Has anyone ever stopped to ask, "Did it really have to be like that?" Jesus and the Cross

We are thankful. We all rejoice. 

But has anyone ever stopped to ask, "Did it really have to be like that?"

Religious holidays are always a time of growth for me.  And not so much in the typical "spiritual high" sense.  They are a struggle.  I am always in a tug-of-war between remorse, rejoicing, and my own pride.  In light of Easter/Resurrection Day,  i find myself working through this conflict.  Part of me wants to fall in to humility and embrace the day with simplicity and gratitude.  People love to celebrate the death and resurrection of Jesus.  It is incredible.  But another part of me knows that this emotional, and very real reaction is just not possible for me.  Probably a portion is my pride, but certainly a greater part is the loss I know I would experience in the raw, majesty of the whole story.  But I can't just talk about Jesus' blameless life, brutal death and miraculous resurrection without honestly addressing this one questions.

Really?  I mean--I am grateful.  If this is what needed to be done, I owe every breath and more to show my gratitude to Him.  But I must ask--Did he have to be perfect?  Did He have to die?  Did He have to die like that?  And what significance does the ascension really have?  

Basically,  God--Your story is  brutal.  When I look to the cross, I remember a blameless, righteous man hang there.  His life was so full of love and conviction, and You say love wins.  But why didn't Your perfect Love win then?  Couldn't He just have been perfect, and died loved by all?  How is this Your plan?

And this is where Easter brings me.  My soul mourns.  My thoughts break.  And my heart bleeds.  And I remain incredibly grateful--and grateful in a greater way than I could access when I thought I understood.   

But here is my point--do other people ask these questions?  Or is what I ask heresy?  (Although, David and Abram--and even Jesus--all asked God tough questions.)  But my greatest regret is, "How could we not ask this?"

Jesus hung on a cross--one of the most excrutiating and humiliating deaths--for us.  


His dying hours were horrific.  If he was at-all/any-ration human, his last breaths must have been miserable.


His death began early, as the soldiers mocked and whipped him the night before.  Then, he was made to carry the heavy timber that would serve as his tool of death through the winding streets, as he shamefully struggled under its weight.  When they were crucifying him, they did not break his bones, as they often would to accelerate death.  Jesus did not take wine to numb the pings that must have shot through His body as the nails were driven through his wrists.  


Was he even aware of what was happening, or did it all become a blur?  I don't honestly know if the body can really comprehend this level of pain.

And if he ever was aware, did he ever feel foolish as he hang on the cross--naked and bleeding.  Helpless.  And all who pledged their undying love, denied Him in the most profound sense.  Even His father turned his back on Jesus in His darkest hour.  Jesus dies with Psalm 22, the death Psalm, on His lips.  He was faithful.  But did He ever question why this was His plight, or even--if He had been mislead? 

I do not paint this dramatic picture to draw salty tears from heavy hearts, but almost the contrary.  Isn't this absurd!  Jesus did not deserve this.  Yet supposedly our sin convicted him.  But if God made the rules, couldn't he have slanted the game a little in His favor here?  

If love wins, why didn't it?

So there must be more.  And I believe there is.  Firstly--although we tend to believe that everything Jesus did was completely miraculous and unique, there had been a pattern in Judaism around the time of Jesus where a wise rabbi who led a Godly and righteous life would develop a following, heal the sick, spend time with the poor, and die a martyr to be raised after three days, then ascending to heaven promising to send another helper.  I don't say this to diminish anything that Jesus did.  He is the one True Messiah, but at least in the culture of Jesus' day. this pattern already existed--whether in truth or apparition.  I think we put so much emphasis on a few qualities of the Jesus story, focusing on how unique his healings and ascension were, but it seems that the gospels and following books highlight other aspects of the story.  

I know most of us probably stay in the gospels today, but perhaps taking a look at Genesis 15 could help us connect the stories.  In a rather obscure moment between God and Abram, I find the entire purpose for Jesus' death, and I get a sense of God's incredible love for his people.

