Jesus Christ: the Heavenly Carpenter beyond Fleet Street

“ ‘Why do you call me good?’ Jesus answered. ‘No one is good – except God alone.’ ” ~ Mark 10:18

We all deserve to die.

Uplifting way to start a Monday, right?

Even if you hate the thought of it, it’s a concept that sells. In fact, the notion that “we all deserve to die” is a main theme in Stephen Sondheim’s morbid musical, Sweeney Todd: the Demon Barber of Fleet Street, which most recently was made into a film starring Johnny Depp as Sweeney Todd, a barber who regularly murders his customers and then serves their meat in a special recipe. Sweeney justifies his atrocious actions after having an epiphany that no person is innocent and therefore every man is fair game to kill.

In this particular musical, Sweeney isn’t the only one who adopts this sinister mindset. The town’s head judge has no problem even sentencing children to death who have committed crimes as minor as stealing. In one such scene, a city official asks the judge about a man that was condemned to die.

“Was he guilty?” the official asks.

“Well, if he didn’t do it, surely he’s done something to warrant a hanging,” the judge explains.

The town official devilishly smiles and concedes, “What man has not?”

Stepping outside of the musical theatre realm, it’s a notion that many people recognize in the real world as well. I often hear people complain, “I’ve lost my faith in humanity,” or “Everyone cheats,” or “Don’t trust anybody.” Deep down, we all have a longing to be reassured that we’re not that bad; we yearn for innocence, and even if we can’t see that innocence in ourselves, we hope to see it somewhere else. After all, this is one of the biggest reasons so many people find babies so cute.

“Oh, look at the cute little baby,” a woman cries to her husband while taking a walk in the park.

“Yeah, cute,” her husband says while trying to drag his wife down the trail. “Let’s go.”

“But the baby is so adorable!” she continues ranting.

“Yeah, the baby is adorable,” the man rolls his eyes. “I bet Charles Manson was once that cute, too.”

The baby’s innocence is lost on the man, who sees the baby as nothing more than a ticking timebomb of sin.

How terrible. If a creature as innocent as a little baby is prone to being corrupted, what reassurance is there that anyone is worthy of being called “good?”

This notion that humans are inherently evil is the same argument Satan often uses against us. When we stand before the Lord one day, and God says, “Welcome to my Kingdom,” Satan mourns the decision.

“Wasn’t he guilty?” Satan appeals to God, hoping to claim another soul in his nether realm. “Surely he’s done something to warrant damnation.”

“He was definitely guilty, as is every man,” God replies. “But someone else already paid his penalty.”

God is not like Sweeney Todd. While God may share the view that our actions are reprehensible, He has no desire to cut anyone off who has been redeemed by the saving grace of Jesus. And not only are we saved, but we are reassured of this salvation: “The punishment that brought us peace was on Him, and by His wounds we are healed” (Isaiah 53:5). Even as Christ hung on the cross between two convicted criminals, one of the criminals turned to Jesus and begged the Lord of forgiveness. Christ’s reply? “I assure you, today you will be with Me in paradise.”

Instead of executing us like a demonic barber-turned-cannibal, the Lord only invites us into His kingdom, guaranteeing a spot for us if we want it.

So, yes, we all deserve to die. At the same time, I contend that we don’t have to, because we’ve been reassured by the blood of Christ that our sins have been covered.

High Scores Alone Don’t Beat the Game

“Those who cling to worthless idols forfeit the grace that could be theirs.” ~ Jonah 2:8

The earliest memory that I have is that of me playing Super Mario Bros. 3 on the Nintendo Entertainment System.  Naturally, the thick-headed mustachioed Italian stallions known as Mario and Luigi fromMushroomKingdom have had a hand in raising me into the person I am today.  Fortunately, I never bought into their whole red-and-green-overalls attire, but they have taught me a few lessons along the way that I still hold onto.

In 1998, the Mario brothers launched a game originally on the Nintendo 64 system that was so successful that the sequels still have not stopped to this day. In fact, its newest installment comes out on the Nintendo Wii this Sunday.  The game series is known as Mario Party, and it can be one of the most fun experiences you have after you learn its rules.

