Perspective

Two children are playing outside on this lazy summer morning.  The colours are hazy, the grandeur of the mountains slightly faded by the warm smog rolling in from the city.  The older of the pair, an eight-year-old girl, laughs as she holds up her thumb and squints with one eye in the direction of her younger brother.  "Ha! I can't see your head anymore, it's gone!"

"Hey..." the little boy retaliates, trying this trick of perspective for himself.  He pinches thumb and forefinger until they nearly touch. "You're only this big!" Turning their attention to the car in the driveway, the mountains in the distance, the sun in the sky, they measure the astonishing smallness of these familiar objects, laughing at the absurdity of the game.

~ ~ ~

Absurd? Truly? In our world, most have worshiped the game until it has become a prison; a fatal, self-inflicted blindness.  The philosophies of this world puff up the influence, greatness, and potential of humanity. Our lives are not a linear progression between birth and death, but a web, extending outward, perhaps even heavenward.  Each thought, each word, each step, affecting the lives walking beside and coming after. The headiness of wisdom, the immortal, unquenchable, immutable human spirit has intoxicated the great minds of countless philosophers and sages.

What does it mean to be human? It is a question that has been asked time and again, and has never been satisfactorily answered by science or philosophy.  In the end, man is his own creation, made in the image of the mirage we set before us.  But what if the mirage is emptiness and the image becomes brokenness?

 "All that my eyes desired I did not refuse them. I did not withhold my heart from any pleasure, for my heart was pleased because of all my labor and this was my reward for all my labor. Thus I considered all my activities which my hands had done and the labor which I had exerted, and behold all was vanity and striving after wind and there was no profit under the sun." (Ecc 2:10-11)

meaningless. meaningless.

The oppressiveness of what we understand, but which does not fill; what we seek to know, but cannot find - these things are death to us!  Oh that eyes would be opened to see!  For at last, at the moment of hopelessness, when the prison tower crumbles, there is hope.

This is humanity.  This dash between two dates, this life with its vast web of human connection; of love and hate and dreams; of failure and achievement...  All of it, nothing more than a pin prick in the hand of the Almighty Creator, the Sovereign Judge.  (Dan 4:35)  "Ah," we think with relief, "so small that He would never notice."

no.

that

pin

prick

drove the nails through the hands

of

the

perfect

Lamb

of

God

How foreign, how strange, how disturbing this is to a world that is gorged with self-love.  How astonishing God's words are, that we, being nothing, could be such an offense to Him that He would give Everything to ransom us.  What beauty!  What love beyond compare! 

"O Lord God, You have begun to show Your servant Your greatness and Your strong hand; for what god is there in heaven or on earth who can do such works and mighty acts as Yours?" (Deut 3:24)

The Scent of Lavender

A couple Saturdays ago, I found this green vase at a garage sale.  I seem to have a strong attraction to green glassware.  After scrubbing my find, it sat empty for a while.  My darling Mumsy knows how I love lavender, and I was pleasantly surprised to see a sweet little bouquet on my dresser as I went to bed one night.  I bent over to smell the fresh blossoms... nothing.  How could this be!?  These perfect flowers had just insulted my nose with their lack of scent, and there they sat, smugly smiling up at this poor, disappointed girl.

The next morning I thanked my mom for her thoughtfulness in putting the flowers in my room, and she mentioned that I should crush the blossoms a bit so that they would release their scent.  I did so, and that night I inhaled their fragrance while I had my devotions.  It set me to thinking.  God usually gives me a verse in my head, and I go from there.  This time it was Isaiah 42:3 "A bruised reed He will not break And a dimly burning wick He will not extinguish;" If God wishes me to be a fragrant aroma, I too must be crushed.  I must be broken.  The following verses describe well what we are called to be.

"Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children; and walk in love, just as Christ also loved you and gave Himself up for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God as a fragrant aroma."  (Ephesians 5:1-2)

"For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing." (2 Corinthians 2:15)


The aroma of Christ... what does that mean?  It must mean that we "smell" like Him.  To start with, there are some major clues in the verses above.  We are to be "imitators of God", to "walk in love", to be an "offering and a sacrifice to God", and to share the knowledge of Him with this world.  None of these things, however, can be accomplished if we simply sit like perfect blossoms, untouched and untouchable, entirely content with ourselves, unable to extend grace to those who come near enough to seek the divine aroma.

No, to be these things, we must first be broken.  To be honest, my flesh rebels against that.  I like being right, being strong, being adequate.  But my spirit rejoices in brokenness, because it is life to me.  Never has the Lord turned me away when I have come to Him broken over my sin, realizing again the rawness and reality of my need for the cross.  Always, my wounded heart is bound up, my guilt is forgiven, and I am left with the overwhelming joy of worshiping my Savior with clean hands and a pure heart that were washed by His blood.

I had a couple hours last week to read through Isaiah and journal for a while after I put the little guy I was looking after to bed (who, ironically, is named Isaiah).  Such beautiful promises and gentle rebuke the Lord gave to my heart that night!  Isaiah is one of my favorite books because of how clearly the nature of God is revealed.  His attributes are like a perfect diamond - each facet reflecting and enhancing the others to display the brilliant whole.  That evening, I was given a deeper understanding into God's righteous wrath, perfect justice, and incredible mercy.  The words of scripture are perfect, showing the error of the proud and showing grace and hope to the humble.

"For thus says the high and exalted One
Who lives forever, whose name is Holy,
'I dwell on a high and holy place,
And also with the contrite and lowly of spirit
In order to revive the spirit of the lowly
And to revive the heart of the contrite.'" (Isaiah 57:15)


"Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes
And clever in their own sight!"(Isaiah 5:21)

“For My hand made all these things,
Thus all these things came into being,” declares the LORD.
“But to this one I will look,
To him who is humble and contrite of spirit, and who trembles at My word." (Isaiah 66:2)



To be raised, we must realize our lowness before a great God.  Christ himself is our greatest example.  He humbled himself to the point of His death, to achieve the glorious resurrection of many for the praise of His name.  In my own experience, it is when I feel like I'm doing just fine, when I become self-satisfied, that my relationship with Christ grows shallow.  I begin to forget that everything I am is from Him.  The reason I am writing this today, is because the Lord is reminding me of these very things.  So as I walk into my room tonight, where the crushed lavender is filling the room with the fresh fragrance of death, I will remember that life is poured out of the dying.  The seed of life has been planted in my heart, and "unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit." (John 12:24)  That is my prayer for myself and for all to whom His life has been given.

A Full Heart Broken

 

I'm overwhelmed and in awe,

At peace and at rest.

Resolved to keep walking through the storm, 

Toward His arms that hold my every step.

As I write this my heart is hurting on behalf of hurting friends... my eyes are dimmed by passing cares...  And yet I am so encouraged that I am not alone... either in my convictions, joys, hurts or failures.  God so amazingly brings people into my life who are going through the very same things and are learning the very same lessons from His hand.  How marvelous it is to be knit together in the Spirit with people I may never even meet in this life, but who are fellow members in the family of Christ!  I have been so blessed by the Father, and by those through whom He is working.  I am so far from perfect, but I am filled with joy at the work the Lord is doing.  My heart is full!

Every time I stumble in my battle against sin, I am brought to look up to the One who is my victory.  Oh how I thank Him that He is faithful to bring my heart onward to be conformed to His perfect will!  I so want to forsake myself and seek His face fully.  I wish I could be completely rid of the sins of the flesh - to see clearly and perfectly, unhindered by these self-clouded eyes.  What a battle it is, but I know that in Christ it will one day be won - on that day when the race is finished and I see Him face to face.

