Category Archives: Parable

The Two Rebel Kingdoms

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There once was a King who ruled a vast Kingdom. In his kingdom a great General led a mighty army. And the Chief treasurer multiplied the wealth for all according to the King’s Rules. All was peaceful and prosperous.

Then one day, the Manager grew greedy for more money, and he bribed a few select officials in the Kingdom promising them wealth if they would serve him instead of their king. These officials hated taking care of the poor according to the King’s rules, so they agreed, and the Treacherous Treasurer left and established a Monetary Economic culture to the East of the Kingdom, and there was slavery in the land.

That same day, the General grew hungry for military glory and led a coup and there was a war in the kingdom. The General left with a large portion of the King’s armed forces, and set up a military kingdom to the West that Rivaled Sparta.

The King was heartbroken that his subjects left him to follow the his treacherous Treasurer and glory-hungry General. He built a Wall around his kingdom to defend from the Military Kingdom’s soldiers, and the Monetary Kingdom’s slavers. Then he sent diplomats and emissaries to invite the rebellious citizens back to his kingdom to see if any perhaps were merely deceived and could be persuaded to return to the King in his Kingdom, or if they had truly turned against him. But the Military Kingdom butchered the diplomats they were sent, and the Monetary Kingdom took them as slaves.

Finally, the King said, “I will send my son the Prince to them. Surely they will remember what I am like as King, and they will be persuaded to hear him.” The Prince went and called for a truce where he met with the Kings of both these Rival Kingdoms right outside the City walls. When the General and the Treasurer saw the Prince coming, they said to each other, “Let us ransom the King’s son, so that when the King dies without an heir, then we will take the land for ourselves.” They agreed. They saw him coming carrying no weapon, and the Military General scoffed. He wore no purse and the Treasurer sneered. He offered them a  place in his father’s Kingdom, but the Manager took him and beat him as a slave stripping him down to nothing, and then the Military General threw him over to the pit of soldiers who beat him mercilessly. He did not fight back, but he said, “I love you, and I forgive you.” Then he died.

They sent back the dead body to the King on a wooden cart wrapped up. The King wet all the doctors in the Kingdom to work, and set all the people to praying that the Prince might live again. To the joy of the Kingdom, and to the dismay of the enemies, the Prince revived!

Once the Prince was revived, the King delivered his final warning to both kingdoms: if there were any who wished to come to be citizens of his kingdom, they had one more chance before he came and delivered swift justice on his Evil General and Treasurer and any who still sided with them.

Some of the soldiers and wealthy came and repented with great sorrow, and they were welcomed into the Kingdom again. Out of their great joy, they swore fealty to the King, and begged that they might go back to the kingdoms East and West, to see if they could persuade any others to come with them. So they did, they returned and pleaded with the soldiers and the slavers, “Be reconciled to the King!” But these were treated just as shamefully and mercilessly as the Prince was treated.

At last, the judgment day had come! The King took back the Treasurer’s Kingdom first, conquered them, and plundered them. Then the King besieged the Military Kingdom and Prince led the King’s army to a glorious victory, and they exterminated the province. All who did not die were thrown into the King’s Dungeon for life. But those who served the King faithfully were given rule over the newly unified Kingdom, and the Prince was given the Kingdom on his Coronation Day.

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The Happiness Room

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“All have a desire to be happy, but few have the courage and resolution to grapple with the difficulties that meet them in the way to their happiness.”~ William Gurnall

A man woke up on the cold hard floor of a room. A barred window let in the only light. The walls were smooth and plain, only one brown door with a black knob. No furniture populated the room except a small round table in the center. On the table there was a key and a loaf of bread.

The man got up and walked over to the table and picked up the key and tries the lock. The key was stuck in the lock and didn’t turn. The man frowned and went back to the table. The loaf of bread was fresh, and he ate it hungrily. He saved some for later. Nothing else happened that day and he fell asleep when the light o the day had receded.

The next morning he rose from the cold hard floor and found that the key was still where he had left it but the loaf of bread was now stale. He tried the key in the lock again, and still nothing happened. The key refused to turn.

He returned to the table and ate half of the remaining bread. Being nourished by it, he decided it was time to try some other ways out. He inspected the window and the bars were solid. Next he hurled himself at the door, and his body weight could not budge the door though he tried many times. He inspected the hinges, but he had no tool to take them off.

