For those of us from Michigan, Summer was an odd blip on the radar. Don't get me wrong. After a winter of digging out of 6 foot drifts and sub zero temps, people busted out their shorts at a tropical 50 degrees. With only one or two days breaking into the 90's, it was simply odd. Only 1 trip to the lake, sweaters at night, rain the entire weekend.
What winter did, was rob of us our right to complain. Winter sprawled into our spring like a destructive vine that choked us of our time. The result was a vacation diaspora, where we all just went anywhere this summer to find enough sun to suck the cold from our bones. Yet we all said so little. Who wants to be the guy who complains about only having a few hot days when you're surfing Amazon to find industrial strength adult snowpants for the coming winter?
Isn't that just like pain? In the wide spread of personal trouble, we feel everything from sad to hopeless. Frustrated to furious. We want to scream - we want people to know that what we are feeling is hard, that it is real, and that we are in pain.
That is, until we hear someone else's story.
Like last year's creeping cold, nothing stalls us like hearing another's tale of misery. Then the comparisons start.
"Well, at least I still have my marriage."
"I shouldn't complain - my kids still call me at least."
"I miss my job. But, at least I didn't lose my job AND home."
At least, at least, at least. And so we don't allow ourselves the comfort, nurture, or expression we need because, "at least."
I shake hands with people every Sunday morning who have probably had one "at least" that week. What is scarier is that I shake hands with people who may have had 5 or 10. Pinpoints of pain or fear that they can't talk about because they've compared it to the grand horror of someone else's situation. They've been robbed of their chance to experience authenticity (and authentic healing) because it's simply just not "as bad as" what has happened to someone else.
There are two truths. Five or ten little things can often feel like one big thing. And any one of those things may feel heavy to you regardless of how it pales to another person. Best yet, the second truth is quite simply this - the Christ that died for us wants to heal us of "big" and "little" things. He is not measuring them to scale. Because Christ cares about our things...all of our things.
"Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground without your Father's care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows" (Matthew 10:29-31).
That is the promise of God. Jesus says of his and OUR Father that we are worth more than a bird that receives the Father's care. I'm going to guess that even your "little" things feel bigger than a half-penny bird. It's been said that, "comparison is the thief of joy". True. And it's also the thief of healing. So don't get robbed. Take your things to the thing-healer.
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Thursday, April 3, 2014
The Awful Resilience of Snow
Chapter 25 - The Story
As I'm watching the ice pile up on the branches that are just now starting to bud outside my colleague's window, I feel sick. I am so over the cold. I mean, really over. I don't even hate snow, but it's April, and my bare toes are getting stir crazy. Please, Jesus...sandal weather NOW!
But after a week of above freezing temps, both day and night, times of sunshine, and people just hacking away at what's left, there are still significant snow piles in random neighborhoods that I've driven through. And now, because of the quasi-warm weather, they're dingy, exhaust-fume crusted craggy domes. But they are still there. What in the world?! How's THAT for resilience?
Here we are in the winding story of Jesus and he's facing people who don't get it. Any of it. He's healing. He's teaching. He's setting people free. He's fulfilling prophecy. He's being who He said he was. And in the quasi-clearing of the truth of the law being fulfilled, the pharisees are hanging on, diminished and covered in the fumes of their doubt and unbelief. Resilient.
It's easy to look at the Pharisees during the time of Jesus and say, "How could you not see Him for who He is?! I wouldn't miss Him if He was here. There's no way I would have killed Him if I would have been there!" They're the hateful bad guys, right? They're the ones that didn't believe!
But if I peek under the rug of my spiritual life, I see small left over snow piles too - little mounds of unbelief that are dirty and gross that stubbornly hang on even though I know Jesus. I am no exception.
Doubt and unbelief have a way of resiliency. There's a stubbornness in how it waits out everything else. It will cling to every other thought in the hopes of living a bit longer - staying around just a tad more time. And the truth is, it gets ugly.
