SMALL

There are some hardships that strike you in the face with the appalling truth of how small you truly are.

Strangely, there are some blessings that do the same.

HIS MIRTH

  Joy, which was the small publicity of the pagan, is the gigantic secret of the Christian. And as I close this chaotic volume I open again the strange small book from which all Christianity came; and I am again haunted by a kind of confirmation. The tremendous figure which fills the Gospels towers in this respect, as in every other, above all the thinkers who ever thought themselves tall. His pathos was natural, almost casual. The Stoics, ancient and modern, were proud of concealing their tears. He never concealed His tears; He showed them plainly on His open face at any daily sight, such as the far sight of His native city. Yet He concealed something.

  Solemn supermen and imperial diplomatists are proud of restraining their anger. He never restrained His anger. He flung furniture down the front steps of the Temple, and asked men how they expected to escape the damnation of Hell. Yet He restrained something. I say it with reverence; there was in that shattering personality a thread that must be called shyness. There was something that He hid from all men when He went up a mountain to pray. There was something that He covered constantly by abrupt silence or impetuous isolation. There was some one thing that was too great for God to show us when He walked upon our earth; and I have sometimes fancied that it was His mirth.

- the closing words of "Orthodoxy" by G.K. Chesterton

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.

I WILL SEE YOU AGAIN

So also you have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you. (John 16:22 ESV, emphasis added)

In John 16, Jesus spends many of his words warning his disciples of hardships to come. In verse 22, he speaks of their sorrow when he must leave them for a little while, but he also offers comfort.

I noticed something peculiar about the way Jesus phrased this comfort -- the words in bold.

When I think of a lover leaving his beloved for a short while, I hear him telling his darling something along the lines of, "You're sad now, but you will see me again, and you will rejoice." It would be a bit odd if he were to say, "You're sad now, but I will see you again, and you will rejoice."

After all, what would his vision of his beloved have to do with her joy?

But it seems to me that this is the wrong way of looking at this. Instead, I'll conjecture that when Jesus says "but I will see you again," he is betraying his humility and humanness in a wonderfully subtle yet moving way. The emphasis in his comfort is that he will see his disciples again, not that they will see him.

When the lover assures his beloved that she will see him again, the emphasis, the weight is placed on him -- on his face being seen.

However, when the lover assures his beloved that he will see her again, the emphasis, the weight is placed on her -- on her face being seen.

Jesus is fully justified in placing the emphasis on himself and himself alone, yet he doesn't. His emphasis was, is and will always be on us, his beloved, together with him.

KNOCKED UP (WITH LOVE)

Here's something I wrote back in 2007, unedited:

I saw the film 'Knocked Up' twice this week, and I think it's a very good movie.  I mean, it's quite vulgar, and I hope that teenagers don't get the idea that having unprotected intercourse will end up fine and dandy, but it's a solid film.  It's a great blend of comedy (consistent like dough in bread, not like blueberries in a blueberry muffin...wait, did I make sense?) with a substantial storyline that is steered almost flawlessly by the actors.  I really liked this movie.

(By the way, the most underrated scene involves Ryan Seacrest.  There's no way he was acting that.)

There were loads of great scenes, but the hotel room scene with the five chairs was definitely one of the standouts.  It wasn't just hilarious, but I really think that in their drugged out state, Ben and Pete actually experienced a significant moment of clarity and understanding.  As ironic as that is, I really think that's what made this scene so special.

I want to discuss Pete's epiphany.  While he was freaking out about the chairs in the hotel room, Pete realizes (out loud) that the reason why his marriage is in trouble is the fact that his wife loves him.

"The biggest problem in our marriage is that she wants me around.  And I can't even accept that?  I don't think I can accept pure love," he says.

I really liked this part of the script.  Not only did it strangely make complete sense for Pete's situation (and I'm sure many relationships/marriages), but it makes sense for those of us who aren't even in relationships or married.

It seems to me that the main, foundational, driving reason why Christians struggle in their faith is the fact that they cannot accept "pure love" and what it entails.

What I think I mean is that because God's love is perfect, it demands us.  It does not demand anything of us, but it demands us.  God wants us around.

But this is the problem for us, isn't it?  Because we are sinful we do not want God around so much.  Yes, we desire his hand in our lives when we are in need, and of course there are many times when we genuinely desire him.  However, we always seem to draw lines around the areas of our lives that he can totally possess.

Our Lord always wants to speak with us (with, not just to), he is always waiting for us to share our thoughts and troubles and joys with him, he is always desiring to have us fully...not only because we are rightfully his, but because in his perfect love he desires our very best.

Oswald Chambers said, "The great enemy of the life of faith in God is not sin, but the good which is not good enough. The good is always the enemy of the best."

Because we desire God's good we think that is enough.  We turn our backs to him whenever he tries to offer us his best...namely, himself.  We have no problem accepting his gifts, but we do have a problem accepting him.

Do you need proof of his love?  Do you need a visual example of how much he loves us?  Look no further than the cross, where Christ died for us so that we might experience the perfect love of our Father.  Still, for whatever reasons, we turn our backs on what that perfect love offers us.

For me, the most practical thing this boils down to is my time.  Yes, I have work and various other obligations.  But do I spurn my Father with the time I have left?  I know he wants to spend time with me because he has great things to say and show to me, but for some reason that's a problem for me.  To be honest, there are many days where I won't spend more than 10-20 minutes reading the Bible or praying.  And still I feel somewhat smothered by God's love and desire to spend time with me.  It becomes an inconvenience to me.

I am like Pete.  The biggest problem in my relationship with God is that he wants me around.

This old man in me, this sinful vestige is harnessing me to this wretched state.  I don't say that to clear me of blame, but that is an undeniable fact.  The old, sinful man in me cannot accept God's pure love...yet.  I am looking forward to the day when that will change.

For now, I put my hope in (wouldn't you know it?) that perfect love of our Lord, because I know in it there is forgiveness, mercy, and a sure promise of progress and eventual perfection in the years to come.

  Why do you mean so much to me?  Help me to find words to explain.  Why do I mean so much to you, that you should command me to love you?  And if I fail to love you, you are angry and threaten me with great sorrow, as if not to love you were not sorrow enough in itself.  Have pity on me and help me, O Lord my God.  Tell me why you mean so much to me.  - Saint Augustine