"Mom! Jesus Won't Stop Sharing!"

The other day as I was thinking about how Jesus Christ came to the earth I was suddenly struck by the idea that he was part of a family, and in that way not only joined us in understanding our temptations and trials, but also understanding our family interactions and challenges. As I ponder this idea I begin to wonder, if Jesus lived the perfect life in terms of his family relationships and interactions, why aren't we given those stories in the Bible so that we can understand what it means for brothers and sisters to love each other and for children to obey their parents in the day-to-day things of life? However, the more I think about it the more I realize that it just isn't necessary.
God has already given us clear instructions and godly examples regarding family relationships in the Bible. "Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right" (Eph. 6:1). "Honor your father and mother" (Exodus 20:12). "Behold, how good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity" (Ps. 133:1). "You shall not hate your brother in your heart" (Lev. 19:17).
More than that, we know how we are to treat our family because it has been written on our hearts, "They show that the work of the law is written on their hearts, while their conscience also bears witness, and their conflicting thoughts accuse or even excuse them" (Rom. 2:15). And when we are in such a state of mind and heart as to ignore those basic morals, I highly doubt we would change our tune just because we read a story of Jesus sharing his toys (though I would be interested in seeing just how that scene played out). The majority of references to "brother" in the Bible have more to do with a common ancestry or common heart than with common parents. Among the Israelites all other Israelites (and Edomites, as they come from Esau, Israel's brother) were considered brothers. Jesus said, "whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother" (Matt. 12:50). The deeper I go, the more I am convinced that how siblings are to treat each other is a given, because that is the example used for how we are to treat everyone else. "Treat younger men like brothers...younger women like sisters, in all purity" (1 Tim. 5:1,2).
Jesus does have a few things to say about brothers. Though he is likely referring to the brotherhood of spirit rather than that of blood.

But I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment; whoever insults his brother will be liable to the council; and whoever says, "You fool!" will be liable to the hell of fire. So if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go. First be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift. (Matt. 5:22-24)

Jesus also says that we are not only to reconcile ourselves to our brothers for our own actions, but also to forgive the actions of our brothers not just a few times, but always (Matt. 18:21-22). Brothers are to hold each other accountable for their actions, not out of judgment (for we each have a plank in our own eye, Matt. 7:1-5), but out of a desire to restore the brother back into right relationship with God and others (Matt. 18:15-17).
Are there a lot of negative examples of sibling interaction in the Bible? Wow, Bessie, are there ever. The first kid ever born kills his brother. Jacob steals Esau's birthright and blessing. Jacob's sons sell Joseph into slavery (in lieu of killing him). King David's kids are messed up! Jesus' own brothers try to draw Jesus out to where the authorities can take him down. But these are just sinful flesh and blood human beings like any one of us. It isn't that they didn't know how they aught to treat each other. They did it because they desired something else; something selfish. "Each one is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire" (James 1:14).
It strikes me that Jesus did not come to live out every possible example of showing love toward others. Jesus was never married (on earth). He never had kids. We don't get to see how Jesus interacted with his employer. Instead of demonstrating every possible action and reaction of love he demonstrated the direction of love and the extent to which love will go. His example makes love more applicable to every situation in life than it would have been if he had spent his time specifying how to respond in every situation. Love isn't about the specific response. Love is about the heart. Not what we feel like doing, but looking at people the way God looks at them and caring about their best interests. That is what Jesus demonstrated. That is how he lived. And I am sure that he lived the same way toward his family while he was growing up as he did toward his disciples and the crowds.

