord and Savior. Christ truly was dining with sinners again today, and our tables were full of us! Yet, there was love, a love that could only be provided by the grace given to us each day. We talked, we laughed, we ate, we prayed. Community at the finest. Life. This community had life.
What is Grace Community Church? It is crushed, it is pained, it is half-empty and hurting. Yet, it is alive and thriving, it is full of blood and hope. It has rosy cheeks and fresh breath. She may be limping when she walks, yet she runs with such ease despite the persistant wounds. Do we as Christians label spiritual life too conservatively? Have we, and especially myself, mislabeled full pews and chairs, overflowing offerings, and outspoken brothers and sisters of the Lord as necessary products of spiritual life? After all, though Grace may seem empty, she is quite full. Though her chairs are empty, outside the building work a vast array of deacons across this world. People who here pray fervently for those who work elsewhere and those elsewhere praying to someday unite all of us through the sacrifice of Chrsit and His gift of sufficient and amazing grace (Romans 6).
Missionaries. Today we heard about John, who works on the campus of Yale bringing the good news to people who need something more in their lives than the gaping, unquenching hole they current have. Or David who leaves for Africa with a group to work at orphanges, or Hannah, who leaves Saturday to spend a couple weeks in Asia to spread the gospel with a missionary couple. What a blessing! That such people are called to such a mission!
To answer Jack's question will take more time, but he took the words out of my mouth during our meal today when he laughed as he shook my hand.
"Well, I think you got a great place to start."
Pray always and often.
Serve zealous and joyous
Love
Blake
Jack Booy is an older man at our church; distinguished, carefully dressed, a man with compassion in his eyes and a soft voice that bears the weights of wisdom. Thursday night there was a party for two of our church's missionaries, a young couple named Josh and Mandy, who were heading to Michigan (hey, I know that place!) to work at a missionary college up in Jackson. It was while enjoying a delectable Subway sub and a plate of cole-slaw and fresh fruit that Jack reached across the table in a handshake. Jack and I have talked numerous times in passing, but actually sitting we were able to better indulge in more than just disjointed phrases of courtesy and small talk. It was then he gave me an assignment; a project so to say.
You see, Grace Community is an odd church, not odd as in the people here are odd...far from it, for they are no odder than I am. The church here in Hilton Head Island is small, shrinking, dwindling. I am used now to half full sanctuaries and worship services where the voices are loud and gracious, yet unable to fill the white corners of the ceiling. To be honest, it's depressing. Some services I dearly miss my community at Ivanrest CRC in Grandville. I miss the full sanctuary full of common faces, a variety of songs of praise, and a Mayberry-feel where "everyone knows your name". Here, much different. Sparse scatterings of familes across a room, 100-odd people in a room meant for many more, and at one point held itself to near-capacity. Many single moms with their children sit in the front, older couples in the middles, and drifters in the back. Very few youth exist, it is a community whose roots are fairly intact, but what of the leaves, what of the youth who will come to be the hands and feet of Christ when the old guard recieves their 'good and faithful servent' from their Heavenly Father?
Yet, there is more to it. Grace Communtiy carries 250 members (give or take a handful) and these 250 people support financially and spiritually almost 40 missionaries / mission groups. That means for every 6-7 people in the congregation here, 1 missionary is working somewhere in the holes and chasims of this world. Missionaries in China, in Kenya, in India, in Jordan and Syria, in Peru, and even in our country.
Jack's assignment; why. Why is this small, dwindling community such a breeding ground for passionate, Christ-led missionaries?
Breeding ground. My nomenclature there. After all, this church is just that. Josh and Mandy, his mom and dad did the same, his sister Joanna is here for the summer after teaching in a school for Missionary Kids in Jordan. Family after family here is so deeply embedded in the task of travelling to the neglected places in order to bring good news, after all, isn't that the etimology of the term "evangelical"? From the Greek word euangellein which combines angellein meaning 'to proclaim, announce, report' and eu which means 'good'. Thus, an evangelical is not one who specifically converts one, nor are they to merely be a tool of language and pronunciation. They are to bring good news, to, as St. Francis says "preach the good news and, if necessary, use words."
Breeding ground. Today, Grace Community had their 4th of July picnic. Combined service at 10 AM. Beautiful? Truly. To see a family interact is a joy, always, for you can always appreciate people whose affections go to depth that sins are forgiven, faults are ignored and even mocked, and most of all, that there is such love that goes beyond mere appreciation of charecter. That was the picnic; people who loved each other regardless of their inability to act in the manner of their Lord and Savior. Christ truly was dining with sinners again today, and our tables were full of us! Yet, there was love, a love that could only be provided by the grace given to us each day. We talked, we laughed, we ate, we prayed. Community at the finest. Life. This community had life.
What is Grace Community Church? It is crushed, it is pained, it is half-empty and hurting. Yet, it is alive and thriving, it is full of blood and hope. It has rosy cheeks and fresh breath. She may be limping when she walks, yet she runs with such ease despite the persistant wounds. Do we as Christians label spiritual life too conservatively? Have we, and especially myself, mislabeled full pews and chairs, overflowing offerings, and outspoken brothers and sisters of the Lord as necessary products of spiritual life? After all, though Grace may seem empty, she is quite full. Though her chairs are empty, outside the building work a vast array of deacons across this world. People who here pray fervently for those who work elsewhere and those elsewhere praying to someday unite all of us through the sacrifice of Chrsit and His gift of sufficient and amazing grace (Romans 6).
Missionaries. Today we heard about John, who works on the campus of Yale bringing the good news to people who need something more in their lives than the gaping, unquenching hole they current have. Or David who leaves for Africa with a group to work at orphanges, or Hannah, who leaves Saturday to spend a couple weeks in Asia to spread the gospel with a missionary couple. What a blessing! That such people are called to such a mission!
To answer Jack's question will take more time, but he took the words out of my mouth during our meal today when he laughed as he shook my hand.
"Well, I think you got a great place to start."
Pray always and often.
Serve zealous and joyous
Love
Blake
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