In this Mario Party, you and three friends (or three computer-generated opponents, if you’re like me and never got around to making any friends because you played too many video games) compete with each other to become the match’s “Superstar.”  The four of you are placed on what is a typical game board, reminiscent of Monopoly or Trivial Pursuit game boards.  Somewhere on this game board, a “Star” has appeared, and the entire purpose of the game is to roll the dice to make it to that Star and buy it for 20 coins.  Whoever has the most Stars at the end of the game is the Superstar.

It’s a funny thing, though… when you get to the space that has the Star, you’re asked whether you want to spend your 20 coins on the Star or not.  I always thought that this was a foolish question, because, knowing that the sole purpose of the game is to attain the most Stars, why would anyone ever pass up on such an opportunity?

But, when I deeply reflect on it, I can understand how some may make the unfortunate choice of passing it up.

For one, someone may not understand the concept of a Star.  After all, what use is a dinky ol’ Star if you don’t know what it does?  This type of person just didn’t take the time to think about the grander picture.

Or, it could be that the person completely confused the game’s purpose, and instead thinks that the winner of the game is the person who wins the most mini-games.  Woe to the person who thinks like that, because what they don’t realize is that, when it’s all said and done, receiving one Star is better than earning a million coins.

Then there’s the person who might pass up the Star because he believes he can win the game by his own means.  This person doesn’t want to concern himself with trivial things like Stars, but in the end, he finds out that he’s blown his chances of winning the game.

Are you paying attention?  Because I stopped talking about Mario Party awhile ago.  Instead, there’s a different Star that’s available to you, and it doesn’t even cost 20 coins.  It doesn’t matter what you roll on the dice, how many mini-games you’ve won, the number of friends you have, the education you received, the good deeds you’ve done, or the number of times you’ve gone to church.  Instead, this Star is actually available to you free of charge, and you were meant to receive it.  You just have to choose to not pass it up, which would be a foolish choice, indeed.  You don’t earn this Star, you just take it.  Not to mention, it’s available to every player.  And it gets better: you only need one Star to win, and nobody can take it away from you.  For I am convinced that neither game-overs nor 1-Ups, neither plumbers nor Goombas, neither the present nor the next level, nor any power-ups, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all Mushroom Kingdom will be able to separate you from the clutch that is on that Star.

By the way, if you end up deciding to decline the Star, make sure to get back to me on that one.  Let me know how that works out for you.

How to Love Charles

“The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” ~ 1 Samuel 16:7

I had just enough time to eat lunch, finish some homework, and make it to class. No distractions were going to get in my way; I was focused.

After setting my popcorn chicken from the university café down on my little secluded table, I bowed my head and closed my eyes to pray over my food.

“God, thank you for that which died so I could eat…”

I felt the presence of someone suddenly standing over me, but trying my best to ignore the shadow, I finished my prayer without breaking my focus.

“…and thank you for the hands that prepared this meal. In Your Name, amen.”

I looked up to find I had been right: a student in his early-30’s was hovering over me.

“Were you praying?” the student asked me.

“Yes,” I told him.

“What do you do?”

“What… what do I do?” I asked him, annoyed.

“Yeah, what do you do,” he repeated. “Major?”

This guy obviously had something wrong with him. Considering he was a college student, certainly he was able to function and had some level of critical thinking skills, but by no means was I convinced that he was “all there.” I tried giving him nonverbal cues that I really didn’t want to talk to him, but he seemed to lack the social awareness component to pick up on it.

“I’m a Psychology Major,” I told him. As if that was an invitation, the student threw his coat down on the table and sat in the only other chair placed opposite of where I sat.

I need to make a break for it. He’s not getting my hints. I’ve got too much to do today.

“I’m Charles,” he broke my concentration.

Okay. Remember Danger, this could be Jesus here. This could be Jesus. This could be Jesus.

“Hi, Charles… my name is…”

“Do you believe in aliens?” Charles interrupted me.

“What?” I clarified.