I Tip My Hat To You

Every once in a while I like to read a good children's book. Children's literature is important. Often times they are tremendously creative and full of valuable life lessons. I especially enjoy reading some of these stories to children of all ages (and I do mean all ages). Dr. Seuss has written some of my personal favorites when it comes to simple stories that convey great meaning; The Sneetches, Yertle the Turtle, What was I Scared of?, and many others. Seuss is widely known for his funny rhymes, odd characters, and strange new words, but one of my most cherished tales from the Dr. has none of these...well, maybe it has a few odd characters, but they are nothing so strange as the Whos or the Once-ler.
The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins is the story of a boy who finds himself in a dire predicament that is completely beyond his control. Or at least that is what one might conclude to be the purpose of the story. It is written in such a way that if one were not paying close attention he might pass it off as simply a clever story of an odd situation. When one delves deeper, however, he finds that there is really a very serious issue at stake, and what's more, the issue is never resolved--merely pacified.
One day young Bartholomew--a peasant between the ages of 9 and 14 I would guess--travels to the nearby town to sell some cranberries. Upon arriving in the town Bartholomew's entire day is disrupted when the king drives by in his carriage with his royal entourage. The king stops directly in front of the boy because Bartholomew--so it would seem--has not removed his hat out of respect for his majesty. Bartholomew does not understand the kings frustration for he has indeed removed his hat from his head and holds it in his hands. Unbeknownst to the boy, there is another hat--exactly like the first--upon his head. When the second hat is removed a third appears above the boy's brow. The king is infuriated and has Bartholomew hauled off to the palace to be dealt with.
It is a truly silly story told in the entertaining Dr. Seuss fashion as hat after hat after hat appears from under each previous hat. And of course the more hats that are removed the more frustrated the king becomes. He brings in the royal haberdasher, and the great wise men. He has the hats shot off with arrows and chanted away by magicians with black cats. The king even comes to a point where he decides the boy must be executed (a plan that could not be fully enacted because the executioner could not chop off any head that was covered by a hat).
So what is the real issue here? Many (including myself at one time) would think it is simply a clever story of a marvelous occurrence, and that the crux of the story is that Bartholomew could not take off his hat. None of that would have been a problem, however, if the king had not been--as many kings, noblemen, and people of high position often are--so proud. If only the king could have seen past his own ego to the fact that the boy did what he could to show his respect, it would have been a much shorter, and less interesting story. The king could not, however, see past the boy's hat.
I say that kings and others of high position have a tendency toward this kind of ego-centrism, but the fact of the matter is that I have a hard time seeing past the hats on the heads of other people. It doesn't take a kingdom to make a person proud. It doesn't take a position of authority to build an ego. All it takes is one thing, one little thing that I am good at. One little area in which I have shown aptitude and ability. One little thing that I have clear possession and control over. With that one little thing I can build in my mind an empire where in every other person ought to show their respect toward me.
Suddenly I begin to believe that for some reason I am actually something, and everyone else must recognize that something. If they do not recognize it, then they are fools--again setting myself higher and higher in my estimations of the world. Certainly, I might recognize greater authorities, but within my own fiefdom the peasants had better not get in my way or even look at me wrong, and they most definitely must remove their hats in my presence.
And so I must ask myself, what are the hats on other people's heads that I can't seem to look past? Who have I elevated myself above to the point of condemning the person? What little habit, or tick, or attitude, or idea, or belief, or image, or background of theirs seems to trigger the wrath (subtle though it may be) of my own ego? What makes me so much better than them?
And then I must consider, what hats do I wear that set a bur in the britches of others around me?
As I mentioned before, the real issue of the story is never resolved. Bartholomew only survives his encounter with the king because upon seeing the extravagance of the 500th and final hat the king is diverted from his intentions of defending his ego, but only so that he may build his ego further by acquiring this regal hat for himself. The king has learned nothing.
I do not want to be like king Derwin. I do not want my level of joy to be dictated by the little irritations of life. Paul says, "Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourself" (Phil. 2:3). This life is not about me. The more and more I try to promote myself, the more miserable I become. On the other hand, the more I tend to the needs and cares of others, the more joy I bring to those around me. What makes me so much better than them anyway? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Evening Stroll

The warm red and amber glow of the setting sun pours through the cracks in the clouds. A gentle, cold breeze glides across the grain fields cut even and clean by the harvest. Each step along the country road produces mixed emotions through both a satisfying and intrusive gravely crunch. There is joy in the sound like that of treading through fresh fallen leaves. At the same time the noise interrupts and dispels the serene stillness of the evening. What can one do, but embrace the joy and allow the rhythmic disturbance of every falling step to play in concert with the orchestration of God's creation.
This evening is not a very cold one, but cooler weather has set in. I am wearing my thickest coat--the blue one given to me by my father--and my knit cap, scarf, and gloves (all green). It's not that I could not endure the temperature of this particular evening. However, when one is walking against the wind for prolonged periods of time even a little cool air can become discomforting and even painful. Better safe than sorry.
I am out here to stretch my legs and get some fresh air, and, as I often do while strolling through God's great creation, to spend some time with the artist and author of this vast canvas and elaborate story. As I walk, admiring the creator's handiwork, I turn my thoughts to conversation. I have such a limiting perspective on the world around me and the world within me. This is where I go to seek out the greatest and entirely complete perspective. The endless prairies seem large enough a space to unpack the cares, concerns, and questions of my life. The limitless skies seem a sufficient container into which I can lift my praise and thanks. When all is said and done the Lord who walks beside me breathes in the air of my praise and tends to the fields of my concerns.
Sometimes I think that I am walking in search of answers. What I return with is something much greater--a reassurance that the Lord knows my heart, and that He will lead me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

