Showing posts with label thinking towards Easter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thinking towards Easter. Show all posts

13 April 2013

So... they're not quite peeps, but we might decide we like doughnuts better than peeps or colored eggs on Easter after this year...

(including lavendar bunnies, yellow chickies and
mint "decorated" egg-shaped doughnuts)!



Brendan found one of his doughnut bunnies hiding in with the tea cups

M&M found hers and promptly started scarfing....

...whereas Tori waited to be last - because she wanted to prove her prowess, finding the ones that everyone else missed! 

Licking every last bit of icing off the fingers, of course - it had a lovely lemon lilt to it!

She really did think about sharing... but she had thoughts for only one... Uncle Joe,
IF he'd been here.

08 April 2012

Resurrection

"If a man dies, will he live again?

All the days of my hard service

I will wait for my renewal to come."

Job 14:14

Job... poses the ultimate question: "If a man dies, will he live again?" It is worth noting that the question is not "If a man dies, will he go to Heaven?" or "Will death turn out to be a doorway into something wonderful?" No, Job's question is a more unusual one than that, for it concerns whether or not a human being, once dead and doomed to Sheol, might possibly live again. What is remarkable in this approach (and that of the Bible as a whole) is that it neither sidesteps nor soft-pedals the harsh reality of death. Instead, making to attempt to belittle death's undoubted finality, Job looks its horror straight in the face. He accepts this dark destiny as his due and so becomes, like Jesus Himself, obedient to death" (Phil 2.8).

In the face of such absolute gloom Job's prophetic eye nevertheless discerns a quickening ray, in the form of the strange hypothesis that even those long dead in the grave might one day be brought back to life. It is important to grasp that this notion had no place whatsoever in the orthodox theological doctrine of Job's day. Later Old Testament writers, from David on, were to deliver startling prophecies of bodily resurrection (see, for example, Ps 16.10, Isa 26.19; Dan 12.2). But in the more primitive Biblical literature there is no such teaching. As commentator Norman Habel writes, "The resurrection terminology employed in Job's speech seems to reflect a popular tradition against which standard Israelite teaching was directed" (italics added). To the ears of Job's friends, in other words, all his fine eschatological conjectures would have been heresy, and Eliphaz says as much in his ensuing rebuttal (see Chapter 15).

There is a funny thing about heresy, however, which is that in the odd case where the heretic turns out to be right, he is no longer a heretic but a prophet. And Job's solution to the intolerable question mark of death just happens to be God's own solution, as proclaimed by Jesus in John 5.25: "I tell you the truth, a time is coming and has now come where the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God and those who hear will live." With what heartrending tenderness Job pictures the enactment o this very event when he predicts, "You will call and I will answer You; You will long for the creature Your hands have made" (14.15). Moreover, he declares that however long it might take, "I will wait for my renewal to come" (v. 14). Surely Job's attitude is the very epitome of New Testament faith, as Christians too "wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved" (Rom 8.23-24). Having posed the question, "If a man dies, will he live again?" Job places so much weight on an affirmative answer that he as much as states with Paul, "If the dead are not raised... your faith is futile, you are still in your sins" (1 Cor 15.16-17).

In the light of all this Job must certainly be seen as a very early (and perhaps the earliest) Christian prophet of the resurrection. In Chapter 14, his thinking on this subject is still groping and tentative. But in subsequent speeches, as he continues to probe the open wound of death, his statements row increasingly bold to the point where in 19.25-26 he will attain to the great climactic confession "I know that my Redeemer lives... And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God." Surely this is the essential Christian hope and promise, so much so that the earthly life of the Christian may be said to consist in practicing for this moment of resurrection: "Wake up, O sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you" (Eph 5.14). Other religions may be quite happy to let the old body rot in the ground, so long as the soul journeys onward or is reincarnated. But to the Christian this is a horrifying evasion of reality -- as it is to all those who have grappled hard and honestly with this issue (including, oddly enough, many a pagan culture like that of the ancient Egyptians, who could not conceive of the hereafter except in bodily terms, and so loaded their tombs with hordes of worldly effects). In the final analysis it is not so much the salvation of our souls that we human creatures are primarily concerned about, as the salvaging of our poor, dear, bedraggled hides. For we do not just have bodies -- we are bodies. And so what we really long for is not to become pure disembodied souls, but rather to have our souls harmoniously reunited with our bodies in order that our bodies can work the way they are meant to without ever wearing out. And lo! -- this very dream turns out to be exactly what our Savior Jesus Christ has for us up His amazing sleeve.

(from pp 163-164, The Gospel According to Job, by Mike Mason)

06 March 2012

Humbly bowing low...

Several weeks ago, on Sunday night, at the evening worship service (a gathering of expats where we worship in a bit more western -and natural for me- style), the speaker asked if anyone actually knew what it was like to stand before real royalty... you know, like they show in the movies... where you immediately bow or kneel or do something to lower and humble yourself and your position simply because you are in the presence of one who is undeniably recognized as awesome and powerful and above you?

I don't.

I mean, I can imagine what it might be like, but I've never been in the presence of one so powerful, one so fear-inspiring, one whose being is so terrifyingly magnificent that I'm compelled to bow or to prostrate myself before him or her, hesitating to lift my gaze, literally afraid of of the overwhelming sight my eyes would see. At least, I've never been around another human that inspired that sort of reaction.
I wonder how many of us have ever really, in real life...?

Part of it might be cultural - most of us have never been in a situation where we felt that someone had all and absolute power over us... that our continued existence depended on that one's continued benevolence. There are parts of the world where leaders are given or assume that sort of absolute power. And those lesser fall to their face in the presence of one with such power.

I know, theoretically, that is how it is supposed to be with God and there have certainly been times I've felt overwhelmed in His Presence... but not in that way, in that sense.

I've been trying to imagine what it might have felt like to be one of those Roman soldiers, accompanying the Jewish leaders who arrested Jesus
When he had finished praying, Jesus left with his disciples and crossed the Kidron Valley. On the other side there was an olive grove, and he and his disciples went into it.

Now Judas, who betrayed him, knew the place, because Jesus had often met there with his disciples. So Judas came to the grove, guiding a detachment of soldiers and some officials from the chief priests and Pharisees. They were carrying torches, lanterns and weapons.

Jesus, knowing all that was going to happen to him, went out and asked them, “Who is it you want?”

“Jesus of Nazareth,” they replied.

“I am he,” Jesus said. (And Judas the traitor was standing there with them.) When Jesus said, “I am he,” they drew back and fell to the ground.

Again he asked them, “Who is it you want?”

And they said, “Jesus of Nazareth.”

“I told you that I am he,” Jesus answered. “If you are looking for me, then let these men go.” This happened so that the words he had spoken would be fulfilled: “I have not lost one of those you gave me.”

Then Simon Peter, who had a sword, drew it and struck the high priest’s servant, cutting off his right ear. (The servant’s name was Malchus.)

Jesus commanded Peter, “Put your sword away! Shall I not drink the cup the Father has given me?”

Then the detachment of soldiers with its commander and the Jewish officials arrested Jesus. (John 18)

It's sobering to contemplate the fact that I stand in the presence of that sort of power every day... and far too often, I choose not to see it, or to ignore it and not to respond accordingly...

How about you?

How often do you think about what it means
to live your life continually in the presence of the King?

How and when does that truth impact your everyday moments?

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