As C.S. Lewis said, "The precious alabaster box which one must break over the Holy Feet is one's heart... and the contents become perfume only when it is broken."  My heart - my deepest self - must be continually filled, and yet, at the same time, continually poured out.  And for this to take place, it must be broken - on His feet!  I want my heart to be like Mary Magdalene's jar of perfume which was spilled out with joy and without reservation for the Savior.  I want it to be like the widow's oil jar in 1 Kings that was miraculously filled and sustained.  Both women held something of great value, but both offered it in faith.  Of Mary's sacrifice, Jesus said, "She has done a beautiful thing to me... truly I tell you, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.” (Mark 14:6,9)  The widow also made a sacrifice that yielded much.  She gave the last of her flour and oil to Elijah, God's prophet, and her reward was the supernatural provision of God.  Her deed is written in scripture as a beautiful thing.  She cast away what anyone else would have clung to as the promise of life, and saw with spiritual eyes the promise of God, for which she forsook all else.  Oh that my heart would be like this!

My prayer in these past weeks has been for the Lord to tear away the outer layers of my heart, that I be open and sensitive to His working.  Even as I pray this, I know that I am blinded with selfishness and insecurity, but there is the even deeper assurance that my prayer will not go without an answer.  When others look at me, I want them to see Jesus alone.  "Not that I have already obtained it or have already become perfect, but I press on so that I may lay hold of that for which also I was laid hold of by Christ Jesus." (Phil 3:12)  I never want to become complacent to the fact that there is a battle against my flesh.  I never want to stop longing to become more transparently filled with the glory of Christ.  Praise God that He will fulfill it fully, though ever so imperfectly in this life. 

Peter's Perspective - The Passover Lamb (Friday)

Sometimes I just have to laugh at myself... I tend to make big plans that never quite work out as I envisioned.  There's a bit too much on my plate right now.  I had planned to write an Easter series that looks at the story from Peter's perspective, but only Thursday's post actually made it to the blog.  I've decided I'm still going to finish the story.  You don't mind, do you? ;)  Peter reminds me so much of myself, which I will elaborate on in the near future.  To be honest, I think it's far too easy to come down from the intensity and spiritual richness of Easter and forget the fact that the glory of the resurrection and the sacrifice of Christ needs to be real and vital to us every day.  With that in mind, please don't pass this over just because it's past Easter.  It is my prayer that the richness of the gospel of Christ would be portrayed through these words, and that I and all who take the time to read will continue to expand in our knowledge of and love for the gracious and glorious Savior!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After the Passover meal was finished, and our host had been thanked, Jesus led us to the Mount of Olives once again, to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray.  As we left the house, I asked Jesus if Judas would be coming with us, but He simply replied, "He will return when the time comes for the Son of Man to be offered up." 

The sun had already passed beyond the horizon as we climbed the dirt path up to the Mount again, but the gray light still lingered to light our steps.  By the time we reached the garden of Gethsemane, the darkness was complete.  We lit a small fire for warmth and light, and sat huddled around it.  Jesus told the others to stay with the fire, but called James, John, and I to go under the olive trees to pray.  The joy and peace that Jesus had displayed as we sang the Passover Hallel was now overshadowed by a deep sorrow that we did not understand.  He looked up at us, and with pain in His voice, but gently, as if to beseech us, He said, "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me."  He went a little beyond us and fell to the ground, sobbing, "“My Father! Abba! If it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.”  He continued in prayer, affirming His desire to do the will of the Father, but obviously overcome with anguish as He considered the coming darkness.  Two times more, He asked that the hour may pass Him by, and then He fell to silence, still kneeling beneath the olive trees.

Our souls were stricken at His prayer. Could it be that His words long ago to us that He would go to Jerusalem and be killed by the elders and scribes were now to come true?  At the time, I had rebuked Him, saying "God forbid it, Lord! This shall never happen to You!"  His response to me was a harsh reproach.  "Get behind Me, Satan!  You are a stumbling block to Me; for you are not setting your mind on God's interests, but on man's."  This time I would not fail Him.  I would not question His words, and I would never leave Him.