God has just promised Abram offspring numbering the stars, and a land which he can live his life under God's authority and a seed which would bless the nations.  All if Abram could continue leading a life of righteousness.   Abram, displaying quite the dosage of Hebraic hutspuh, asks God how he will know that these things will be.  And then, God sends him to gather a heifer, a goat, a ram, a dove, and a young pigeon.  


And we miss this.  


Abram must have been shaking in his boots.  He asked God, more or less, to prove or promise that God would honor his word.  And God basically says, with words not recorded, "Okay, Abram. Then, let's make a covenant.  Go get the animals, and you will know that I am serious."  


But we do not understand the ancient tradition of covenant, so we read right past this is and miss the story that connects the entire Bible.  

In some parts of the near east Bedouin world, this form of covenant is still practiced.  It is called a blood covenant--between two parties, always a lesser and a greater.  The greater establishes the term, and the lesser can either agree, or pass on the covenant.  Then, the animals are gathered, cut i half, and placed across from each other creating a literal blood path where that blood runs in the middle.  The greater party walks first.  Barefoot though the blood, and without a word, he confirms that if he does not meet his end of the covenant, the other party may stomp through his blood like he walks through blood now.  Then it is the turn of the lesser party.  He does the same, without a word, committing the covenant and understanding that if he does not live up to his word, this will be his plight.  

Now we return to the Genesis story.  


This is the context of where Abram and God stand.  God says--being the greater party he gives the terms (not in Gen. 15, but from other contextual references), "I will give you, Abram, my righteouss servant, offspring numbering the stars, a land which to can live your life under my authority, and a seed which will bless the nations.  All you have to do is be perfect."   And this is the deal.  Perfect.  Abram must be perfect.


And as night falls, Abram falls into a deep slumber (thanks, Mom) and a smoking firepot passes through the blood path.  The Genesis account tells us of two images that travel the path.  Assumedly, God and Abram.  The first image--the smoke--is obviously God.  Many times before and after this story, God is symbolized as smoke (burning bush with Moses, coals in Galilee, etc.).  Plus, He is the greater party, so this correlation is largely undisputed.  


And in covenant tradition, next up is Abram.  


But curiously, the image that passes second is a torch.  There is no textual reference of a human ever being portrayed as a torch.  


Only God is ever fire or a flame.  


And I have to think--in this moment, as Abram--in his altered state of consciousness--is preparing to assume his role as the lesser party and step in the warm blood.  He considers the weight of his covenant with God--to be blameless so that he may receive receive God's promises.  Abram must have realized that he would fail.  And failure within this covenant is basically writing away any promise of offspring, and land to call his own, and most devastatingly,  the messiah.  


And in Abram's sure distress, God appears.  


With the symbolism of a torch, God walks the path for Abram as to say, "Abram, if you and your people are not blameless, you may do this to Me."  

And in this moment, God convicts Jesus to die on the cross.  


God even foreshadows His own sacrifice when he commands Abraham to offer up Isaac.  But God provides, just as he promised in His covenant.

In the later aftermath of this covenant, at Mount Sinai, as God gives an identity to the sons of Abraham, he calls them a royal priesthood and a holy nation.  God commands His people to confirm this covenant with Him that they will again live under the authority of the Lord, as he has brought them out from Egypt.  The children of Israel, are to make a sacrifice two times, every single day--once in the morning, and again at 3:00 pm before twilight "at the place where [His] name is" (the Tabernacle, then the Temple) to remind the people of this promise.  (Exodus 24-27)


Although the daily sacrifices had become quite elaborate by Jesus' day, the people understood the sacrifice to be an offering, begging God to keep his promise--to bring the messiah who would atone for their unrighteousness.  This is slightly different than our understanding of the ritual sacrifices.  We would tend to focus on sacrifice being atonement for our transgressions, which is certainly part of it.  But to miss the desperation in these sacrifices--the cry of the children of Israel to their God--to please bring about the blessing to the Nations.  


