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.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Saturday, March 30, 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
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.
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.
Saturday, March 16, 2013
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.
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.
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