Even with the weight of sorrow and strength of resolve, fatigue began to catch up to John and I, who had been on watch the night before.  When Jesus returned to us, we were beginning to drift into sleep, overcome by exhaustion and anguish.  He said to us, "Why are you sleeping? Get up and pray that you may not enter into temptation!"  We shook ourselves awake, and as I looked up with sleep-blurred eyes, I was startled to see that the drops of sweat on His forehead glistened red in the light from the fire.

He led us back to the other disciples, who had also dropped into slumber.  Rousing them, He said to us all, calmly now, "Are you still sleeping and resting?  Keep praying.  The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak."  Looking up into the darkness, He said, as much to Himself as to us, "Look!  The hour is at hand and the Son of Man is being betrayed into the hands of sinners. The one who betrays Me is at hand."  Startled, I saw that indeed, a crowd was coming near us in the garden.  Judas, who led them, greeted the Master with a kiss, but then went to stand beside the chief priest.

Stunned with the implications of this turn of events, my first reaction was hatred for the betrayer.  "Traitor!" I hissed.

Jesus, filled with quiet courage, ignored me and said to him, "Friend, do what you have come for."

Friend?

Image Credit

Rage filled me as they seized Jesus, and I drew my sword.  I would never deny Him!  I would die defending Him!  Blindly, and with a cry of desperation, I struck out at the member of the crowd closest to me, the slave of the priest.  My blade sliced through sinew and cartilage, and his severed ear fell to the ground.  The slave screamed with pain as he grasped his bleeding head. Immediately, guards rushed towards me and the garden erupted into chaos.  I was struggling in the grasp of three Roman soldiers, yelling out threats and curses, when a stunned hush fell over the gathering.  Jesus was walking towards the wounded slave, hands outstretched.  As if they were the ones bound, the pharisees and guards stood watching dumbly as Jesus took the bloody hands of the man I had wounded.  Putting His hand over the flow of blood, He healed him so that his ear was perfectly restored.  The slave looked at the ground, where his old ear lay, and felt the new, perfect skin and cartilage with awe.  Turning, Jesus looked at me. "Put your sword back in its place, for those who take up the sword will perish by the sword.  If I were to ask my Father, He would at once put more than twelve legions of angels at my disposal.  But this is now happening to fulfill the Scriptures of the prophets."

He then turned to the mob, and asked them, "Whom do you seek?"

"Jesus the Nazarene."

"I AM He."  At these words, the name of God, spoken with the very voice of God, the assailants drew back and fell to the ground.  He said to them, "I told you that I AM He, so if you seek me, let my followers go on their way.  I will drink the cup the Father has given Me."

With that, they were again overcome by hate, and bound Him, taking Him into the court of the high priest.  All of us deserted Him in fear of his accusers, but none of us were taken.  John and I followed the cohort at a distance until they reached the court of the priest.  John knew the owner of the house and entered with Jesus, but I remained outside, overcome by fear.  The coming King had been arrested as a common criminal, and my confidence was shattered.  I stood there, slumped dumbly against the door of the outer court, and the darkness within me became greater than the darkness of the night.  Little time had passed before John came out again, begging me to come in to the fire.  I was fearful of being recognized, but I followed him, attempting to warm myself while staying in the shadows as much as possible.  Despite my efforts of concealment, a young servant-girl started as she caught a glimpse of my face from across the fire, and blurted out, "This man was with Him too!"

"I don't know Him - I don't even know what you're talking about!"  It was said too quickly.  My Galilean accent was made even more pronounced with the terseness of my words.

She gave me a strange look, but left to speak to the other men in the courtyard.  Before long, one of them came over to me.  "Surely you are one of the followers of Jesus of Nazareth."

"Sir, I am not."