This Spring, this Easter, pull back your own rugs a little bit. Put all your little mounds, all your things right out into the awesomely warm light of the truth of who Jesus is. Let that melt down to nothing your fears, worries, and wondering if he's really going to come through. Because as long as that junk stays out of the light, it will stick around a lot longer than you want or need it to.
Eliza Cortés Bast
As I'm watching the ice pile up on the branches that are just now starting to bud outside my colleague's window, I feel sick. I am so over the cold. I mean, really over. I don't even hate snow, but it's April, and my bare toes are getting stir crazy. Please, Jesus...sandal weather NOW!
But after a week of above freezing temps, both day and night, times of sunshine, and people just hacking away at what's left, there are still significant snow piles in random neighborhoods that I've driven through. And now, because of the quasi-warm weather, they're dingy, exhaust-fume crusted craggy domes. But they are still there. What in the world?! How's THAT for resilience?
Here we are in the winding story of Jesus and he's facing people who don't get it. Any of it. He's healing. He's teaching. He's setting people free. He's fulfilling prophecy. He's being who He said he was. And in the quasi-clearing of the truth of the law being fulfilled, the pharisees are hanging on, diminished and covered in the fumes of their doubt and unbelief. Resilient.
It's easy to look at the Pharisees during the time of Jesus and say, "How could you not see Him for who He is?! I wouldn't miss Him if He was here. There's no way I would have killed Him if I would have been there!" They're the hateful bad guys, right? They're the ones that didn't believe!
But if I peek under the rug of my spiritual life, I see small left over snow piles too - little mounds of unbelief that are dirty and gross that stubbornly hang on even though I know Jesus. I am no exception.
Doubt and unbelief have a way of resiliency. There's a stubbornness in how it waits out everything else. It will cling to every other thought in the hopes of living a bit longer - staying around just a tad more time. And the truth is, it gets ugly.
This Spring, this Easter, pull back your own rugs a little bit. Put all your little mounds, all your things right out into the awesomely warm light of the truth of who Jesus is. Let that melt down to nothing your fears, worries, and wondering if he's really going to come through. Because as long as that junk stays out of the light, it will stick around a lot longer than you want or need it to.
Eliza Cortés Bast
Sunday, February 23, 2014
Chapter 19
Chapter 19 - The Story
I had to wrestle with this a bit. It's not that I felt like this chapter didn't belong or didn't matter. It did, for a variety of reasons.
But I've had one of those days that had sweetness and awfulness to it. And I think I needed this day to prepare me for writing. Because I have to remember that God is good. He's very good.
Today we went through Chapter 19 from Haggai's writing. A frustrating text that highlights God's grief at the temple being so diminished when the people returned. He was hurting for his home to be rebuilt, in the middle of their rebuilding.
Yes, I think it had to do with their priorities. It's a great case for tithing and giving to the local body. It's important. It is important to becoming devoted, mature followers of Jesus.
I think, though, that the target is more defined and more direct. In the Old Testament, it was God's only place to dwell with his people. They built their own homes without providing a place for their God to be near them.
I want God near me. Better yet, I need God with me. Because he's good. Because he's mine. Because he knows me and loves me in a way that is so unbelievable and so unending, that it defies logic. Nobody loves me the way he does. Not my mom. Not my husband. Not my son. I can't wrap my mind, let alone my heart, around that very simple fact. The totality of love wants to live with me.
In my newest testament life, that is the difference. I can't have an existence that works without God. I need him here. It's the only way I'll make it through the insane roller coaster of the people who I need to love and the people who disappoint me the most, and when those people are the same people. It's the only way I can look myself in the mirror when I have days that are reckless and I don't deserve someone loving me.
It is God, expressed through the loving sacrifice of his son Jesus - the high priest who sits next to his father, interceding on my behalf when I need it, and when I don't deserve it. It's the Holy Spirit who checks me into the boards when I think awful thoughts; who counsels me when I don't understand why dumb things happen.
So yes. Giving out of my first-fruits is maturity. Making a place for God so he can be here with me is necessity. Critical importance. I need him so close that I can run into his arms.