As Unto The Lord

Now back to our regularly scheduled program.
In my first year of teaching I developed one particular skill that is invaluable to any teacher; the ability to improvise. So as I returned for my second year behind the wheel of the educational apparatus, I walked in a little too confidently perhaps. Sure, I still planned things, but it was with the idea of meeting the bare minimum requirements. This mentality made sense last year when I was just trying to figure things out and the bare minimum meant a whole lot of work. This year, however, the bare minimum meant I was being lazy. Before long I began to be convicted.
I've had a year to assess the situation and to figure things out. Now it was time to really step up and discover what I could do to make things better. There are far too many teachers out there just trying to pay the bills and make it to retirement. I don't want to be one of them. I got into this work for the kids, so why wouldn't I really apply myself to it? (Maybe because I'm inherently selfish. Darn that sin nature.) What is more, God makes it clear that teachers had better be doing their diligence.
"Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness" (James 3:1).
Sure, James was probably referring more to the teaching of spiritual things, but there is no such thing as purely secular education. All education is sacred in that it is delivered in devotion to something just as every person lives a life of worship toward something. The teaching may be devoted toward the security of the almighty dollar (good job, good home, lots of possessions, padded bank account), or devoted to control (lawyer, judge, politician, CEO), or devoted to the humanist idea (artist, poet, historian, educator, scientist), or simply to the defamation of God himself (evolutionary science, Historical Jesus, leaders of false religions). Though there is nothing inherently wrong with the occupations of the first three groups, there is a great deal wrong with such motivations and devotions. And it can be safely inferred that each and every educator teaches with a sacred and worshipful devotion to something.
I would hope and pray that my teaching would be performed out of devotion to my God and Father. I would hope and pray that out of my devotion and love for God I would love and care for my students. I would hope and pray that out of that love and care for my students I would labor to give them the best education I could offer--while still maintaining a balanced life and not allowing education itself to become the object of my devotion. Both my teaching and my preparation to teach ought to be acts of devotion to God, and God deserves my best; not my bare minimum.
Do I still improvise? Every day. That's just part of the territory when it comes to teaching in my subject area. But I am also planning a lot more. I am trying to find more and more creative ways to teach the subjects I have. In my "free time" I am working to develop myself in the areas that I teach so that I might be able to teach more effectively and with greater integrity.
Is it a lot of work? Oh, yes. But it comes with a lot of joy as I work in the service of my Lord and as I share the fruit of my labor with my students. (Even if they still don't care. That's their loss.)

The Heavens Declare

Montana is beginning to look a lot more like Oregon. It has been overcast for the last week. I guess it has rained a little (I was out of the area when it happened), but mostly the clouds just sit there. Since the snow has all melted, the seeds have been--or are being--planted, and the sun has had some opportunity to break through there is now a good deal of actual green in the area. This is not the kind of green that would only be called such by people who look at fields of brown and yellow every day of their lives. I am talking about actual, bright, photosynthesizing green. It's mostly in the grassy lawns and on the wild edges of the brown and tan fields. I must say that the green does my heart good. Never have I appreciated green more than I do now. Six months of white was incredible and beautiful, but green is a precious commodity, and I am blessed by it.
God has given us such a diverse world. Even in the relatively short distance between western Oregon and eastern Montana the climate, atmosphere, flora, fauna, culture, and lifestyles are just different enough to feel like they are worlds apart. Yet these are only two locations on a planet containing myriad of other climates, plants, animals, and cultures. In each of those locations there are distinct changes brought about by the various seasons. There are a multitude of beautiful scenes, and there are countless dangers. Somewhere on this planet there are tribes that worry themselves with issues that we would never even consider because those challenges could not even occur in our neck of the woods.
What a magnificent world God has created for us. It is a world where we can appreciate so much beauty, but must also remain humble in our inability to manage and control the dangers. This is not a safe planet. Countless lives have been lost in the reality that we are not in control here. Here we have hurricanes, tornadoes, floods, blizzards, earthquakes, volcanoes, tsunamis, fires, avalanches, deadly animals and insects, diseases, mental illness, poverty, malice, racism, classism, sexism, war, murder, theft, gossip, slander, jealousy, drunkenness, drug addiction, suicide, self-deprivation, over indulgence, fear, pain, sorrow, and death. This is not a safe world, and we are not in control. I am humbled by this truth.
There is one who is in control. Although he may not be safe by the standards of the world, he is good. He is present in the midst of the beauty and the storm. His majesty and power are seen in the beauty and grandeur of creation, and his presence and peace can be found in the torments of the world. Elijah heard him as a still small voice. Job heard him speaking out of the storm. Our Lord slept in the middle of a raging sea, and walked not on calm waters but in the middle of rushing winds and crashing waves.
I thank God for his wonderful creation; that it would remind me of his glory, creativity, and beauty; that it would humble me and remind me that he is God and I am not; that it would remind me that he is always there for me.

