Trying to Earn God's Approval?

I've received some comments on my lack of blogging, so I am here to offer my apologies and provide a new blog entry. For me, it is one of those seasons of life that I will just label as "blah". Certain situations and obstacles are weighing heavily upon me, leaving me somewhat voiceless. Not really knowing what to write about, I do want to post something. I promise something more creative and heartfelt soon. But for now, I offer an article I found interesting and thought-provoking.

TOO RICH TO ACCEPT GOD'S CHARITY
by Clint Heacock
taken from: http://www.theooze.com/articles/article.cfm?id=1511

I wonder if this is true. For me, I guess I’ve always felt that I brought something to the table in my relationship with God. After all, there are some things I can do pretty well—like Napoleon Dynamite, I’ve got some skills to offer…

Thinking about it, the relationships I have are based on some type of reciprocation. After all, who wants to be involved in a relationship with a person who always takes and takes and takes? We call those people “needy” and either avoid them entirely, or if somehow we do get trapped in a relationship with a needy person, we roll our eyes when their number comes up on the caller ID because we know they’ll babble for hours about all of their problems. And the worst thing about people like that is, no matter how much or what advice we give them—and they even ask for, and agree with it!—they don’t follow it. How annoying is that.

Those kinds of relationships are draining. I think that for most people, their hope is to enter into some kind of healthy relationship with other people, a relationship that is mutually beneficial and mutually expanding. As I’ve said, the kind of relationships that are somehow emotionally or physically deficient we term “dysfunctional,” and they generally are seen as unhealthy. Hopefully we can successfully avoid these.

As we progress through life, it seems to me that people develop a kind of “relationship meter” that helps them gauge how they’re doing in relationships. Some people seem to have a lot of good relationships, whereas others can’t seem to make or keep friends. If we find ourselves as one of those kinds of people that others seek out, we feel like we have something positive to offer others. On the other hand, if we’re one of the people who are somehow ill equipped socially, we may feel that we have little or nothing to offer.

But one thing I’m learning is that somehow when it comes to a relationship with God, his “relationship meter” doesn’t work the same way my human scale does. He doesn’t seem to care too much about what I have to offer, whether it’s a little or a whole lot. In fact I know that he doesn’t care at all about our outward appearance, but rather looks on the inside. The Bible makes that abundantly clear. Of course, we place a premium of value on appearance—but God doesn’t care about that at all.

I have been coming to the conclusion that I’m too rich to accept God’s charity. I’m not talking about money, I’m talking about the reality that what I bring to his table doesn’t count for much in terms of value. What about spiritual disciplines? I always figured that if I read my Bible and pray on a regular basis, I was racking up Brownie points with God—I was earning my way, bringing something to the relationship. “See, God, I am worth something! I can earn my keep in this thing! You don’t have to worry about me!” And if I kept up, I would feel good inside, having checked off the boxes for the day.

See, if I’m earning my way, I don’t really need him a whole lot: only when I encounter situations that are clearly out of my control. When that happens, deep down inside I hope he’ll come through for me; but if he doesn’t, I’ve got a backup plan or two in mind anyway. Actually if I’m honest, the backup plan was really Plan A, and God was Plan C or D. I figured that if he came through that’d be great, and that would save me the hassle of having to work it out myself. And, if he doesn’t come through for me, well, it’s just like a buddy who blows you off on the day you were moving. Sure, it makes things harder, but what the heck—so it takes a little longer and is harder. Oh well, who ever said life was supposed to be fair?

Looked at this way, God and I are buddies on some kind of semi-equal footing. For the most part, I try to keep my nose clean, stay out of trouble, so I don’t actually have to ask his forgiveness if I blow it. That would put me in a position of having to take from him yet again. On the plus side, by doing my spiritual disciplines regularly, I put a bunch of check marks in his plus category. So I’m in good shape there.

Lately, after coming to my conclusion, I’ve been saying this out loud to God before I pick up my Bible to read or study it: “God, I just want you to know that I am about to read my Bible. I’m not doing it to earn points. I know that you don’t love me any more if I read it, or any less if I don’t. I hope that I’m doing it because I actually want to learn about you, and this seems the best way to do it. OK? Are we good then?”