Another slave came over who was a relative of the man whose ear I cut off.  Standing over me with his arms folded and a scowl on his face, he asked menacingly, "Didn't I see you in the Garden with Him? Even your accent betrays you!"

At the word "betray", I cringed, but I maintained my assertion.  "I don't know the man!" 

The moment the words left my mouth, a cock crowed from just beyond the wall.  I looked up to where Jesus was being led into the courtyard by guards who were preparing to beat Him.  He turned and looked at me, eyes filled with such gentle sadness and reproach that I felt as if I had been dealt a death blow. Overcome with sorrow and shame, I fled from the courtyard and began to weep uncontrollably.  "Oh, forgive me Lord!  Forgive me!  What have I done?"

How could I even cry out to Him? I was utterly undeserving... nothing but dust.  Nay!  Worse than dust - I was the vilest offense; a stench, a worm, and not a man. 

What unfolded in those hours, I cannot now tell, but from sunrise to well into the day I numbly wandered the streets of Jerusalem as if I were in a dream.  The city of promise had become a city of death to me, and by my denial, I knew that I too had betrayed the Lord, the Son of God.  I, who had been so bold in my assertion of loyalty, was now stripped of all pride and forever separated from the Lord I loved.  At noon, the sun was strangely darkened, though there was not a cloud in the sky, and I knew that this was a sign from God.  The streets were now empty, as if the citizens dreaded some strange omen.  A man was coming towards me from a gate in the city, groping in the peculiar darkness, dressed in the robes of a temple official.  I recognized him as one of the men who had arrested my Lord.  "Where is Jesus?" I croaked through parched lips.

He spat on the ground and squinted at me in derision.  "Nailed to a cross on the Place of the Skull, where He belongs.  And who are you that you should ask?"  Overcome by a wave of nausea, I did not answer him, but brushed past to make my way to Golgotha, the place favored by the Romans to hang criminals sentenced to crucifixion.  When I arrived there, it was nearly three o'clock.  Three men hung on the cross-shaped instruments of torture, and a small gathering of men and women stood or knelt before them in grief.  John was there, kneeling with his arm around Mary, the mother of Jesus, who shook with sobs.  At first I did not recognize the man who hung in the middle, because he was so disfigured by bruises and bleeding wounds.  With a gasping sob, I realized that it was Jesus who was lifted up there to die.  How could it be?  With amazement, I saw Him push Himself up to draw in a ragged breath as He cried, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"  He fought for a few more precious breaths with which He said His last words, "It is finished!  Father, into your hands I commit my spirit."  As His limp head fell to His chest, the earth shook, and even the Roman soldiers said that "this man was surely the Son of God."  I had crucified the Son of God.

Peter's Perspective - The Passover Lamb (Thursday)

It was the night before Passover.  We were tired; tired of the jostling crowds who came out to hear the words of the Master in the temple and to receive healing, tired of the growing sense of hostility against Jesus, and tired of waiting for the Messiah to take His rightful place as the ruler of Israel.  Nonetheless, all of us were feeling the building anticipation.  Jesus' replies to his critics were stunning in their wisdom, but we knew there were some who sought His death.  Some might have expected an aspiring King to compromise with the temple rulers, but we knew that the Messiah would never form an allegiance with such corrupt pharisees and Herodians.  He was preparing us, His followers, to fill those roles as the new leaders of the coming Kingdom.  Still, the suspense was emotionally and physically draining.  We had been going at night to our camp on the Mount of Olives, which was a peaceful retreat from the tension of Jerusalem, but the disciples looked forward to soon living in a palace - or at least spending the night under a roof again.  John and I had volunteered to be on watch, and it seemed that the land had been sentenced to a long imprisonment under the darkness of that night.  Finally, the horizon began to fade to gray.