Suddenly, it occurred to him. He set the loaf of bread onto the ground and picked up the table and ran at the door to smash it down against the door. The table shattered but it also broke through the wood near the door knob.

He smashed it and smashed it and reached his hand through the narrow opening and unlocked the door from the other side.

He left the hard plain room and into his eyes entered a new sight. He entered into a room much like the one he left with barred window lighting, a locked door across from him, and a table in the center of the space. This chamber in additiob had a thin berber red-brown carpet and an opening shelf built into the wall. On that shelf was a tray of bread, cheese, and water. He immediately drained the cup of water since he was quite thirsty and then ate the last of the bread from the old room. He saw a door opposite the one leading from the old room and checked the table which was slightly larger round and oval-shaped. On the table he found a lock pickers set of tools.

The man very clumsily tried the lock pickers tools being very unfamiliar with them, and nothing happened to the door lock. He eased his frustration with the bread and cheese until the light of the day through the window faded to blackness. He fell asleep on the carpet and slept soundly but for a great clanging noise that roused him in the middle of the night.

The next morning he awoke and looked around the room to see what had changed that night. The only difference he noticed was that the shelf built into the wall was now closed behind a metal panel. He went over and fingered hia way arojnd the esge til he foind a latch, and the panel slid down to reveal the tray of food. To his surprise, curiosity, and gratitude the tray was replenished with food and the water cup was full again. He ate of the food on the shelf and drank the water and felt encouraged to keep trying to get out of this room.

He thought to himself if only he could use the wooden pieces from the last room to get through the door, but try as he might all he got was a splinter and a cut in his hand. the wood of this door was of sturdier stuff he guessed. He wrapped it in cloth from the bread tray and attempted the lock picking set. He met only frustration.

Then, it came to him that he should try the key in the other door. He had to use the lock picking tools to even pry the key out of the first lock, and he tried it on the second door. The lock would not turn. He went back to the oval table and examined it. He found nothing. He examined the tray and found nothing underneath it besides the concrete of the wall shelf.

Here the man’s frustration began to edge at him. He felt inadequate to get through the door, he had already hurt himself, and he still had no idea what had caused the claninging noise. He curled up onto the carpet with some bread and cheese and lay still munching away.

He stayed in this room another night and heard the same mysterious clang in the darkness and found his food  and water were replenished.

He sat down on the oval table facing the next door for a while then pced between the two rooms.

It was around this time that he considered a long view approach to his situation. He fingered the key in his hand and realized that this key was probably meant for something, and that “probably meant for something” might be to learn how the lock picking tools simulated a key.

He spent that afternoon studying the key and the lock picking tools and he practiced on the broken door first. It took him countless tries after which he took a break to eat and came back before he finally unlocked the broken first door.

He hurried to grasp the second door hands too shaky from the excitement to open anything. He had just leaped so many hurdles in this one moment that he felt he could conquer the world. He gingerly felt the lock easing under his precise touches with the tool, but he didn’t get it to turn until the sun had completely set. Then CLICK the door was open and he pulled the door back and thought to step into the dark, but for all he knew it would lead downhill or into a trap. He decided to find his blind way back to the carpet and get some sleep.

Before he did, he thought to get some water and food before that panel clanged shut again. He first gingerly felt in the dark and found where everything rested then quickly snatch the bread off the tray with his hands, and then quickly grabbed the cup and guzzled down the sips that remained and then threw the cup back into the dark shelf.

Like a metal jaw the panel sliced shut bumping into his hand as he retracted it. A wave of terror of what could have happened froze his body from torso outward.

He returned to the carpet and eagerly awaited the next day. The twilight came and he rose from his floor bed and pulled the door open.

This room was so much unlike the first two. Color splashed into his sight as yellow,  purple and dark blue met his view on the far wall. Inside this larger parlor scattered all over the place were giant shapes like squares and triangles made of foam, furniture, and a plush bed. The temperature was mild, and there were lamps, a bathroom, and a new shelf in the wall on the side of the room very similar to the one in the room before, but this one had pastries, and chocolate milk and fruit juice.

The only other thing similar in that room to the ones before it,  was the table in the center of the space and after much looking around, a door behind the big blocks. The table this time was rectangular and nothing rested on it but a plain, straight, smooth walking stick.

