Terrified By God

Look!  The Lord is coming from his dwelling place; he comes down and treads the high places of the earth.  The mountains melt beneath him and the valleys split apart, like wax before the fire, like water rushing down a slope.  Micah 1:3-4

Jewish prophets were adept and colorful in describing the enveloping hugeness, the terrifying power of the God of the universe.  When God comes the earth explodes, splits, melts, and liquefies. The things we think of as huge and immovable--mountains, for example--melt beneath God. God is like a consuming fire, like an overwhelming flood, like a bone-rattling earthquake.

When I picture what the prophets describe as the coming of God, I feel for a moment the terror I felt when I was a tiny girl and saw my dad coming my way with "that look" on his face. The steely-stern look said I was in some kind of trouble, but since I was a child new to the world, I didn't know what would happen. Fear welled up and overtook my whole body. How is it that God can so terrify us (and that we in turn can so terrify our children)?

Is it a good thing to be terrified by God? Can we truly love someone who frightens us?

I grew up in a country where people were at times terrified by the spirits, but they also considered themselves clever and able to trick the spirits. It was an odd mix of powerlessness and game-playing. In the writings of the Hebrew prophets I don't see this paradox. God stays constant and is not a trickster, nor can we pull a fast one on Him.

So, what does it mean to have a God so huge, so powerful, so overwhelming that the very elements would be overcome by his coming?  And how do we reconcile these pictures with the friendly, harmless and toothless God that our current society likes to imagine?

Easter Meditations: Heaven Owns the Open Tomb

There was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow.  Matt. 28:2-3

When I move something and then sit on it, I establish ownership. It's a signal of it being mine, my territory.  It's a hands-on-hips warning:  "Don't you mess with this or with me!" When the angel sat on the stone, this was the message: Heaven owns the open tomb!

The seal on the stone couldn't shut God in ... or out. And in truth, nothing can, except the simple power of choice, your choice for you, my choice for me. That stone can stay rolled across the doorway of our hearts, no angel owning it, death still sealed inside, unrevived.

But the real tomb over there in Israel, the one where the body of Jesus was laid after his death on the cross? Nothing could keep the stone rolled across the entrance. No soldiers, no seal, no power of death.

Heaven owns the open tomb. Hallelujah!

Easter Meditations: Ironies

James Tissot, What Our Savior Saw From the Cross

When they had crucified him, they divided up his clothes by casting lots. And sitting down, they kept watch over him there.    Matt. 27:35-36

There are ironies all through the story of Jesus's life, but they come one right on the heels of another during those last few days and through the crucifixion and resurrection.

The disciples who were close to him deserted him. How ironic. The man who vowed to follow him to death disowned him.  How ironic. A governor who had full power over the religious leaders bowed to their wishes, recognizing fully that they wanted this man dead simply because they envied him. How ironic. The friend who betrayed him threw away the money he received for his act, and committed suicide. How ironic.

And now, yet another irony: the soldiers in charge of his torture and death sat down to keep watch over Jesus, when just the night before his own disciples had not been able to stay awake to keep watch with him.

How incongruent we are, we weak and fickle human beings! Our lives and our actions are so full of ironies.

Easter Meditations: Striking at Truth

The Crowning With Thorns, by Michael D. O'Brien

The high priest said to him, “I charge you under oath by the living God: Tell us if you are the Messiah, the Son of God.” 

“You have said so,” Jesus replied. “But I say to all of you: From now on you will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of the Mighty One and coming on the clouds of heaven.” 

Then the high priest tore his clothes and said, “He has spoken blasphemy! Why do we need any more witnesses? Look, now you have heard the blasphemy. What do you think?” 

“He is worthy of death,” they answered. 

Then they spit in his face and struck him with their fists. Others slapped him and said, “Prophesy to us, Messiah. Who hit you?”                              Matt. 26:63-68

Such a horrific, dramatic and sad scene. People didn't realize that they were slapping God in human form. The needless cruelty, the bullying, the sarcasm ... how much to people direct that in God's direction still today?

It doesn't occur to them that he may have been telling the truth.

What if he was what he said he was? What if those who say angry things about God, who strike out at Him, who are sarcastic about Him will see Jesus, as he described it, sitting at the right hand of the Mighty One and coming in the clouds of heaven? What then?

The unimaginable has happened in all of our lives in some form. Things we never thought would happen to us, have come to be. Why not this? It seems to me that we should be at least somewhat circumspect, somewhat respectful of the fact that that He could have been telling the truth.

The implications of that call for silence, and sober consideration.