“Well, I do. I believe in aliens. I think the government keeps us from them.”

Jesus would love Charles if He were here right now. Jesus wants me to love Charles, too. I need to love Charles.

“Hey, is that your bag? The one with the military symbol?” Charles asked me.

I looked over at my bag with the sewn-on chevrons that indicated ‘Sergeant’ rank in the Army.

“Yes, that’s mine.”

“So, you in the military?”

“Yes, I am. I’m in the National Guard.”

“I also think that the government likes to start wars.”

BAH! I know Jesus wants me to love this guy, but would Jesus listen to this nonsense if He was in a hurry?

I kept fidgeting in my seat, anxious to leave Charles with his own thoughts so I could go tackle my errands before class.

You know what? I bet this Charles guy doesn’t have many friends. And I bet nobody ever listens to him. I bet a lot of people are rude to him.

“The thing with Iraq is the oil…” Charles continued ranting as I thought through my options.

You know what? Forget my errands. I can do those later. If Jesus were here, He would listen to Charles, no matter how crazy he is. Because this guy is loved by Jesus, I owe it to him to listen to him. That’s what Jesus would do.

For the next hour, Charles continued rambling. He talked about the existence of aliens, discussed politics that I disagreed with, gave an analysis of the oddity of human nature, and touched on random topics as I struggled to follow what he was saying. And you know what? I learned to love it. I loved hearing Charles rant. After I put my needs and desires on the backburner, and I tried to imagine what Jesus would do in this awkward situation, I found I really enjoyed hearing Charles mindlessly express his feelings, even though I agreed with almost nothing he was saying.

Certainly, other people had once been in the same position I was and made a break for it. And, I can’t blame them for doing it. But by sticking around long enough to get comfortable around Charles, I found I enjoyed his company. I found I got a warm feeling for it. I found that I enjoyed the complexity of human interaction. And, more than anything, I found that I enjoyed following God’s command to love the least.

Sure, I didn’t get any of my errands done that I needed to. But you know what? Nothing’s more important than loving the people that Christ Himself most loved while on earth.

And You Thought People Hated LeBron…

“You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.” ~ Ephesians 4:22-24

Rick “Rim Wrecker” Rodney couldn’t even see the jersey he was holding out, the flashing lights from the media’s cameras blinding him. Yes, Rick had just become the newest #1 draft pick for the NBA, playing for his hometown team, the St. Louis Archers. His entire life had culminated to this point, from his days as a sweeper in his dad’s donut shop to his 4 years of college basketball that blew away NBA scouts. The newest superstar smiled into the microphone, “See you all on the court! Rick Rodney is back in town!”

It was the greatest day of Rick’s life, but what followed was utter disappointment. At the beginning of the season, Rick would sometimes show up late to pre-game warmups, explaining that he lost track of time. By mid-season, Rick would often call in on gamedays and tell his coach he wouldn’t be playing because he strained his ankle the night before. And when the St. Louis Archers needed Rick Rodney the most as they were desperately fighting to stay alive in the playoff hunt at the end of the season, he decided he didn’t feel like playing in the NBA anymore and skipped the majority of the final games.

As you can imagine, Rick went from being “Rim Wrecker” to “Career Wrecker” as the general manager released him from the team. The Archers’ coach scratched his head, “Ricky, why would you breach this contract? Why’d you quit?”

Rick shrugged his shoulders, “I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.”

The act of fictional character Rick Rodney disappointing the fictional St. Louis Archers is not unlike many real Christians who disappoint their real God. Many Christians (and I use that term loosely here) think that once their “draft day” has concluded, that the “gamedays” that follow are of little importance. Just like Rick Rodney who committed to play for the Archers and then began pursuing other interests, many people decide to become Christians without realizing the kind of commitment they are pledging to God. You know these people: they’re the ones who “tried” being a Christian at some point in their life and it “didn’t work out” for them. Or worse, they’re the ones who still call themselves Christian but never concern themselves with Christ’s teachings. God simply scratches His head at these people and asks, “Why’d you quit?” to which the response is, “I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.”