The newcomer felt no urgency to leave this room. He ate of the delicacies, drank the juice and walked around to the bed and fell into a luxurious, comfortable snooze from which he woke to explore the place further.  Walking around blocks and finding no secret passages and no window in this room he approached the door. There was no door knob. Only a light brown circle of wood where the door knob might be.

It was pretty solid. He pushed against it, and thought of using the stick on the table just as he had used the table,  but he saw that the staff would break if it was swung at something. The table was to heavy for him to manage. He tried manipulating various configurations of toys,  blocks,  triangles,  and nothing got the door to budge. “Maybe it isn’t even a door.” he thought as he set up some Lincoln logs. He also began to wonder if the door knob was hidden, and if he needed to find it in the misat all of these things.

The man spent a week in this room,  eating,  playing, and occasionally, searching. He began to grow tired of the kingdom he built in that parlor,  which he ruled over with his wooden scepter.  He lived like a king,  but with no one else to share it with. He had as much as he could want, but his heart grew weary playing and not progressing.

He left the color room back to the carpeted room, and back again to the first room at which he had started. He lay on the cold floor and remebered: he was a prisoner here. He had once refused to stay, but he had grown accustomed to his cell. Does he still want to get out?

He sat up and looked around.  Only broken pieces of the table remained. He entered the second room and saw the bare table. It had held the tools needed to get into the next room. And the third room held only the walking stick.

It clicked for him. It was simple. He took his staff in hand and ran at the door with terrific speed. With his hands he gripped his pole horizontally in one hand behind and the other in front. Finding himself mere feet from the door, he braced for impact.

With a terrific crack the door broke open a crack and the stopped stuck. A white light from the outside pierced inside. He pushed gently on the door, and then intently. Then harder, and then he used his stick to pry it open. It swung free.

The man stepped out into a white, snowy hillside with white clouds above him and a sheer mountain’s grey face greeting him and welcoming him to this brave new world.

 

 

Math Myth

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At lunch today I told this story to some 5th grade kids.

Once there was a division between the Sum and the multiplication. There was also a guy named Minus, who wasn’t very good at doing things. He wanted to remove the division between the Sum and the multiplication.

Minus had one problem. He didn’t have a heart big enough.

So he drank a lot of milk to make himself stronger.
But his heart didn’t grow any bigger.

He went to school and learned everything he could about the division between the Sum and the multiplication.
But his heart didn’t grow any bigger.

After school he gathered as many numbers around him as he could: all kinds of possessions.
But his heart didn’t grow any bigger.

Finally, he prayed and asked God to give him a bigger heart.
And God gave him a bigger heart.

After this, Minus found Sum and multiplication still divided.
And because his heart was bigger now,
He applied himself to the division between the Sum and the multiplication
And Viola! He “subtracted” the division from between the Sum and the multiplication.

The Sum and the multiplication had a party and celebrated with cupcakes.

Then they all made an equation to remember how a Minus is always able to remove the division between the Sum and the multiplication.

That is why there is a minus sign used in the Division symbol.

The Eye of the Storm

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I’ve been here before
The world is sprawling around
The rush of water forcing its way
Down, around, along the ground
Inland waves sweep you off your feet
Fear of loss, and helplessness
Feeling too paralyzed to go outside.

Familiar is the feeling when I choke
A shame, a stifling of the breathing life
Situations feel insurmountable
Everything beyond my reach from my unsure footing
Each victory seems one stroke against the tide
Catastrophe feels bigger than reality
I wish I could run and hide myself somewhere.

This is what I have always known
The storm, the shame they have an eye.
One is the calm around which the winds rage
The other is that body’s light, I evade to the floor.
The fear to surge through the fiercest tempest
Only to let the ferocity shatter my frailty
Venturing to enter that gaze safely

Elihu told Job that God was here
Our heart meandering knows this home.
The screaming winds guard this safe place.
The place only the humble seek unswervingly.
As shame gives up the last ounce of covering
Naked and vulnerable just I alone remain
Staring into His gentle clear blue sky.

Always
Through chaos
Ordering all powerfully
Present within our midst.
Testing the heart
Choosing us
Loving

I’ve been here before
The world is sprawling around
The rush of water forcing its way
Down around, all over the ground
I will wait here with Him safely
His presence my security
His eye, my soul’s calm.