Easter Meditations: When Jesus Went Silent

Jesus Condemned by Michael D. O'Brian

Finally two came forward and declared, “This fellow said, ‘I am able to destroy the temple of God and rebuild it in three days.’” 

Then the high priest stood up and said to Jesus, “Are you not going to answer? What is this testimony that these men are bringing against you?” But Jesus remained silent.                       Matthew 26:60-63

Why did Jesus go silent at this point of His story? Earlier in the evening He was willing to speak as He pointed out thuggish behavior, but now in face of accusations He remained silent. Why?

Perhaps it was because the accusations, as we see them recorded here, were ludicrous and beside the point. If they thought He was simply human flesh and blood, they had no need to fear when they heard him say that he could destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days. Who cares? No one could do that. These would be the words of a crazy man.

The accusers of Jesus were off base, asking the wrong questions, paying attention to the wrong issues.  Why should He answer?

How can we know the mind of the Divine? A lot of us throw accusations and questions at God, demands that make sense to us: How can You allow evil? How do I know that You exist? Prove it! Why should I believe claims about God made by churches with all their rules and differences from each other, their man-made traditions and their power grabs? You come across as coercive and ugly; what do you have to say about that? Why did you allow such-and-such to happen to me or my family? Why would I want anything to do with You?

Could it be that God remains silent in face of our questions and thinly-veiled accusations because somewhere we've missed the real issues? Could it be that our important, heart-wrenching questions are beside the point? How can we know the mind of the Divine?

I suspect that God remains silent until we ask the questions that really matter. I suspect that even then, the answers, in both their timing and content, will be a surprise. I'm willing to stick around and wait for the answers not yet heard. Hopefully I'll notice them when they come. Sometimes He whispers.

Sleep Walking

Millais, The Somnambulist, 1871

When I was a child I read about sleepwalking. I don't recall the specifics. It was always a device used in some story plot, and was seen as a funny thing, a phenomenon that usually got the sleepwalker into trouble. The picture painted in these stories (and in a few TV scenes) was of someone walking along in a stupor, arms outstretched.

This past Friday night, I went sleepwalking for the first time in my life. I hope it was the last time. It was rather scary.

We were visiting our kids in southern California. I've had a bad cough which gets much worse at night time, particularly once I've gone to bed. I suppose there's something about lying horizontal that irritates the lungs. I ended up hacking as if to cough my lungs inside out, and it was most tiring and distressing. Cough drops can help, as can cough medicine, although neither of those was a total remedy.

Having run out of cough medicine, I dropped by a pharmacy before traveling south and bought two kinds of cough medicine--daytime and nighttime. I reasoned that the daytime stuff might have something in it that keeps a person awake, so I needed the nighttime one to let me sleep. I completely missed the rationale that the nighttime one might make a person overly dozey, which is why they produce a daytime version.

It was hard to wake up. And one night, off I went with no knowledge or recollection of the event.  I walked out of the guestroom where Husband and I were sleeping, down the hall, and through our daughter and son-in-law's bedroom, ending up at their restroom, which I had no prior recollection of ever visiting before. I became vaguely aware when I discovered that their flush handle worked differently than most--it's a button rather than a lever--and then more aware as I walked out and looked into their dark room, seeing their bed across the room.  Where was I? I stood there, trying to figure it out, fighting my way through a dense fog.

And slowly it dawned on me where I was. And embarrassment set in as Daughter said, "Ginger, are you okay?  What are you looking for?"

Later they told me that they'd woken as I walked through their room, and she had said to him, "Where is she going?"

Argh.

And that, dear readers, is the last time I will ever take nighttime cough medicine.

Easter Meditations: Following at a Distance

Art found here

But Peter followed him at a distance, right up to the courtyard of the high priest. He entered and sat down with the guards to see the outcome. Matt. 26:58

I believe there are plenty of people still following Jesus at a distance, waiting to see the outcome.

Is Jesus for real?  Everyone makes their own assumptions about Him, and from some perspectives there's not yet a whole lot of proof in the pudding. At what point do I know that He is what Christians claim Him to be? Why would I want to lay it all on the line if it looks like things aren't going to work out the way I would expect them to, if He is who He says He is? Would I recognize the moment at which He has made the case for me to put all my eggs in His basket, so to speak?  Things aren't looking too good for Him at this point, so I think I'll just follow at a distance, keep an eye on things, you know?

If I read the story correctly, this is not the time to draw conclusions about a person. Some might wander off, disappointed. Or they might, like Peter, find that an irresistible case has been made, might find their hearts broken, might become a powerfully loving and persuasive advocate for following Jesus up close.

