Tag Archives: chiasm

What Do the Eyes of Faith See? (C&R)

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These are perspectives found in Hebrews 11 that strengthen God’s people to suffer and overcome resulting in the obedience of faith to the glory of God in Jesus Christ.

The Eyes of Faith see these things:

  1. Vs. 3–“The word of the unseen God is what orders the world that is seen around us.”
  2. Vs. 6–“God exists, and He rewards those who diligently seek Him.”
  3. Vs. 10–“We seek to live in a city that has an actual foundation designed and built by God.”
  4. Vs. 11–“Our God who promised is trustworthy.”
  5. Vs. 13–“While we wait for God’s distant promises, we are now strangers and exiles in the earth.”
  6. Vs. 14-16–“We do not seek our own country, but a Heavenly one.”
  7. Vs. 19–“God is able to raise the dead so as to keep His promises.”
  8. Vs. 24-25–“I’d rather be God’s people and suffer than be royal and enjoy sin’s fleeting pleasure.”
  9. Vs. 26–“The reproach of God’s anointed one is worth more than any treasure of the world, because of its reward.
  10. vs. 27–“Because I see what is unseen, I endure not fearing the wrath of the king others see.”

A way to use this tool: each of these calls and responses can be done with the family gathered at the table after dinner, read from a list posted nearby, and discussed at length. Each is a deep well of what faith is about. They are meant to generate questions, and discussion, and to give words to confess together with believers in Jesus Christ what we believe about the gospel. Chiastically they unfold by theme: the Unseen-ness of faith, the Reward of of faith, the Citizenship of faith, the Promises of faith, and the Eternal Hope of faith.

May God strengthen your faith in He who is unseen, that through Christ you may enter into greater reward, as Spirit in-dwelt citizens of an unshakeable kingdom, trusting in God’s promises both now and forever. Amen.

A Recaptured Vision

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Two opposing viewpoints are helpful, like two legs supporting a torso. It’s not always about balance. Sometimes it’s about shifting your weight between the two viewpoints in order to make progress in a particular direction. But there still must be a united vision of one who can see above, between, and in sympathy with the two views the direction in which this whole group of members called a body must move.

I see an altar for sacrifice. The Lamb was slain upon it, and by his being slain willingly in submission to his master was enthroned as King of not just the spiritual realm, but also the earthly realm coming back to life spiritually and physically. The Lamb does not see corruption.I look and behold a group of spectators whose eyes once hardened in vehemence now moisten and soften with tears, as that which is in them, that compassion at the center of the LORD Himself melts their proud hearts. The more they stare, the more they shed their weapons and shrink down to become more and more a lamb themselves, made innocent by forgiveness. They bleat the simple cry “I will give my life for my enemies, for thus my Savior did for me.” Their persecutors, like blind puppets with the shape-shifting serpent venemous and hateful animating behind them, draw back their sword to strike. The Lamb does not move, but the bleating song of this lamb is sung as an echo of the Lamb enthroned. Struck deep in the throat, the lamb bows its head, blood staining the white wool of spotlessness. Such obedience is the sacrifice pleasing in God’s sight. The fragrant aroma of the smoke of the altar changes to an animal roasting. The lamb does not see corruption. Though his body decomposes there on the flame, his spirit goes to be with the Lamb, awaiting the day when his body will be reanimated and the blood-stained wool will be washed whiter than ever before. Thus the lamb shared the altar-throne, and thus the lamb will share with the exalted throne.

More and more the lambs following the Lamb are drawn to walk this simple path, and more and more the blind puppets are more clearly animated to look like their master. Until the day when all is revealed, and that which is true, right, and good, and full of life shall remain forever, and all that is false, wrong, evil, and full of death shall be judged forever with damnation. And all peoples, tribes, and nations will sing, “Salvation belong to our God who is seated on the throne and to the Lamb.”

My Truck

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Pretty as a 19-year old model
Shiny like she’s brand new
Bright red like a fire hydrant
Big like the King of the road

An 8-foot bed huge loads handles well
Her gate well-oiled snugly shuts
A bed liner makes the whole body protected
Its ridges guide the water out straight

Beneath the shine, a villainous corrosion
An oxidization made brittle by city salt
The frame has holes and cracks that deepen
Every bump it takes, and puddle it fords

One bump, the spring shackle bracket broke
And the left back corner of the truck bed sank
Suspension, transmission all put under tension
And the metal floor of the bed began to scrape

ACH! That noise! That digging scream
That cried for repair before the break came
It would punch a hole in the 8-foot bed,
If it was not healed with the Welder’s flame.

BREECH! That bump cost far too much
Too long the scream went unacknowledged
And now silenced the dagger is still
Jutting up through the floor of the 8-foot bed.

The frame now bears weight on the bone of the Truck
And the bed liner is not pierced but raised from the floor.
But a once water-tight 8-foot bed has a leak,
And the moaning continues as the hole gets bigger.

Aiee! Ach! That shameful burden stabbed
My heart to know my own neglect
Caused one small problem to cause many more
And now the damage cannot be undone.

But repair can be made by the Welder’s flame.
The community shop can raise up her frame
Line up the spring shackle bracket again
And solder it back to shoulder loads well again.

The hole in the 8-foot bed can be patched.
And the scar will still hold the water inside.
In fact, the strength lent to this space may be needed
Should any further breech occur beneath.

But the rust still needs to be arrested.
Or the problems will continue unless dealt with

Eclipted Eyes

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My brain: a fog.
The Night stands tall back against the Sun
The Orange Rim around the shadow burns.
Like a fiery border begging separation
But ever fusing the two orbs into one sphere.
The ball is shaded by a singly directed Star
Only One Star to light all things. No more night will be there.
When our Sun and Shield, our Grace and Glory,
Dwells within our midst, and will be within us.

My eyes, I see them red and blurry.
My vision fades in clarity and depth
From the smudges and foreign contaminants
That scrape the lens but for the tears of sorrow to cleanse it.
Since childhood the animal hair makes itch
When I rub my eyes for relief, I worsen
My eyes grow puffy and inflamed.