Jesus
Earlier this year, I had the privilege of making the acquaintance of 2 beautiful people from another part of the globe. Recently, I had the privilege of renewing that acquaintance with one of them, and meeting another from the same region. One of the things that I noticed about these people is that they always talk about Jesus as if he were right there. In fact, from time to time, they talk to Jesus, aloud, just at random, as if he was right there. When they pray, they also start by saying "Jesus...", as if they were talking to him face to face.
When I first hung out with them, I thought that this phenomenon was a little strange. I mean, when most people say "Jesus" on the street or at random, it's usually along with a whole other lovely string of colourful profanities. Initially, I almost thought they were swearing. I also thought that 'imagining Jesus hanging out with you' was akin to having a make-believe friend - something I used to do when I was about 15.
A week or so ago, my family and I headed to National Park (which is in the middle of the North Island) to do the Tongariro Crossing, often dubbed as the best one-day walk in NZ. If you recall, I did the same walk last year with friends from CF, and it was really cool. So, I thought it would be good to do it together as a family, you know, before the folks get too creaky. As it turns out, it seems like we mighta done it just in time!
Anyways, the night before we left was immensely frustrating for me, all the way up to the start of the walk itself. I came home around 11pm the night before we were supposed to leave, only to find my folks rather ill prepared for the tramp - some had pyjama trousers, others tennis shoes, and very little protection from any inclement weather. (The tramp lasts about 8 hours and you walk between 2 volcanoes. The weather up the mountain is extremely unpredictable, can be very harsh, and can result in death if one is not well prepared. Let's just say the Maori don't worship the volcanoes for nothing.) All the way to National Park, up til the point we left, my dad and I were having one of our power struggles, typical to this phase of our relationship. What to pack, what to wear, where to drive, what the terrain would be like etc. was all debated upon in quite excitable fashion, to put it mildly. I was like a pressurecooker with a sealed lid. Or since we're in NZ context, one could say I was like a dormant volcano.
The next night at the lodge, Kate and I slept in a different block to my parents, which was a good thing, especially for that night. When walking back to my room after a lot of quibbling and packing, I was bitterly frustrated about the tension between my dad and I, and cried out to God in the night sky, "How the f*ck am I supposed to deal with my family?! You don't understand, nobody understands!" I spat vindictively heavenwards.
Well, the walk itself went well, it was dry and beautiful. (Ask different members of the clan, though, and you'll get different answers). I really enjoyed it, and one of the most encouraging things for me on the tramp was seeing my dad take care of my mum, even attempting to carry her at one point. You simply never know with marriages these days - I'm too cynical about the sin of mankind to have too much faith in anyone. So, whilst there is no evidence to cause worry at this point, it has been said that the phase when children move out causes parents to look at each other in bewilderment, wondering where the years have gone, and what their marriage has become. My prayer is that my dad and mum's faithfulness would not be to us kids, or even to each other, but to the Lord Jesus and their promises they made to him and to each other.
Anyways, that was a slight tangent, sorry. Looking back to my cry of disgust directed towards God, whilst I knew he heard me, I never expected an answer.
Over the next few days, I was reading a book that I received as a gift when I was in Canada. It's called Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller. Check it out, I found it helpful. It's honest, poignant, and true. It's theological without the theological language, challenging without being judgemental and encouraging without being cheesy. I was encouraged reading about Miller's own encounters with God, amidst doubt, fear and cynicism. I read about a God who was real and who intervened, or as Stacey says, who interferes in human life.
As I read, God turned my mind towards my favourite verse in the Bible, John 1:14. And as I pondered over it, I realised it was almost Christmastime.
John 1:14
And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory of the Only Son of the Father, full of grace and truth.
And I realised that therein lay the answer to my vengeful, profanity-laced cry several days before.
JESUS, God's Word, God's own self-disclosure - took on flesh, much like my own, so that we could know God.
JESUS took on flesh that he might understand how we feel when we struggle.
JESUS took on flesh that we might know that we are not alone, that he is not some distant, mystical entity without an inkling of what it's like to be discouraged, or upset, or even joyful.
Most importantly, JESUS took on flesh that by his human death, he might destroy the devil who holds the power of death, freeing all of us whose lives he holds ransom.
This passage in Hebrews is yet another thrilling reminder for me.
Heb 2: 14-18
Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might destroy him who holds the power of death - that is, the devil - and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death. For surely it is not angels he helps, but Abraham's descendants. For this reason he had to be made like his brothers in every way, in order that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God, and that he might make atonement for the sins of the people. Becuase he himself suffered when he was tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted.
Jesus is alive. He is seated at God's right hand and he makes atonement for our sins by the blood of his cross.
Jesus understands every possible emotion that we have, every sin or issue that we struggle with because he was himself tempted in every way. We can talk to Jesus, even directly, because he can hear us!
And this is why even though Christmas this year has been quieter than it has ever been for me - it has been more special than any other Christmas I've had. This year I've been able to say confidently to friends who talk about 'the feeling of Christmas' that I don't need anything to experience Christmas - the joy of Christmas dwells in my heart everyday. Without many friends, parties, or even a church family to call home, Christmas has been unexpectedly poignant and beautifully special as I remember the baby boy in whom my hope rests, in whose hands my future lies, in whose blood my redemption is secure. May the name of Jesus always be on our lips, for there is no name more true, more real, and more worthy of our proclamation.
Know Jesus, intimately, and in reality. Know the joy, peace and eternal hope that he brings - your life will be changed beyond recognition.
And I'm pretty sure that this is exactly why those friends of mine are so beautiful.