Yes, God wants you to have a “draft day” where you decide to join His team. But He doesn’t want it to end there. He’s not there for you to “try Christianity out” to see if it’s right for you. He wants a commitment from you, where you fall to your knees and plead for mercy after recognizing that you’re a sinner in need of His redemption. After all, being a Christian isn’t just about becoming a Christian, but daily drawing nearer to God and showing others the love of Jesus Christ that will lead them to know Him.

If you’ve already had your “draft day” where you decided that Jesus is Lord, consider how your season’s been going. Are you full of excitement to learn about the Lord and tell the world about His love? Or are you like Rick Rodney, disconcerted and exhausted by a commitment you’re no longer interested in keeping?

If so, what steps can you take to find the renewed fervor you once claimed? After all, this is one Coach worth your 110% performance.

Where Will You Be After the Poker Faces Finally Fold?

“All men will hate you because of me, but he who stands firm to the end will be saved.” ~ Matthew 10:22

Why do you believe what you believe? How did you become a Christian? Was it God’s amazing power that caused you to fall to your knees in a moment of revelation that He loves you? Or did a wise friend lead you towards the Lord while you were on a search for Truth? Or were you raised Christian by your family and never questioned the foundations of your beliefs? Or, perhaps, you found that Christianity was the largest world religion, and so you decided to go with the flow, because 2.1 billion believers can’t be wrong?

How ever you accepted Christ is quite inconsequential; what is truly important is that you accepted Christ at all, and that you realize now that Christ is Lord of Lords, no matter what anyone says.

But… what if that person who led you to Christ suddenly renounced his or her faith, and proclaimed that God is dead? What if you found out that your parents never truly believed in Jesus, but they forced the beliefs on you just so you would grow up to be an upright citizen? What if Christianity was the world’s smallest religion, where a mere 20,000 yet claimed their faith in Jesus?

Or, what if you were the only one that knew Christ? What if all of your fellow church members stopped believing, including your pastor? What if your friends stopped calling on God’s name? What if you were the only believer left in the world… would you still stand as a rock? Or would you waver, unsure of what is true anymore?

According to the Bible, trials lay ahead in which so-called “believers” renounce their faith. Will that cause you to falter?

Always remember that no matter what I, the person next to you, your family, or your pastor may ever say, what is most important is that you know that Christ is the Lord who came down to save you. That fact will never change, no matter what the rest of the world believes.

Don’t ever fall victim to Satan’s traps that try to make you believe that Jesus is a myth, and don’t allow Satan to trick you into thinking that Jesus doesn’t love you. The fact of the matter is Jesus would have come down to earth to be a Savior for the world, even if you were the only one in it.

But you didn’t need me to tell you that… right?

Rock the Lake

“For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it.” ~ Matthew 16:25

BLIP!

The boy smiled with satisfaction.

BLIP!

Wading through the weeds, the boy picked up the rock again.

BLIP!

“What are you doing?” the deep voice boomed.

Startled, the boy turned around to see his grandpa hovering behind him.

“What are you doing?” the grandpa repeated, then chuckled at his grandson, who despite rolling up his pants to keep from getting wet, was drenched from the waist down. “You trying to catch a cold out here?”

The boy giggled, “Silly Grampa! I’m not trying to catch anything. I’m just tossin’.”

“Whatcha tossing?”

BLIP!

“This pebble, Grampa. I’m tossin’ the pebble into the lake here, and watching the effect it has on the water.”

BLIP!

“I used to do that when I was your age, too. But you know what I did differently?”

“What?” the boy gave him his full attention, eager to learn his grandpa’s secret.

“I would throw them rocks higher and farther. I’d make those rocks splash something fierce.”

“Well, if I do that, I’ll lose my pebble, Grampa.”

“But what you’re doing doesn’t seem very fun to me.”

“Well,” the boy protested, “it’s fun enough!”

BLIP!

“Fun enough? Is that what you’re trying to achieve, just enough?” Grampa laughed. “Don’t you want to have a bigger impact than just enough?”