I’m not sure if it’s for him or me.

I think there’s some kind of connection with God’s grace in here somewhere. I just don’t want to be too rich to accept his charity.

Why such pain in the world?

Tragedy occurred at Virginia Tech today, where 33 people died as the result of a mass shooting. If you have not yet heard about this, go to cnn.com or any news site; it is the front page story, everywhere. Certainly, we must be in vigilant prayer for the families who have lost loved ones, for those injured physically and psychologically, and for the entire shocked and hurting campus and community. For me, and others, this event begs the inevitable question: “Why?”

Whenever tragedy happens, that question surfaces in one form or another. Usually it is: “Why did God let this happen?” There are myriad books written on this topic and I doubt I have anything new to add to the mix. In a nutshell: what happened today was the result of human choice, human sinfulness. That shooter made a choice--a horrible, awful, tragic choice--with life-altering effects for people who were just going about their ordinary days. God let’s us make choices. I believe it is a necessary part of being free people who were created with the ability to love God or to walk away. God didn’t want robots: He wants people who fully and freely choose to love Him. Who am I to question God, but I wonder if the “robot” thing wouldn’t have been a better deal. We really mess up this freedom thing. Is our un-fettered love really worth all this…worth 33 people needlessly dying? It makes me think of a short poem by Robert Frost, entitled “A Question”:

A voice said, Look me in the stars
And tell me, truly, men of earth,
If all the soul-and-body scars
Were not too much to pay for birth.

There are a lot of questions I cannot fully answer. The only thing I know with any certainty is that God has proven His love and nearness to us, in the midst of suffering. The Cross shows us God's loving nature more than anything else, reminding us: that we are not alone, that God understands, that God cares, that we will never be abandoned.

I remember working as a chaplain at a Catholic hospital. In the “chapel” (which was the size of a cathedral), there was a huge cross mounted at the front of the sanctuary, complete with a life-sized form of Jesus hanging on it. In the middle of the night—when I was “on call”—I found myself in the darkened chapel. An 18 year old man had just died from injuries sustained in a car crash. I had stood prayerfully with the boy’s parents during the holy moment when he passed from life to death. I wept with them and prayed with them—and after it was all over, I was drained and confused. I didn’t understand why an all-powerful, all-loving God failed to step in, failed to heal, failed to be what I thought God should be in that time and place. In my grief, I went to the only place I could think to go: to the chapel, to seek God's presence. As I cried and wrestled in prayer, my eyes were drawn upward to that form, hanging on the cross. I looked at the feet and hands, pierced by shockingly huge nails. I stared at the head, bowed in agonizing sorrow, imagining my God bleeding and hurting, for the world...for me. God spoke to my soul in that sacred quietness. He didn’t answer my questions, at least not in the way I expected. Suddenly, though, I knew that God was there, RIGHT THERE in the midst of the pain and suffering. God understands. God "gets" it; He's been here; He has felt raw, agonizing, seemingly endless suffering. God is real…in a right-here-right-now kind of way…closer than our very breath, closer even, than our deepest pain. The Cross proves God's suffering, sacrificing closeness to His creatures...to you and me.

I couldn’t believe in God if it weren’t for Jesus. I guess I just need to know that God is real and interacting in my life and in the world. Some far off God does not work for me. But the kind of God who walks our streets, takes on our limitations, and enters into our sufferings…that’s the kind of God I want to know. Good news! The Scriptures say that Jesus is the fullness of God, a tangible picture of who God is and what God is like:

“He (Christ) is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross. ~Colossians 1:15-20

That is my comfort in the midst of tragedy and suffering: We have a good God that is with us, even in the darkest hours—maybe even more profoundly present in the darkest times. I pray for the overwhelming sense of Jesus’ Presence to be with those at Virginia Tech. I invite you to join me in that prayer.

In closing, I searched the internet for quotes on pain and suffering. I thought I would share insight and wisdom of people much wiser than I am. May you be blessed by their thoughts.