I have been discouraged in the past by seeing loved ones, friends or students following at a distance, even wandering out of earshot at times. I have personally wandered off out of earshot and out of sight of what is happening up close to Jesus. As my colleague one floor down from my office has reminded me, "The story isn't over yet."  Stick around. Watch what happens. You may be surprised.

The story isn't complete until the words "The End" roll down the screen.

Easter Meditations: Pointing Out Thuggery

The Arrest of Christ (Ilya Repin, 1886)

In that hour Jesus said to the crowd, “Am I leading a rebellion, that you have come out with swords and clubs to capture me? Every day I sat in the temple courts teaching, and you did not arrest me. But this has all taken place that the writings of the prophets might be fulfilled.” 

Matt. 26:55-56

I like the fact that Jesus pointed out thuggery.  He didn't use his power to flatten them, but He did point out what was really going on, what was wrong with this scenario.

There are times when injustice should be pointed out. We tend to do that today as a precursor to forcing unethical behaviors to stop, and I think there's a place for that. While Jesus didn't use power or force to stop unethical or immoral behavior, but He also didn't let it pass without notice. That gives me hope, as a person who wants bullying (in its broader sense) to be addressed.

There is too much thuggery going on in this world. People use power for their own gain. Some of the rest of us simply go along with the exercise of force, physical or otherwise, because we are fearful and/or cowardly.  We have ways of convincing ourselves that this is okay, that we are joining a cause that should be joined. We find reasons that make it psychologically acceptable.

Don't get me wrong; the fact that someone is hurt by an action doesn't necessarily make it unjust or classify it as thuggery. The world is not perfect, and people will get hurt. They will find their space limited, their jobs closed out, their perks removed, or their ideology out of favor with the majority vote. These are the results of living on a planet where the resources are not big enough to meet the demand, and where we simply disagree with one another.

But we always have humane methods available to us for addressing issues, versus brutal, punishing ways. Thuggery is found in the attitude with which the person or persons with power carry out their aims. It includes a lack of process, an attitude of coercion, and an absence of empathy for the individual whose world is being limited by what is happening. At its worst, it delights, even finds glee, in being forceful and punitive.

In the midst of the maddened crowd in Gethsemane, Jesus took a moment to point out what would have been a sane and humane approach. At that point, anyone listening could have changed course. It seems we, too, could at least endeavor to do that for one another, even in the "small thuggish moments" of life.

Easter Meditations: Betrayal

Sculpture by Subirachs at the Basilica of the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, Spain (found on internet)

While he was still speaking, Judas, one of the Twelve, arrived. With him was a large crowd armed with swords and clubs, sent from the chief priests and the elders of the people. Now the betrayer had arranged a signal with them: “The one I kiss is the man; arrest him.” Going at once to Jesus, Judas said, “Greetings, Rabbi!” and kissed him. 

Jesus replied, “Do what you came for, friend.” 

Then the men stepped forward, seized Jesus and arrested him. 

Matt. 26:47-50

A kiss. Such an intimate greeting gets used as a signal of betrayal. I think that is always how betrayal feels; the more physically or emotionally intimate, the sharper the sense of pain when the betrayal happens. Betrayal does not only mean the loss of someone we value. We also lose a bit of ourselves.

As soon as we feel the threat of betrayal, we tend to shut down, to protect our selves from being completely annihilated by the betrayer. But notice what Jesus did. Judas greeted Jesus as "Rabbi," or "Teacher," and yet Jesus responded by calling Judas "Friend," which emphasizes even further how awful the betrayal was.

This world is not good to us, and we are not good to each other. I would be surprised if anyone reading this has never felt betrayed by someone they love. We live on that kind of planet. But we know that we have a God who also feels betrayal deeply--not only the betrayal of Judas on that night long ago, but the ways in which we daily betray His intimate love and sustenance of us.

Let us meditate on this, and be humbled.

Easter Meditations: In the Body

Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.” 

Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. “Couldn’t you men keep watch with me for one hour?” he asked Peter. “Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”  Matt. 26:39-41

I think of Jesus with his face to the ground, smelling the dirt on the surface of this Earth, this planet that he created. Did it smell like spring, like rich soil? Or was it musty with the smell of sandals passing through this olive grove on the way to somewhere? I think of how little rocks and sand stick to your face as it's pressed to the ground, how anguished tears put streaks on a dusty face and stuff up the nose. I think of how hard and uneven the ground can be under trees, how a root can press up and become painful under the weight of an arm or a thigh. I think of how one's muscles and bones can feel heavy with tiredness at the end of a long and trying day, how they ache for rest.

