I’m not going to lie. I loved Titanic. I still get a little shmoopy when I hear My Heart Will Go On. One of my favorite scenes is when Jack is dining in first-class with Rose’s entourage and the unsinkable Molly Brown. He gives this little speech:
I mean, I got everything I need right here with me. I got air in my lungs, a few blank sheets of paper. I mean, I love waking up in the morning not knowing what's gonna happen or, who I'm gonna meet, where I'm gonna wind up. Just the other night I was sleeping under a bridge and now here I am on the grandest ship in the world having champagne with you fine people. I figure life's a gift and I don't intend on wasting it. You don't know what hand you're gonna get dealt next. You learn to take life as it comes at you... to make each day count. Then they all raise a toast "to making it count." *sigh*
Movies, books, music—they inundate us with the idea that we need to make every moment count because this is all we get. You will never be younger, freer, more alive than you are right now, so go ride a bull! And, I admit, I’m easily seduced by this way of thinking. I get caught up in this world and I forget that God promised a new Earth, a better Earth, and that I have citizenship in that kingdom.
Isaiah 11 describes the new order that the Messiah will put in place. First, politics will change. The strong trees of leadership will be sawed down, a tender sprig will sprout up, and this little Branch will rule us all. The weak will rule over the strong. The humble will dethrone the proud.
Nature will change. We have many good mothers in our group who cringe at the thought of their sons sticking their hands in a snake’s nest, but on the new Earth, nature will be back in balance. We won’t fear shark attacks or spider bites or, gulp, birds touching our hair. We’ll live in harmony with nature the way God originally intended.
And that’s what hits me—we aren’t living as God intended. We take for granted that deer will dart in front of our cars and that politicians are not trustworthy. We only know the ways of this world and we don’t have enough of an appetite for the next one.
But God promises us a better world, one with a ruler who is infinitely loving and reliable. One who cared enough about this broken world to come down and do something about it.
I told you all last week that I love finding places in the Old Testament where God shows His plan for the Gentiles (aka, you and me). In Romans 15:12, Paul quotes Isaiah 10,
12 And again, Isaiah says,
“The Root of Jesse will spring up,
one who will arise to rule over the nations;
in him the Gentiles will hope.”
Are we hoping in Him? Are we hoping in the One who, 700 years before Christ came to Earth, prophesied about saving us? Are we hoping in the One who, 2000 years before we came to Earth, was raised on a cross to save us? Are we living for the moment, or are we living for eternity?
Questions:
How does our American ideal of “making it count” contrast with living from an eternal perspective?
How does Jesus exemplify a person who was living for eternity? What do we see Him doing that we can apply to our lives?
What are you most excited to experience in the new Earth?
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
A writer's heart
In Frederick Buechner’s sermon The Good Book as a Good Book, (from the compilation of his sermons entitled A Life in Sermons), he writes:
God is not to be seen in space because in space he is not seeable any more than in La Comédie Humaine Balzac is seeable. But he can be heard. God’s words can be heard because words move forward not through space through time, and although time cannot be inhabited by eternity, it can be impinged upon by eternity the way the horizontal can be impinged upon by the vertical. God is known in the Bible as he speaks—speaks to an thorough the prophets and patriarchs, the priests and poets, speaks through the mighty acts he works both in the history of Israel and in the small histories of men and women when their ears and lives are in some measure attuned to him, or sometimes even when they are not. The Bible is the Word of God—the word about God and God’s word about himself—and it is also the endless words of God, the unanticipatable and elusive self-disclosures of God to countless numbers of people through the medium of what in Hebrew is called dabhar, which means both word and deed—the word that is also a deed because it makes things happen, and the deed that is also a word because, through it, is revealed meaning.
This is one of many ways in this sermon Buechner brings to light the impressive, (though that is barely expressive enough), artistry of the Bible. It is good literature for it is both intriguing and ambiguous while at the same time accessible and clear. In Isaiah 18 it is possible to get lost in the vagueness—“I will remain quiet… like shimmering heat in the sunshine. (18.4)” Nonetheless, the message is clear enough: The LORD is coming and he will have all peoples at his feet.
Isaiah 18 follows a laundry list of “prophecies against” in which Isaiah makes clear the war path God is preparing to march on. Mighty nations are prophesied to blow away “like chaff” and “tumbleweed”. Cush I found, after substantial digging, is an Ehtiopian nation. They are known by their relationship to this nation of “people tall and smooth-skinned” which is universally feared and apparently unfamiliar, as their speech is “strange”. Cush, it seems, relies on these fearsome warriors and, I would imagine, takes comfort in the fact that these alien allies strike fear in their opponents. The LORD will have none of this arrogant reliance upon fearsome humans. He is, after all, more fearsome than them all. Nonetheless, He waits.