Quotes on Pain and Suffering:
In this world you will have tribulation, but be of good cheer, for I have overcome the world. ~Jesus Christ

God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world. ~C.S. Lewis

We all know people who have been made much meaner and more irritable and more intolerable to live with by suffering: it is not right to say that all suffering perfects. It only perfects one type of person…the one who accepts the call of God in Christ Jesus. ~Oswald Chambers

Far too often, however, we resent and resist any interference on God's part that might deprive us of our deepest desires. Many Christians who sing, 'It is well with my soul,' are lying. It is not well with their souls because they are not persevering, and they have no intention of doing so, because they are bitter and hostile toward God and mourn over their 'victimization' at His hands. Others are little better, for they 'persevere' with a cold, stony, stoic demeanor that constantly reminds God how much they are doing for Him despite His lack of reciprocity. ~Jim Owen

The world is full of suffering, it is also full of overcoming it. ~Helen Keller

You may never know that JESUS is all you need, until JESUS is all you have. ~Corrie Ten Boom

My barn having burned to the ground, I can now see the moon. ~Japanese poet Masahide

Pain is never permanent. ~Teresa of Avila

God is often (in some sense) nearer to us, and more effectually present with us, in sickness than in health...He often sends diseases of the body to cure those of the soul. Comfort yourself with the sovereign Physician of both the soul and the body. ~Brother Lawrence

In the depth of winter, I finally learned that there was within me an invincible summer. ~Camus

I have learned two lessons in my life: first, there are no sufficient literary, psychological, or historical answers to human tragedy, only moral ones. Second, just as despair can come to one another only from other human beings, hope, too, can be given to one only by other human beings. ~Elie Wiesel

Deep unspeakable suffering may well be called a baptism, a regeneration, the initiation into a new state. ~George Elliot

You desire to know the art of living, my friend? It is contained in one phrase: make use of suffering. ~Henri-Frédéric Amiel

In light of heaven, the worst suffering on earth, a life full of the most atrocious tortures on earth, will be seen to be no more serious than one night in an inconvenient hotel. ~Mother Teresa

Suffering becomes beautiful when anyone bears great calamities with cheerfulness, not through insensibility but through greatness of mind. ~Aristotle

If there is a meaning in life at all, then there must be a meaning in suffering. Suffering is an ineradicable part of life, even as fate and death. Without suffering and death, human life cannot be complete. ~Viktor Emil Frankl,

The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen. ~Elisabeth Kubler Ross

Most things break, including hearts. The lessons of life amount not to wisdom, but to scar tissue and callus. ~Wallace Stegner

Suffering is part of the human condition, and it comes to us all. The key is how we react to it, either turning away from God in anger and bitterness or growing closer to Him in trust and confidence. ~Billy Graham

fabulous article about healing

I just read the most fabulous article about healing. The anonymous author talks about his struggle with homosexulaity and the amazing path of grace and healing that God has led him down. It is honest and realistic and presents a totally different perspective on homosexulaity, wholeness, and healing than today's media gives...and, sadly, a different perspective than many churches give. I encourage everyone to read it. We all know people who struggle in this area. For some of you out there, maybe this is your personal struggle. For those of us in the church, we need to learn how to offer the grace of God while standing firm in truth (which is a very difficult balance). This article speaks to that tension.

I want to paste a quote from the article, from C.S. Lewis, that I thought was particularily moving and convicting (the link to the article is below the quote; check it out):

"[E]very time you make a choice you are turning the central part of you, the part of you that chooses, into something a little different from what it was before. And taking your life as a whole with all your innumerable choices, all your life long you are slowly turning this central thing either into a heavenly creature or a hellish creature."

http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2007/april/36.57.html

The Ragman

The day of Resurrection Celebration begins in less that two hours. In honor of this momentous occassion, I want to share one of my absolute favorite stories. I've read it a hundred times (probably more), and every time, it makes me cry (in a good way). One note: if you are planning to attend Hopewell United Methodist Church in Groveport, OH tomorrow morning, stop reading NOW...come back after the Sunday service and you will have a written version of the wonderful story the pastor shared in her sermon.

Be blessed, my blog-reading friends!!!

(The following is a story called The Ragman by Walter Wangerin, Jr.)

