Lost Crusader #184 Ignorant Grownups

 “When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.”

1 Corinthians 13:11

Before I became a Christian, I was an extremely well-informed biblical scholar. I acquired this knowledge through a type of osmosis. I absorbed it from the Christianity floating in the atmosphere. I picked up more from conversations in which other bible scholars, like me, were involved. I read about it in textbooks. However, the surest source of my knowledge came from “reading between the lines”. This method calls for the assumption of a hypothesis, never testing it, and validating the conclusion by how well it agreed with the assumption.

The one source I steadfastly ignored was Christians. I mean everybody knew they were bigoted hypocrites deluded by an unprovable idea. They couldn’t even live it themselves. Mine was a nice, neat world of enjoying whatever I wished to do, thinking what I would, and absolutely content in the fact that I was as good as the next guy.

Then, quite by “accident”, I encountered a group of Christians. They spoke a language deeper than the likes of Samuel Clemens or Captain Stormfield dared explore. I didn’t hear one children’s Sunday School story. I found out why they weren’t the perfect creatures that I demanded them to be. More importantly, I found that they possessed something I did not—an adult encounter with a very real God.

My life has been radically altered since that time. I don’t know nearly what I used to know. Whatever I think I might know, I continually scrutinize, question, and test. In the course of doing so, an entire universe of things I have never considered has opened up. I find it strange that one who knows so little is often asked to teach.

I still do what I want to do, think what I will, and am content being no better than anyone else. It’s true I have exchanged my desires and my thoughts for new ones. It is my hope that over the last forty years, I have become more childlike and less childish. I know I’m not the best judge of that. However, I am willing to submit the final decision to the Best Judge and accept His conclusion.

I look back on my youth, as old folks tend to do. I usually do it with a sense of wonder at how I lost so much knowledge and discovered so much of value on the road to ignorance and an adult kind of faith.

Maranatha

Lost Crusader #183 The Will of God

 “Grace unto you, and peace, from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.”

2Thessalonians 1:2

Whether or not you’re a Christian, there may have been a time in your life when you wondered about God’s will. Just what does God intend for us on this journey called Life? Though the choices may seem endless, the truth is both plain and simple. Simplicity is a familiar criticism of Christianity. In a way, that’s understandable. After all, the God who designed and created a complex multiverse must be as complicated as His creation.

The problem with such thinking is that it comes from a human perspective. The multiverse that seems so complicated to us may, in fact, be very simple to God. In the same way, omnipotence, omniscience, and omnipresence are mind-boggling for us to comprehend, they are simply how God is.

Paul who penned the remark above told the Romans that Christianity produced a personal transformation in people’s thinking that proved the “good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God”. But we need not go that far. In every epistle he wrote he opened his writing with the secret to the will of God—and you may have read it to start the post. Or as is often the case with his letters, people skip right over the introduction.

The will of God is for everyone to experience His grace—His unmerited favor that accepts us into His fellowship. Grace is a gift from Creator to creation. It is not extended to us as our due for a particular self-identification, nor does it originate with us. God gives it of His own free will because He loves those He created and wants them to be free from the guilt and shame we experience as imperfect human beings.

It is also the will of God that we live in peace. Peace with ourselves and one another to be sure, but first and foremost at peace with God. Until we experience peace with God, no other peace is truly attainable or sustainable. Peace with God ushers us into His presence where there is fullness of joy. Peace with God flows from His grace.

So, if grace and peace are the will of God, then why don’t we experience them? Well, there are those who are experiencing God’s grace and peace at this very moment. They are not members of a particular church denomination nor those who shun denominational labels. They are not inherently more holy than anyone else nor can they achieve such a feat by sheer force of will.

Grace and peace, as the scripture above states, comes from the Father and Jesus Christ. If you want them, you must go to the source and ask for them. Then after having asked, receive them, and follow them to their transformative end under the direction of the Holy Spirit.

Now, I have made this sound simple, and it is. However, it should come as no surprise that it is easier said than done. It is also more certainly true when done than said.

Maranatha

Know Jack #392 Lying to Myself

 I’m not a multitasker. So, when I go off into my fictional worlds to visit my imaginary friends, I’m there. Sometimes my touch with what’s going on around me becomes tenuous. There is some debate as to whether this is actually my normal state and my writing is nothing more than a walk deeper into the dark unknown. Generally, I’m ambivalent about the whole thing.

My hope in doing this is that all the trendiest influencers and positivity guru vibrators are on to something. If quantum theory can say that our mind creates an undeniable reality, who am I to doubt it especially if it makes my fictional people and places sound real?