Wesley comments on verse 18.4, in which God’s presence is compared to “shimmering heat” and a “cloud of dew”. Wesley notes that both of these atmospheric qualities incite growth, so God is not inhibiting the growth of these nations, but watching as quietly as dew and as stealthily as sunshine as his creation grows… and then he cuts them down.
What fascinates me is the beauty in this passage. The poetic qualities, the metaphor and rhythm and the glorious denouement of gifts being brought to the glorified LORD, it is all so perfectly scripted to bring you to the edge of your seat with anticipation at what this lion-like God will do.
I, for one, do not appreciate the craftsmanship of the Bible often enough. I read it as a duty and as an obedient saint, but often not to get lost in its story. This passage reminds me of the artist’s heart of our LORD and helps me understand what it is about Him that is irresistible.
Follow up questions:
1. When you read the part, which in the NIV reads, “All you people of the world… (18.3),” are you roped in? Have you fully accepted that this passage is not just for Cush, but for you as well? Do you recognize your part in the unfolding plot? What is it?
2. Why does God wait until “the flower becomes a ripening grape” (18.5) to cut off the shoots, to prune them? What is the significance of His waiting? Do we dare guess what He was waiting for?
3. The people “tall and smooth skinned” are not well defined in commentaries other than having some kind of allied relationship with the Ethiopian Cushites. Why are they the ones who are used as an example of being humbled before the LORD? Why does Isaiah include them in his prophecy as those who will bring gifts to the LORD?
God is not to be seen in space because in space he is not seeable any more than in La Comédie Humaine Balzac is seeable. But he can be heard. God’s words can be heard because words move forward not through space through time, and although time cannot be inhabited by eternity, it can be impinged upon by eternity the way the horizontal can be impinged upon by the vertical. God is known in the Bible as he speaks—speaks to an thorough the prophets and patriarchs, the priests and poets, speaks through the mighty acts he works both in the history of Israel and in the small histories of men and women when their ears and lives are in some measure attuned to him, or sometimes even when they are not. The Bible is the Word of God—the word about God and God’s word about himself—and it is also the endless words of God, the unanticipatable and elusive self-disclosures of God to countless numbers of people through the medium of what in Hebrew is called dabhar, which means both word and deed—the word that is also a deed because it makes things happen, and the deed that is also a word because, through it, is revealed meaning.
This is one of many ways in this sermon Buechner brings to light the impressive, (though that is barely expressive enough), artistry of the Bible. It is good literature for it is both intriguing and ambiguous while at the same time accessible and clear. In Isaiah 18 it is possible to get lost in the vagueness—“I will remain quiet… like shimmering heat in the sunshine. (18.4)” Nonetheless, the message is clear enough: The LORD is coming and he will have all peoples at his feet.
Isaiah 18 follows a laundry list of “prophecies against” in which Isaiah makes clear the war path God is preparing to march on. Mighty nations are prophesied to blow away “like chaff” and “tumbleweed”. Cush I found, after substantial digging, is an Ehtiopian nation. They are known by their relationship to this nation of “people tall and smooth-skinned” which is universally feared and apparently unfamiliar, as their speech is “strange”. Cush, it seems, relies on these fearsome warriors and, I would imagine, takes comfort in the fact that these alien allies strike fear in their opponents. The LORD will have none of this arrogant reliance upon fearsome humans. He is, after all, more fearsome than them all. Nonetheless, He waits.
Wesley comments on verse 18.4, in which God’s presence is compared to “shimmering heat” and a “cloud of dew”. Wesley notes that both of these atmospheric qualities incite growth, so God is not inhibiting the growth of these nations, but watching as quietly as dew and as stealthily as sunshine as his creation grows… and then he cuts them down.
What fascinates me is the beauty in this passage. The poetic qualities, the metaphor and rhythm and the glorious denouement of gifts being brought to the glorified LORD, it is all so perfectly scripted to bring you to the edge of your seat with anticipation at what this lion-like God will do.
I, for one, do not appreciate the craftsmanship of the Bible often enough. I read it as a duty and as an obedient saint, but often not to get lost in its story. This passage reminds me of the artist’s heart of our LORD and helps me understand what it is about Him that is irresistible.
Follow up questions:
1. When you read the part, which in the NIV reads, “All you people of the world… (18.3),” are you roped in? Have you fully accepted that this passage is not just for Cush, but for you as well? Do you recognize your part in the unfolding plot? What is it?
2. Why does God wait until “the flower becomes a ripening grape” (18.5) to cut off the shoots, to prune them? What is the significance of His waiting? Do we dare guess what He was waiting for?
3. The people “tall and smooth skinned” are not well defined in commentaries other than having some kind of allied relationship with the Ethiopian Cushites. Why are they the ones who are used as an example of being humbled before the LORD? Why does Isaiah include them in his prophecy as those who will bring gifts to the LORD?
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