As the morning sun slowly dawned, the red light spread over the eastern hill country beyond Jerusalem until it looked like the all the blood of Bethlehem's lambs had been spilled over the landscape.  Being from Galilee, we would commemorate Passover tonight, being Thursday.  We asked Jesus, "Where do You want us to prepare for You to eat the Passover?"  He told us to go into the city and speak to a man who we would see carrying a pitcher of water.  Just as He foretold, the man met us as we entered the city, and we said, as we had been commanded, "The Teacher says, 'My time is near; I am to keep the Passover at your house with My disciples.'"  The man left his task and led us to his house, where he gave us the upper room in which to gather that evening.

John and I bought a lamb in the market place and brought it to the temple.  The court was teeming with people who brought their fearfully bleating lambs to the altar.  Many laughed and talked with their neighbors in the long line to the place of sacrifice.  Some stood near stalls that sold the lambs nearest to the temple, haggling over the inflated prices, and disgustedly handing over the sum for the obligatory sacrifice.  As we approached the place of sacrifice, the smell of blood became sickening.  Hundreds were being sacrificed that evening, and hundreds more would be sacrificed tomorrow by the Judeans.  Our lamb having been slain, and its blood sprinkled on the altar, we brought it back with us to be roasted for the Passover meal.

As evening fell, and the aroma of roast lamb filled every street and corridor in the city, Jesus and the other ten disciples arrived at the house where we were staying.  Looking back, I can see that we were so blind then.  During the meal in the upper room, we again brought up the dispute of who would be the greatest in the Kingdom.  I had finally succeeded in drowning out the argument of my opponent when I realized that a hush had fallen over the room.  The Master had removed His robe, and with a towel around His waist, He was stooping to wash John's feet.  We were all in shock, struck by the impropriety of the action; the base humility of it.  This was a servant's job!  John initially pulled his feet away, eyes filled with questioning bewilderment.  Jesus looked up into his face, and something John saw there must have led him to acquiesce.  He next came to me, and set the basin down before my dirty, smelly feet.  As usual, I was the first to find my voice.  "Never shall you wash my feet!" At His next words, I felt the sting of His gentle reproof.  "Peter, if I do not wash you, you have no part with me."  When He had washed all of our feet, we reclined again at the table and He disclosed the purpose of His actions, saying "If I then, the Lord and the Teacher, washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet."
As we ate the bitter herbs, the Lord began to speak of a betrayer in our midst - a thought that was bitter indeed to our ears.  He said to us, with great sadness, "One of you will betray me - one who is eating with Me."  We were all struck with grief, and I was the first to protest, "Surely not I, Lord!"  The others joined in with their denial of the charge.  John was sitting next to Jesus, and I asked him, "Who is He talking about?" He leaned over and asked the Lord, whom I heard to quietly say, "It is the one to whom I give this piece."  He dipped a choice piece of bread into the herbs and gave it to Judas, who was sitting near Him, in a place of honor.  Jesus spoke quietly to Judas, and he quickly left, and we assumed he had been sent on an errand.

Proceeding with the meal, Jesus broke bread and passed it to us, saying that it was His broken body.  After supper, He took the cup, saying that it was His blood of the New Covenant.  At that time, we still did not fully understand these things, but I was beginning to feel, for the first time, the sense that there were great and terrible things to come of Jesus' words.  I felt a thrill of the glory and the sorrow of something in the Teacher's voice that I could not yet imagine.  After the meal, He taught us, addressing each one with love and exhortation.  When He turned to me, He said, "Simon, Satan has demanded permission to sift you like wheat; but I have prayed for you, that your faith may not fail; and you when you have turned again, strengthen your brothers." (Luke 22:31-32)

Together, when the time had come to sing the last Hallel, we lifted up our voices, singing the words of the Passover Psalm,

The stone which the builders rejected
         Has become the chief corner stone.
 This is the LORD'S doing

