A Comparison Beyond Competition

I don't know about you, but I really enjoy a good competition, and there's no better sport to bring that out in than baseball.

In baseball, more than any other team sport, you've got the spotlight on a 1-on-1 competition throughout the whole game. Whether it's the pitcher versus the batter, the base-runner versus the catcher, or even the manager versus the umpire, the 1-on-1 element is there throughout the sport.

Games and playoff series often come down to a single play involving a mono-y-mono showdown, and sometimes, even an entire season can be decided by such a play.

One such moment happened to my beloved Giants this May. The Orange and Black was in the midst of defending its World Series title, when 2010 NL Rookie of the Year Buster Posey went down for the season on a play at the plate that not only cost the team the game, but--in hindsight--effectively ended the season with four months left to play.

While other team sports may not feature the same type of in-game individuality, there's always constant debating about who's the best. Is it Kobe or LeBron? Magic or Michael? Favre or Montana? Rice or Ocho Cinco?

Alright, maybe that last one was a bit of a throw-away, but you get my point. Matchups are really fun.

That's probably why the book of Hebrews is always a good read. The basic premise of the book is that Jesus is supreme over everyone and everything, and the repetition of the book has all the complexity of a "My dad can whip your dad" argument.

But the simplicity of the argument form doesn't by any means reflect a lack of depth with the book, which is widely considered to be a sort of transcribed sermon from the early church.

In fact, the simplicity of the "my dad can whip your dad" outline only serves to frame some of the most clear and precious truths of the gospel.

Over and over again, the writer (or preacher) holds up something rightly regarded as worthy of honor and, in many cases, even worship, and over and over again, he holds said thing up to the light of who Jesus is, putting that thing in its proper perspective and Jesus into his--as the supreme Son who is indeed the final Word of God to the people of God.

The goal of this repeated comparison (in which there really is no contest) is to worship Jesus and cling solely to him whose throne is forever (1:8, cf Ps. 45).

• In chapter one, Jesus is superior to the angels as the unique Son of God, image of God, creator of all, holder together of all things, heir to all things and final purifier of the sins of his people. 

• Chapter two sees Jesus further compared to angels, as the one who has tasted death for his people and sanctified us, and is therefore not ashamed to call us brothers.

• Chapter three trumpets Jesus' superiority to Moses, the greatest of Old Testament figures, who nonetheless is counted as less honor than Christ even as a servant is counted of less honor than a Son.

• Chapters three and four contain a solemn call to enter into the rest provided by Jesus (the true and better Sabbath), and chapter four ends by beginning a larger argument that will last through the end of the book. 

It's toward the beginning of this broad argument that the writer/preacher brings up the name Melchizedek, who stands above all Old Testament figures as a mystery man among men.

Melchizedek had been introduced in Genesis 14, just after Abram had returned from whipping up on some kings. Melchizedek is introduced as the king of Salem (which means peace) and as the Priest of the Most High God.

As the writer/preacher of Hebrews points out at the beginning of chapter seven, Melchizedek had basically come out of nowhere to bless Abram and collect 10 percent of the spoils from war. No genealogy, no father or mother, "no beginning of days nor end of life, but resembling the Son of God he continues as priest forever."

And this Melchizedek, having mysteriously entered and exited the human scene, has only one true successor to his priesthood. Who might that be? You guessed it, Jesus.

Jesus, as eternal and unique Son and Image of the Invisible God--that is, as God himself, is the fulfillment of this mystery-shrouded Melchizedek character. And this priesthood--not the Levitical priesthood of the Old testament--has always been ultimate in God's plan.

The Levitical priesthood, even at its best, was always going to be temporary. It was a shadow, and this mysterious priesthood, began in Melchizedek and completed in Christ, has always been and always will be the substance.

And the writer/preacher will go on to explain that not only was Christ the true successor to the priesthood of mysterious Melchizedek, it was Christ himself who was the one-time sacrifice that would stand permanently for his people.

Alright, I know what you're thinking (if you're still reading). You're thinking, "So What?"

Good question, because as exciting as comparisons to the Old Testament and the Levitical priesthood may be, we need to come away from our time in the Word with something that applies to our everyday lives.

To frame it another way, "How does Jesus being the true and better Melchizedek motivate me to love my neighbors, or submit to my boss, or lead my family?"