I saw a strange sight. I stumbled upon a story most strange, like nothing my life, my street sense, my sly tongue had ever prepared me for. Hush, child. Hush, now, and I will tell it to you.

Even before the dawn one Friday morning I noticed a young man, handsome and strong, walking the alleys of our City. He was pulling an old cart filled with clothes both bright and new, and he was calling in a clear, tenor voice:

"Rags!" Ah, the air was foul and the first light filthy to be crossed by such sweet music.

"Rags! New rags for old! I take your tired rags! Rags!" he sang.

"Now, this is a wonder," I thought to myself, for the man stood six-feet-four, and his arms were like tree limbs, hard and muscular, and his eyes flashed intelligence. Could he find no better job than this, to be a ragman in the inner city?

I followed him. My curiosity drove me. And I wasn't disappointed.

Soon the Ragman saw a woman sitting on her back porch. She was sobbing into a handkerchief, sighing, and shedding a thousand tears. Her knees and elbows made a sad X together. Her shoulders shook. Her heart was breaking.

The Ragman stopped his cart. Quietly, he walked to the woman, stepping round tin cans, dead toys, and Pampers.

"Give me your rag," he said so gently, "and I'll give you another."

He slipped the handkerchief from her eyes. She looked up, and he laid across her palm a linen cloth so clean and new that it shined. She blinked from the gift to the giver.

Then, as he began to pull his cart again, the Ragman did a strange thing: he put her stained handkerchief to his own face; and then he began to weep, to sob as grievously as she had done, his shoulders shaking. Yet she was left without a tear.

"This is a wonder," I breathed to myself, and I followed the sobbing Ragman like a child who cannot turn away from a mystery.

"Rags! Rags! New rags for old!" he sang.

In a little while, when the sky showed grey behind the rooftops and I could see the shredded curtains hanging out black windows, the Ragman came upon a girl child whose head was wrapped in a bandage, whose eyes were empty. Blood soaked her bandage. A single line of blood ran down her cheek.

Now the tall Ragman looked upon this child with pity, and he drew a lovely yellow bonnet from his cart.

"Give me your rag," he said, tracing his own line on her cheek, "and I'll give you mine."

The child could only gaze at him while he loosened the bandage, removed it, and tied it to his own head. The bonnet he set on hers. And I gasped at what I saw: for with the bandage went the wound! Against his brow it ran a darker, more substantial blood: his own!

"Rags! Rags! I take old rags!" cried the sobbing, bleeding, strong, intelligent Ragman.
The sun hurt both the sky, now, and my eyes; the Ragman seemed more and more to hurry.

"Are you going to work?" he asked a man who leaned against a telephone pole. The man shook his head.

The Ragman pressed him: "Do you have a job?"

"Are you crazy?" sneered the other. He pulled away from the pole, revealing the right sleeve of his jacket, flat, the cuff stuffed into the pocket. He had no arm.

"So," said the Ragman. "Give me your jacket, and I'll give you mine."

Such quiet authority in his voice!

The one-armed man took off his jacket. So did the Ragman and I trembled at what I saw: for the Ragman's arm stayed in its sleeve, and when the other put it on he had two good arms, thick as tree limbs; but the Ragman had only one.

"Go to work," he said.

After that he found a drunk, lying unconscious beneath an army blanket, an old man, hunched, wizened, and sick. He took that blanket and wrapped it round himself, but for the drunk he left new clothes.

And now I had to run to keep up with the Ragman. Though he was weeping uncontrollably, and bleeding freely at the forehead, pulling his cart with one arm, stumbling for drunkenness, falling again and again, exhausted, old, and sick, yet he went with terrible speed. On spider's legs he skittered through the alleys of the City, this mile and the next, until he came to its limits, and then he rushed beyond.

I wept to see the change in this man. I hurt to see his sorrow. And yet I needed to see where he was going in such haste, perhaps to know what drove him so.

The little old Ragman, he came to a landfill. He came to the garbage pits. And then I wanted to help him in what he did, but I hung back, hiding. He climbed a hill. With tormented labor he cleared a little space on that hill. Then he sighed. He lay down. He pillowed his head on a handkerchief and a jacket. He covered his bones with an army blanket. And he died.