It is marvelous in our eyes.
    This is the day which the LORD has made;
         Let us rejoice and be glad in it.
    O LORD, do save, we beseech You;
         O LORD, we beseech You, do send prosperity!
    Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the LORD;
         We have blessed you from the house of the LORD.
  The LORD is God, and He has given us light. (Psalm 118)

Some Encouragement for Pursuing Modesty

I have been so encouraged by Melanie's blog, Forever His Servant, since I stumbled across it about a month ago.  God has really spoken to my heart through her evident passion for the Lord, and the things she has shared.  Modesty is an issue that is so important for Christian young women, and I feel that it is often dismissed or taken lightly.  In the past, I did not always hold modesty highly.  I had certain standards, but it wasn't a deep heart desire to love God and love my brothers in Christ by truly pursuing modesty.  As God has drawn my heart closer to Him, I have been convicted of my tendency to compare myself to others in order to justify my clothing choices.  Sometimes even my choices to dress modestly have been the result of peer pressure rather than a true heart desire.

1 Corinthians 13:1-3,13 says, "If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but do not have love, I have become a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. ²If I have the gift of prophecy, and know all mysteries and all knowledge; and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. ³And if I give all my possessions to feed the poor, and if I surrender my body to be burned, but do not have love, it profits me nothing... ¹³But now faith, hope, love, abide these three; but the greatest of these is love."

Modesty profits us little if it is not done in a spirit of love for our Lord and our brothers.  On the other hand, it is of little use to say that modesty is an issue of the heart and fail to apply it to our dress and conduct, as Melanie states in the following videos.  I hope you will take the time to watch them and be challenged.

Christmas Melodies

How deep the Father's love for us
How vast beyond all measure
That He would give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure

For many, Christmas is all about warm fuzzy feelings. It's about being with family and having "chestnuts roasted o'er an open fire".  We dream of a white Christmas, remembering the times of old.  These things are not inherently bad, but for Christians this should not be the focus of our the holiday.  True, Christ was probably not born on December 25th, but we remember Jesus' birth for a reason- so that we would not become caught up in a "winter wonderland" but in the "wonders of His love".  We should focus, this season and every season, on the gift of God who sent Christ to the world, coming in the likeness of sinful flesh, to save us.  He came as the perfect, spotless lamb of God, to carry our sins upon him and wash them away with his blood.  We are unworthy of the gift of His life! Oh so unworthy!  But he came to us, meek and lowly, to heal, to bind up the broken, to be the Good Shepherd, to convict and rebuke, and ultimately to suffer and to die for my sin.  For your sin.  I feel helpless to adequately convey how astonishing this is!  He was perfect and he was complete.  God is in no way dependent on us.  He could have wiped away the blight of the human race from the earth with a word, but instead he took compassion on us, vile and hateful as we were, and died for us- while we were yet rejecting him!

So I pray that you and yours would have a wonderful Christmas- a Christmas caught up in the wonder of Christ's sacrifice which washed us white as snow.  Isaiah 1:18b - "Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool."

The Magician's Nephew- Lessons in Human Nature

This, the account of the first human encounter with the world of Narnia, provides one of the most intimate views into the every-day struggles of human nature.  Although The Magician's Nephew has never been my favorite book in the series, I find that I can understand the subtle themes better than when I read it as a child.  Although this is the sixth book published in the Chronicles of Narnia, it functions much like the Genesis creation account, providing important background information that aids in the understanding of the events and conflicts of the other books.

Near the beginning of the narrative, in the dying world of Charn, Digory chooses to act cruelly and selfishly as he pushes Polly and her warning aside in his desire to strike the bell which awakens the evil Jadis, queen of Charn.  Although he initially seeks to justify himself as being enchanted by the inscription under the bell, when he comes face to face with Aslan in Narnia, he is instantly convicted of his wrongdoing, and sees that there is indeed no excuse.  The motif of the "forbidden fruit" is used repeatedly throughout the book.  Just as Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden in Genesis, we often wonder why something is forbidden from us.  Why can we not eat from this beautiful tree, and only from the other trees?  Why must we not follow our impulses, when they seem so harmless at the time?  The very reason we ask such questions hints at the conscience God has placed within us.  Con/science, literally, means with knowledge.  God does not punish us for things we do unknowingly- no, we have no excuse because we know from the Law of his Word and the Law written on our hearts that our deeds are evil.  We make excuses only because we know at heart that we are guilty.  There is no excusing or denying our sin when we meet the Lord face to face, as we all must someday.