On Preaching God’s Word ~ A Poem

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Don’t start talking beside the flower
Discussing its hue and classification.
That is description!

Don’t just let the smell be nosed
And tell people how fragrant it is.
That is reporting!

Don’t just finger its petals and thorns
And explain the touch of soft and sharp
That is informing!

You are not yet small enough
To know the flower properly yet
You are still outside.

Like the bee, lowly and industrious
Drawn by the sight, smell, and feel
You are in need.

Wanting life for heart and home,
You sink beneath the pedal’s crown
You seek the source.

The hidden warmth, the ever-present aroma
Of the sweetest secret nectar of Life
Now, you are before Him.

 

 

Melting

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I visited the Welder’s house, and I received instruction.

He showed me a weld that was poorly done. It had sags. It had fish eyes. It had lumps. And it was not structurally sound. So either it would suffer abuse and afterward fall apart in 2-3 years, or it would nee to be ground down again. If it was done again smoothly in a structurally sound way, even after abuse it would last at least 10 years instead.

I understood: This is why God takes his time with us. And often has to grind us down and have us start over. Because he knows if he does not, then when we suffer abuse, we will be struck down to the core of our being, and will fall apart much quicker, unless he takes his sweet, steady time preparing His vessel according to the need only He can foresee.

He also showed me a weld with cracks, and he told me, “Cracks always propagate!”

I understood: any issue that is not dealt with before the Lord will continue to be an issue. Arrest smaller issues before they become larger ones.

He told me that welders often go fast because they get excited. But when that happens they only lay half of the load down. It takes a steady hand that has insight into the true nature of the particular metal who has a successful weld.

I understood: As God prepares his vessel, the vessel will be tempted to speed up the process any way he can, because he feels the Lord’s power, but he does not yet possess the true insight into the material which He is being welded into.

 

The Disciple and the Tree

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In response to those in the church who say the primary purpose of any disciple is to make more disciples, I have this to say:

Jesus called the church to make disciples.
Jesus did not call the church to make disciplers.

Being a discipler is totally part of being a disciple,
But there is more to a tree than the seed which bears it;
Or the seed in the fruit on the branch which stretches out
With the leaves that take in carbon dioxide and give off oxygen
Shading the bark shielding the hart and the sap drawn up from the ground
Through the roots which stand the tree upright toward the heavens.

In the same way there is more to a disciple than the new convert;
Or drawing people to the gospel by the love of Christ
Which comes from humble submission to God in working as He does
Offering strength and rest to those in need, preserving the value of life in truth
Being grounded in a world from which we are inseparable, being dust
Standing upright before God for the good of all men.

There is more to being a disciple than being a discipler
Just as there is more to being a tree than a bearer of seeds.

The church must remember the tree out of which is made the cross they are called to carry.
The church must remember what it means to be fully human.
Only then will she ever properly represent the fully human Jesus Christ

Who is the Second Adam.

How Personal is He?

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There’s a post on Facebook that has been floating around for a while that I have a real issue with. This is an article about my issue with it.

The post is a cartoon drawing with two scenes. The top scene is a man on his knees praying toward the Clouds of Heaven asking, “God, please speak to me!” The next scene is a large hand reaching out of the clouds to hand him a Bible. While I get the point (if you want to know what God said, read the Bible. “G-doi!”[Little shout out to Wreck it Ralph for that one.]) I immediately reacted against it. “Oh come on! God is a lot more personal than that!”

Isn’t He?

A certain man had two sons. He was a busy man, and worked in his office with the door closed. One day, one of his sons knocked on his office door, and asked to speak with him. In response, the man slipped a piece of paper to his son that said, “I love you, son. If you have any pressing concerns read my notes I left you.” The son left and went to read his father’s notes. A little later the other son knocked and asked to speak with him. Immediately, the father swung open the door, and invited the child into the office and showed him what he was up to.

Which son did the man show more love to? Which one do you think will continue the family business when they are older?

Consider this verse: John 20:31–“These have been written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God; and that believing you may have life in His name.”