Well, I'm not exactly sure it works that way. But I do know that we are to worship Jesus, and that will change everything--all of who we are and all of how we interact with the world.

As people who belong to Christ, we are in the process of being shaped into the image of Christ, and that only comes about by beholding Christ, as 2 Corinthians 3:18 makes clear. Beholding is becoming.

So, take a minute and let's behold five truths about Christ in this text:

• Jesus is our everlasting "in" to the inner place beyond the veil, and he can get us beyond the curtain with him. (6:19-20)

• The power of an indestructible life--not tribal lineage--is what makes Jesus the true successor of Melchizedek. (7:16)

• Jesus' replacement of the Levitical priesthood ushers in a "better hope, through which we draw near to God." (7:19)

• Jesus is the guarantor of a better covenant. (7:22)

• Jesus' eternal nature and present on-going prayer for those who draw near to God through him means that he's able to save them (us!) to the uttermost (i.e. completely). (7:25)

If all of this is true, if it's true that Jesus is--right now, even as we speak--interceding for us before the Father, having offered himself up for us once and for all, then we can trust him, worship him and obey him.

If he's the guarantor of a better covenant, then we Christians can have faith to boldly proclaim the gospel as ambassadors of the King and heralds of good news.

If he's a priest based on the fact that he has indestructible life (think resurrection), then we know that nothing can separate us from his love.

Yes, as impractical as it may sound, worshiping this "Incomparable Christ" will change all of who we are.

The Easy Street to Cultural Currency

I don't mean to brag, but last night, I came home with quite a bit of coin.

In fact, I'll go so far to say that what I brought back from my new job at Easy Street Cafe amounted to the best 18 bucks I could have hoped for.

What's so impressive about the 18 dollarinos? I'm glad you asked.

A major portion of the answer revolves around the fact that, when you're training as a server, you're not supposed to walk out the door with any money whatsoever. The basic idea is that you know nothing, so you follow someone who does (kind of like a lost puppy), and you use that time to figure out what that particular restaurant's soup of the day happens to be, or what fries come with what sandwich, etc.

As you might expect--or know from experience--it doesn't take a superabundance of shifts to feel like you have a pretty good grasp on what you're supposed to be doing when the restaurant sets you loose on their patrons. So after two or three shifts, you're serving tables all by your lonesome, only to find yourself bequeathing all of your newly earned riches to the aforementioned server who knows way more than you do, but nonetheless has been doing very little work to earn the tip that you've just handed over.

My manager from Macaroni Grill had a kind way of reminding me of this when I was first starting out. As I was running around hocking wine and lasagna, Cliff took time out of his busy schedule to stop me and say, "You know what stinks about tonight? You're doing aaaaaalll of this work, and making no money."

Thanks, Cliff, I really appreciated your comment, and am in no way bitter even four years later...

Where was this blog going? Ah yes, the 18 bucks I made last night.

As I was saying before, you're not supposed to me making any money while you're training, and since I was still in training mode last night, I didn't go to work even expecting to cruise with 18 Washingtons. So, my low hopes were more than exceeded when both servers that I had been working alongside of approached me and offered me some 'atta-boy' cash.

What those 18 bones stood for was much more than just a couple dollars shy of 20. What they say, along with the actual words of the servers dealing them out, was that--at least for a night--my hard work had not gone unnoticed, and that my status as the new guy had been somewhat upgraded.

What those 18 dollars really stand for is forward movement toward cultural currency, the right to speak into the lives of others. It means that incremental progress has been made (if only a little) in building a platform for the proclamation of the Gospel in my workplace, and that thrills my heart.

You see, I really want the Lord to use me in this job--as long as He has me there--to be involved in the lives of my co-workers, to get to really know them and care for them, and to invite them into the life of my family--both home and church.

I really want them to see Christ as the all-satisfying Treasure that He is, and to know the joy of being called the sons (and daughters) of God.

If this motivation is true, then my pattern of work has to remain consistently Christ-centered. It means that I need to be careful to ask the right questions at my tables and pay attention to detail when I communicate the order back to the kitchen.

I really think there's few things more detrimental to the Gospel taking root in our workplaces than our failure to work hard. It's laughable at best, but blasphemy at worst to think that I can be a half-hearted employee and lousy co-worker, yet expect anyone to want to hear about the hope that I have within me.