Serious Business

I think I may have mentioned this before, but, like many people, I struggle with wanting to be perceived in a particular way. It may not be any of the stereotypical images. I have no hope for the machismo, tough guy act; No taste for the fun-fun-fun-party dude; And don't want the hassle of the ladies man. No, I go for the responsible, straight-shooting, prepared, capable, clean-cut (though not afraid of hard and dirty work) angle. Think Leave it to Beaver without the corny acting.
But there is another element of my image that a friend recently brought to my attention: the desire to be taken seriously. That is something that I would think a lot of people want at least in some area of their lives. Being perceived as serious is hard because it depends so much on the person perceiving. Anyone can look at a party guy and tell, "that's a party guy." Or see a guy with the bulk, the bandana, and the strut and tell, "that's a tough guy." But unless a person is serious about the same things you are serious about (or at least respects those things), they will not take you seriously. Just look at our political system; lots of serious people (I hope), but they don't take each other seriously (or at least they don't want their constituents to take the opponents seriously when they disagree on issues or have different agendas). The point is, it isn't up to us whether or not people take us seriously.
Take me for example. I'm in my mid-twenties teaching k-12 music in a small community where everyone knows everyone--or at least knows about everyone. I have been living here for the better part of a year now, and just this week (at our spring concert) a couple from the community (a little younger than me, I might add) finally realized that I was NOT one of the students, but in fact the teacher. It's hard to be taken seriously when you look younger than some of the students for whom you are responsible. Is there anything I can do about that? A little. I can work hard and do a good job, and people may notice. But short of growing facial hair (which I can't do), going bald (which I don't want to do), or drawing wrinkles on my face and investing in cardigans (though cardigans aren't a bad idea...hmmm) there is no look I could take on that people would see and know, "he's in charge."
So what.
Who cares! God made me this way. God called me to this job of working with teens. God doesn't make mistakes. Who cares what other people think. Sure, it would be nice if my students took me a little more seriously (I really think the facial hair might help), but God never called me to make people take me seriously. He called me to serve.
We are given some very clear mandates in the Bible, but changing people's perspectives of ourselves isn't one of them. Yes, we are to live above reproach. Yes, we are to live in such a way that unbelievers might see our good deeds and glorify God. But guess what, people are going to reproach us anyway. Many of us have seen the damage gossip mills can produce with the slightest and most innocent piece of information (side note: the Bible does say Don't Gossip). And although one day every knee will bow and every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,  for now many people are going to see our good deeds and say, "that's a waste of time and effort," and all kinds of other nasty things.  
That's not our problem!
When we are about the Lord's business--when we are walking through life with God, listening to his voice, following the instruction of his word and spirit--there are a great number of people in this world who will not take us seriously. How do I know this? Because they don't take God seriously. The prophets of the Old Testament, the disciples of the New Testament, and Jesus Christ himself were none of them taken seriously. Joseph dreamed that he would rule over his family, and his brothers mocked him and schemed to kill him. Paul preached the Gospel, and was stoned seemingly to death for it. David was told he was too young and too small to face a giant. The disciples were accused of being drunk when the Spirit came on them and caused them to speak in tongues.
God never promised that our voice would be heard. He never said that our message would be believed. He never called us to honor ourselves. God is calling us to honor him in all things, to follow him through all things, and to trust him with all things...including my reputation.

