SEEK ME, LET THEM GO

Jesus answered, “I told you that I am he. So, if you seek me, let these men go.” (John 18:8 ESV)

In the beginning of John 18, Jesus does everything he can to be captured:

• he went to a garden where he often took his disciples, including Judas, knowing what would happen
• he "came forward" and met his captors
• he initiated the conversation by asking, "Whom do you seek?"
• he answered by simply confirming that "I am he"
• when his captors were astounded at his answer, he asked again, "Whom do you seek?"
• he answered again by confirming that "I am he"

He did not cower, nor did he waver. Jesus confronted his death, head-on -- even further, he chose death, and is the only one ever to do so.

Earlier in John, Jesus spoke again and again of being sought by his disciples, who he said wouldn't be able to go where he was going. But here in John 18, Jesus is sought and found by his captors. He allows himself to be sought and found by them in order to be thrust to a cruel end.

Why?

To free his disciples -- physically, yes, but in the greatest sense as well.

Jesus knows the enemy's pursuit to kill him, the only one who can threaten his evil reign. He knows that he's the only one worth pursuing, by his friends and his enemies. So, to accomplish his purpose, I AM allows himself to be caught in order that his people would have freedom, speaking as if to the enemy himself.

The Gospel is a mighty lion caged within this one verse, ready to be unleashed by all who care to understand.

Glory, not blame

As he passed by, he saw a man blind from birth. And his disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him." (John 9:1-3 ESV)

There was a loud, inconsiderate, irreverent young man seated two rows ahead of me on the train home yesterday. He was loudly talking and cackling with a friend on his cellphone for the first 15 minutes of the ride, as if he were blind to everyone around him. Then the elderly man seated in front of the young man turned around and kindly asked him to be quieter. The young man on the phone verbally brushed the elderly man off and told his friend what had just happened. He then proceeded to repeatedly call the man in front of him "crazy."

This went on for a few more minutes before the middle-aged man seated behind him firmly asked the young man to be quiet, that the train was usually kept quiet out of respect for others and that he was trying to take a nap because he was "tired as hell."

The young man scoffed quietly but continued his conversation in a hushed voice.

During this whole ordeal I couldn't help but to shake my head in disappointment.

"Whose fault is this? Who failed him? His parents must've done a poor job teaching him what it means to be courteous and respectful of those around you. Maybe his teachers didn't do a sufficient job of disciplining him. Maybe his friends abet this behavior."

These were the kind of thoughts treading through my mind.

After reading the three verses posted atop this post, I realized just how quick I am to vindictively assess blame, and how slow I am to see opportunities for glory, mercy and grace. It's so easy to ask why darkness is happening -- more specifically, why it's happening to me -- but so difficult to look beyond that to wonder about what that darkness is meant to bring about.

Is it such a mind-blowing thing to consider that God allows for "blindness" -- hardships, troubles and heartbreak -- in order that he might display his power in it?

No, for we know that our good Father took the darkest blindness and worked out a way to salvation for us. So we can truly say, with full assurance, that it was not we who sinned, nor our parents, nor Adam himself, but rather Jesus, who became sin for us.

I hope the works of God are displayed in that rude young man, as they were in me.

Daniel 9:7-11

Funny how things worked out...

To you, O Lord, belongs righteousness, but to us open shame, as at this day, to the men of Judah, to the inhabitants of Jerusalem, and to all Israel, those who are near and those who are far away, in all the lands to which you have driven them, because of the treachery that they have committed against you. To us, O LORD, belongs open shame, to our kings, to our princes, and to our fathers, because we have sinned against you. To the Lord our God belong mercy and forgiveness, for we have rebelled against him and have not obeyed the voice of the LORD our God by walking in his laws, which he set before us by his servants the prophets. All Israel has transgressed your law and turned aside, refusing to obey your voice. And the curse and oath that are written in the Law of Moses the servant of God have been poured out upon us, because we have sinned against him.

