What was it like for Jesus to be beaten and mocked by men whom He created? As they were whipping Him, was He thinking, "I saw you in your mother's womb"? As they squeezed that crown made of thorns onto his head, did He think, "I wrote down all your life's days in my book, before even one of them came to be"?
It's so hard to imagine, isn't it? Didn't they have some inkling of who He was? As they hammered a nail through the wrists of the God of the universe, didn't anything seem out of the ordinary? I want to believe that they had some awareness, that they at least had a conscience and felt some compassion in their torture. Or at least some guilt.
I also want to believe that some of them--all of them--in the weeks and months and years that followed heard the Good News of His resurrection, heard that He did it all for them, and received the gift He offered. Some of them, we know from the book of Matthew, believed on the spot. One of Jesus's guards declared, "Surely He was the Son of God!"immediately after His death. What was it like when this guard met up with Jesus again in heaven, saw Him seated in His honored position at the right hand of God, saw all the angels falling before Him in worship?
This Easter season, my curiosity has lingered on these Roman guards. The idea of flogging one's Creator, of drawing the life blood out of God Himself, it's astounding. Hard as I try, I can't wrap my brain around what that was like and what they were thinking.
There's one more reason I keep thinking of Jesus's accusers and tormentors. It's because in some unfathomable way that defies time and space, I am them.
"Behold the Man upon a cross,
My sin upon His shoulders
Ashamed I hear my mocking voice,
Call out among the scoffers.
It was my sin that held Him there
Until it was accomplished
His dying breath has brought me life
I know that it is finished."
I'm grateful to Stuart Townsend, who wrote these words to "How Deep the Father's Love for Us." He reminds me that I'm no different from those Roman guards. Just about the time I start to look down on them and wonder what in the world they were thinking, my thoughts are interrupted by my own mocking voice among the scoffers.
We were all enemies of God when Jesus suffered and died for us (Romans 5:10). It was our sin that held Him on the cross. We are every bit as culpable as the Roman guards and Pontius Pilate and the Jewish council. And yet His wounds paid our ransom. They reconciled us to a holy God, making us holy in the process. "It is finished" means that I'm no longer among the scoffers and the mockers. I'm part of the family, a treasured daughter who is wholly loved, fully forgiven.
To make children of God from sinners and scoffers--the miracle of Easter.
Sunday, March 27, 2016
Thursday, March 17, 2016
Have we become a Romans 1 nation?
There's some scary stuff in the Bible, and I'm not just talking about the book of Revelation. At least with Revelation, I can't really even fathom the scariness. I have no frame of reference for the sun becoming black as sackcloth or horses with heads like lions breathing smoke and sulfur. It sounds plenty scary, but I can't even imagine it.
It's the things I can imagine that are truly scary to me, like Romans 1. It's not hard for me to imagine a nation full of people whose thinking has become futile and whose hearts have become foolish. One wrong click on the internet and I can see "the degrading of their bodies with one another," "shameful acts," and both traditional and same-sex couples "inflamed with lust for one another."
I don't have to look far to find people who are "full of envy, murder, strife, deceit and malice." "Gossips, slanderers, God-haters" abound. Turn on the evening news any given night and you see people "inventing new ways of doing evil."
But even those are not the things that scare me most. Evil is so ingrained, so commonplace, in this world that I sometimes fail to pay it any attention at all. I'm used to people who have "exchanged the truth of God for a lie." Every day I have to fight hard against doing it myself. But even that is not the part of Romans 1 that I fear the most.
I think the most terrifying words in all of scripture could very well be these: "God gave them over to a depraved mind." Or, as The Message says: "When they gave God up and would not even acknowledge him, God gave them up to doing everything their evil minds could think of." In other words, He let them do whatever they wanted, and He let them see exactly where that would lead.
I find myself praying now, more than ever before, "God! Please don't turn us over to ourselves! Please give us what we need and not what we deserve!" That is the definition of grace, and we need it now more than ever. We need His grace as we face the scariest election anyone's ever seen. We need His grace as our leaders deal with some of the most terrifying evils the world has ever known.
