Lost Crusader #167 The Fulness of Time

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God…and the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth.

Gospel of John

On the eve of Christmas, I am engrossed in a study of The Revelation and the events that herald the timeless future. Perhaps, then, it is only fitting tonight to turn my thoughts to the timeless past.

The time, place, and events connected to the baby in a Bethlehem manger was thought out and set in motion no later than the onset of Creation. Before morning and evening were the first day, there was our Savior—the complete expression of God. When the scriptures say, “God said”, the Word was what he was saying. That Word was the power that caused the Creation.

The unleashing of the energy in a relatively small amount of uranium is both awe-inspiring and terrible. The Word that bound that energy into the creation of that same lump of uranium is no less so. That boundless power by His own choice took on flesh, was born as a man, and lay helpless in a manger for one solitary purpose—to bring peace between God and Man by His death and resurrection.

Peace and good will are God’s gifts to you and me. The prophets foretold it, the angels proclaimed, but Jesus Christ made it happen. He has stepped back beyond the bounds of space and time. From His exalted place beyond time, He still raises the dead, finds the lost, strengthens the weak, heals the broken, and sets the captive free.

If the Christmas season inspires love, hope, and miracles, it is because it is a celebration of He who is love, who gives hope and works miracles. What better symbol of these things than a newborn baby?

The same John who wrote this text said in another place, we saw, heard, and touched Him. He touched the One who is the creative Word. An imperfect man actually touched the holy, perfect God. It sounds almost miraculous. Almost only because He is still touchable today—make contact; it’s the greatest gift of all.

“But when the fulness of time was come, God sent forth His Son, made of a woman, made under the law…”

Maranatha

  

Know Jack #376 Unsupervised

 I worked the night shift for large portions of my children’s lives. That’s how it was done when both parents worked back in the days when the times they were a changing. Dad worked all night and Mom went to work during the day. Of course, that arrangement didn’t begin until the youngest started school—until then, we just sucked it up and carried on the best we could. We didn’t feel oppressed by a certain mean-spirited political party. We certainly didn’t feel endowed with a special privilege; it was life.

When my youngest son was in kindergarten, he and I had an arrangement. Lunch was in the fridge. He got off the bus, came in through the unlocked door and claimed it without waking me. He was so good at being supervised by a snoring father that, on paydays I had him wake me when he arrived. We picked up my check and went out to eat as a reward. (His siblings never knew this until they had children of their own.) He was good at secrets too.

Then came my youngest daughter. To say the story changed is a wee bit of an understatement. Don’t misunderstand me, I love her, but she was not one to be unsupervised. “Daddy, you know I get into things,” was her watchword of the day.

I told you that to shed light on the fact that I’m unsupervised at the moment. That may or may not bode well. However, this is my chance to say something I’ve wanted to say for several weeks. I am seriously considering bringing this blog to an end. I feel that I am uniquely unqualified to write it because I don’t know jack.

In the general sense of knowing jack, consider that I’m a high school dropout. I did stumble along to an Associate’s in Applied Science degree twenty-one years later. That two-year endeavor still leaves me an uneducated, mouth-breathing, knuckle dragger. Living in an imaginary world has made my life interesting though. And it makes the delusions I labor under, if not easy, then less difficult to tolerate.

As for my occasional forays into rambling on about writing and writers, what I know on the subject wouldn’t spark a debate as to whether the thimble was half full or half empty. It is, therefore, quite clear to me that I should not be dispensing advice or opinions.

As for knowing Jack? I really don’t know him at all.

He is like a man from a story written long ago. As the story goes, there was a man who spent his life reading his books. When he wasn’t reading he would sally forth into the real world in foolish attempts to live the life of duty, honor, valor, and chivalry that he read about. His manner and conversation were perfectly sound and his thoughts well reasoned until those subjects came up. Once the image and ideals of being a knight came up, he was lost to reality. He was beaten, ridiculed, robbed, and finally, deceived by his friends. He almost died a happy man. He was denied a happy end by his loved ones who succeeded in convincing him that he had read all the wrong books.

The fate of the blog? Just one more thing I don’t know.

Maranatha

Lost Crusader #166 They Grow Up So Fast

 “For there is born to you this day in the City of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.”

Luke 2:11

Newborns are a kind of law unto themselves. They are full of such promise and hope. They are a source of both great joy and of great tragedy. It is only the coldest of human hearts that is not reduced to nonsense syllables by the face of a baby. How my classmates would gush and coo over the little ones in the newborn nursery. As a father of teens at that time, I warned that babies tend to outgrow their cuteness after twelve or thirteen years.

Everybody seems to love Baby Jesus at Christmas time. And why not? The angels are singing in a star-studded sky. Shepherds gather to get a peek at the newborn baby in the manger. The feeling is all about peace, love, and good will toward men. Meanwhile, gifts are given and received.

This is as it should be. It is a celebration of God’s gift of a Savior who will restore the divine-human relationship born in Eden. Talk is of miracles, love, and healing.