And for a thousand years, this practice was done twice a day, and the entire Jewish world would pause at 9:00 am and 3:00 pm, awaiting the sounding of the shofar which would signify the blood sacrifice.  And in the hour of their remembrance, they could take comfort in the covenant between their forefather and their God. 

Almost 2,000 years after the covenant between Abram and God.  It is Passover, and the Judaic world crowds in to Jerusalem to be a part of the feasts.  


On a Friday at 3:00 in the afternoon, just like thousands of Fridays before, the shofar resounds from within the city walls.  


But something is different.  Just outside the city gates, at the Place of the Skulls, a man hangs on a cross, and perhaps cries out his last words from Psalm 22 ("He has performed it," in our English translation.) 

"IT IS FINISHED!"

And it is.  God did it.  


God became the blameless sacrifice.  God offered salvation to the world through the life of Jesus and the death he had promised.   


Jesus' death was absolutely necessary.  Abram failed.  We failed.  This is our consequence.  


The most loving, incredible, wise, Good man in the history of the world had to die at our hands.  And his salvation is, in a sense rooted in his death, but the way to eternal, or everlasting life, if found also in His life.  His life of love.  

So let us be somberly, gravely thankful for the death atonement, but let us celebrate the story.  Let us celebrate the breath of life within the narrative.  Let us praise a God so huge, and so loving, as to not only give us a way of salvation, but to actually become it.  

So, today, I celebrate God.  I love Jesus.  I look to His life, and I rejoice in the one and only Messiah Christ.  

Blessings, friends.  Stay dusty.


And if you are in a scandalous mood, another perspective on the Blood Sacrifice of Jesus.

b.Nicole

***much adapted from the teachings of Ray Vanderlaan.  

      www.ttwmk.org

Faith Lessons on the Life and Ministry of the Messiah (Home VHS Vol. 3) Home Pack/Bible Study Guides

    

Hope, Perception, and Expectation

Three words: Hope, Perception, Expectation. 

Such huge ideas.  Can any of us really fully understand the cause and function of hope?  Or the formation of Perception and to what extent it represents reality?  Or if Expectations are fair and how we are to know how to evaluate them. 

These are the questions that keep me up at night.  I know my introduction sounds rather metaphysical or existential, but really--everyone else has these same questions.  I process these firings in my brain through words adn writing, but others paint, draw, sing, or tell stories of these three muses.  I don't know that I have ever heard a song that did not touch on one of these three.  Every painting or piece of art is the created perception of the artist.  And why even get out of bed, or take the time to live, if we have no hope.  Thus, these three are central to the human condition. 

Honestly, I don't think I would have ever denied the incredible power hope, perception and expectation all play in our lives, but what I have recently begun to discover is the bguiling and mysterious connection between the three. 

Beginning with hope.  I think hope is the most wonderful gift humans have at their disposal.  We can remain in our present state--whether wonderful or devestated--but still see something beyond our circumstance.  Sure, the loss of hope can bring grief of uncomprehensible measures, but this is not necessarily all bad, either.  And the potential dissappointment of unrequited hope should never be a deterrent in maintaining the silver lining.  Yet, if we are to maintain hope, what are we to hope for?  Many people have hopes and desires that--unless by the divine stroke of God's intervention--are just never going to happen.  I can say, I have fallen victim to the hopeful illusion before.  But I just didn't understand what we were supposed to base hope on.  I have hope for heaven.  And for redemption.  And for a day when Good will reign for eternity.  I mean, if I allow myself to hope for these things, that should certainly give me leave to hope for mere acceptance to my choice Grad School.  Or that I will one day make it to Uganda.  And it doesn't even seem so crazy to hope that someday I may find a friend to share life with.  (WARNING: This is the DANGEROUS one.)  Because, if we can hope for heaven, what would ever stop us from placing hope in every desire? 