Please Use A #2 Pencil Only

I have nearly completed my first year of teaching (seven more weeks!). The last seven months have involved numerous joys, a plethora of challenges, and a mind boggling amount of learning. Between lesson planning, classroom teaching, student motivating, program preparing, community communicating, and attempting to unravel the mystery that is the teenage mind--at least a little bit--there is no end of things to learn and experiences to be had.
In the midst of this world of daily discoveries I have been baffled by a few things; one in particular being a students ability to completely disregard instructions on any given assignment. It doesn't seem to be something they will grow out of in the near future, because I have observed this phenomenon through the grades, K-12. I could give them written instructions such as:
"Step 1) Draw a straight line.
Step 2) Draw another straight line at a right (90º) angle to the first line."
And I'm pretty sure what I would get back would be a few right angles, a couple parallel lines, a smiley face with some flower doodles, and one page displaying only a single line. That doesn't even include all the students who would completely neglect the assignment. Or, to take an example from my actual teaching experience, I could have typed at the bottom of the students' practice sheets "Practice sheets are due every Monday (or the first school day of the week)," and still have students turning in practice time on Friday (if at all).
Before I go too far and give the impression that I might be complaining, let me pick up something that I said before and take it a step further. "It doesn't seem to be something they will grow out of in the near future." I can be sure of this not only because of the observed pattern in my students, but also because of the observed pattern in myself and in the world around me. Humans struggle with following simple directions.
We see the people of Israel falling into this tendency only months after their miraculous exodus from Egypt. God tells them twice "You shall have no other gods before me. You shall not make for yourself an idol in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the waters below. You shall not bow down to them or worship them," and again "Do not make any gods to be alongside me; do not make for yourselves gods of silver or gods of gold" (Exodus 20:3-5, 23). Yet after Moses delivers these instructions and then goes up into the mountain for forty days the people demand of Moses' brother, Aaron, "Come, make us gods who will go before us. As for this fellow Moses who brought us up out of Egypt, we don't know what has happened to him" (Ex. 32:1).
The Israelites outright disregard God's instructions (which they had all agreed to follow in Ex. 24:3). King Saul falls into another flavor of this human tendency. God sends Saul on a mission to destroy the Amalekites, "I will punish the Amalekites for what they did to Israel when they waylaid them as they came up from Egypt. Now go, attack the Amalekites and totally destroy everything that belongs to them. Do not spare them; put to death men and women, children and infants, cattle and sheep, camels and donkeys" (1 Samuel 15:2-3). This was to be a fire sale; everything must go. Saul took the mission, but he changed some of the orders. "Saul and the army spared Agag [king of the Amalekites] and the best of the sheep and cattle, the fat calves and lambs--everything that was good" (v. 9). The all-seeing and all-knowing Got must have been paying attention, because he sent Samuel to confront Saul on the issue. What was Saul's response to being called on a technicality? "But I did obey the LORD...I went on the mission the LORD assigned me. I completely destroyed the Amalekites and brought back Agag their king. The soldiers took sheep and cattle from the plunder, the best of what was devoted to God, in order to sacrifice them to the LORD your God at Gilgal" (vv. 20-21). Sometimes we change the terms of our instructions under the pretense that we are doing it on behalf of the one who instructed us. We may think we have a better idea of how things should go. Good luck finding a better plan than God's. There isn't one. Yet we continue to try.
This is a problem with which we all struggle. It goes all the way back to the garden. God said, "don't eat..." and we said, "okay...but I think it would be better if I did eat" (Genesis 2-3, Michael's dramatic paraphrase). We have continued to come up with "better" ideas ever since.
What if we just followed the instructions? What if we trusted the God who made us? What if we followed the Savior who died for us? What if we listened to the Spirit who guides us? What if we loved our enemies, considered others better than ourselves, trusted in the Gospel of Christ rather than the opinions and teachings of men, and loved God with everything we have and are? Maybe if we could do that, we might come to the end of our time in the school of life, and our holy instructor might say to us, "well done my good and faithful servant."
Life is a pop-quiz. Please read the directions. If you find anything on the quiz confusing or have any questions, raise your hands and the teacher will be glad to help you.
Begin...
Now!

Rain & Snow

It doesn't seem to matter what form it falls in, people around here are glad for any kind of precipitation. I exaggerate a little; there are many who have had enough of the snow and are ready for spring. But for the sake of the community and their livelihood, they are glad for the moisture. And you would be too, if you lived in a farming community.
As a poetic device, rain and snow seem to have a multitude of faces. Rain can be dark, cold, oppressive, sorrowful, and sinister. Snow can be an obstacle, frigid, and deadly. Each of them can come in storms that are dangerous and threaten life--or at least our way of life. In the Bible rain was used to judge the world and destroy all mankind as it had come to exist.
The clouds can be lugubrious, ominous, depressing, and foreboding.
Yet there is still another side to these elements. Snow evokes memories of playful youth and innocence, of winter holidays, of family, friends, and cheer. Few things convey the image of purity and a fresh beginning as a blanket of new-fallen snow. Even in its frigid state we give it a warm feeling simply by describing snow as a "blanket." Rain brings life; providing moisture for the land and all its vegetation. Rain becomes brooks, become streams, become rivers. Rivers quench thirst, generate power, shape geography, and thereby shape society. Rain refreshes, restores, reshapes, and cleanses.
All this to say, there are a lot of ways one can look at the cats and dogs falling from the sky (a strange image, and now that I think about it I'm not sure it makes any sense). Living in a farming community has helped me to realize how important--even when inconvenient--all that precipitation is. Any scientist worth his sodium chloride will tell you that life cannot exist without water. Yet somehow in our world of convenience we have become mentally disconnected from the sources of our very livelihood. We don't know how our food grows, we don't know where our meat comes from, and we don't know how precious water is. There are children in Africa who may not have a kindergarten level education, but they know how important water is. Yet if we in our abundance find the rain or snow to be an inconvenience, we vilify and curse the elements.
What are the elements in and of themselves? Does the rain decide which banks to flood? Does the snow choose which roads to block? Do the clouds hone in on your house for their dumping ground? They are but matter; pieces of a greater whole; props in a fantastic drama produced and directed by the great author. When we curse the elements, do we not grumble against the one who commands them? Do you think that the Lord does not consider all things (including our petty plans) as he orchestrates the workings of the universe? And yet it still rains on our parades. So maybe, just maybe He has a very good reason for doing so.
"For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust" (Matt. 5:45). Rain happens. It can bring blessing, or difficulty, but it is there for a reason. It may have nothing to do with me...directly. It may be there to set me straight. It might even be there to bless me in some way I cannot perceive. When it comes I have a choice to make: to complain against the rain, or thank God for his provision--in the rain and in all other areas of my life. I can choose to change my perspective, knowing that the Lord who created and directs the Universe is the Lord who loves and looks after me...even in the storms.