I learned this verse in AWANA, a program for children to learn Bible verses from an early age, based on the idea of 2 Timothy 2:15, “Study to show yourself approved, a workman that needs not to be ashamed rightly dividing the word of Truth.” Though I barely understood these words as a 7 year old, I did understand the idea of Approved Workmen Are Not Ashamed: AWANA. I got the Citation for completing the whole program and purchased the white gold citation ring with my name and that verse on it, as a reminder of my pledge to “rightly divide” His Word.

It was in Seminary that  this”training” came into question. I heard a professor from Wheaton, John Walton,  say these words which would shock most of my many self-proclaimed fundamentalist friends:

“The Bible was not written to us. We believe the Bible was written for us, like it’s for everyone of all times and places. But it wasn’t written to us. It wasn’t written in our language, it wasn’t written with our culture in mind or our culture in view.”

I am inclined to agree with him to a point. If the Bible was written “to” us (and for this writing, I say us representing American, technological, free people) it would have been written in English, and He probably would have used emojis. 🙂 Just saying. The Bible records two very distinct conversations: The Old Testament records God’s personal involvement and conversation with the people of Israel as a testimony to the Nations of His Goodness and unfailing love for all who would Hear His voice and keep His word; the New Testament records the conversation between Jesus Christ, the Son of God, his followers, and the people of the whole known world at that time. Even this verse in John 20:31 is written to John’s audience at his time. Just because it has been translated into English does not mean that it was written directly to “you” O ye noble English speaker.

Let me put it this way. Which is more meaningful to you: to get a letter from a friend with inside jokes and shared understandings? Or to read a letter from your dad to your older brother who are both fishermen who talk about life using fishing metaphors and you’ve never been fishing a day in your life? (A little shout out to Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs for that one.) “Better is a friend who is near than a brother who is far away.” Solomon said to his son.

I’ve been deep in the languages, and submerged myself into some of the contexts of the Bible. The Word of God is so much more profound than in English: but it’s also a lot simpler than most teachers make it out to be. What really gets me fired up about this, is It’s also a lot more interpersonal than most Christians think it is, and also a lot less intrapersonal than most American Christians think.  Let me explain.

I have sat under teachers who have said, “You have got to have a relationship with this book.” I cringe every time, because a book can’t talk back, can’t hold you, can’t convict you, except on your terms. It’s a lot easier to tie yourself to a book than it is to stare into the face of another human being eye to eye. Especially if the book isn’t even written directly to you in the first place.

On the other hand, I have watched my fellow believers swaying to complete misappropriations and misapplications of the Biblical Text. As a result they emotionally mislead many and themselves to their own disgrace. It’s a lot easier to read whatever you want into the words of the Bible than to read it as a conversation between two other people, in which you hopefully know One of the parties very well. Or rather in which One of the two parties hopefully knows you very well.

Both of these approaches are shallow and lead to error. One sucks all the blood out of a body, the other suffers from internal bleeding. What is the answer? Is there a third way?

Yes.

Paul, suffering persecution unto the end of his life, passed the torch to his “son in the faith” Timothy saying this, “Indeed, all who desire to live godly in Christ Jesus will be persecuted. But evil men and impostors will proceed from bad to worse, deceiving and being deceived. You, however, continue in the things you have learned and become convinced of, knowing from whom you have learned them, and that from childhood you have known the sacred writings which are able to give you the wisdom that leads to salvation through faith which is in Christ Jesus. All Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness; so that the man of God may be adequate, equipped for every good work.

“From whom.” I’ll be honest, I’m not entirely sure what Paul means here. One helpful note from translation: the “Whom” is plural! That throws out the idea of it all coming back to God teaching you, which is what I thought at first. Paul is writing a letter, so it could be he’s referring to something or someone not referred to in the text like teachers in the past, but . . . The word could be translated “who” or “what.” And directly after he says “knowing from ‘whom’ (pl) you’ve learned it he goes on to describe  the “sacred writings” of the Old Testament.

This is common sense. Interpretation is not a science; it’s an art. In electricity, energy passes from a positive electrode to a negative electrode. Interpretation is like tracing the path of the bolt of lighting between them. In communication the positive electrode is the speaker, the negative electrode is the listener. The meaning is the spark they share between them.

Many people would love to load a bunch of meaning into 2 Timothy 3:16 as the verse for the authority of the whole Bible: Old and New Testament. Paul wasn’t referring to his own letters, he was referring to the sacred writings of the Old Testament. To say he meant more than that is to set up another negative electrode with which there is no “spark.” The New Testament is gonna have to look somewhere other than this statement of Paul for its authority, which I do affirm.