Well, this is where perception comes in to play.  When trying to understand why some hopes seemed healthier, or more valid than others, I began to see a patter.  Hopes thrown to the wind, with no string to draw the kite in, are empty and not tied down.  An example would be (DON'T LAUGH--I'm being vulnerable!) my desire to be walking down the streets of New York, bump into a dashing gentleman in his thirties, and him look deep into my eys and ask me to coffee, where he would tell me all about his life as a director, and make me the star of all his movies.  Ha.  I know, ridiculous.  I recognize that, but I cannot tell you how many times this scenario has played through my daydreams!  So, here is the breakdown on why this is so completely unrealistic.  I do not live in New York.  I am way too aware of people to mindlessly clothesline somone.  And I can't act.  So, although the vision is romantic and appealing, is is in absolute contradiction to reality.   To invest in this hope would be foolish.  I do not fly to New York weekly and circle the blocks, looking for handsome gents to "bump" into.  However, many people (to a far lesser extent) make these kinds of sacrifices for a hope, equally detached from reality. 

So, why is Heaven okay to hope for?  Well.  We must look at the facts. Observe the past.  Assess our perception.  For me, heaven is a wonderful hope.  But I see the evidence from my experience and my experience in my faith that has allowed me to perceive the promises of God as Truth.  As reality.  God promises a new earth.  A heaven.  I hope for this with each breath. 

What I am trying to get at is that a hope for heaven, as grand as it is, in my honest perception--my reality--is validated.  In perceiving past experience (not imagined futures), I develop an honest perception.  And then I take that perception to those in my world that I love and trust, and they help me see where my perception may be flawed or distorted.  I then continue with my hope in hand.  A solid hope.  A healthy hope based on the honest perceptions of my experience.  Granted, this method is still not full-proof.  There is a risk involved in hope.  But if your perception measures up and outweighs the risk, at least it was a risk worth taking. 

We will experience grief when the door closes on hope.  But as difficult as grief may be, and as dark and cold and long as the tunnel appears, we must realize that with time, the light of hope will eventually resurface. 

When hope enters our dark world, it illuminates all that it can reach, but it also cast shadows on what is hidden from its rays.  These shadows are the places affected by our hope, yet left unnoticed because of the shadow.  In these lurking places of our soul, we should evaluate our expectations.  I have never been sure what I can expect from another person or from life.  Without appearing too pessimistic, I have been dissappointed.  But we all have.  Unmet expectations could probably explain 99% of the world's problems.  So--if expectations cause so many problems, what is their benefit?  We should certainly use our perception assessment to evaluate our expectations.  If the reality of the past continually does not meet the expectations we hold, then we should evaluate our satisfaction with the past. If we are happy and contented, perhaps we should not hold ourselves arbitrarily to such rigid expectations.  Yet, if our past does not reflect peacefulness and happiness, we should probably work towards upholding our expectations.  We can not control the actions of other people or events, but we can decide what we will allow and what investment we will make in the pursuit of our hopes and fulfillment of our expectations. 

Simply, we may need to redefine our boundaries and commit to enforcing them.  By restricting our investment, we are creating a reality where our expectations have the opportunity to be met.  Boundaries are an interesting aspect of the triad.  They function within each angle of hope, perception, and expectation.  They reinforce the bonds between the three, keep us tied into ourselves, and keep us rooted to the reality that hope may allow us to forget. 

Overall, i cannot imagine my life without hope.  I find such peace and contentment in a place of healthy hope.  I can find solace in today.  I can be present in the present hour.  And I can allow my imperfections, knowing that each day is another step toward the goodness that I am seeking. 

Thanks for stopping by.  Be Encouraged.  Have Hope.   And stay dusty. 