Eliza Cortes Bast
I had to wrestle with this a bit. It's not that I felt like this chapter didn't belong or didn't matter. It did, for a variety of reasons.
But I've had one of those days that had sweetness and awfulness to it. And I think I needed this day to prepare me for writing. Because I have to remember that God is good. He's very good.
Today we went through Chapter 19 from Haggai's writing. A frustrating text that highlights God's grief at the temple being so diminished when the people returned. He was hurting for his home to be rebuilt, in the middle of their rebuilding.
Yes, I think it had to do with their priorities. It's a great case for tithing and giving to the local body. It's important. It is important to becoming devoted, mature followers of Jesus.
I think, though, that the target is more defined and more direct. In the Old Testament, it was God's only place to dwell with his people. They built their own homes without providing a place for their God to be near them.
I want God near me. Better yet, I need God with me. Because he's good. Because he's mine. Because he knows me and loves me in a way that is so unbelievable and so unending, that it defies logic. Nobody loves me the way he does. Not my mom. Not my husband. Not my son. I can't wrap my mind, let alone my heart, around that very simple fact. The totality of love wants to live with me.
In my newest testament life, that is the difference. I can't have an existence that works without God. I need him here. It's the only way I'll make it through the insane roller coaster of the people who I need to love and the people who disappoint me the most, and when those people are the same people. It's the only way I can look myself in the mirror when I have days that are reckless and I don't deserve someone loving me.
It is God, expressed through the loving sacrifice of his son Jesus - the high priest who sits next to his father, interceding on my behalf when I need it, and when I don't deserve it. It's the Holy Spirit who checks me into the boards when I think awful thoughts; who counsels me when I don't understand why dumb things happen.
So yes. Giving out of my first-fruits is maturity. Making a place for God so he can be here with me is necessity. Critical importance. I need him so close that I can run into his arms.
Eliza Cortes Bast
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Extra Credit
Chapter 18 - The Story
For those who know me, you know I'm taking master's classes right now. Which has been fun. For those who knew me in my bachelor-degree days, you'll remember I thought those classes were fun too.
Except Statistics.
Who came up with that class? I mean, really? I get the importance of data, and I LOVE data. But I hate designing it, and then using things like >0.6. Which I know is important. I just don't know what that means. So hats off to my extra cool statisticians who know. You complete me.
Needless to say, I worked my backside off, hoping to never come to stats land ever again (amen). And then I went to grad school.
Under a cool, catchy new name, I signed up for my required class of "organizational analysis". It was code for stats. Once again, I'm back to feeling 19 and clueless as I figure out what >0.6 means, again. But now the stakes are higher, and more expensive, and require tri-weekly 15 page research paper on how to interpret >0.6. It was a stone cold bummer. I didn't just pass that class. I survived that class.
Thank God for extra credit. That sweet bit of extra work that helps your instructor understand that you're not lazy, just a tad (or a whole lotta) lost. Papers. News journals. Organizational mags. Please let me prove that I actually can read. And maybe even write. Just one pinch of extra credit!
Chapter 18 of The Story loses no steam on a guy who has to prove himself. Again. And again. Poor Daniel! You get carted off into exile, you and your buddies get promoted, then you are supposed to be executed, and then you and your buddies get promoted again. Awesome! Nope. Your buddies get thrown into a fire. Then they are rescued. Then God has to write on a wall and the new king ends his party with a bang. Now a new guy, and his buddies hate you. And you get thrown into a lion's den. Along with all this, you get angels called down to help fight for you and have visions of the future.
Daniel's got a lot going on. Daniel's a BOSS.
But on page 252, Daniel goes to Nebuchadnezzar to tell him he knows the meaning of his dream. He says, "No wise man...can explain to the king the mystery has asked about, but there is a God...". He continues on page 253 and says, "As for me, this mystery has been revealed to me, not because I have greater wisdom than anyone else alive, but so that Your majesty may know the interpretation and that you may understand what went through your mind."
Here's a guy who we would think needs a self-marketing campaign. Yet he doesn't take the credit. Not for his wisdom, his insight, his ability to interpret dreams. Same with his buddies.