The only hope for a Romans 1 people is 2 Chronicles 7:14. God gives us specific instructions there in what to do at times like these: "If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land."
Humble themselves and pray. Ranting and badmouthing are not humble responses to today's political situation. Lying in bed at night fretting is not seeking His face. I've done plenty of both, but what good does it do? It just lumps me in with the Romans 1 people. God, let me not be found among the gossips and slanderers. Keep me from falling into malice and strife. I want only to be found down on my face, humbling myself, asking Your forgiveness, and boldly asking that You will heal our land.
Please don't turn us over to ourselves.
It's the things I can imagine that are truly scary to me, like Romans 1. It's not hard for me to imagine a nation full of people whose thinking has become futile and whose hearts have become foolish. One wrong click on the internet and I can see "the degrading of their bodies with one another," "shameful acts," and both traditional and same-sex couples "inflamed with lust for one another."
I don't have to look far to find people who are "full of envy, murder, strife, deceit and malice." "Gossips, slanderers, God-haters" abound. Turn on the evening news any given night and you see people "inventing new ways of doing evil."
But even those are not the things that scare me most. Evil is so ingrained, so commonplace, in this world that I sometimes fail to pay it any attention at all. I'm used to people who have "exchanged the truth of God for a lie." Every day I have to fight hard against doing it myself. But even that is not the part of Romans 1 that I fear the most.
I think the most terrifying words in all of scripture could very well be these: "God gave them over to a depraved mind." Or, as The Message says: "When they gave God up and would not even acknowledge him, God gave them up to doing everything their evil minds could think of." In other words, He let them do whatever they wanted, and He let them see exactly where that would lead.
I find myself praying now, more than ever before, "God! Please don't turn us over to ourselves! Please give us what we need and not what we deserve!" That is the definition of grace, and we need it now more than ever. We need His grace as we face the scariest election anyone's ever seen. We need His grace as our leaders deal with some of the most terrifying evils the world has ever known.
The only hope for a Romans 1 people is 2 Chronicles 7:14. God gives us specific instructions there in what to do at times like these: "If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land."
Humble themselves and pray. Ranting and badmouthing are not humble responses to today's political situation. Lying in bed at night fretting is not seeking His face. I've done plenty of both, but what good does it do? It just lumps me in with the Romans 1 people. God, let me not be found among the gossips and slanderers. Keep me from falling into malice and strife. I want only to be found down on my face, humbling myself, asking Your forgiveness, and boldly asking that You will heal our land.
Please don't turn us over to ourselves.
Sunday, March 6, 2016
My Little Tribute to Nancy Reagan
I lived in Southern California for four years and saw only a handful of celebrities. By far my biggest celebrity moment was seeing Ronald and Nancy Reagan. They were three or four years out of the White House, and I was a college student at UCLA. It would be fun to say I just bumped into them, but the truth is that I was a bit of a stalker.
When a friend happened to mention that the Reagans went to his church, I was intrigued. These were before the days when you jumped on the internet to find out everything about a person. Ronald Reagan's church-going habits were not public information, or at least not that I knew of. But now I had an "in," someone who could tell me where and when to show up to have The Granddaddy of Them All in celebrity sightings. I couldn't resist. I recruited my friend Karin as a co-stalker, and we made the plan. We arrived early one Sunday morning at Bel Air Pres and strategically positioned ourselves in our pew. Apparently the Reagans sat in the same seats every week, and we would be right behind them. Lucky for us, our advance work paid off, and they slid in just before the service began, inches in front of us.
Of course they weren't alone. Two well-dressed, unsmiling men accompanied them. I watched them during the prayer, and they never once closed an eye. Secret Service agents are smart like that, I guess. If someone's going to take out a former president in church, in all likelihood it's going to happen during a prayer. They also didn't shake hands during the greeting portion of the service. They stood completely still, watchful, barely human. The Reagans shook hands with plenty of people, but not with Karin and me. Maybe they were used to having wide-eyed, gawking strangers in the pew behind them. They only greeted their friends. I can understand.