I Take my Hands Off it: You Build and Destroy

My mom actually sent me this article about 3 weeks ago (excerpt at bottom of post). I printed it, and it has been in my "To read when i can breath" file ever since. Well, isn't that just like God. For today, when I desperately needed a breath, He had already provided. The faithful worlds of another soul in the kingdom provided me an access point for learning in my own life.  A few weeks ago, I read a wonderful, yet simple book, The Whole-Hearted Life. Not my typical read, but I am so thankful for the gift it has been to me. The author of the book is actually a Shame Researcher. Correct. She researches shame. Sounds depressing, I know, but her profound experience with shame--its causes, effects, and power-- actually lead to her understanding of what comprises a full, happy life. She interviewed hundreds of participants over a a period of years, had them self-rate their happiness, and combined her own session notes to achieve her data. Through a series of interviews and analysis, she recognized some very central commonalities among the group of people who lead happy lives. These commonalities breached: race, social class, occupation, gender, and even religion. I learned a lot from the book, as far as some more intentional techniques to weave good practices into my daily life, but I was also encouraged to find that I had been doing many of these things already. So--What are they? you may ask. Well, I will tell you, but to understand what these terms mean (she has constructed very intentional definitions in her book), taking 4-5 hours to understand them would certainly be worth the effort.

Compassion is huge. This comes almost directly from her shame research, but true compassion is not lying, "buttering someone up," minimizing, hyperbolizing or attacking.  Compassion is meeting someone with honesty, while validating their need and pointing them towards reality and calm. A great way to do this is to share an experience and become vulnerable, as well.  This creates a special bond between the two--for they share in the wonderful and overwhelming experience of humanity. A key point here is to know who you can trust to show you compassion.  It would be unwise to seek compassion from someone unable to give it.  No good would come from bringing your shame and vulnerability to someone who does not have enough care and concern to meet you in your weakness and see you through it.  With this understanding, it is equally unwise to publicize such need for compassion.  I do not discourage "publication" in the sense that one should hide his insecurities, but if you throw your needs to the wind, prepared for the wind to sweep them away. If some sparrow does happen to pass overhead and take hold of your offering, perhaps the semblance of compassion satisfies, but the sparrow will more than likely continue its flight, and your need for validation will remain unfulfilled.  The truth is, we all have needs and we all feel inadequate at times, but to try to fill up with "false compassion" leaves your heart like an empty malt ball.  Such a bummer.  It looks good, and the chocolate is nice, but you wanted the malt part.  Surely you have experienced this before! Because when you take a bite, there is only air!  Looked like a malt ball; felt like a malt ball; came in a malt ball box. But is a malt ball a malt ball without the malt?  (How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck... haha) Anyhow... the malt ball is empty, and you are still left with your hurt.  Better to develop real relationships that where the compassion is symbiotic. Promise.  :)  To illustrate this, just a few days after reading this chapter, I was handed an opportunity to practice what I had read.  I focused on not minimizing how real the situation seemed to my friend, I shared a similar experience of frustration, and we were able to laugh about our freak-outs. And guess what--it worked?!?! :) God blessed me. This encouragement gave me the motivation to keep reading.

Boundaries are important. When you feel taken advantage of, it is difficult to feel positively about your actions. Understanding your limits with honesty and communicating those to your environment, and following through with your needs even works to form stronger bonds when you sometimes have to say, "No." Resentment and obligation are difficult emotions to push out, and often, when unresolved, they poison the goodness that your initial desire to please intended to access.

Gratitude. I always felt like I was a thankful person, but this is different. My conversations with God no longer end or begin with, "Thanks for my amazing family. I know they love me. Thanks for my incredible friends; I love our community." These are CERTAINLY things to feel thankful for, but EACH DAY I am waiting for God's special little gifts. I realized that when I really feel thankful for a gift that someone has blessed me with, I want to bless them also. A very special bond forms through gratitude, and I see this as one of the most transforming ways I can remain connected to God. Today, I am looking for the gifts. A gorgeous, sunny day is a gift, and sometimes I can truly be thankful for it, but my gratitude has more become the connections or experience that dramatically move my soul. Example: Today, I met a man at Wal-Mart--he was asking for donations.  He was part of a ministry for recovering drug addicts. He said a lot, actually, but one thing he definitely said was, "I don't do this because the ministry needs money, or because I am even expecting donations. But when I walk into the world every day and can share the love of God, my hearts pulses and my spirit sings the grace that I can claim in Christ." I am pretty sure that is verbatim; for his testimony is inscribed on my heart and still rings in my ears. He also went on to say that people don't believe addicts can change. By confessing to people every day the grace and love of LORD, he was able to remind himself of the joy he has found. Amazing man. His name is Selby. We will be praying for each other for one month. Thank you, LORD. Your face shines upon me.