ALL of the extra credit went to God. Daniel didn't need it. Didn't want it. He knew God had it. He didn't have to prove anything. With an eery calm, Daniel responds to each crisis knowing that the God in heaven CAN respond and is the God who saves - the "revealer of mysteries".
In a day and age of measuring and assessing and trying to move ahead, we miss no opportunity to do the "extra credit" it takes to be the best and make sure people know it. Here's a guy who was phenomenal, and didn't take the chance to put himself first. He squarely position God at the helm and the spotlight. God gets the credit. No extra papers, no extra medals, no "plus" after the A. Just God.
Eliza Cortés Bast
For those who know me, you know I'm taking master's classes right now. Which has been fun. For those who knew me in my bachelor-degree days, you'll remember I thought those classes were fun too.
Except Statistics.
Who came up with that class? I mean, really? I get the importance of data, and I LOVE data. But I hate designing it, and then using things like >0.6. Which I know is important. I just don't know what that means. So hats off to my extra cool statisticians who know. You complete me.
Needless to say, I worked my backside off, hoping to never come to stats land ever again (amen). And then I went to grad school.
Under a cool, catchy new name, I signed up for my required class of "organizational analysis". It was code for stats. Once again, I'm back to feeling 19 and clueless as I figure out what >0.6 means, again. But now the stakes are higher, and more expensive, and require tri-weekly 15 page research paper on how to interpret >0.6. It was a stone cold bummer. I didn't just pass that class. I survived that class.
Thank God for extra credit. That sweet bit of extra work that helps your instructor understand that you're not lazy, just a tad (or a whole lotta) lost. Papers. News journals. Organizational mags. Please let me prove that I actually can read. And maybe even write. Just one pinch of extra credit!
Chapter 18 of The Story loses no steam on a guy who has to prove himself. Again. And again. Poor Daniel! You get carted off into exile, you and your buddies get promoted, then you are supposed to be executed, and then you and your buddies get promoted again. Awesome! Nope. Your buddies get thrown into a fire. Then they are rescued. Then God has to write on a wall and the new king ends his party with a bang. Now a new guy, and his buddies hate you. And you get thrown into a lion's den. Along with all this, you get angels called down to help fight for you and have visions of the future.
Daniel's got a lot going on. Daniel's a BOSS.
But on page 252, Daniel goes to Nebuchadnezzar to tell him he knows the meaning of his dream. He says, "No wise man...can explain to the king the mystery has asked about, but there is a God...". He continues on page 253 and says, "As for me, this mystery has been revealed to me, not because I have greater wisdom than anyone else alive, but so that Your majesty may know the interpretation and that you may understand what went through your mind."
Here's a guy who we would think needs a self-marketing campaign. Yet he doesn't take the credit. Not for his wisdom, his insight, his ability to interpret dreams. Same with his buddies.
ALL of the extra credit went to God. Daniel didn't need it. Didn't want it. He knew God had it. He didn't have to prove anything. With an eery calm, Daniel responds to each crisis knowing that the God in heaven CAN respond and is the God who saves - the "revealer of mysteries".
In a day and age of measuring and assessing and trying to move ahead, we miss no opportunity to do the "extra credit" it takes to be the best and make sure people know it. Here's a guy who was phenomenal, and didn't take the chance to put himself first. He squarely position God at the helm and the spotlight. God gets the credit. No extra papers, no extra medals, no "plus" after the A. Just God.
Eliza Cortés Bast
Monday, February 3, 2014
3 Easy Taunts
Chapter 16 - The Story
Sennacherib is just fun to say. Even as I'm typing this, I'm saying it in my head: "Sennacherib". Son of Sargon II (fun, but not as fun as his son), Sennacherib was the powerful king of Assyria around 705 BC. He wasn't so much a military strategist as he was a builder, renovator, and all-around expansionist. There was some bad blood between Father and Son, and it seems he wanted to be remembered differently from his dad.