When I first hung out with them, I thought that this phenomenon was a little strange. I mean, when most people say "Jesus" on the street or at random, it's usually along with a whole other lovely string of colourful profanities. Initially, I almost thought they were swearing. I also thought that 'imagining Jesus hanging out with you' was akin to having a make-believe friend - something I used to do when I was about 15.
A week or so ago, my family and I headed to National Park (which is in the middle of the North Island) to do the Tongariro Crossing, often dubbed as the best one-day walk in NZ. If you recall, I did the same walk last year with friends from CF, and it was really cool. So, I thought it would be good to do it together as a family, you know, before the folks get too creaky. As it turns out, it seems like we mighta done it just in time!
Anyways, the night before we left was immensely frustrating for me, all the way up to the start of the walk itself. I came home around 11pm the night before we were supposed to leave, only to find my folks rather ill prepared for the tramp - some had pyjama trousers, others tennis shoes, and very little protection from any inclement weather. (The tramp lasts about 8 hours and you walk between 2 volcanoes. The weather up the mountain is extremely unpredictable, can be very harsh, and can result in death if one is not well prepared. Let's just say the Maori don't worship the volcanoes for nothing.) All the way to National Park, up til the point we left, my dad and I were having one of our power struggles, typical to this phase of our relationship. What to pack, what to wear, where to drive, what the terrain would be like etc. was all debated upon in quite excitable fashion, to put it mildly. I was like a pressurecooker with a sealed lid. Or since we're in NZ context, one could say I was like a dormant volcano.
The next night at the lodge, Kate and I slept in a different block to my parents, which was a good thing, especially for that night. When walking back to my room after a lot of quibbling and packing, I was bitterly frustrated about the tension between my dad and I, and cried out to God in the night sky, "How the f*ck am I supposed to deal with my family?! You don't understand, nobody understands!" I spat vindictively heavenwards.
Well, the walk itself went well, it was dry and beautiful. (Ask different members of the clan, though, and you'll get different answers). I really enjoyed it, and one of the most encouraging things for me on the tramp was seeing my dad take care of my mum, even attempting to carry her at one point. You simply never know with marriages these days - I'm too cynical about the sin of mankind to have too much faith in anyone. So, whilst there is no evidence to cause worry at this point, it has been said that the phase when children move out causes parents to look at each other in bewilderment, wondering where the years have gone, and what their marriage has become. My prayer is that my dad and mum's faithfulness would not be to us kids, or even to each other, but to the Lord Jesus and their promises they made to him and to each other.
Anyways, that was a slight tangent, sorry. Looking back to my cry of disgust directed towards God, whilst I knew he heard me, I never expected an answer.
Over the next few days, I was reading a book that I received as a gift when I was in Canada. It's called Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller. Check it out, I found it helpful. It's honest, poignant, and true. It's theological without the theological language, challenging without being judgemental and encouraging without being cheesy. I was encouraged reading about Miller's own encounters with God, amidst doubt, fear and cynicism. I read about a God who was real and who intervened, or as Stacey says, who interferes in human life.
As I read, God turned my mind towards my favourite verse in the Bible, John 1:14. And as I pondered over it, I realised it was almost Christmastime.
John 1:14
And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory of the Only Son of the Father, full of grace and truth.
And I realised that therein lay the answer to my vengeful, profanity-laced cry several days before.
JESUS, God's Word, God's own self-disclosure - took on flesh, much like my own, so that we could know God.
JESUS took on flesh that he might understand how we feel when we struggle.
JESUS took on flesh that we might know that we are not alone, that he is not some distant, mystical entity without an inkling of what it's like to be discouraged, or upset, or even joyful.
Most importantly, JESUS took on flesh that by his human death, he might destroy the devil who holds the power of death, freeing all of us whose lives he holds ransom.
This passage in Hebrews is yet another thrilling reminder for me.
Heb 2: 14-18
Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might destroy him who holds the power of death - that is, the devil - and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death. For surely it is not angels he helps, but Abraham's descendants. For this reason he had to be made like his brothers in every way, in order that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God, and that he might make atonement for the sins of the people. Becuase he himself suffered when he was tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted.
Jesus is alive. He is seated at God's right hand and he makes atonement for our sins by the blood of his cross.
Jesus understands every possible emotion that we have, every sin or issue that we struggle with because he was himself tempted in every way. We can talk to Jesus, even directly, because he can hear us!
And this is why even though Christmas this year has been quieter than it has ever been for me - it has been more special than any other Christmas I've had. This year I've been able to say confidently to friends who talk about 'the feeling of Christmas' that I don't need anything to experience Christmas - the joy of Christmas dwells in my heart everyday. Without many friends, parties, or even a church family to call home, Christmas has been unexpectedly poignant and beautifully special as I remember the baby boy in whom my hope rests, in whose hands my future lies, in whose blood my redemption is secure. May the name of Jesus always be on our lips, for there is no name more true, more real, and more worthy of our proclamation.
Know Jesus, intimately, and in reality. Know the joy, peace and eternal hope that he brings - your life will be changed beyond recognition.
And I'm pretty sure that this is exactly why those friends of mine are so beautiful.
posted by elliot at 5:30 PM
2 Comments:
Thanks for your honestly Elliot, its encouraging to know that other people struggle too and to be reminded that Lord know and understands us completely because he created us and gave his only son for us :)
Teri
hope you doin fine with your dad. dad just seems to have this special struggle yet bonding with his son. i guess that's something our heavenly Father has been experiencing with us, his sons. and this struggle and bonding becomes even stronger for me now that i have a son. 2 year old only. arrgghh...
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