Then, the Baby grows up.

Suddenly, He’s not so cute and cuddly, not so helpless, and not so quiet. He has begun to speak, and we don’t like what we hear. That angels attend Him, and miracles follow Him is no longer the joyous news it was. Now, He expects the worship the angels proclaimed was due Him.

“From that time Jesus began to preach and to say, ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand’.”

All the rest of His teaching—for which so many are glad to label Him a great moral teacher—is merely expansion and explanation of this message. An understanding of God begins with this message of the babe born in Bethlehem. His birth was not an end in itself. It was a beginning, an open door to an eternal relationship founded on peace, love, and spiritual healing.

The grown, mature Jesus is the door—the Way, the Truth, and the Life for every grown, mature heart that receives Him. He is still as meek and mild as the baby in the manger. It's just that coos, baby talk, and childish wishing won’t do anymore.

Maranatha

Lost Crusader #165 A Time to Every Purpose

 “For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.”

It’s time for my annual Christmas post about the timing of Christmas. I find this necessary because there are always those folks out there who want to tell Christians that they have the timing of their faith wrong.

To wit, the oft repeated—Christ was not born on December 25^th. Well duh. But could you please enlighten people everywhere with the EXACT day? While you’re at it, personally I’m curious about the birthdates of Plato, Aristotle, and Scipio Africanus. There are many scholars who share my interest and would be glad to hear from you.

Although we don’t know the precise day (or even the year) that any of these men were born, the fact remains they were born. Therefore, should we choose to throw them a birthday party, one day is pretty much the same as the next. As St. Paul put it, “He that regardeth the day, regardeth it to the Lord; and he that regardeth not the day, to the Lord he doth not regard it…”

Now, Christmas trees and other age-old symbols of the holiday are somewhat of a problem. Howbeit not in the manner many folks assume. The problem lies not in coopting them without understanding where they originated. The problem lies in the motivation behind adopting them at all—wanting to look like everyone else.

That fault is mitigated somewhat because the motivation has roots in love. When many of my Christian brothers and sisters were growing up, they were forced to dress in the strict confines of a particular segment of the faith. As they, and their children, now point out, that was embarrassing and, in some cases, hurtful. They wanted to be like the other kids. And this call for conformity was the argument that eventually won their parents’ hearts.

Now suppose you are a parent, and a winter celebration children love is going on. Do you forbid your children from celebrating with the others or adapt in such a way as to give them a little happiness? I’m not saying one way or the other is right or wrong. I’m simply asking how you would apply a practical solution to the problem.

I’m not even close to being a fan of Trunk or Treat or Fall Festivals, but I understand why they are in vogue. I don’t twist myself in knots decrying the participants who choose to celebrate in that fashion.

Tradition is only harmful when it supplants faith. Christ was born in Bethlehem on a day of God’s own choosing. As He has yet to send a revelation as to the exact date and has chosen not to object to the current situation (as He did with the prophets of old) there is little need to alter the current practice.

God’s gift of a Savior, and an open door to His kingdom, have their roots in a time before the Creation. Pick a day—any day—or better yet, every day, and celebrate it by praising God and His unspeakable gift.

Here’s a gift of timeless wisdom. He that has an ear, let him hear.

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.”

Maranatha

Lost Crusader #164 Land of Broken Toys

 “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit, a broken and a contrite heart—these, O God, You will not despise.”

Psalm 51

In an old holiday classic, a misfit reindeer finds himself in the land of broken toys that nobody wants. Although I still enjoy watching it, the message is lost in modern thinking where brokenness is a symbol of individuality—a mark of diversity to be celebrated, lionized, and held on to like a trophy to be lofted high in the next parade.

It is not a shame to be broken—we all are. Whether we choose to admit it or not, we are less than we should be. This is not a social construct, a cultural bias, or a result of hidden trauma. We really are broken. The question is what can be done about it? Humanity seems to be untreatable.

Appearances can be deceiving. The treatment has always been available, in fact, the solution pre-dates the problem. Rather than trying to ignore our failings, seeking to appease angry, vengeful gods, or sanitize our actions, bring that very same brokenness to the Creator to repair.

Departing from the One who created us is the cause of all our brokenness—returning is the solution. However, you might have to go alone. Few are willing to hear another person suggest that they are broken. The number shrinks even further when it comes to those willing to reason it for themselves.

Jesus was criticized for associating with the dregs of society, (many of whom shared the world’s view of them). He simply replied that those who are whole have no need for a physician. He didn’t come for those with no need. He came for the broken, the blind, the crippled, and the unloved. The medicine he brought was grace and forgiveness provided without price to whosoever would take it.

“Even so we, when we were children, were in bondage under the elements of the world. But when the fullness of the time had come, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman, born under the law to redeem those who were under the law, that we might receive the adoption as sons…Therefore you are no longer a slave but a son…”

In healing our brokenness, He transports us from this land of broken toys into His own kingdom where we are made whole again—forever.

Maranatha