But he wasn't a slouch. He didn't take too kindly to a young king of Judah named Hezekiah. Hezekiah wasn't interested in Assyria, their god Nisroch, or paying tribute anymore. He wanted to worship the Lord - and he systematically went about destroying any of the idol worshiping in Judah to do that. The Lord was with Hezekiah, and things were about to go down.
Nothing says, "Release the Kraken" like one tiny province thumbing their nose at you. Sennacherib sends his generals on a vicious military campaign that decimated some of the fortified cities on their way to Jerusalem. Hezekiah closed in the town, readied for what's to come.
Here is where things get weird. Instead of just fighting the city, 185,000 Assyrian soldiers set up camp, and the field commander called out for Hezekiah. The palace administrator comes out with the scribe, and the field commander begins to make some suggestions. "Listen...no one is coming to help you. I'll even give you some horses if you have enough soldiers to ride them. You are on your own. Let's just cut a deal and I won't completely destroy you." No response.
Then he calls out in Hebrew: "Look - your king is lying! He won't save you! He's telling you the Lord will deliver you, and he won't. I'll even take you to a land that's just like this, but better! Give in!"
Sennacherib gets a message that Hezekiah's not budging. So they send the final salvo - "We are coming for you. No one has survived us. We're taking you down. Love, Sennacherib."
Hezekiah prays. He lays it all out before God. And God listened. An angel of the Lord shows up, and smites 185,000 soldiers in the night. 185,000 dead bodies at the dawn's early light.
Isn't that like our enemy? He rages and thrashes, and then stands outside making fun of us when we are at the end of our rope. He'll even use our own language. He shoots at us 3 easy taunts when crisis hits:
1. You are all alone in this.
2. God is lying. He's not that good. Your life can be just as good without following Him.
3. You're not going to survive this.
The truth is, the Lord hears. And he doesn't take too kindly to be taunted with lies. The direct quote was, "Who is it you have ridiculed and blasphemed? Because your insolence has reached my ears, I will put my hook in your nose and my bit in your mouth." Ouch. Total domination.
Again - Jehova Shaw Mah'. The Lord who hears. He is motivated on our behalf! Not just the Lord who hears. He is the Lord who responds. Amen!
Eliza Cortés Bast
Sennacherib is just fun to say. Even as I'm typing this, I'm saying it in my head: "Sennacherib". Son of Sargon II (fun, but not as fun as his son), Sennacherib was the powerful king of Assyria around 705 BC. He wasn't so much a military strategist as he was a builder, renovator, and all-around expansionist. There was some bad blood between Father and Son, and it seems he wanted to be remembered differently from his dad.
But he wasn't a slouch. He didn't take too kindly to a young king of Judah named Hezekiah. Hezekiah wasn't interested in Assyria, their god Nisroch, or paying tribute anymore. He wanted to worship the Lord - and he systematically went about destroying any of the idol worshiping in Judah to do that. The Lord was with Hezekiah, and things were about to go down.
Nothing says, "Release the Kraken" like one tiny province thumbing their nose at you. Sennacherib sends his generals on a vicious military campaign that decimated some of the fortified cities on their way to Jerusalem. Hezekiah closed in the town, readied for what's to come.
Here is where things get weird. Instead of just fighting the city, 185,000 Assyrian soldiers set up camp, and the field commander called out for Hezekiah. The palace administrator comes out with the scribe, and the field commander begins to make some suggestions. "Listen...no one is coming to help you. I'll even give you some horses if you have enough soldiers to ride them. You are on your own. Let's just cut a deal and I won't completely destroy you." No response.
Then he calls out in Hebrew: "Look - your king is lying! He won't save you! He's telling you the Lord will deliver you, and he won't. I'll even take you to a land that's just like this, but better! Give in!"
Sennacherib gets a message that Hezekiah's not budging. So they send the final salvo - "We are coming for you. No one has survived us. We're taking you down. Love, Sennacherib."
Hezekiah prays. He lays it all out before God. And God listened. An angel of the Lord shows up, and smites 185,000 soldiers in the night. 185,000 dead bodies at the dawn's early light.