(Daniel 9:7-11 ESV)

Life brings death, and vice versa

Here are the basic circumstances under which our Savior entered our world:

- birth out of wedlock

- welcomed by a group of mystics who probably didn't understand his majesty

- forced to flee in the face of danger

And Irony's deepest kiss: his birth meant the death of many others:

"Then Herod, when he saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, became furious, and he sent and killed all the male children in Bethlehem and in all that region who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had ascertained from the wise men." (Matt. 2:16, ESV)

Lately, I have been empty - of words, thoughts, joy, peace, comfort, strength and so much more. And it's in this trajectory toward nothingness that I find the deepest sorrow and gloom. I'm forced to guess that hell, in some way, must be like this, projected out into eternity - the endless, inexorable erosion of me with no end in sight. It isn't in becoming nothing that I find dread, but in being carried toward that courteous end forever, with the certainty that I'll never actually be granted it.

Yet I am told to have hope, to understand that good things are withheld from me now so that the best may fall into my lap in the future, to wait and see that this drought serves a very worthy purpose. My mind agrees and pleads with this chorus of voices for my soul to follow suit, but it will not. I can say this in many euphemisms, but simply put, I refuse to accept any of this.

I've seen spring follow winter, without fail, every single year of my life. I've ridden roller coasters, literal and metaphorical, and have found great pleasure in the ups and downs once I've gotten off. I've waken up after falling asleep, without fail, every single day of my life.

Yet even with all this embedded in the deepest fibers of my feeble mind's understanding, and memories of post-suffering thanksgiving and apologies flowing from my eyes and lips each and every time life arises again fresh in my mind's eye, I choose to turn my eyes away and doubt all of this all over again.

So, tonight, I am trying to thrust the accounts of Jesus' disruptive arrival into this world down into the depths of my double-speaking heart, because it reminds me of this:

If, out of all the death, disregard and despair that saturated his Son's supremely afflicted existence - what seemed a downright God-damned mess - God can pull out resurrection and life to the fullest, can he not also do the same with my trifle?

Do I, or will I ever completely understand why Christ, who would mean life to so many, was born in circumstances submerged in death? Will I ever fully know why it should require this much destruction to get what's left of me to whatever end awaits?

No, and no.

Though a more composed me might have the gall to protest this, the weary me has nothing left to protest with. He only cries for the same kind of reversal - for relief, for retreat, for pardon, for faith and for the upswing to happen soon so that life might be tasted again, whatever the cost.

Prodigal Miser

I have a dirty little secret.

But if I share this with you, you have to promise me that you'll keep it on the hush-hush.

Ready?

I use a lot of printer paper at work, and none of it for my actual job.

For example, I eat lunch every day at around 2 p.m. At around 1:50 p.m. I begin perusing some of my favorite Web sites for interesting articles that I can print out so that I can read them during my lunch break. I have been doing this since my first week at work, which was over a year and a half ago. During the NBA season, most of the articles I print will be basketball-related, but during the offseason I'll print maybe one or two basketball articles, then print out a couple more articles originating from various news sites. On average, I print out approximately 8-10 pages of content every afternoon.

This past week, I had to print out 100 copies of something that was not work-related. I printed 50 pages at one printer, and 50 at another. One of the printers kept on getting jammed, so every sixth or seventh sheet would get crumpled up in the printer and would have to be thrown out. Alas, it took about 10 minutes to print out all 100 pages. A tragedy, I know.

I began thinking about my liberal use of company paper (in addition to various other company resources, including napkins, plastic utensils, drinks, and toilet paper [this last one could be another entry by itself] among others) and realized that the reason why it is so easy for me to print things out is because I do not pay for the printer paper. In fact, I do not pay for a single thing I use at work.

Would I ever print out 100 pages of anything at home? No! And why is that? Yes, because I'm cheap, but also because...well, I'm cheap. I mean, c'mon, do you know how much printer ink costs these days? It's ridiculous.