I don't remember a thing about the service that day. I can't recall what the pastor looked like or anything he said. But I can perfectly remember Nancy Reagan. She was the tiniest woman I'd ever seen. My grandmother was five-feet on her tiptoes and weighed 95 pounds dripping wet, but Nancy Reagan was even smaller. And her dress was so beautifully tailored that it made her waist look 15 inches around. It was her skin, though, that most amazed me. She would have been a little over 70 at the time. Eight of those years had been White House years, and we all know the toll those take on a person's youth. Still, she had the most beautiful skin I can ever recall seeing. It was like porcelain. She looked like a doll made of fine china, sitting in a glass cabinet in some overpriced store. She was perfect. I couldn't take my eyes off her, even though she was sitting next to the man I had come to see. He was pretty grand, too, but nothing like Nancy. She took my breath away.
I was just a kid when the Reagans were in office. I remember very little of what they accomplished, other than "Mr. Gorbachev, tear down that wall," and "Just Say No." But I do remember thinking they were classy, even a bit heroic. They were Hollywood stars who brought their glamour and beauty to the White House. They also brought dignity and honor to the presidency. Probably it's a good thing Nancy won't be around to see what becomes of it down the road.
Farewell, elegant Nancy. You gave me the sighting of a lifetime and a good story to tell my grandchildren.
When a friend happened to mention that the Reagans went to his church, I was intrigued. These were before the days when you jumped on the internet to find out everything about a person. Ronald Reagan's church-going habits were not public information, or at least not that I knew of. But now I had an "in," someone who could tell me where and when to show up to have The Granddaddy of Them All in celebrity sightings. I couldn't resist. I recruited my friend Karin as a co-stalker, and we made the plan. We arrived early one Sunday morning at Bel Air Pres and strategically positioned ourselves in our pew. Apparently the Reagans sat in the same seats every week, and we would be right behind them. Lucky for us, our advance work paid off, and they slid in just before the service began, inches in front of us.
Of course they weren't alone. Two well-dressed, unsmiling men accompanied them. I watched them during the prayer, and they never once closed an eye. Secret Service agents are smart like that, I guess. If someone's going to take out a former president in church, in all likelihood it's going to happen during a prayer. They also didn't shake hands during the greeting portion of the service. They stood completely still, watchful, barely human. The Reagans shook hands with plenty of people, but not with Karin and me. Maybe they were used to having wide-eyed, gawking strangers in the pew behind them. They only greeted their friends. I can understand.
I don't remember a thing about the service that day. I can't recall what the pastor looked like or anything he said. But I can perfectly remember Nancy Reagan. She was the tiniest woman I'd ever seen. My grandmother was five-feet on her tiptoes and weighed 95 pounds dripping wet, but Nancy Reagan was even smaller. And her dress was so beautifully tailored that it made her waist look 15 inches around. It was her skin, though, that most amazed me. She would have been a little over 70 at the time. Eight of those years had been White House years, and we all know the toll those take on a person's youth. Still, she had the most beautiful skin I can ever recall seeing. It was like porcelain. She looked like a doll made of fine china, sitting in a glass cabinet in some overpriced store. She was perfect. I couldn't take my eyes off her, even though she was sitting next to the man I had come to see. He was pretty grand, too, but nothing like Nancy. She took my breath away.
I was just a kid when the Reagans were in office. I remember very little of what they accomplished, other than "Mr. Gorbachev, tear down that wall," and "Just Say No." But I do remember thinking they were classy, even a bit heroic. They were Hollywood stars who brought their glamour and beauty to the White House. They also brought dignity and honor to the presidency. Probably it's a good thing Nancy won't be around to see what becomes of it down the road.
Farewell, elegant Nancy. You gave me the sighting of a lifetime and a good story to tell my grandchildren.
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