Isn't that like our enemy? He rages and thrashes, and then stands outside making fun of us when we are at the end of our rope. He'll even use our own language. He shoots at us 3 easy taunts when crisis hits:
1. You are all alone in this.
2. God is lying. He's not that good. Your life can be just as good without following Him.
3. You're not going to survive this.
The truth is, the Lord hears. And he doesn't take too kindly to be taunted with lies. The direct quote was, "Who is it you have ridiculed and blasphemed? Because your insolence has reached my ears, I will put my hook in your nose and my bit in your mouth." Ouch. Total domination.
Again - Jehova Shaw Mah'. The Lord who hears. He is motivated on our behalf! Not just the Lord who hears. He is the Lord who responds. Amen!
Eliza Cortés Bast
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Cutter
Chapter 15 - The Story
I was sitting in a service at another church once, when one of the speakers stepped off of the stage, and exited the worship center. Another speaker got up to begin speaking, and we realized there was an entirely different conversation happening that we all could hear, but no one could see. As the voices wafted through the worship center and the church giggles started to spread, the current speaker stood awkwardly until an usher exited the worship center, and you could hear an audible "oh...OH NO!" over the sound system.
The poor speaker had walked out and never turned his headset mic off. We heard him warmly greet people, ask the senior pastor how he was doing, and how the kids were. We assumed he was shaking hands and waving. The sound guys had assumed he would know what to do. He had assumed he was ok. What was awesome about the whole thing, is that we realized the speaker was awesome off stage as he was on stage. He was a really warm friendly guy.
But we were all glad he was stopped before he made it to the bathroom. No doubt. God bless that usher.
That story struck me reading chapter 15. I'm awed by the fire coming down and consuming the water and sacrifice. I'm thunderstruck by the courageousness of Elijah. And, because of my temperament, I'm GREATLY amused by his taunting of the Baal prophets..."maybe your god is asleep? maybe in the restroom???"
What grieves me is that the Baal prophets didn't know if their god even heard them. Wails and pleading turned into cutting and begging. It struck me that this frantic wonderment forced them to injure themselves just in the hope that their god would pay any attention to them.
I think of the epidemic today of many young people who feel that they have no voice for their pain and cut themselves to relieve that horrible tension. They too cut to be heard.
What I'm grateful for is the God who Hears. Jehovah Shaw Mah'.
And he's not just the God who Hears. Psalm 69:33 (AMP) says, "For the Lord hears the poor and needy and despises not His prisoners (His miserable and wounded ones)."
Jehovah Shaw Mah', especially to the wounded and miserable.
Much like the mic'd speaker, God hears everything. EVERYTHING. The thoughts of your heart before you speak them. The angry words. The frustrated words. The broken words. The happy words.
Let me say it again. He hears EVERYTHING.
Without us begging. Without us cutting. Without us imploding over the great burden we bear in our souls. He's already heard that. With the effortlessness of a sound system that never gets turned off, he hears us.
He heard Elijah. He heard the Psalmist. He hears the prisoners. He hears the wounded and miserable ones. Jehovah Shaw Mah'. He hears you.
I was sitting in a service at another church once, when one of the speakers stepped off of the stage, and exited the worship center. Another speaker got up to begin speaking, and we realized there was an entirely different conversation happening that we all could hear, but no one could see. As the voices wafted through the worship center and the church giggles started to spread, the current speaker stood awkwardly until an usher exited the worship center, and you could hear an audible "oh...OH NO!" over the sound system.
The poor speaker had walked out and never turned his headset mic off. We heard him warmly greet people, ask the senior pastor how he was doing, and how the kids were. We assumed he was shaking hands and waving. The sound guys had assumed he would know what to do. He had assumed he was ok. What was awesome about the whole thing, is that we realized the speaker was awesome off stage as he was on stage. He was a really warm friendly guy.
But we were all glad he was stopped before he made it to the bathroom. No doubt. God bless that usher.
That story struck me reading chapter 15. I'm awed by the fire coming down and consuming the water and sacrifice. I'm thunderstruck by the courageousness of Elijah. And, because of my temperament, I'm GREATLY amused by his taunting of the Baal prophets..."maybe your god is asleep? maybe in the restroom???"