Oh, how I cried to witness that death! I slumped into a junked car and wailed and mourned as one who has no hope because I had come to love the Ragman. Every other face had faded in the wonder of this man, and I cherished him; but he died. I sobbed myself to sleep.
I did not know? how could I know?? I slept through Friday night and Saturday and its night, too.

But then, on Sunday morning, I was wakened by a violence.

Light--pure, hard, demanding light--slammed against my sour face, and I blinked, and I looked, and I saw the last and the first wonder of all. There was the Ragman, folding the blanket most carefully, a scar on his forehead, but alive! And, besides that, healthy! There was no sign of sorrow nor of age, and all the rags that he had gathered shined for cleanliness.

Well, then I lowered my head and, trembling for all that I had seen, I myself walked up to the Ragman. I told him my name with shame, for I was a sorry figure next to him. Then I took off all my clothes in that place, and I said to him with dear yearning in my voice: "Dress me."

He dressed me. My Lord, he put new rags on me, and I am a wonder beside him. The Ragman, the Ragman, the Christ!

Dogwood and Crucifixion

Since it is Good Friday, with Holy Saturday just an hour away, I thought I’d share a couple trivia items. First, the legend of the Dogwood and then some information about crucifixion.
May we all be profoundly aware of how much our Jesus went through for us.

(all the following information comes from a website called www.gotquestions.org which has a lot of biblically based information in a question/answer format)

The Legend of the Dogwood

Question: "What is the legend of the dogwood tree? Was the cross Jesus was crucified on made of dogwood?"

Answer: The Bible does not tell us what type of wood the cross Jesus was crucified on was made of. Roman history does not go into specifics as to how the crosses were made or what type of wood they were made of. As a result, we cannot know for sure what type of tree was used to make the cross. There is a legend that it was made of dogwood. This is unlikely considering the typical size of a dogwood tree. The legend of the dogwood tree, author unknown, is as follows:

In Jesus' time, the dogwood grew
To a stately size and a lovely hue.
'Twas strong & firm it's branches interwoven
For the cross of Christ its timbers were chosen.
Seeing the distress at this use of their wood
Christ made a promise which still holds good:
"Never again shall the dogwood grow
Large enough to be used so
Slender & twisted, it shall be
With blossoms like the cross for all to see.
As blood stains the petals marked in brown
The blossom's center wears a thorny crown.
All who see it will remember me
Crucified on a cross from the dogwood tree.
Cherished and protected this tree shall be
A reminder to all of my agony."

Again, this is just a "legend." It is a nice poem, but there is no Biblical basis to it. The legend of the dogwood tree is very likely not accurate. (But, you never know…)

Information about crucifixion

Question: "Was Jesus crucified on a cross, pole, or stake?"

Answer: The Bible clearly and undeniably teaches that Jesus died on a cross (Matthew 27:32,40,42; Mark 15:21,30,32; Luke 23:26; John 19:17,19,25; Acts 2:23; 1 Corinthians 1:17-18; Colossians 1:20; 2:14-15). The Greek words in those Scriptures specifically identify a cross, not a pole or stake. The most common method of execution by the Romans in Jesus’ time was crucifying a person on a cross, with nails through their hands/wrists and feet/ankles. Sometimes people were tied to the cross in addition to being nailed to it. There were instances where people were crucified to poles, stakes, trees, x-shaped crosses, etc. But this was not the case with Jesus – He was crucified on a cross.

Crucifixion was a form of punishment that had been passed down to the Romans from the Persians, Phoenicians, and Carthaginians. It was designed to be a lingering death. Roman executioners had perfected the art of slow torture while keeping the victim alive. Some victims even lingered until they were eaten alive by birds of prey or wild beasts. Most hung on the cross for days before dying of exhaustion, dehydration, or, most likely, suffocation. When the legs would no longer support the weight of the body, the diaphragm was constricted in a way that made breathing impossible. That is why breaking the legs would hasten death (John 19:31–33), but this was unnecessary in Jesus’ case. The hands were usually nailed through the wrists, and the feet through the instep or the Achilles tendon (sometimes using one nail for both feet). None of these wounds would be fatal, but their pain would become unbearable as the hours dragged on.