Remember The Sabbath Day, To Keep It Holy

As I sat at the kitchen table eating my breakfast of bacon and eggs this morning, I thought about the fact that today is the Sabbath. More specifically, today is the Sabbath between Jesus' death and his resurrection. But why? Why did his death and resurrection have to book end the Sabbath? It certainly sets things up nicely for the women to come to the tomb after the prophesied period of time (three days). The Sabbath was the reason Jesus' body had to be brought down from the cross immediately. Normally it would take a little longer for people to die on the cross, and they would be left there for a while for passersby to see and to mock.
Okay, so the Sabbath had its role in the fulfillment of prophesy. But then I started thinking about what that Sabbath meant for Jesus' followers.
Imagine your son, your friend, your teacher, your leader, the man you thought was going to rule your people, the one you lived with for the last three years, this person you trusted and cared about; imagine he has just died, and the next day is a day of rest--a day of remembrance. On this day you are not allowed to do anything. You may not busy yourself with business, or housekeeping. You may not even tend to the proper burial customs until the next day. All you may do is wait, and think, and pray.
You are forced to face the loss. No distractions. No diversions.
You are forced to face your response to the events of the day before. Did you abandon your friend? Did you deny your Lord? Did you put to death an innocent man? You have nothing to do on this day but to reflect on the events of the day before.
I do not envy those disciples. We sit here and reflect on the events of Good Friday, and we may be humbled by the sacrifice, by the weight of our sin, by the love of our God. But we also reflect on Good Friday in the light of the resurrection on Sunday. We see the hope. We see the fulfillment of Christ's work. We have his Spirit to help us understand how the Scriptures foretold all that was to take place. The disciples could only understand what they had seen. Their Lord, their teacher, and their friend was dead. All that they had hoped for seemed to die along with Jesus' last breath. 
This is the Sabbath. This is a day to remember.