It means that when everyone else stands around complaining about the heat, cold, humidity, slow night, slammed day, demanding boss, that I need to do all things without grumbling and complaining, and so shine like light in a dark world.

In short, all I'm talking about is living out our old friend, the Puritan Work Ethic, which is to say that the way we work reflects the way we think of our God. If we think lowly of God, then we will join the host of slackers and whiners that the world is chalked full of.

But, if we think highly of God, then we will realize that He put Adam in the Garden to work the land. That means that God created everyday work, blesses it, and desires for us to live out our passion for Him through our so-called Joe jobs.

Can you picture Jesus, while living out the active righteousness that we owed to God, working as a carpenter? It's not a glamorous job, to say the least.

Picture the One who not only spoke oak trees into being, but currently holds together by the word of His mouth, carefully crafting a cabinet or a table. Do you think He did shoddy work in His Nazareth storefront? Not likely.

For my part, I know I have been rescued by a great God who has done all that is needed for my salvation and my sanctification through the life, death and resurrection of Christ. And if this is all true, then it applies at Easy Street Cafe.

Pray that God would give me the strength to live this out, and I'll be praying for you.

The Forgotten Fruit of Faithfulness

It's safe to say that we live in a culture that prizes the concept of "radical."

We--and I definitely include myself in this category--love to think of ourselves as revolutionary firebrands, as if our generation is the cumulative second-coming of a technologically equipped Martin Luther.

We love to glorify the cowboy, the lone ranger, the wild men who break free from the prison bars of a 9 to 5 and a lawn to mow.

While much of this is attitude can be good and necessary, I think that we as Christians are especially prone to exalt a radical out-of-the-box attitude as the newly discovered chief end of man.

It strikes me as odd--and most of all, humbling--then, that the concept of "radical living" in and of itself is nowhere to be found in the Scriptures. Of course, as Jesus steps onto the stage of human history, He delivers one challenge after another that require a radical change at the heart level--akin to being born again--but you won't find Him calling His disciples to become a group of mavericks who renounce convention as a spiritual act in and of itself.

In fact, what the Scriptures hold up as the the normal and practical context of a Christian living out his or her faith is just that: normal and practical.

Maybe, instead of Christ calling His disciples to merely flaunt convention, He's calling us to a change that is deeper than simply quitting a job or selling a house. You don't need to be given a new heart to figure out that the American Dream isn't all it's cracked up to be, but you do need to be given a new heart if you're going to love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.

This is the kind of change that will result in that increasingly forgotten virtue known as faithfulness.

Now, if you're anything like me, that may not exactly thrill your heart to hear that, because it seems so mundane and ordinary. Faithfulness doesn't sound all that exciting, but for the believer, faithfulness is a clear sign that God is actively working in our lives, producing the fruit that is to be characteristic of His people.

The forgotten fruit of faithfulness is what my friend and former boss, Tim, reminded me of this past year. Tim had originally hired me at Concordia, and I worked under him for a year before he moved onto a different position at the school.

I have all the respect in the world for Tim as a godly man and a leader, and so when I came upon hard times in the past year, I went to him for advice.

After listening to my situation and helping me to think through a couple of different issues, he said something so simple that I was almost tempted to pass it by.

He said, "Jay, God is not calling us to do anything heroic or to be liked by everybody, but He is calling us to be faithful. With His help, I think it's a pretty achievable goal."

A few months removed from that conversation, I'm still getting a bit choked up just remembering those words and the deep, lasting consolation the Lord delivered to my soul that afternoon.

Far from boring and mundane, faithfulness is a miraculous fruit that is produced by God's Spirit in the hearts and lives of believers.

And how does faithfulness show itself? In everyday life, of course.

Faithfulness means answering the bell morning after morning, working hard, paying attention to detail at our jobs, refusing to be distracted and waste our company's time. It means that we are consistent in the time we spend with our families, making that time count by pouring into them and showing them how to walk with the Lord.

Faithfulness also means pursuing relationships that God is putting naturally in our lives; relentlessly loving, knowing and caring for our friends, co-workers and neighbors and ceaselessly praying that God would open a door for His gospel there.

Faithfulness means that we make the most of our time, realizing that time is short and we are on a mission to reach a dying world with the good news of God who has loved us and pursued us even to the point of death so that we might live in Him.

I pray that God would produce this forgotten fruit of faithfulness in me more and more.