The trouble is, I’m not a smart man—I can employ all the positive thinking I’m capable of and I can still tell reality from fiction. Even Hemmingway’s admonition to “write drunk, edit sober” isn’t able to blur the line enough to think my fictional world has become real.

If I were a better writer, I could make up an alternate reality that not only would I believe it was real but everyone else in the universe would be compelled to believe it too. I see writers of this caliber at work, and it boggles my mind.

Personally, I think their stories are wasted when confined to writing legal briefs, op-ed pieces, and media sound bites. I mean think of the literary masterpieces that could be written by someone with male genitalia who has all the world agreeing he’s a woman. Now that’s fiction that really sells.

I thought about trying that as a writing exercise, but then my inability to accept fiction as reality reared its ugly head and I was back writing about rougarous again.

Don’t get me wrong, I like my fictional worlds. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t spend so much time righting the wrongs in Zion or chasing werewolves across north Texas. In my worlds, I get to be the hero (the villain too if I want to). I can be the drop-dead handsome, billionaire Mensa member, with doctorates in philosophy and physics, who gets the gorgeous girl. What’s not to like about that?

Well, the answer may be that it’s just not true. I checked the mirror for confirmation. Yep, not true. No matter how hard I try or who I share this identity with—no one believes it. My hope is that with AI making the writing scene, I can become a transwriter, sort of like the $6,000,000 man.

Maranatha

Lost Crusader #182 Frenemies

 “Am I therefore become your enemy, because I tell you the truth?”

Galatians 4:16

We live in a time when a great many people are searching everywhere for a reason to be offended. Sadly, offenses are sought out not to rid the world of them but as an opportunity for the one offended to feel superior in their reprimand of the offender. It’s the secular version of “holier than thou”.

Christians and churches have been only too willing to play along, running like scared rabbits, rather than standing for the truth. Testifying to The Truth is not the way to win friends—however, one way or another it influences people. The question then becomes, is winning friends what Christianity is all about?

James, not one to pull his punches says, “…know ye not that friendship of the world is enmity with God? Whosoever therefore will be a friend of the world is the enemy of God.” If you’re an environmentalist, relax. The world in this instance does not mean the Earth, but society.

The world is not irredeemable. It is inherently evil in that it is at war with God. Though God has offered terms of peace, they are generally refused as too narrow and too costly. As we have seen, surrendering to God will cost a person the friendship of those around him. To be a Christian one must be willing to be a pariah. It doesn’t make the names and charges thrown at Christians true. Nevertheless, it is a certainty that they will come. Honestly, most people are not prepared to pay the price regardless of how they boast about not caring what others think.

Have you ever been turned down for a job because you didn’t have experience? If so, you probably also know how difficult it is to get experience without a job. The Truth leads to peace with God.

Unfortunately, a person’s initial reaction to The Truth is to be offended and walk away. The world wants the Truth to be subject to its will and everyone have their own version of the truth.

When you mature enough to realize that you can’t always get what you want, you might be ready for objective truth. Peace with God comes on His terms—and only His terms. You may craft your own set of terms. People do it all the time. God is not obliged to accede to them.

What are God's terms? Unconditional surrender to the lordship of Jesus Christ.

Maranatha

Know Jack #391 By Faith We Understand

 “For I say through the grace given unto me, to every man that is among you, not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think…”

St. Paul

Yes, you’re in the right place. This is Know Jack. If the scriptural quote frightens or angers you, sorry—not sorry. This blog is as much about the writer as the writing, and the writer is a Christian. He’s also conservative, white, straight, and male for which he apologizes not a whit. Okay, so much for the trigger warning.

On to the blog.

If you’re a writer, it helps to be a bit odd—to look at the world and see things from a different perspective or have imaginary friends who talk to you. I’m guilty as charged. As a result, there’s a certain hint of mystique that comes with being recognized as a writer.

I’m not sure why that is, I just found it to be true. People I don’t know think I’m interesting when I know for a fact I’m as plain as dirt. I read my reviews and double check to see if they wrote about my book by mistake. Don’t get me wrong. I like it when readers say good things about me and my work. I just find it hard to accept at face value. I’m just an ordinary guy.

The bad reviews I readily believe. They do not discourage me though. I’ve read books by authors whose work I love and been disappointed. Not every book is for everybody. I look at negative reviews as a learning tool. Besides, I was a pastor and compared to parishioners, literary critics are pussycats.

My idea of writing success has always been modest. I never expected more than a few family members and friends to buy my book or for there to be more than one. After my first book came out, I lowered the bar even further. That changed drastically recently.

