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
Sunday, February 23, 2014
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
Sunday, December 22, 2013
Forgotten Ramp, or Why I Almost Died Today
Advent - Week 4
I am amazed, after living almost my whole life in the Great Lakes, how surprised we still are by winter. It's as if we were unsure that it was coming, and when it hits, we're not prepared for its awesome intensity. I've had many years now, white knuckle car-skiing to work. I step out of my little car, my teeth ground down to the size of corn niblets, trying to unclench my jaw. And yet, our house is here.
What makes it so treacherous is that the one exit ramp I take to get off the highway is routinely forgotten. If I were to go east, salt. Going west? Well, it's a crap shoot. It leads to the largest artery west out of town, and yet...good luck to me. I don't understand it. I pray my way through it every winter. My son gleefully yells from the back, "Weee!" And when I'm in the car by myself...I pray for forgiveness.
How can that circular piece of important winter driving chicanery get passed over so often? Unbelievable!
Today, as I was trying not to curse on my way to work, I was convicted.
That yawning, punched by Jesus in the gut convicted. I sat in the church parking lot feeling a bit like a phony.
You see - there's only one ramp to understanding the big deal about Jesus. It's the lavish love of the Father. Jesus becomes not only a big deal, but THE deal, when we understand how much God loves us in such an insane way.
It's the forgotten ramp to the Father.
I would rather believe in a God that is impressed by my good works, angry at my horrible thoughts, and possibly slightly indifferent to the times when I'm lost. How is that even possible?
Paul tells the church of the Colossians and those in Laodicea that he is contending hard for them. He reminds them that God, when they were in the middle of their ultimate corruption and sin, made us alive in Christ. "He forgave us all our sins, having canceled the charge of our legal indebtedness, which stood against us and condemned us; he has taken it ALL away, nailing it to the cross" (Colossians 2:13 - 14). That is insane love, lavish.
So why do I trade that away for a cheap replica of Jesus? Why would I think that God, as my Father and redeemer of my soul, would now tell me to get it together - shape up or ship out. Earn it. Do more. Get it together. I am driving at some ridiculous pace of self-management that I completely miss THE on-ramp to understanding the loving grace of my good God. It's what separates us from every other religion.
We don't get to earn it. We just don't. Because that would mean God is not enough. That Jesus didn't cover everything on the cross. It makes God cruel - to send his only son to kinda cover all my errant ways, but maybe not, through a horrific death.
So there I sat in the parking lot, in the dawn's early light.
Merriam-Webster has this for the definition of lavish: "bestowing profusely", "produced in abundance", "marked by profusion or excess" - see PRODIGAL.
The love of God is bestowed - given, not earned. It is produced in abundance - made over and above what is necessary. It is profuse, excessive. It is prodigal.
That is why Jesus is such a big deal. That is love. That's the only ramp - the only way to get out of the behavior management we've dumbed down Christianity to. Let's get out of it together. Let's experience love. Let's experience Jesus.
"But God demonstrated his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." - Romans 5:8
Merry Christmas.
Eliza Cortes Bast
I am amazed, after living almost my whole life in the Great Lakes, how surprised we still are by winter. It's as if we were unsure that it was coming, and when it hits, we're not prepared for its awesome intensity. I've had many years now, white knuckle car-skiing to work. I step out of my little car, my teeth ground down to the size of corn niblets, trying to unclench my jaw. And yet, our house is here.
What makes it so treacherous is that the one exit ramp I take to get off the highway is routinely forgotten. If I were to go east, salt. Going west? Well, it's a crap shoot. It leads to the largest artery west out of town, and yet...good luck to me. I don't understand it. I pray my way through it every winter. My son gleefully yells from the back, "Weee!" And when I'm in the car by myself...I pray for forgiveness.
How can that circular piece of important winter driving chicanery get passed over so often? Unbelievable!
Today, as I was trying not to curse on my way to work, I was convicted.