Now, I began mulling this over on my drive home today. I don't know why exactly. I'm sure part of it stemmed from guilt, and part of it from sheer 'the-drive-home-after-work' boredom.

But I realized this: though my liberal printing habits at work is a fairly appalling offense, the idea behind it does not have to be.

The way I see it, (get ready for a trite statement) there are basically two types of people: those that think that their life is their own, and those that do not. To dig even further into the latter group of people, they can be further split into two groups: those that believe their life belongs to those around them, their fellow man, and those that believe their life belongs to a higher being.

I'm a Christian, so I will speak from that perspective.

As a Christian, I believe (among many other things) that my life belongs to God. Not in any shallow, vanilla sense either. To be more specific, I believe that my life has been ransomed, purchased, redeemed, etc. by God, and that this fact is evidenced by the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

So, in a very real sense, it is my firm conviction that everything in my life (my time, my energy, my words, my thoughts, my body, my resources, my personality, my pains, my joys, my passions, my strengths, my weaknesses, my likes, my dislikes, my past, my present, my future, etc.) is not my own, but God's, because in ransoming my life he has come to possess all of me. Like Paul says in Romans 6:22, I am now God's slave.

I have not paid a single cent for anything I have had, anything I have now, or anything I will have in the future, nor have I paid a single cent for anything and everything that I am (and am not) today. Nothing that I would call "mine" in human vernacular is really mine.

I have paid nothing for it; I have paid nothing for anything.

Here is the point of the entry where that incessant confabulator named Conscience begins to murmur something in my ear.

Why, then, is it so difficult for you to be liberal with it all?

Tomorrow, at around 2 p.m., I shall feel utterly penurious.

Seriously?

Robert Mugabe has reminded me of something: virtually every problem humans experience on this earth is the direct result of someone taking themselves either too seriously, or not seriously enough. In Mr. Mugabe's case, it's clearly the former.

I think that this is one of the few major roots that keep so many of us tied down from who and what we could be, from everything that we could potentially accomplish, from being things to others that we should always be daring to be.

And this is also another reason why the Gospel of Jesus Christ is so beautiful to me, for in it I see the absolute best response to the problem above. Clearly, the solution must lie somewhere in between the two extremes: we must avoid taking ourselves too seriously, while at the same time holding firmly to our very real significance. The Gospel helps us to do both, to steer clear between the two evils, and to regain our true glory.

It reminds us that we are absolutely nothing, that we are unable to do for ourselves the only thing that matters. It also reminds us that we are worth so much that our salvation demands (and receives) the highest price, paid on our behalf.

Or, as Tim Keller puts it:

And here is the source of true kindness. The salvation of Jesus humbles us profoundly – we are so lost that he had to die for us. But it exalts and assures us mightily — we are so valued that he was glad to die for us. Because we are sinners totally accepted by grace, we have both the humility and the boldness necessary to serve others for their sake, not ours.

And:

Lord Jesus Christ, I admit that I am weaker and more sinful than I ever before believed, but, through you, I am more loved and accepted than I ever dared hope. I thank you for paying my debt, bearing my punishment and offering forgiveness. I turn from my sins and receive you as Savior. Amen.

The Commander of the Lord's Army

Joshua 5:
13 When Joshua was by Jericho, he lifted up his eyes and looked, and behold, a man was standing before him with his drawn sword in his hand. And Joshua went to him and said to him, “Are you for us, or for our adversaries?” 14 And he said, “No; but I am the commander of the army of the Lord. Now I have come.” And Joshua fell on his face to the earth and worshiped and said to him, “What does my lord say to his servant?” 15 And the commander of the Lord's army said to Joshua, “Take off your sandals from your feet, for the place where you are standing is holy.” And Joshua did so.

John Gill:
Verse 13. ...and said unto him, [art] thou for us, or for our adversaries? by his appearing in this warlike posture, he concluded it was to take on one side or the other, either on the side of Israel, or of the Canaanites; and he seemed to suspect that it was on the side of the latter, and that he was one that was come to defy the armies of Israel, as Goliath afterwards did, 1 Samuel 17:8; and to engage in a single combat with Joshua their general, and so decide the war; in which, had this been the case, Joshua was ready to fight with him.