The most notable feature of crucifixion was the stigma of disgrace that was attached to it (Galatians 3:13; 5:11; Hebrews 12:2). One indignity was the humiliation of carrying one’s own cross, which might weigh as much as 200 pounds. The soldiers would escort the prisoner through the crowds to the place of crucifixion. A placard bearing the indictment would be hung around the person’s neck.

Why is this night different from all other nights?

When I first watched Mel Gibson’s movie, THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST, I was touched by many things. Admittedly, I cried through the whole thing! For whatever reason, the part that effected me the most was when Mary (Jesus’ mom) watched Jesus fall under the weight of the cross--and she flashed back to when Jesus was a little boy and had fallen--and Mary rushed to his aide. This time, unlike when Jesus was a child, there was nothing she could do. My tears kept flowing. In the midst of my tears, there were artistic symbols in the movie that left me confused and unable to decipher. I still haven’t figured out what that weird Satan-baby thing was about during the beating scene. Even more curious to me, was this: There is only one line in the whole movie that was in quotations (since the whole thing is in subtitles); why is that? I finally figured out that everything else in the movie is actually from Scripture, except for one line. When Jesus is arrested, the movie suddenly flashes to a scene of Mary Magdalene and Mary (Jesus’ mom). Mary Magdalene seems to be awakened by a sense that something is wrong and she says: “Why is this night different from all other nights?” That line is in quotation marks on the screen. It isn’t from Scripture, like everything else in the movie. It is a line from the Passover meal, a question traditionally asked by the youngest child present.

That one line stuck out to me from the movie. It jumps out at me at any Passover meal, like the one we had at church tonight. Why is tonight different from all other nights? Because tonight is the night that started it all. God saved His people through the blood of the lamb back in Egypt. Now Jesus, the Passover Lamb, agonizes in the Garden of Gethsemane…then He is betrayed and arrested. Tomorrow He will be crucified for the sins of the world. Tonight is different because nothing will ever be the same again.

For your education and inspiration, I found an intriguing article about this very thing (about this night being different from all other nights). This comes out of an organization called “Faith and Action” and their motto is: “Bringing the Word of God to bear on the hearts and minds of those who make public policy in America”. Sounds good to me!!! The article (below) is from their website.

Why is this night different from all other nights? Jesus and Passover
by FAA Staff03/27/07
http://www.faithandaction.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=feature.display&feature_id=221

Jewish heritage is rich with tradition and abounding with poetic symbolism, none more breathtaking than the feast celebrating the Israelites liberation from their slavery to Egypt, the Passover. Taken from the historical narrative described in the book of Exodus, the commemorative feast was established to memorialize Israel’s escape from God’s judgment and subsequent release from captivity through the sacrifice of the Passover lamb.

There is a celebrated axiom that proclaims, “In the Old Testament the New Testament is concealed, and in the New Testament the Old Testament is revealed.” Nowhere in the Scripture is this adage more vividly affirmed than in the Old Testament account of the Passover and its New Testament counterpart expressed in the life, sacrifice, and resurrection of the Lamb of God, the Lord Jesus Christ.

The Passover venerates the historical move of God universally referred to as the Exodus. The Lord had broken the back of Egypt, the most formidable superpower on the globe, ruining their economy, devastating their armed forces, and critically compromising their ecology through ten powerful plagues He unleashed upon the idolatrous nation. Once regarded as invincible, its Hebrew slaves could not negotiate their position or mount a rebellion to secure their freedom, but instead endured as organic assets invested at Pharaoh’s pleasure to enhance Egypt’s quality of life.

The evening of the Tenth Plague God commanded a ceremony designed to protect His people from His impending judgment, and prepare them for their liberation from bondage. This final scourge was the death of the first-born, and included Pharaoh’s child, heir to the most powerful throne in the world. In addition to breaking the scepter of Egypt, the plague issued a direct challenge to their highest deity, Ra who was powerless to protect their people or stop it.