I had a book signing and no one I knew came. The bookstore had a slow day and the few customers who showed up refused to even look in my direction. The experience left me questioning my writing ability, my ability to live my faith and my own assessment of my worth.

There is a story in the Bible about Elijah. He was a passionate, all-in kind of guy. He challenged all the other prophets in the land to a showdown. Then, he called fire down from heaven in a spectacular victory. The next day he was on the run from the evil queen who sought to kill him. He hid out from the whole world in the shade of a juniper tree Ever since he has been derided for giving in to self-pity. The charge is utter nonsense.

Elijah issued his challenge at God’s behest and called down fire at God’s command. He had no such command from God to face the army of Jezebel all alone. I suppose there are those who would be happier if he had died a glorious death taking on an army singlehandedly. I am not one of those—never have been. What was he to do but flee? And how was he to feel but deflated?

I’m no Elijah—not even close. I have come to the conclusion that I don’t think more highly of myself than I should. If anything, I undervalue my abilities. What I do have is a positive belief that God knows what He’s doing. If He says write, I start looking for my laptop. I have written under those exact circumstances—nobody’s read the book, but that’s not on me.

Hebrews 11:3 begins with the words “Through faith we understand…” I have learned that when my hope, my ability, and my power to reason leave me disappointed, my faith will lift me up.

Maranatha

Lost Crusader #181 Like He Said.

 “And the angel answered and said unto the women, ‘Fear not ye: for I know that ye seek Jesus, which was crucified. He is not here: for he is risen, as he said. Come see the place where the Lord lay’.”

Matthew 28: 5-6 (KJV)

 

In the days leading up to His crucifixion, Jesus spent a good deal of time preparing His disciples for His death both in His public pronouncements and in His private conversations. In one instance He turned on Peter, who said that the death Jesus foretold was not going to happen. “Get thee behind me, Satan,” He said in rebuke.

However, even the best of people have poor memories, and even poorer understanding, when told something that they don’t want to hear. Perhaps they were so overwrought by the news that He was to die, that they disregarded the fact that He also said He would rise from the dead.

Whatever the case, as the first day of the week dawned a group of women came to the tomb expecting to complete His burial. Some of these women probably saw Him raise Lazarus from the dead. The eleven were mourning and in hiding.

Nobody seemed to remember, and judging from their actions, nobody even began to understand what had transpired since darkness covered Calvary. The women arrive at the tomb. It was the right one; they had been there before. The Roman/Jewish guards were gone. The massive stone had been rolled away and the grave was empty save for the burial garments.

 

They were beyond amazed—they were utterly nonplussed—baffled to a degree that makes planning and decision making impossible. So, the Father intervened. He sent an angel to explain it.

 

As miraculous as His resurrection is. As wonderful as the fountain of salvation His resurrection opened is, greater still is the assurance it was all just as He said. Never for a moment were events out of His control.

 

He was telling the absolute truth when He told Peter to put up his sword because He had more than twelve legions of angels at His command. He will one day prove that at Armageddon. He is The Truth.

 

As he said, a Comforter is given to us; where two or three gather in His name, He is in their midst. As He said, He will never leave us nor forsake us. Let us not be without understanding and try to gloss over the most stunning truth yet to be fulfilled. Just as He came to save the world, He is coming back to judge the world—just as He said.

Maranatha

 

Know Jack #390 Who’s Lurking in the Shadows

 Whether you believe in ghosts or hauntings, dilapidated houses that have stood long empty are creepy places. They exude the feeling of crumbling corpses—the decaying remnants of lives past. If you dare, step inside this one with me.

Look around, there’s nothing left behind but discarded furnishing, little creatures that scurry at the sound of footfalls, and the dance of dust reflected by the light streaming through tattered curtains. Do you hear the whisper of that old chair telling the story of the old man who sat there or the toddler who scarred its arms with his budding teeth?

You can feel the air here. It is alive with the echoes of love and loss; depression and joy; fear and faith that press unwary visitors. The walls are cracked and weathered. The damage was done more by lightning flashes of memory than the slow passage of time. Time here is uncertain, folding in on itself until the past has become one moment.

Phantoms do dwell within these not-always-friendly confines, misty shadows of dead things. Ghostly images, more impressions that substance, that have not quite faded away still haunt this place. The sense of a collision between the heavenly and the hellish creates an odd eeriness that fills this place. Walking here, the hold on reality grows tentative and who knows what lurks in these shadows.

Passersby walk quickly passed this house, but not without a brief glance and a shiver. The welcome mat is still on the porch. I keep it there for those who open the pages I write and wonder what’s wrong with the soul that lives in the place. To me, it’s just home—the mind in which I live. Creepy, huh?

Maranatha