According to Their Needs

As a music education major--and at one point worship arts major--you might expect the most profound and life-changing class  of my college career to have been one with a musical, education, or theological focus. But you'd be wrong...mostly.
When I look back over the last four years of my life and the changes that have taken place in me over that time, and as I notice the lessons I am still learning from things I thought I "learned" in college, the vast majority of these developments spawn from ideas that I received in--get this--speech. What does the art of orating before a crowd have to do with the development of my soul? How have basic presentation skills improved my relationships?  A lot of people could come out of a speech class with twenty more tips and tricks for fooling people into thinking you are something you aren't. I can't think of a situation where those skills have ever helped someone improve and develop as a person. If anything it helps you deteriorate on the inside while still hiding the undesirable elements of yourself.
Yet, here I am, grown and growing all because of a few simple statements I heard in speech class.
My professor was (and still is) a wise man, a fantastic father, husband, and friend (from everything I saw of him), and most importantly he was a humble servant of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. He wasn't such a great man because he was perfect. He was a great man because he had failed (and he made that clear through his many anecdotes) and learned from his failures.
But what could he teach in a speech class that would be so life-changing?
Dr. Trammel didn't approach the class simply as a forum for developing orators. He approached it as a means of developing communicators. Communication is all about presenting a message that will be received and understood by the recipient, AND being ready to receive and understand the messages of others. He focused this idea down to a part of a passage in Ephesians, "Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen" (4:29 NIV). Dr. Trammel placed extra emphasis on this idea of "according to their needs." Communication isn't just sending out the message you want to send in the manner you want to send it. If you don't consider the needs of others, what good is your message to them. They may not need your message, or worse, they might need it, but not understand it.
Throughout the class, Dr. Trammel equipped us with numerous tools to help identify and address the needs of others. The majority of it has less to do with the message I want to send, and more to do with the messages being sent by others. In order to understand their needs, I have to understand them. One of the tools (the one I remember best) that Dr. Trammel suggested for that very purpose was to enter their world. Consider the other person's way of thinking; his way of life. And more than just considering it, take opportunities to live it, and join him in it. (All of this within God given limits. It doesn't do either side any good to join in the sin of the other side. We have enough of our own to deal with.) What are his interests? What is he good at? I might not give a spit about  most athletic events, but if I care about the person, and the person cares about the sport, it would be easy enough to watch a game or two with the person. I may not be very good with history (just ask my college roommate), but if the other person is all about a particular era of the past, I can spend some time listening to him share some of his unique (or at least new-to-me) insights on this thing that is so important to him.
These are just a couple examples (and perhaps weak ones). But the idea of entering their world is that of moving past our own perspective, our own interests, our own selves, and considering the interests, perspectives, and personalities of others.
Along these lines of getting over ourselves, Dr. Trammel suggested a more specific tool for developing our abilities as communicators. The scenario was one with which I was all too familiar, so I'll present it from my perspective:
I'm in a conversation with someone or a group of people as another person is relating a story of some event in their life or some accomplishment they have experienced. My natural instinct is to make a personal connection with the story. The result is that as soon as he has finished his story, I begin mine.
It seems harmless. That's what we do every day. Millions and billions of conversations are entirely made up of these back and forth anecdotes.
What my professor suggested, however, is that this form of conversation does not promote relationship or communication; it promotes me.
"Oh, that's what happened to you? Well, guess what happened to me?" "So you've done that? Well, I've done this!"
As Dr. Trammel explained this idea I knew I was guilty of that very thing. I always want things to be about me. Even if I convince myself that I just want to communicate a shared experience, the reason I want it is so that the other person will understand me. It is not out of a desire to make the other person feel understood.
Thankfully, Dr. Trammel had a suggestion for those of us who struggle with the me-mes. He said next time I was in one of those situations where I wanted to tell my story, I should ask more about the other person's story instead. "What was that like? How did it make you feel? What did you learn? Would you ever do it again? How has that changed your perspective?"
Don't make it about me. Make it about them. Enter their world. Look beyond myself. Try to understand them. Because that might just be exactly what they need.

A Side Order of Sorrow

Last weekend I was out on the town with some of the dorm kids from my school. I teach music at a private Christian school in Montana now--in case I hadn't mentioned that before. The school is part boarding school, so we have a dorm full of students from all of the country and the world (Ethiopia, Korea, China, Rwanda, Haiti, New Jersey, Washington, Texas, Georgia...and others). We started the new trimester just before March, and with the trimester came new students. Four of these new students are Muslim. (Don't ask me why they came to a Christian school. I have no idea what-so-ever.)
So last Saturday I took some of the dorm kids--including three of the Muslims--into town to do some shopping. While we were there the kids persuaded me to let them go to a local Chinese restaurant. I like Chinese food, so it wasn't a hard sell.
The whole thing ended up being a very interesting experience. Here I was with five Chinese students in a Chinese restaurant listening as the students and the waitress (who must have been around their same age) converse in their native language. I just sat back and enjoyed the oddity of the whole situation (right up there with me teaching Spanish in Montana--oh yeah, I do a little bit of that too--where Latinos are few and far between).
We all order our food--the Muslims being very careful to not order pork per their religious dietary restrictions. Before too long the food arrives. I start digging in without thinking much about the situation around me. Next thing I know two of the students are waving their hands in the air trying to get the attention of the waitress. I figure they are just being ridiculous--and a little rude since the waitress is tending to other customers. When they do get her attention they babble frantically in Chinese, and pretty soon I realize what is going on. They are asking about the fried rice...the fried rice that was served to everyone at our table...the PORK fried rice. As the waitress explains the contents of the dish three students look with shock and dismay at the food before them.
Only two of the three had eaten any of the rice. Those two promptly excused themselves to the restroom so that they might, shall we say, "purify" their bodies.
The restaurant was very gracious about the whole thing once we explained the situation. They brought out some steamed rice and a new plate of food for the student who had dumped his rice all over his platter. The students returned from purging, and I thought it was all over and everything would be okay.
I returned to my food, and the students returned to their crazy antics and ridiculous conversations (I love high school kids). But now what? One of the students that had returned from purging was standing up in the middle of the meal to pay the waitress, and--as another student was so gracious as to point out for all the world to see--he was crying. To be honest, I didn't understand what was going on, but then I heard one of the students at the other end of the table explaining it in perhaps exaggerated, yet powerful terms: "eating pork is like killing someone to them."
So here is a boy, a young man who knows his religious duties and what he believes his god has commanded of him. He knows he has failed in his spiritual devotion, and he is sorrowful to the point of tears.
James--the brother of Jesus and one of the early church leaders in Jerusalem--says "For whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become accountable for all of it. For he who said, 'do not commit adultery,' also said, 'Do not murder.' If you do not commit adultery but do murder, you have become a transgressor of the law" (James 2:10-11).
Now, many Christians believe that eating pig is no more a sin than brushing your teeth before going to bed. So we might be tempted to look at this instance of sorrow and think the boy is making a big deal of nothing. But he sees it as a command from his god (or--in all possibility--from his parents, family, and community) just as much as the other commands that we might even see as honorable and worthy of recognition.
I'm not saying what he believes is right. What I am saying is...why am I not that devoted to the commands of my God? For he who said, "Do not commit adultery," also said, "Everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart" (Matthew 5:28). He who said, "You shall not murder; and whoever murders will be liable to judgment" also said, "Everyone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment" (Matt. 5:21-22), and, "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you" (Matt. 5:44).
So why do I not become sorrowful to the point of tears with every spiteful thought and with every lustful glance? Sure, you won't find me anywhere near the woman's bed. You won't catch me standing over a corps with a knife in my hand (and may the Lord preserve me from ever falling away into such practices). BUT if I am going to take my God at his word, if I am going to believe the one who is Lord and judge over all things, then I have to admit that I am no better than the man who does find himself holding that knife. In the moments when those thoughts pass through my mind I am harboring SIN. In those moments my heart is in a state of rebellion against the order God created, and a wall is put up to try and hide my sin and shame from God. Of course all the wall does is keep me from turning to him for help and healing while the sin continues to fester.
How did we come to this point where we would be so desensitized to sin that we could recognize wrong but not be ashamed of it to the point of sorrow? At the same time I recognize this is nothing new. There is a reason God destroyed the world with a flood. There is a reason God destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah. There is a reason people in the early church had begun to "fall asleep" (ie. die). People had become so used to living in and accepting the sin around them that they could not even blush. God was going to destroy the people of Nineveh, and he says of them that they were so distorted in their understanding that they did not even know their right hand from their left (Jonah 4:11). BUT God spared Nineveh! Why? Because they sorrowfully repented!
Oh, that I could be like Nineveh, and in my ignorant and distorted understanding of right and wrong still come to a point of brokenness and sorrow before God. Oh, that the Spirit would bring me to a point of seeing my sin, and that he would turn my heart toward the only one who can spare my life and heal my mind and soul.