"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law. And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires." -Galatians5:22-24

Columbus, C.S., and the God of All Comfort

As I checked my email for the ump-teenth time this afternoon, it hit me: My god is too small.

Before you get too excited and start putting a tract in the first-class mail headed for Columbus, allow me to point out the lack of capitalization on the above "g".

Because by no means is the God of Glory, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, too small. No, no, He is the One who raised Christ Jesus from the dead.

The god I'm talking about is decidedly smaller than the aforementioned God who sits enthroned above the earth, looking down upon the sons of men as if they were grasshoppers--yet still taking notice of us image-bearers of the Holy One.

The god I'm talking about is nothing more than a crude replica of the God of All Comfort. This mini-g deity is simply the god of comfort, offering--in the place of unconditional trust in the creating, sustaining and redeeming love of God--a paycheck.

Not that I'm against paychecks per se, in fact quite the opposite, I'm for 'em. Especially as it applies to supporting my family, as per the emphatic direction given in 1 Timothy 5:8, which declares that  a so-called believer sitting on his duff, neglecting the needs of his family, is in a worse predicament than that of an unbeliever.

Or, to steal a line from It's a Wonderful Life, "(Money) comes in pretty handy 'round here, Bub!"

With right around 25 applications in process and just over a week into moving my fledgling family across the country to the fair (and slightly humid) city of Columbus, Ohio, I'm ready to get working.

A natural and godly inclination, to be sure, but one that is easily perverted by the Enemy.

Here's how it has worked in my mind over this last week: I'll spend a few hours at a time feverishly applying to anything from local coffee shops to multi-million dollar marketing corporations, then I'll refresh my inbox, literally not willing to leave a new email unopened for more than a minute or two.

Since I have my email set to pop up when a new email arrives, the question to "Is there a new email?" is invariably "No" when I check it this way, but still, I want to be extra sure I'm not missing something, as if the email will read, "This job will self-destruct in 10-9-8..."

Now I'm sure I'm not the first, last or only person to ever experience this cycle, but what I noticed with increased clarity this afternoon was the fact that, instead of thanking God for allowing me to play a part in His story and asking to make me faithful to play it well, I have been begging that He would quickly bring along a job, period.

But what if, during this time of job-seeking, God is not most passionate that I find a job, but that I seek Him more, that I realize my dependence upon Him more. What if He desires me to pray for His kingdom to come with a fervency that I wouldn't have if everything was dialed in?

Could it be that He is using this unique time--now more than ever--to cause me to deny myself, take up my cross and follow Him?

If that's going to happen, I know that the top casualty is going to be the mini-g god of comfort.

It's going to end up looking something like the scene C.S. Lewis creates in The Great Divorce, where one of the ghosts has an extremely painful lizard-ectomy of the shoulder. The lizard had been a nuisance and a tormentor of the ghost up until this point, directing his paths, yet disallowing him to be free and whole.

When the lizard is finally removed from the ghost's shoulder, there's a terrible, agonizing scream from the ghost, but he is transformed into a solid man, and the lizard is transformed into a great stallion that suddenly serves as a faithful steed--not an encumbrance--for the now-solid man.

Uncomfortable as the process may be right now, there stands the God of All Comfort, promising to replace my self-made, shabby version of "comfort" with that infinite, unfading variety of Comfort found only in sharing in the afflictions of Christ.

The test is going to be whether or not I check my email right after I get done posting this self-directed sermon.

Ready? Set? Go.

The Reason for our Watchfulness

With all the buzz created from the most recent End-of-the-World prediction, I'm glad the Giants and A's had the foresight to schedule an early start time to this afternoon's game.

First pitch is at 4:10,  so Tim Lincecum and Brett Anderson have a solid 1:50 to get through five innings and get a winner declared before the clock strikes 6 p.m. Billy Beane must have been behind that decision--Moneyball indeed...

It really has been interesting, and even thought-provoking to watch how today's world takes in an exact doomsday prediction, what with all the social media out there (including, but not limited to, the Official Site of Jay and Janelle Hobbs).

In the past few weeks, I've joined the Twitter-verse, and along with my theological/pastoral follows, I'm following several sportswriters (mainly Giants beat writers), along with one of my favorite comedians, Jim Gaffigan.