Let me share my interpretation of this passage: Paul is praising Timothy for how he has grown in Bible study. This is an older man commending his follower in how well he has followed him. And when Paul is gone, Timothy will 1. Know what he’s been taught. 2. Be deeply assured in faith about it, and 3. Know the sources that it is based in.

You have read so far so kindly, let me pause for a second. Is he talking about teachers or scriptures? Both are valid interpretations. We do need multiple teachers just like we need multiple eyes to see 3-D, and two people to verify truth. The grammar of the language Paul used to write this thought to Timothy could go either way, but the usage of the words for “learning” really make it sound like he’s talking about people. Multiple teachers.

So, he goes on to continue the same thought of 1. Knowing what he’s been taught, 2. Being deeply assured in faith about it, and 3. knowing the people who taught him. 4. by discussing the sacred writings. Aha! And how do these writings function? One thing to note is that, Paul at no point of this passage does Paul refer to the Sacred writings as God’s Word to Timothy. The Old Testament served the purpose of “giving wisdom that leads to Salvation through faith which is in Christ Jesus.”

We see from this snippet of conversation why wisdom is important (because it leads to Salvation), but how do the texts give wisdom? Could it be through seeing how the spark of meaning jumps between God and His people in a specific and personal way? Is it wisdom to take a letter between two people talking about cars, and put yourself in the position of the recipient, when you have no idea what a carburetor does? Or is it more humble to say, I would rather see what the letter meant to the original recipient before trying to understand what it meant. Which way is more human and accurate?

And what about this “faith” thing? Faith is internalization of truth as reality that externally shapes your world around you. But truth that is not kept between two people is not truth. It is a man talking to himself, and you can find that in any insane asylum. Faith is like putting your weight on a rock while climbing a cliff knowing it is sturdy enough to hold your weight. Woe to those who put faith in an engine to start that has only positive electrodes distanced from the negative ones. Because such an engine will not combust with true fire.

The beauty of the divinity of the Scriptures (which is absolutely true, and attested by Jesus Himself in conversation in the book of John), is that God speaks by divine revelation communicated very humanly between at least two people. Search the Scriptures and see if you find anything that is not written or spoken from one person to the hearing of another. Hint: before you go thinking about Proverbs, remember it was largely written from a father to his son. Kings, Chronicles, Samuel? Nehemiah? Hmmmm.

All of the sacred writings of Scripture have the very breath of God in them. When God breathed in the second chapter of Genesis it was to put life into the man. If you are reading the Old Testament, and you are not feeling the life in them, perhaps it is because you’re trying to suck air through a hole in God’s cheek, instead of aligning yourself with the person on the other end of God’s breath to whom He is speaking, and feeling in that moment “the cool of the day” in Eden, “the whirlwind of the storm” in Job, “the gentle whisper” to Elijah at Mt. Horeb.

It is because of God’s breath/spirit in these passages they are profitable for teaching, exposing, improving, and training in righteousness.  Without God’s breath, they are not. Without God’s spirit they will not make the man of God fully complete to outwardly complete every good work.

Is it possible to read the Scriptures and miss God’s breath entirely? Jesus said to the religious leaders of His day, “You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; it is these that testify about Me; and you are unwilling to come to Me so that you may have life.”

Let me regather: The point I made in the beginning is God is more personal than to hide himself behind words distant or disconnected from our own hearts. The way we handle the Bible: Old and New Testaments must be human/humble acknowledging that God spoke directly to others, and we can get in on that spark if we just line up the electrodes and watch the meaning unfold. That’s where the fire is! I’ve seen it! It’s real! He is real! Not only this, but God still speaks directly to us! He still directly speaks to each one who has the ears to hear, as the Holy Spirit living within His people guiding them into all truth, especially the truth of the Holy Scriptures. But the question of this whole grappling is “How personal is He?”