That yawning, punched by Jesus in the gut convicted. I sat in the church parking lot feeling a bit like a phony.
You see - there's only one ramp to understanding the big deal about Jesus. It's the lavish love of the Father. Jesus becomes not only a big deal, but THE deal, when we understand how much God loves us in such an insane way.
It's the forgotten ramp to the Father.
I would rather believe in a God that is impressed by my good works, angry at my horrible thoughts, and possibly slightly indifferent to the times when I'm lost. How is that even possible?
Paul tells the church of the Colossians and those in Laodicea that he is contending hard for them. He reminds them that God, when they were in the middle of their ultimate corruption and sin, made us alive in Christ. "He forgave us all our sins, having canceled the charge of our legal indebtedness, which stood against us and condemned us; he has taken it ALL away, nailing it to the cross" (Colossians 2:13 - 14). That is insane love, lavish.
So why do I trade that away for a cheap replica of Jesus? Why would I think that God, as my Father and redeemer of my soul, would now tell me to get it together - shape up or ship out. Earn it. Do more. Get it together. I am driving at some ridiculous pace of self-management that I completely miss THE on-ramp to understanding the loving grace of my good God. It's what separates us from every other religion.
We don't get to earn it. We just don't. Because that would mean God is not enough. That Jesus didn't cover everything on the cross. It makes God cruel - to send his only son to kinda cover all my errant ways, but maybe not, through a horrific death.
So there I sat in the parking lot, in the dawn's early light.
Merriam-Webster has this for the definition of lavish: "bestowing profusely", "produced in abundance", "marked by profusion or excess" - see PRODIGAL.
The love of God is bestowed - given, not earned. It is produced in abundance - made over and above what is necessary. It is profuse, excessive. It is prodigal.
That is why Jesus is such a big deal. That is love. That's the only ramp - the only way to get out of the behavior management we've dumbed down Christianity to. Let's get out of it together. Let's experience love. Let's experience Jesus.
"But God demonstrated his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." - Romans 5:8
Merry Christmas.
Eliza Cortes Bast
Sunday, December 15, 2013
2, Maybe 3 Awkward Gifts
As I anxiously opened the festive wrapping, my fifteen year old heart could barely keep it together. We were crowded at Grandma's who had spent extra time this year making sure she got us "cool" gifts. I was optimistic.
I was also baffled. Cool is so relative. And fickle. And fleeting.
"Thanks G-ma." I couldn't believe my eyes as I sat holding a crimper. My late 80's counterparts - I can hear you crying foul on me right now. But ladies and gents, you have to understand. You see, I'm Puerto Rican.
I mean, tan skinned, brown eyed, wild haired Latina. If there is one drop of moisture in the atmosphere, my hair immediately looks like broccoli or Dora the Explorer. There's no in-between. It is the epitome of curled frenzy.
A crimper for ANYONE else would have been a cool gift. As I looked at the hot pink handle and my Grandma's beaming face, it was just...well...awkward.
We've all been there. In the face of a beloved person who has bestowed on us the very best of what they offered, only to be shocked at the complete randomness of it all. I've seen t-shirts with the taco bell dog given to grown women, living room throws with kittens, and a sweatshirt (yes) with an attached hand-sewn Christmas tree made out of some sort of rag material. Well meaning gifts. Heartfelt gifts. But believe me when I say the names are left out to protect both the guilty and their victims.
When the writer of the Gospel account of Matthew starts into the second chapter, we see wise men visiting the baby Jesus with gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. We sing about it every year. And just this morning I was stopped cold. What kind of gifts are those? Gold, sure. No one is going to say no to gold.
Frankincense and myrrh? Sounds like a crimper to me.
Both are derived from particular trees found in Northern Africa, the Arabian Peninsula, and possibly China. Used in ancient rituals, both were used for medicinal purposes and were highly sought after. Frankincense was believed to cure almost everything from a toothache to leprosy. Myrrh, on the other hand, was also used for embalming. At the time of Jesus's birth, it is believed that these were more expensive and valuable then the gold.