The God of the weakest, most vulnerable people in the kingdom, who languished at the bottom of the Egyptian food chain, was determined to show Himself mighty on their behalf. At the end of the day, He flexed His muscle in a manner that left very little to the imagination.

Unlike their “owners,” Israel's first-born were delivered from death by living out a faith that sacrificed a lamb and placed its blood upon the doorposts and the lintel of their homes in obedience to God’s command. Thus, death played by the rules doing homage to the Almighty One, saw the blood of the lamb, and passed over those homes that had vigilantly obeyed God.

Passover is a foreshadowing of the destiny of those who have embraced the Blood of the Lamb by faith thus assuring the wrath of God will 'pass over' them on the Day of Judgment, sparing them from eternal death.

The Tenth Plague eroded the bedrock of Egypt’s brittle religious reality upon which most of its cultural institutions rested. It was not only the death of the nation’s firstborn, but also the resounding destruction of their spiritual understanding and worldview that was leveled. To their horror, the Egyptian gods were no match for the God of the Hebrew slaves: the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

The Passover is rich in cultural and spiritual heritage, given to us by God to honor what He has done in setting Israel free from slavery, and for Christians, humanity free from its bondage to sin and death by the Blood of the Lamb of God. The celebration itself revolves around a ceremonious meal called a Seder, which, when understood in light of the New Covenant, adds a unique depth to the faith, especially the Lord’s Supper, a tradition which was part of and instituted at, a Passover Seder.

The traditional gathering incorporates explicit foods, methods of preparation, and moving observances, along with deeply evocative customs that vividly recount the miraculous deliverance of Israel from its bondage to their Egyptian taskmasters. And while all of these dramatic sacraments cannot help but fill the heart with wonder, the beginning of the celebration may be the most wondrous portion of the Passover. For it begins with the youngest member of the family asking the father what are known as The Four Questions.

The Four Questions describe key portions of the Seder and probe the historic meaning of the Passover. Their answers, given by the father, instill a solemn sense of gratitude while invoking the memory of the slavery, suffering, and deliverance of Israel.
They begin with a threshold question that some feel is the only question really asked: “Why is this night different from all other nights?” The other queries simply describe how the night is different. Throughout the centuries, these questions have changed marginally, but never in substance so that while the message may vary slightly, its meaning has remained unblemished.

The Four Questions are:

1. " Why is this night different from all other nights? Why is it that on all other nights during the year we eat either bread or matzoh, but on this night we eat only matzoh?"

2. " Why is this night different from all other nights? Why is it that on all other nights we eat all kinds of herbs, but on this night we eat only bitter herbs?"

3. " Why is this night different from all other nights? Why is it that on all other nights we do not dip our herbs even once, but on this night we dip them twice?" and

4. " Why is this night different from all other nights? Why is it that on all other nights we eat either sitting or reclining, but on this night we eat in a reclining position?"

Their answers are:

1. We eat only matzah because our ancestors were unable to wait for their bread to rise when they were fleeing slavery in Egypt. They had to take their bread out of their ovens before it had risen and was still flat, which was matzah.

2. We eat only Moror, a bitter herb, to help us remember the bitterness of slavery that our ancestors suffered while in Egypt.

3. We dip twice, first with green vegetables in salt water, and then the Moror in Charoses, (a sweet combination of nuts and wine). Dipping green vegetables in salt water symbolizes replacing our tears with gratitude, while dipping the Moror in Charoses represents sweetening the yoke of bitterness and suffering to lessen its pain.

4. We recline at the Seder table because in ancient times only free people reclined at a meal, slaves could not. And so we recline in our chairs at the Seder table to remind ourselves of the priceless glory of freedom.

Passover describes the salvation offered through the New Covenant in that the Hebrew people went from slavery to freedom inheriting the Promised Land. Through the work of Christ, we are all set free from slavery to sin and death passes over all humankind, both Jew and Gentile. And just as Passover remembers the death of the lamb in Egypt, which protected and led to the freedom of the Israelites from slavery, Jesus, the Lamb of God, protects us from sin by His shed blood and leads us to a new life free from its tyranny. Thus, we are told that as often as we participate in the Lord’s Supper, we do it in remembrance of His death, the Lamb of God who is our Passover and takes away the sin of the world.