Jim has plenty to say about all the aforementioned buzz, for example:

• Dear God, Can I get extension on my Judgement Day? I was sick & distracted by Twitter. (btw follow back?)
• This Rapture stuff is silly. BTW how do I become a good person in 12 hrs? Anyone know what God’s favorite ice cream is?
• Anyone know if the shuttles to Hell will have Wifi? Asking for a friend.
• “I didn’t say Judgment Day. I said Judge MINT Day. Which is better Mentos or Tic Tacs? Hope there wasn’t any confussion.” - God 

Outside of recognizing these tweets for sheer comedic value, isn't this an enlightening window to see how our world--and if we're being honest--we tend to view the coming Judgement, that Day on which God will set everything to rights and separate the sheep from the goats?

The enlightening and convicting element to all of this is that, in response to a knucklehead on the radio who no doubt has a whacky timeline that includes some version of flannelgraph, we are treating the Judgement as something fictional.

What we need to realize--both Christians and non-Christians--is that the Day of the Lord is coming. It's as far from fictional as it gets.

And Jesus has plenty to say about that Day. In fact, he devotes two chapters-worth of solid teaching on the subject in Matthew 24-25, which begins with his disciples asking him for a precise date of his return and ends with Jesus reminding the Twelve that a different "Day" is right around the corner--the Day of his death.

A few things about the Day of the Lord (Judgement Day) to glean from these chapters:

• Birth Pains Precede Baby
• You can't miss it
• Ready or Not, Here I Come

Birth Pains Precede the Baby
For anyone who's been in or around a delivery room (or even a pregnant woman), you know that pain precedes delivery. This may seem like a fairly obvious point, but Jesus applies it to the signs of his coming.

He says that nation rising up against nation, kingdoms rising up against kingdoms, famines and earthquakes will precede his coming. Alright, we have all of those things happening now--in the past year, month, week, even days, not to mention the Israel border scuttlebutt in Washington--doesn't that mean that He is coming soon and very soon?

Well maybe. But birth pains don't start the same clock for everyone. They are valid signals that the process is underway, but some women are in labor for 24 or more hours, while others are in labor for just an hour or so. It's an inexact, non-precise metaphor, and you've gotta believe that Jesus understood that.

The folly of predicting the exact timing of the Lord's return is underscored repeatedly throughout these two chapters, as Jesus says things like, "But concerning that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only."

Are we to believe that the angels and the very Son of God himself, Jesus who is at the Father's right hand, don't know the time, but some old dude in Oakland does? That is folly. 

The fact that all these things (wars, earthquakes, etc.) are happening and have been happening for 2,000 years is directly related to another statement of Jesus in Matthew 24: "And this gospel of the kingdom will be proclaimed throughout the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and then the end will come."

The end is coming, and that means we Christians need to get about the work of worldwide evangelism. It means that I need to be bold with people I interact with on an everyday basis, and it means that I need to be willing to orient my life in such a way that people hear the gospel and have a chance to believe.

You Can't Miss It
Okay, so we can't know for sure when. Does that mean that we won't know when it actually is happening? Not at all, it's going to be the clearest event imaginable. You can't miss it.

Jesus uses at least three metaphors in these two chapters that all speak to the clarity of his coming:

• It's like lightning going from one end of the sky to the other--you can't miss it
• It's like when vultures gather, you know there's a corpse there--you won't be able to misinterpret it
• It's like when a seasonal tree that blooms only in the spring blooms, you know it's spring--again, no interpretation necessary, it's that obvious

He's saying these things in order to comfort his disciples--the Twelve and us. We're always afraid of not getting invited to the party, or showing up late to the dance, but what Jesus is saying is that it will be an absolute impossibility to miss his coming. When he comes, everyone will know it.

That means that when someone claims to have insider knowledge, we can and should reject what they are saying out of hand. By definition, nobody has insider knowledge. What has been whispered in the inner rooms will be proclaimed from the rooftops.

That's why its baffling and a clear work of the devil that so many are sucked in by claims to insider knowledge. Anyone who claims insider knowledge to the mind and work of God is a charlatan and a liar, and there's no grey area there. Jesus doesn't allow for it.

Ready or Not, Here I Come
Then what should our response be, as Christians who know we will be rescued on that great and unmistakeable Day of the Lord?

Jesus says that we need to get busy.

He uses several metaphors to point out the fact that we need to live in constant readiness and preparedness for his coming.