What grieves me is that the Baal prophets didn't know if their god even heard them. Wails and pleading turned into cutting and begging. It struck me that this frantic wonderment forced them to injure themselves just in the hope that their god would pay any attention to them.
I think of the epidemic today of many young people who feel that they have no voice for their pain and cut themselves to relieve that horrible tension. They too cut to be heard.
What I'm grateful for is the God who Hears. Jehovah Shaw Mah'.
And he's not just the God who Hears. Psalm 69:33 (AMP) says, "For the Lord hears the poor and needy and despises not His prisoners (His miserable and wounded ones)."
Jehovah Shaw Mah', especially to the wounded and miserable.
Much like the mic'd speaker, God hears everything. EVERYTHING. The thoughts of your heart before you speak them. The angry words. The frustrated words. The broken words. The happy words.
Let me say it again. He hears EVERYTHING.
Without us begging. Without us cutting. Without us imploding over the great burden we bear in our souls. He's already heard that. With the effortlessness of a sound system that never gets turned off, he hears us.
He heard Elijah. He heard the Psalmist. He hears the prisoners. He hears the wounded and miserable ones. Jehovah Shaw Mah'. He hears you.
Saturday, January 18, 2014
Got Wisdom?
Chapter 14 - The Story
I would consider myself a renaissance woman. Good ol' Merriam-Webster describes that simply as a person who "has wide interests and is an expert in a variety of areas". I'm no expert, but I know enough to get me reasonably far on a game of couch Jeopardy.
Unfortunately, it's pretty hard when you have enough interests and possible skill levels that they could maybe take up the Grand Canyon. Everybody, and their mom, and well-meaning uncles, and good friends have seemingly GREAT ideas about what you should be when you grow up. I have had advocates in the rare book restorer category, all the way to the politician category. The degree I'm pursuing now is the third Master's program I've been accepted to. Everyone has a healthy opinion of what I should do next, with the greatest of intentions. What am I going to be when I grow up? But do any of these well-intentioned people really know the real me?
Enter into Chapter 14. Solomon has since went the way of the great kings, after biting it hard by marrying all sorts of women who didn't know God and didn't care to follow God. His son Rehoboam comes up in his place, not asking God for, or receiving the wisdom his father had. He was an inexperienced kid with a massive kingdom on his hands.
No great kingdom is free. Solomon taxed his people big time, because ivory thrones overlain with gold are not free either. So delegates made their way to Rehoboam to ask for the taxes to be reduced.
Rehoboam starts smart. He asks his Dad's advisors what he should do. "Cut the taxes and they'll love you for life." GREAT wisdom from some seasoned vets. And 1 Kings 12 said he ignored them and asked his buddies that he grew up with what they thought. Their advice? "Show them who's boss. Increase the taxes so they know you're bigger than your Dad." Bad move. Well, horribly catastrophic move.
Not only does Rehoboam, at one point in the story, have to escape a rock party (the mob did manage to kill his Chief of Forced Labor in the midst of the storm of thrown stones), but the writer says that Israel - THE NATION - got up and said, "Go to your own house and look after yourself. The throne of David is done." Only the tribe of Judah remained loyal. A man who had inherited the universe lost it in one bad decision made in the thick of "friends" who had no expertise and no wisdom (and arguably, no common sense). They were people who didn't know how to run a kingdom. They were friends of Rehoboam the friend, who just happened to be a prince. Not Rehoboam the King.
When we grow into what God has for us, we inherit so much from him. I would argue it's a bigger inheritance than Rehoboam's because we get the Holy Spirit. And even though our past is part of how He has designed us, our future may not make sense to the people we thought knew us best. They can't always see the things God has shown us. They don't get to hear the things God has told us. And sometimes their advice can corrupt what God is asking us to do because they are speaking to who we were - not to who God is asking us to become.