And--then there is play. I am actually pretty good at this, if I do say so myself. BUT, it was wonderful to hear that this is actually a key component to a full life. :) I think there are times when my play has been viewed as irresponsible or unnecessary, but actually, we need to play and create! Whether music, photography, scrap-booking, acting, woodworking. Lord God is Creator, and being formed in His image, it is only natural that we should have the desire to create (and procreate, I might add! But that is for a different post!).

Finally, spirituality is inextricably important--perhaps even the glue. A belief that we are all connected and part of something facilitates the possibility for all other factors of joy. In life, everyone is looking for purpose, and the need for purpose comes from a need to be validated or valued. This need points directly to love. We all are desperately looking for love. Well, Selby found it. I think/know that I have found it. And even in the times I choose the lesser or when I close my heart to the love that has been offered, there love remains, waiting.  An out-streched hand.  A peaceful stream.  Shalom. (by the way... Shalom--Definition: as His will be done. Translation: everything exactly as God wills it.) An opportunity to fall within His will awaits me.

So, that being said, here is the excerpt that really moved me to post. It is from Churchianity (Full article on Featured Finds Tab.) Worth the read.

It will not be enough for you to then say: "Lord, the Church belongs to You, not to me, not to anyone. Now I see my mistake. I take my hands off of it, for it is not mine to control or run. I repent of trying to build what you wish to destroy, and destroying what you wish to build. What am I, Lord, but a little stone, a little sheep, a little member of a wonderful Body of Believers? You are building Your Church, and now I will let you do it. At last I see. Only let me find a quiet place to serve You and serve Your people in secret, for I want nothing else for me, but all of it for You."

All the arguments in the world will not convince people, nor should we attempt to make people see. Simply allow them to see. Look upon the face of Him who sees things as they are so that others may look into your eyes and see Him as He is. God will grant us a discerning heart and eyes to see and hear if we will ask Him for such holy things, and if we are willing to accept both the joy and the burden that accompanies such a revelation.

Thanks for stopping by. Stay dusty.

I praise You for this day...

It is beautiful outside today—the warm sun glinting against my skin and the blue cloudless skies offering thousands of opportunities for the day ahead. The unseasonably balmy weather warms my spirit as it warms the earth below. I hear the soft rustling of the leaves of the oak tree behind me. The ever-so-faint breeze blows tenderly through the expiring leaves as to set a soft, rhythmic pace for the day. The grass dramatically distends its tips to the sky above stretching from a dark night’s rest and I notice the brilliant yellow shade of this morning. The sun has draped the earth in its curtains of sunlight staining it a glorious hue of vivid individuality. A murky puddle from a night’s rain wadding in the sunken earth is transformed into a blinding sheet of golden glory. A hazy layer of glitter tickles the distant horizon marking the meeting of earth and sky. I close my eyes and I can smell the freshness of the regeneration of the morning. The virgin sun infuses my nostrils with its intoxicating sense of renewal and freedom. As I sit on a bench on my front porch, I intentionally tune in to the taste of the sun breaking free from the night’s captivity in the distant east. The humidity from the atmosphere gives the sense of water on my palette as I seep air through an imaginary straw between my lips. I hear the light pitter-patter of my dog, Bailey, as she skates across the sidewalk welcoming the morning with a raised nose. As she lays on the warm concrete soaking the heat of the sun into her black coat, I hear the jingle of her collar as it meets the rough ground. As she lazes in serenity, I embrace the sudden urge to feel my skin against the heated ground. As I repose, I experience the unadulterated tranquility of nature’s ritual. Every morning, the world welcomes the approaching day with a faint breeze, a morning dew, a cold chill, or gloomy and tumultuous clouds. It was my privilege to witness this day’s arrival—a stimulation for my senses and an arousing of my soul.