It's like the master of the house has gone out of town and we don't know when he's coming back. Our response, in that case, ought to be to live as if he's coming back today. To redeem the time and be a productive servant in his house.

It's like the 10 young ladies waiting for the bridegroom to come. Half of them are wise and bring extra oil for their lamps, because they don't know exactly when he's coming, while the other half are foolish and assume that they won't need extra oil. Guess what? The run out of oil and miss the wedding feast.

It's as if he has given us various gifts and wants us to make the best use of them possible. We may know that he requires much of us--i.e. all of who we are--but that is to be motivation for productivity and kingdom advancement, not a sanctifying of our laziness.

In each of these metaphors, the consequences for abusing our time are severe. The wicked servant is ordered to be chopped into pieces and thrown out where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth, while the worthless, gift-wasting servant is likewise thrown out into outer darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Maybe the most severely disappointing consequence comes to the unprepared virgins, who, in the words of Rocky Balboa, "Should have planned ahead." They have to make a last-minute run to the lamp-oil store, and when they return, they knock on the door only to hear the devastating words of the bridegroom:

"Truly I say to you, I do not know you."

As rightly terrifying as the other two consequences are, I'm struck even more by this statement. That is tragedy. To think you know the Heavenly Bridegroom and find out at the moment of truth that in fact, He doesn't know you.

What to Wear
I want more than anything else in the world to be known by Heaven's Bridegroom. So how do I prepare?

Here's how: I will trust in the Bridegroom and his sin-bearing death, and I will claim his resurrection as my own. Then, I will get active and live out his mission.

It won't do to short-circuit trust in the Bridegroom and just start working. No, he has done the work. He is the master of the house, the Bridegroom, and it would be the highest act of mistrust and treason if I were to just try and work my way toward preparedness.

He has done the work, yet I am called to fruitful, prepared kingdom living. That's the difference between a sheep and a goat. A sheep feeds the hungry, gives drink to the thirsty, clothes the naked, and visits both the sick and the prisoner.

The sheep does this because he himself was once hungry, thirsty, naked, sick and imprisoned, but the Shepherd-King, the Son of Man, gave him--gave me!--food, water, clothes, and visited the sick (dead), imprisoned sheep.

This is the heart of the gospel. King Jesus has visited us, and he himself has given us life, righteousness and joy. He is coming back some day soon to rescue his people, and I can't wait.

Lord, make me busy, useful and prepared in the meantime.

God Beyond the Trivia

When I was a kid in Sunday school, our teacher asked us this question:

"Can God make a rock so big that He can't even move it?"

Even though I was 12, that question struck me as bogus. One that I would later come to find out to be on par with, "How many angels can fit on the head of a pin."

The reformers had a pretty sweet answer to questions like that. There was an on-going battle of half-wit theologians who were trying to decifer what God was doing before He created the world. The reformers' answer:

"He was creating hell for people who pry into mysteries."

You've gotta love an answer like that. It like when the Pharisees came asking Jesus where He got His powers in Matthew 21. Far from playing along with their little politically charged game, Jesus poses them another brain-buster in return:

"I'll answer you that if you can tell me where John the Baptist got His power."

This was a provocative question, and the Pharisees had no answer at all for it, because neither of their potential answers would meet their self-serving purposes. If they say John's authority was from heaven, then that doesn't square with the fact that they opposed him and eventually had him whacked.

On the other hand, if they say his authority came from man (which is really what they think), then a riot is going to break out immediately, because the people overhearing this conversation believed whole-heartedly that John was a prophet of God.

Jesus then goes into a couple of parables that depict God's chosen people--Israel, and more specifically, the Pharisees--rejecting and killing not just the prophets (i.e. John), but the Son Himself (i.e. Jesus). Now that's what you call conversation domination!

What do these questions have in common? They're irrelevant, and therefore, irreverent and even sacrelgious. When God comes to us, He doesn't come in the form of a brain-teaser, whipping up gargantuan stones that He may or may not be able to lift.

He also doesn't come in the form of a decoder ring, breaking down His every thought from eternity past. He doesn't come to answer all of our self-serving curiosities.

But still, when God comes to us, questions are answered and His Truth--He Himself--is revealed. When Jesus, the eternal Word of God, takes on flesh, He is "full of grace and truth." After all, He is "the way, the truth and the life."