So here I am. I'm in ministry. A place I swore I'd never go. I couldn't take some of those old folks with me simply because they couldn't understand or support a "me, in ministry". They either didn't know enough or love me enough to say, "Do whatever God is telling you to do, and nothing else." They're not bad people, but they are also not the people I can have speaking into me as I move closer to the epicenter of the great adventure God has me on. In some small painful places, they are people that didn't want me to do that because it meant our relationship had to change. I couldn't take everyone with me. But the inheritance of the kingdom of God and playing a part in that is worth it all.
Rehoboam's dad once said this, "Get wisdom. It may cost you everything you have. The one who gets wisdom loves life" (Proverbs 4:7, 19:8). If you are unsure of where God is taking you next, call on wise people who will give you good wisdom and will point your right back to God. Get wisdom.
Eliza Cortes Bast
I would consider myself a renaissance woman. Good ol' Merriam-Webster describes that simply as a person who "has wide interests and is an expert in a variety of areas". I'm no expert, but I know enough to get me reasonably far on a game of couch Jeopardy.
Unfortunately, it's pretty hard when you have enough interests and possible skill levels that they could maybe take up the Grand Canyon. Everybody, and their mom, and well-meaning uncles, and good friends have seemingly GREAT ideas about what you should be when you grow up. I have had advocates in the rare book restorer category, all the way to the politician category. The degree I'm pursuing now is the third Master's program I've been accepted to. Everyone has a healthy opinion of what I should do next, with the greatest of intentions. What am I going to be when I grow up? But do any of these well-intentioned people really know the real me?
Enter into Chapter 14. Solomon has since went the way of the great kings, after biting it hard by marrying all sorts of women who didn't know God and didn't care to follow God. His son Rehoboam comes up in his place, not asking God for, or receiving the wisdom his father had. He was an inexperienced kid with a massive kingdom on his hands.
No great kingdom is free. Solomon taxed his people big time, because ivory thrones overlain with gold are not free either. So delegates made their way to Rehoboam to ask for the taxes to be reduced.
Rehoboam starts smart. He asks his Dad's advisors what he should do. "Cut the taxes and they'll love you for life." GREAT wisdom from some seasoned vets. And 1 Kings 12 said he ignored them and asked his buddies that he grew up with what they thought. Their advice? "Show them who's boss. Increase the taxes so they know you're bigger than your Dad." Bad move. Well, horribly catastrophic move.
Not only does Rehoboam, at one point in the story, have to escape a rock party (the mob did manage to kill his Chief of Forced Labor in the midst of the storm of thrown stones), but the writer says that Israel - THE NATION - got up and said, "Go to your own house and look after yourself. The throne of David is done." Only the tribe of Judah remained loyal. A man who had inherited the universe lost it in one bad decision made in the thick of "friends" who had no expertise and no wisdom (and arguably, no common sense). They were people who didn't know how to run a kingdom. They were friends of Rehoboam the friend, who just happened to be a prince. Not Rehoboam the King.
When we grow into what God has for us, we inherit so much from him. I would argue it's a bigger inheritance than Rehoboam's because we get the Holy Spirit. And even though our past is part of how He has designed us, our future may not make sense to the people we thought knew us best. They can't always see the things God has shown us. They don't get to hear the things God has told us. And sometimes their advice can corrupt what God is asking us to do because they are speaking to who we were - not to who God is asking us to become.
So here I am. I'm in ministry. A place I swore I'd never go. I couldn't take some of those old folks with me simply because they couldn't understand or support a "me, in ministry". They either didn't know enough or love me enough to say, "Do whatever God is telling you to do, and nothing else." They're not bad people, but they are also not the people I can have speaking into me as I move closer to the epicenter of the great adventure God has me on. In some small painful places, they are people that didn't want me to do that because it meant our relationship had to change. I couldn't take everyone with me. But the inheritance of the kingdom of God and playing a part in that is worth it all.
Rehoboam's dad once said this, "Get wisdom. It may cost you everything you have. The one who gets wisdom loves life" (Proverbs 4:7, 19:8). If you are unsure of where God is taking you next, call on wise people who will give you good wisdom and will point your right back to God. Get wisdom.
Eliza Cortes Bast
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