A cure-all and a balm for the dead. Was Joseph thinking he could sell this stuff if times were tight? Was Mary wondering if there was sickness in the air? Did Melchior turn to the other wise men and say, "Seriously, guys?"
Yet who knows if this is the gold that helped them survive their exile in Egypt while they fled the hateful Herod to protect their infant son. Who knows if this frankincense was a sign that this little baby would become the great Physician to heal those wounded in body and broken in heart? And who can say that the myrrh didn't sit on a shelf in the house, where a growing Jesus would look at it and be reminded that he would die one day for his mom, his dad, those wise men, and the rest of the world?
Two, maybe three awkward gifts - precious. Purposeful. Prophetic.
So perhaps Joseph saw the gold and realized they would need to run. Mary saw the frankincense and realized there would be no hometown physician to help her and her infant son - they would need healing on the go. And maybe both looked at the myrrh and felt their heart ache as they realize every dream, every visitation would be true. They gave birth to one who would pay the ultimate price. Life for lives. Until death.
Eliza Cortes Bast
I was also baffled. Cool is so relative. And fickle. And fleeting.
"Thanks G-ma." I couldn't believe my eyes as I sat holding a crimper. My late 80's counterparts - I can hear you crying foul on me right now. But ladies and gents, you have to understand. You see, I'm Puerto Rican.
I mean, tan skinned, brown eyed, wild haired Latina. If there is one drop of moisture in the atmosphere, my hair immediately looks like broccoli or Dora the Explorer. There's no in-between. It is the epitome of curled frenzy.
A crimper for ANYONE else would have been a cool gift. As I looked at the hot pink handle and my Grandma's beaming face, it was just...well...awkward.
We've all been there. In the face of a beloved person who has bestowed on us the very best of what they offered, only to be shocked at the complete randomness of it all. I've seen t-shirts with the taco bell dog given to grown women, living room throws with kittens, and a sweatshirt (yes) with an attached hand-sewn Christmas tree made out of some sort of rag material. Well meaning gifts. Heartfelt gifts. But believe me when I say the names are left out to protect both the guilty and their victims.
When the writer of the Gospel account of Matthew starts into the second chapter, we see wise men visiting the baby Jesus with gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. We sing about it every year. And just this morning I was stopped cold. What kind of gifts are those? Gold, sure. No one is going to say no to gold.
Frankincense and myrrh? Sounds like a crimper to me.
Both are derived from particular trees found in Northern Africa, the Arabian Peninsula, and possibly China. Used in ancient rituals, both were used for medicinal purposes and were highly sought after. Frankincense was believed to cure almost everything from a toothache to leprosy. Myrrh, on the other hand, was also used for embalming. At the time of Jesus's birth, it is believed that these were more expensive and valuable then the gold.
A cure-all and a balm for the dead. Was Joseph thinking he could sell this stuff if times were tight? Was Mary wondering if there was sickness in the air? Did Melchior turn to the other wise men and say, "Seriously, guys?"
Yet who knows if this is the gold that helped them survive their exile in Egypt while they fled the hateful Herod to protect their infant son. Who knows if this frankincense was a sign that this little baby would become the great Physician to heal those wounded in body and broken in heart? And who can say that the myrrh didn't sit on a shelf in the house, where a growing Jesus would look at it and be reminded that he would die one day for his mom, his dad, those wise men, and the rest of the world?
Two, maybe three awkward gifts - precious. Purposeful. Prophetic.
So perhaps Joseph saw the gold and realized they would need to run. Mary saw the frankincense and realized there would be no hometown physician to help her and her infant son - they would need healing on the go. And maybe both looked at the myrrh and felt their heart ache as they realize every dream, every visitation would be true. They gave birth to one who would pay the ultimate price. Life for lives. Until death.
Eliza Cortes Bast
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)