North-East Montana

When I first arrived it was mostly brown. Not an exciting color. But the romantic in me saw it as the golden-brown of fields in the time of harvest. Such a distinction gave this drab landscape a purpose and an importance, and therefore a beauty.

There are no mountains this far east of the Rockies. Only rolling hills with occasional plateaus that drop off suddenly into creek-bed crevasses, bone dry in the prairie sun.

The vast expanse is the thing that really gets me. I grew up in the Willamette Valley at the foot of Mt. Hood; surrounded by forests and peaks. There was a limit to the eye's scope. The horizon was found in the tops of trees. A true, unfiltered sunrise was a rare thing.

Here the human eye is limited only by its own disabilities and the curvature of the great sphere. You look out and you see the big world that you grew up hearing about in stories and watching in the old westerns. The eye surveys the vast emptiness, but the heart sees the wild frontier; full of adventure and life; at once both wild and wonderful.

Back in the city, there is a lot of work to be done, and it seems so important and prestigious (at times). But this is the land, the dirt, the soil. This is where hard work, good work is put forth to survive and to prosper. There is no Starbucks around every corner, or even a grocery store for that matter. This is not a land of convenience or amusement. It is a harder land, a simpler land, and in that sense, a purer land.

And then there is the snow. In Oregon snow comes down, lands, and either melts at once, or waits a matter of hours (maybe a day) before fading into the puddles and creeks. It is wet, and it is dead. 

The snow in Montana is very different. It often comes in flurries as legions of flakes riding the great winds over the plains. Even if it comes to land in some location, there is every chance that it will jump right up onto the back of the breeze and carry on its way. And in this frigged haze the world turns from gold to white. The very floor of nature becomes a blank page on which the adventures of two children, three tabby cats, and a black-capped chickadee can be written and easily read. Every footprint is crisp in the making and clear in the leaving. The expanse is all bright and dark as the shadows of the rolling plains are cast here and there across the land's fresh blanket.

As the fog sets in and a bitter chill begins to creep from west to east, castle spires form on every upright surface. Soon half the world is white with crystallized fog while the other side remains both dark and colorful. Giant, half-flocked, Christmas trees stand with the appearance of dwelling in two worlds: One of sun-bathed forests and the other of winter-laden lands.

This is the mysterious and majestic land in which I now dwell. The creativity and power of God is present in every moment; every biting breeze; every passing cloud; every waving field. God is here.

And now, so am I.