You see, dear reader, one of the reasons I hate sin so much, is it blinds us to the Goodness of God. That is why the “goodness/kindness/loyalty of God leads us to repentance.” And is it in a father’s accessibility to his children that we recognize God’s own goodness, or in a father’s cold detachment through a book that once meant something and is supposed to mean something again. Whenever I have gorged myself on the empty pleasures of this world, whether food, movies, wrongful sexual stimulation, it is SO hard to see Him. And I hate that. Because when I see Him, I enjoy His likeness in all things, especially in the face of another human being. That is where the same spark exists. Love is the true fire between two faces that kiss, and don’t let anyone tell you that physical touch means nothing to love.

It is exactly my point that God’s engagement with the people of God in the Holy Scriptures is just as personal as a kiss between two lovers. He made them, breathed into his nostrils, clothed them, spoke to them, instructed them, led them, said “please” to them, shared His secrets with them, performed great miraculous wonders for them, showed Himself to them, pursued them, wanted to be pursued by them, grew angry with them, was grieved by them, disciplined them, brought them back to life, saved them out of slavery, fed them, gave them water, adopted them, taught them, fortified them, fought for them, protected them, beautified them, glorified them, and sang songs of gladness over them.  And that is just some of the things we have recorded! Then He walked among them and touched them, gave himself up for them, won the victory for them! He was their friend, their father, their God, their beloved. How much more personal can you get? Why would you think that God would be any less personally, actively involved in your life?

I think I’ll close this grappling with just one more thought. If the people of God represent God in the world, then they must pay great heed to this question. We become like the One we worship. And if we worship a God who is like a book, then the church will see itself as a book that the world can pick up and read and be saved, or a book that can be overlooked and rejected. If we worship a God who is personally, actively engaged with us in the same way He has been personally, actively engaged in the past, then we are going to go after this world. Why? Because that’s what Jesus did. He went after the world so that the world could have life through him, not through a book. It was Jesus the people of Israel rejected, not the Scriptures. It was God’s last demonstration of His forbearance to the people who had killed all his servants and been exiled and returned enslaved: “I’ll send them my Son. Surely they will hear Him.” Let those of us, who have been entrusted with the very gates of the Kingdom of Heaven, with which little children are so familiar, not be included in this woe: “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites, because you shut off the kingdom of heaven from people; for you do not enter in yourselves, nor do you allow those who are entering to go in.”

The Hedgeman

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Madam Grandmother had a house of grey:
Grey roof, grey shutters, grey siding.
All one story; All one level
Surrounded by box hedge plants waist high.

A hedgeman had come and trimmed them recently
But he only chopped the shape just right.
He did not seek to undertake
The dive seeking weeds of thorn and vine:

Young spritely clinging little buggers
Troublesome meddlers in a boxy world
In shadowy subtlety they showed their heads
A long time they had grown in secret.

The hedgeman returned at the grandmother’s request
The bushes needed trimming, but the vines were his quest.
Over two days he set about the purge
Of everything that grew up from secretly seeded earth.

He found himself saying, as the vines scraped his arm:
“My goodness this bush is a pain.”
But then he thought to himself:
I wonder if God looks that way on me?

Extricating and tending the bush planted well.
From the weeds of the seeds of the unworthy sown.
Did the Maker of creation who saw it was good
Did He say, “This is a pain.” When the devil’s seed was sown?

Grace shines like the hot afternoon sun on his back.
Reminding him of the Maker’s glowing face.
Which does not cool when faced by those who turn
Their back on him shady tents to pitch.

O grief, such grief: that crown of thorns
That encircled the Savior’s human brow
To crown the flower with Satan’s weeds
To raise up a sacrifice of earth because of Heaven’s love.

Of course! Twas not for grief He bore
But for the Joy that was set before!
His cross he endured and the seed he planted
In the tomb of the rock to sprout forth with new creation!

Determined by his Father’s love,
Pronounced for the world from the beginning
He did not merely say, “It is good.”
He simply “Saw that it was good.”

Now the hedgeman was ennobled to press
Through the thorns that tore his exposed flesh
For in these thorns a fresh thought was true:
God fell in love with the world to make it new.

Emancipation: the feeling surged as one by one the vines relinquished their hook
They could not withstand the power of man determined to make the bushes good.
Why? Because these bushes were planted first, and then the weeds took root.
The bushes are good, it’s the weeds that have corrupted their look

So even though the weeds are deep entwined
With the plants of the Grandmother’s good intention
Still, deeper is the ability to dig
With a pair of pruning sheers to clip the hidden stems.