In Jesus, we are given "all things that pertain to life and godliness." That means God doesn't just reveal to us tid-bits or trivia about Himself, but rather, in Christ we see and know all things neccesary to know God and live for Him.

Let's put this into practical terms: When Christ is revealed, we don't receive any insight into God's creative ability as it pertains to rocks, but we do discover something about suffering.

In Christ, we see that God not only knows and cares about our pain, but He comes down and joins us in it. Christ--the very essence of God--who was eternally loved and cherished by the God the Father, took on flesh and lived among us.

It's like the song says: "What if God was one of us/Just a slob like one of us/Just a stranger on a bus..."

Well, He was one of us. He came and joined us in our suffering, and in fact, suffered much more than we could ever imagine.

Do we know the pain of watching the innocent suffer? What about the pain of losing a loved one? A mother, or even a son?

The beauty of the Gospel is that God not only knows all about our suffering, He identifies with it to the maximum degree. Picture Christ, naked and alone on a cross, what does He cry? "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?!"

He knows all about our suffering. He has experienced it to the max. But that is little comfort if that's all that He's done. What if God knows all about our suffering and even identifies with us, but can't do anything about it? That is little consolation, if any.

We need a God that is stronger than our suffering, One who goes toe-to-toe with death itself and comes out on top. Picture Christ, risen and exalted, and what does the Father say, "You are my Son, today I have begotten you ... Sit at my right hand until I make your enemies a footstool to your feet."

God creating universe-sized rocks that He's barely able to lift means absolutely nothing to me. Christ on the cross, suffering for me and conquering death on my behalf--now that means absolutely everything to me.

What's it mean to you?

Dental Drilling, Gospel Wounding

I'm not a big fan of pain, and even less so when it comes to my mouth.

Because of that, I usually avoid the going to dentist at all costs. Come to think of it, cost also has a good deal to do with why I generally steer clear of road signs directing me to anyone bearing the initials "D.D.S.".

Call me crazy, but I don't normally look for ways to lose money and endure pain at the same time.

What is the cost? Great.

How will it feel? Not so good.

Count me in!

One of my favorite things that the dentist tends to ask is, "How are you feeling?" Not so good, actually, you've got a drill in my mouth and I'm just praying that the needle you shoved into my gums not too long ago does its job and keeps me numb.

Maybe they're asking the wrong question. Maybe (ok, probably) the reason I'm there at the dentist has more to do with setting my disheveled mouth back in order than it has to do with my momentary comfort.

But notice, I said "momentary comfort," because what I hope and expect to gain from this momentary discomfort--or, in the words of Paul, "this momentary affliction"--has everything to do with my future comfort, my future health, and my future happiness.

Dentally, I don't want to be like my dad, whose teeth betray him like Julius Caesar's good buddy Brutus on a daily basis. It's time to take action now, while there's still time to save my 32 teammates.

All this to say that the more serious our situation, the more we will be willing to give up to fix it.

Think about it like this: I don't remember ever throwing a cooler full of drinks and food overboard from my parent's ski boat, but then again, I've never been in the middle of the Arctic Ocean with a glacier-shaped hole in the hull of said sea-going vessel.

When God comes to us--when the eternal Word takes on flesh--He finds us in dire straights. We don't just need a cleaning or a filling--we need oral surgery. We don't just need to gas up the ski boat, our vessel is damaged beyond repair, the band is playing and we're out of life boats.

And that, my friends, is uncomfortable news. Oh, how comfortable it would have been if the dentist would have told me that my mouth is awesome and I don't need any work! But that would be a hateful and cowardly dentist who would deliver such false news, and my teeth would continue to decay and die.

Thank God that He is not hateful and cowardly. He not only delivered the bad news--"You must be born again to inherit the kingdom", "You were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked," "You were alienated and hostile in mind"--He himself became the Good News.

"The Word became flesh and dwelt among us."

In Christ, we have One who came and joined us in our suffering. More than that, He became the worst and lone truly innocent victim of human suffering. Or, as Isaiah had said so long before, "with his stripes, we are healed."

Is this an offensive message? Does what God says about your sin offend you? Good, because it's supposed to.

Receive the news. Endure the affliction that it causes, because the cost is minimal compared to the inexpressible joy of seeing Christ, being united to Him and living in the hope of seeing Him in glory.