Chocolate Jesus?

Here’s the big news this Easter: Christians are outraged by an anatomically correct, life-sized sculpture of Jesus, made entirely of chocolate. Hear this, before I make my final point: I’m NOT saying that Jesus should ever be replicated in chocolate; I find the whole situation more ridiculous than offensive, really. I wonder what the world would be like if Christians put the same amount of energy into telling (and showing) people the amazing, life-changing love of Jesus—instead of just complaining and boycotting stuff. My impression is that the “artist” must not have a personal, saving relationship with Jesus Christ to treat Him (or His image) with so little respect or dignity. This would be a great time--and opportunity--for Christians to engage with this man about the reality of Jesus Christ and His ressurection. Instead, we complain and protest and we get the chocolate Jesus taken down…but what kind of witness have we been to the world, or the artist, or the gallery in the process?

What do you think?

In case you are wondering, “What the heck is she talking about a chocolate Jesus for?”, here is the impetus behind my thoughts:

N.Y. gallery cancels naked chocolate Jesus exhibit
Fri Mar 30, 2007 2:56pm ET

NEW YORK (Reuters) - A Manhattan art gallery canceled on Friday its Easter-season exhibit of a life-size chocolate sculpture depicting a naked Jesus, after an outcry by Roman Catholics.

The sculpture "My Sweet Lord" by Cosimo Cavallaro was to have been exhibited for two hours each day next week in a street-level window of the Roger Smith Lab Gallery in Midtown Manhattan.

The display had been scheduled to open on Monday, days ahead of Good Friday when Christians mark the crucifixion of Jesus. But protests including a call to boycott the affiliated Roger Smith Hotel forced the gallery to scrap the showing.

"Your response to the exhibit at the Lab Gallery is crystal clear and has brought to our attention the unintended reaction of you and other conscientious friends of ours to the exhibition of Cosimo Cavallaro," Roger Smith Hotel President James Knowles said in a statement addressed to "Dear Friends."

"We have caused the cancellation of the exhibition and wish to affirm the dignity and responsibility of the hotel in all its affairs," the statement said.

The Catholic League for Religious and Civil Rights had called for a boycott of the hotel, writing to 500 religious and secular organizations.

"This is an assault on Christians during Holy Week," said Kiera McCaffrey, director of communications for the league, which describes itself as the largest U.S. Catholic civil-rights group.

"They would never dare do something similar with a chocolate statue of the prophet Mohammad naked with his genitals exposed during Ramadan," she said before the cancellation.

The archbishop of New York called the sculpture "scandalous" and a "sickening display."

"This is something we will not forget," Cardinal Edward Egan said in a statement.

Matthew Semler, the artistic director of the gallery, said earlier that the hotel had no knowledge of what the gallery planned to show and was being unfairly targeted. Moreover, he said the work was not irreverent.

"It's intended as a meditation on the Holy Week," Semler said of the sculpture, which depicts Jesus as if on the cross. Easter Sunday, this year April 8, is celebrated as the day of Jesus' resurrection.

A photo of the piece on the artist's Web site (http://www.cosimocavallaro.com/) shows the work suspended in air.

New York is familiar with clashes between art and religion.

In 1999, then-Mayor Rudolph Giuliani tried to withdraw a grant from the Brooklyn Museum of Art for a painting depicting the Virgin Mary as a black woman splattered with elephant dung adorned with cut-outs from pornographic magazines.

Current Mayor Michael Bloomberg took a different approach.

"If you want to give the guy some publicity, talk more about it, make a big fuss," Bloomberg told WABC radio. "If you want to really hurt him, don't pay attention."

© Reuters 2007. All Rights Reserved. From: http://today.reuters.com/news/articlenews.aspx?type=domesticNews&storyID=2007-03-30T185605Z_01_N30244192_RTRUKOC_0_US-USA-CHOCOLATE-JESUS.xml&pageNumber=0&imageid=&cap=&sz=13&WTModLoc=NewsArt-C1-ArticlePage2