This story includes so much about the body:  face to the dirt, sleepiness, watchfulness, weakness of the flesh.  Is that surprising? How have we gotten so disassociated from the body and its senses as we consider a spiritual battle, to think that such a battle is solely about mind or spirit? The body is neither good nor evil; it is simply human, bound up as one with what we call "heart" and "mind." The body is present, active and interactive right along with our thoughts and emotions. The artificial separation between body and soul is a Greek concept; it seems that Matthew gives a nod to the concept but keeps them firmly together in his retelling of this riveting story.

Would that we would be more aware of our bodies as we experience the spiritual, to be whole and wholly absorbed in experiencing God, heart and soul, mind and body, as we make our journeys along the "paths of righteousness."

An Unscheduled Hiatus

Yesterday's tulips

It's spring. I didn't mean to be gone from this blog for so long, but a lot has happened in the last month and I just couldn't get words down in electrons for the public. So this post is a "toe in the water" with hopes that the writing juices--dried up for weeks now--will begin to seep again.

Auntie is surprised by her 80th birthday cake,

baked by her granddaughter.

My unscheduled hiatus began when I flew across the country to attend two days of higher education meetings.  The meetings were conveniently located a 15-minute drive from my uncle and aunt's house, so I stayed with them. It was lovely to see them again. Theirs was our "home" in the United States when we traveled here on furlough visits during my growing up years. My uncle and aunt are wonderful, hospitable and kind people who have always made me feel loved and welcome.

And my auntie has a great sense of humor (can you tell from the picture above?) and a talent at staying in touch, and I just love, love, love her.

Uncle and me

My uncle (my mother's only sibling) has been ailing for the past three years. I got a chance to sit and chat with him a little bit, although he wasn't feeling well when I was there.  Most of the time he was sleeping.

My uncle is the other organist in the family besides me. He always encouraged me in my lessons, and occasionally sent a good piece of music or two my way. You could never have a conversation with Uncle without him turning it around to ask about you. He was interested in your life rather than talking about himself. I've tried turning the topic back to him, but he always got the best of me, giving a brief response and then asking another question about what I was doing or what I was interested in.

The lake in a park near Uncle and Auntie's house.

What none of us could have foreseen was that my uncle would pass away three days after I flew home. So just over a week after I said goodbye to Uncle and Auntie, my brother accompanied my mother on a cross-country flight to attend Uncle Doug's funeral. It's been a sad time.

Seattle harbor, under the legendary overcast skies

I couldn't attend the funeral, as I had a long standing speaking appointment.  So while family was gathered in Maryland, I made a trip to Bremerton,Washington, to serve as keynote speaker at a Christian women's conference. I had five sessions in 24 hours, which would have been more grueling if the people there hadn't been so delightful.

With fellow Missionary Kids from India, Pakistan, and Okinawa

After all that speechifying, I joined several friends from my missionary kid high school, and we rolled spring rolls that tasted delicious! I think it was the chili sauce...

The next morning saw me at Alki Point, in West Seattle, having a delicious breakfast with one of those friends at Alki Cafe before heading home over snowy Snoqualmie Pass.  And yes, there is a Statue of Liberty in front of the cafe, over on this side of the country!

Snoqualmie Pass, Washington

With the weight of my speaking appointment off my shoulders (the next one is still two weeks away, in Alberta, Canada), I have settled down to catching up with work and watching spring bloom in our valley. Ah, 'tis my favorite season!

Seen in front of Husband's school

Yesterday afternoon was cool and sunny, just the perfect sort of spring weather for walking. So Husband and I went for a walk over to his school to feed that salmon.

Yes, that's right, salmon!  Conservationists have been working to hatch salmon eggs to repopulate some of the streams in our valley that are being rehabilitated, and they've placed a salmon-hatching tank right in the lobby of the elementary school, where the young scholars can watch the progress of the salmon-lets from the egg stage onwards.

Not too long, and these small fry will be released into local streams.

Eventually these anadromous (fresh water - salt water) fish will swim down the stream and river to the mighty Columbia River, and on to the Pacific Ocean, where they'll hang out for a few years. They'll come back looking for that fish tank someday, but they'll probably settle for laying their eggs in the valley's streams.

Kitty's not looking too sure about all this

On the way we passed School Secretary's house, where she and her son proudly displayed Kitty and Rabbit, both rather large-ish pets.  Rabbit is being house-sat while his parents have a real baby.  He's said to be litter trained and quite pleasant.

Speaking of large-ish pets, we spotted this intriguing yard ornament in front of a house along the way.  Note the still in the back of the pickup? Only in rural America...

So that catches you up on a few happenings of the past month.  It is my intent to revive my writing now, as there are probably important things to be said. Somewhere. Sometime. Stay tuned.