Strong is the stock the Sower sowed
When He made the world out of His goodness
The enemy may have added his own ingloriousness
But the Angels can tell what is good by its fruit.

Oscillating between standing and kneeling
The hedgeman cleared away the weeds by probing deeply.
Humility and confidence to seek understanding and apply it:
Getting to the root, and pulling up the shoot.

Familiar with these living plants
Their tender leaves not sown by chance
Were worth releasing from these self-ish pokes
For which the fire the Angel stokes.

Grappling with the plant near the top does no good.
It took a long time to reach the now spoiled-sightly top.
With a firm hand the hedgeman pulls on the vine
So he can pluck the thorns like a bow string and cut the base.

Others yank the plant up by the stem
Hoping that the whole thing will come right out.
Those who are clever know such a risk is not sound
Even if it clears the top, soon the issue will reemerge.

During his struggle, He sees the Creator dealing with him.
Not managing his issues so as to keep God busy
But always asking the questions that get at the heart
Of why man hides and turns his back on Him.

Resting in the tension of the Master’s pull
And wincing at the precise cuts of the wise Healer
Leveling haughty lusts from creeping back out again.
He reminds me of His pleasing and excellent plan

Utilizing the hedgeman to keep the hedges beautiful
The Creator has appointed a manager for His Creation
A Creation He made so beautiful, that it was even good in His own eyes.
The only One who is Good, saw that it was good.

Lo, He did not only say “It was good” when he made the light.
Nor even when he made land, trees, fruit and seed
Nor even when he made stars, and birds and fish and animals
But when He appointed man to rule He saw that it was VERY good.

Ended the task, back stood the hedgeman and smiled
The grey house framed by box-hedged life
The weeds were cast away to rot, to be chewed, and to die
And the Hedgeman sees that the Earth is worth redeeming.

Playground

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There once was boy called Martin. Martin was a precocious lad, who loved to play on playgrounds. Whenever he didn’t have a playground, he made one. Just give him a tree, or some furniture, even a pile of junk, and he would transform it into a place of enjoyment and discovery!

One year, Martin started attending a new school with kids his age. But this school had no playground equipment except a sandbox, which kids of all ages would go and play in during recess. Martin had played on swings, jungle gyms, hanging bars, slides, bounce houses, and sandboxes too. He saw the kids playing in the sandbox and all he could think was, “If only I could give them a chance to play on some of the equipment I get to play on. They’d love it! They’d have so much fun and grow bigger and stronger like I’m growing.” So Martin asked his parents, and they agreed to rent some new playground equipment for a day.

The next day, three new pieces of playground equipment showed up in the school yard. Martin was so excited. He couldn’t wait to see how his friends would react. At recess, he gathered around all his friends, and explain the rules and how to play on the swings, and how to swing from the monkey bars, and how to slide on the slides, and bounce on the bounce houses. And Martin was jumping right into the fun while he was demonstrating.

But when he turned around, he noticed that nobody was playing with him. The just stared at him. They weren’t used to such big equipment. Martin was hoping they would try it out and discover the fun for themselves, like he had. Some of them tried some of the gravel pieces around the base. Some even climbed around and tried the slide once or twice. But they all stood and watched.

Martin stared at them with open mouth. Why weren’t they playing? Didn’t they know this equipment was so much more fun than the sandbox? He even dragged some kids over and pushed them on the swings, but they were missing their friends and they ran back to the sandbox.

Our little precocious lad was disheartened. He didn’t want to play all by himself. He knew that this was A LOT more fun than the sandbox, but it was no fun without other kids to play with. He went home and cried to his parents. They understood, being wise parents, and told him that he should find a way to have fun in the sandbox with the other kids.

So, the next day at recess, Martin joined the kids playing in the sandbox, except this time, he brought a bucket of water with him. He smiled as he was determined to still create something even more fun out of this sandbox. Spilling some of the water on the ground, he made mud and started forming things out of the mud. The other kids watched and then started to play with him. Each one got down on their hands and knees and started making little houses, and bridges, tunnels, and streets. Everybody had an amazing time. And from then on, Martin was happy to play with his friends in the sandbox, still hoping that some day, the other kids would want more than the sandbox, and upgrade next year to just one piece of equipment. Maybe a ball-pit!