Verse 14. And he said, nay,.... Not for or on the side of their adversaries was he come, as Joshua suspected at the first sight of him...

but [as] Captain of the host of the Lord am I now come; of the host of the Lord both in heaven and in earth, angels and men, and particularly of the people of Israel, called the armies and host of the Lord, Exodus 7:4; so that though Joshua was general, Christ was Generalissimo; and so Joshua understood him, and therefore showed a readiness to do whatsoever he should command him; the spiritual Israel of God, the church, is in a militant state, and has many enemies to combat with, sin, Satan, the world, and false teachers; Christ is their Leader and Commander, the Captain of their salvation, and has all necessary qualifications or wisdom, courage, and might, for such an office; see Isaiah 55:4;

and Joshua fell on his face to the earth; in reverence of this divine and illustrious Person, whom he perceived to be what he was:

and did worship; gave him religious worship and adoration, which had he been a created angel he would not have given to him, nor would such an one have received it, Revelation 19:10;

and said unto him, what saith my Lord unto his servant? that is, what commands had he to lay upon him, and he was ready to execute them? he was heartily willing to be subject to him as the chief general of the Israelitish forces, and to consider himself, and behave, as an officer under him, and to obey all orders that should be given.

Verse 15. And the Captain of the Lord's host said unto Joshua,.... As a trial and proof of his obedience to him:

loose thy shoe from off thy foot; which is to be understood literally, as when the like was commanded Moses at Horeb, Exodus 3:5; though some interpret it figuratively; as Abarbinel, "remove from thee such thoughts that thou shall take this city by strength:"

for the place whereon thou standest [is] holy; because of the presence of this Person, and as long as he was there, though afterwards was as another place; the Jewish commentator, last mentioned, thinks this intimates that the city, and all in it (and all round about it), should be "cherem," devoted, and so be holy to the Lord:

and Joshua did so; loosed his shoe from his foot, in obedience to the Captain of the Lord's host, thereby giving proof of his readiness, willingness, and alacrity to serve under him.

Tame Cars, Aslan, and Only Children

I passed by a goose with its gosling today. They were grazing beside the Garden State Parkway, about three feet away from the shoulder. This surprised me, since so many loud cars sped by them. Yet, they were so calm, and didn't even seem to be aware of the metal monsters rumbling by. Either that, or they somehow believed these metallic beasts to be tame, always heeding the lines and never daring to cross over into their grassy territory.

For the majority of my waking hours, this is how I live my life. God is all around me, and indeed, in me. Yet, for some reason, I go on grazing the same old empty things, acting as if he is the one who is tame. I live as if he will never dare cross the line into my ignorant serenity, though I know from experience and further education that invasion is the very business he is in. He is always trying to rouse me from my ennui-saturated tameness, urging me to become wild with him. If his blood runs through my veins, how could it be any other way?

Just like Aslan, I know that God is not tame. He does not heed any lines. It is a sign of utter irreverence and fatal idiocy to think otherwise. So, I am a disrespectful idiot who would be on a quick trajectory towards hell if it were not for the very thing that I constantly ignore: God's penchant for invasion.

I am glad that he is not tame, but I fear the full meaning of it.

I'll end on a tangent.

I listened to a radio segment a couple days ago discussing the difficulties that families are enduring in the places hit hardest by the earthquake in China. One thing the reporter noted was the fact that because of the one-child policy enforced by the Chinese government, there were countless stories of couples losing their only children. While some couples counted themselves fortunate for breaching the law and having more than one child, the majority of them were deeply grieved because the children they lost in the earthquake were their only ones. Families of three were horribly pared down to two.

I genuinely hope and pray that these couples would find comfort in the Gospel, which tells us that God also endured the loss of his one and only child. He is neither far nor unfamiliar with their pain and sorrow.