The creation scene is beautiful, as the sun rises and the voice of Aslan evokes several different, but strong and decisive responses from the group witnessing the scene.  Uncle Andrew is frightened and resents the voice, while the Witch becomes proud and hard in response to it.  The children feel a wonderful stirring in their hearts as they realize its beauty.  The cart-horse becomes joyful and spirited once again, and the cabby is lost in wonder at this voice which to him seems strangely familiar.  We must all react to the voice of God that stirs our soul.  Will you respond by worshiping God, or by hardening your heart and rejecting his call?

As one of the protagonists, Digory is a character with whom we empathize and relate.  After he meets with the Lion face to face, he sees the true nature of his sin and repents of his selfish attitude. In a poignant moment he fleetingly contemplates bargaining to do Aslan's bidding if the Lion would help his mother get well, but instantly realizes that Aslan isn't the sort of person to be "bargain[ed] with".  Instead, he agrees to embark on a quest to help remedy the evil that he brought into this new world.  Overcome with grief for his mother, Digory looks pleadingly into Aslan's face and marvels to see that Aslan's sorrow over his mother's sickness is even greater than his own.  What a comfort to us that "Jesus wept" for the death of a friend, and the sorrow of the mourners (John 11:35).  Many of us know this verse as the shortest verse in the Bible, but it is laced with such tenderness and should be held dearly to us in times of grief.  We do not grieve alone- Christ shares our sorrow.  He has borne the sorrow of the ages, and bears the sorrow of the future as well.  And yet, he cares for us individually, counting the very hairs of our heads.  He desires to heal our hearts and bind our wounds.

I realize that I have touched on many themes in this short synopsis, and I apologize if it is confusing... it will probably make more sense if you have read The Magician's Nephew.  I have one more point to make, and personally I think it is the most important to understand.  In light of the perfect, righteous, loving, and compassionate nature of Christ, who are we?  May I propose that we are all "Uncle Andrews" at heart?  Just to paint a brief picture of what that looks like, let's take a peek at Uncle Andrew's nature.  He believes he has a link into the world of magic- a "high and lonely destiny", if you will- through his possession of the magical rings.  He doesn't even understand them, but yet he uses them to cruelly destroy guinea pigs, and tricks his nephew and Polly into using the rings.  He justifies his actions to Digory by telling him that grown-ups, and especially magicians, don't have to live by the same code of ethics or morality.  When Uncle Andrew is unwittingly dragged to Narnia, he works hard to convince himself that the Narnian animals were roaring rather than speaking, and that Aslan was a "dumb animal" and did not in fact create the world of Narnia, that he eventually believes his own illusion.  Although this poor old man is obviously in a prison of his own making, we can't help but feel a bit sorry for him as he is enslaved by the powerful and evil witch, Jadis, who ironically also says she has a "high and lonely destiny".  How are we like this sniveling, despicable, pitiable man?  In almost every way.  We have seen the glory and perfect design of God's created world, but many close their minds to it.  God is not silent, but if people work hard enough to pretend to hear something else, they can eventually deceive even themselves.  We are utterly depraved and despicable, enslaved by our sin to the power of evil.  We serve the devil, an entity much more cunning and subversive than Jadis, but equally as alluring.  Indeed, Satan masquerades himself as an angel of light. (2 Cor 11:14)  We can be freed only by the power of God, who has power over our sin, over death, and over Satan.  Do not harden your heart or close your ears!