“Of course I do, Grampa. But if I do that, I might lose my pebble. Then I wouldn’t have anything to play with.”

“So, you’re more worried about sacrificing your rock than you are about making the biggest, deepest, and bestest splash you can make?”

“Well, yeah, Grampa. I only have one pebble to lose. If I throw it high and far, I’ll probably lose it. See here?”

The boy gently tossed his rock into the water. BLIP! A couple ripples expanded out, but quickly disappeared, and the rock resurfaced a moment later in the same spot it made its blip.

Grampa stroked his chin with his hand, nodding as he understood his grandson’s stance.

“I see what you mean,” he said, “but I’m not impressed with your ripples. Want to see how I do it?”

“Well, sure, Grampa. But am I going to lose this pebble then?”

“Probably,” he admitted. “But if we don’t do it my way, I don’t think this rock is going to ever achieve its full potential. It’ll just make these piddly ripples all its existence. Can I have a try?”

The boy handed the rock to his grandpa.

“Are you okay with losing this?” Grampa inquired.

“Is it the only way?” the boy asked.

Grampa sternly looked into his grandson’s eyes as his eyebrows furrowed down to display his seriousness.

“Son, it’s the only way.”

The boy bravely nodded, understanding his fun would end after giving his grandpa a try with his rock.

“Alright, here’s the first thing you gotta do: stop calling this a pebble. It’s not a pebble, it’s a rock. Pebbles don’t have the weight to make ripples. What you have here is a firm, solid rock, and don’t you underestimate that.”

The boy nodded again, soaking in everything his grandpa was instructing him to do.

“Next, you take this rock and get a good feel for it,” Grampa said as he handed the boy the rock. “Feel the rock in your fingers, so you can get an idea of its strength so you know just how hard you gotta throw it.”

“It’s pretty strong, Grampa.”

“All rocks should be. But do you know what the next step is?”

The boy shook his head and handed the rock back to his grandpa.

“You gotta just throw it. Don’t waste too much time figuring out your approach or where it might land, you gotta just throw it. We’re trying to make big ripples here, it doesn’t matter where it lands, right?”

“Right, Grampa.”

“Now, keep in mind, the higher you throw it, the stronger the impact it’s going to have on the water, and when it hits the lake, the more resistance it’ll get.”

“That’s when I’ll lose my rock, huh, Grampa?”

“Yes, that’ll be it then. The rock will make a momentary hole in the spot it lands in the lake, and the water will quickly engulf the rock, smacking against itself and creating the ripples.”

The boy nodded, nervously fidgeting in his place.

“Say,” Grampa spoke up, “why don’t you throw this for me? Your arm is stronger.”

“But what if I mess it up, Grampa?”

“Throw it strong, throw it without fear or hesitation, and I promise you won’t mess it up.”

The boy’s grandpa handed him the rock, and the boy felt it in his fingers again. Taking a deep breath in, the boy slung his arm back and pitched the rock as far as he could.

SPLA-AAAASH!!!

The bass in the lake scattered in fear of the rock’s impact, and water shot up into the air like a geyser.

“Whoa-hoa-hoa, Grampa! Did you see that? It went SPLASH! It was like dynamite!”

Grampa put his hands on the boy’s shoulders and firmly squeezed his collar bone.

“But look!” cried Grampa. “See them ripples?”

The boy gazed out at the sparkling water and saw more ripples than he could count. In one splash, the boy had created more ripples in one pitch than he had by gently tossing the rock all day.

Grampa put his hand on the boy’s chest, feeling his heartbeat rapidly pace. The boy turned around and looked at his grandpa.

“What’s wrong?” asked Grampa, noticing the boy had a frown on his face.

“I lost my rock.”

“Remember, if you’re not willing to lose your rock, you’ll never make a lasting ripple.”

“But it’s all alone now.”

“Nah,” Grampa said, swatting the air like he was swatting his grandson’s worries, “it’s not alone. It’s with all the other rocks that made a big splash. And now, you’ll never have to worry about losing the rock again. This is a happy moment, not a sad one.”

The boy looked out at where the rock had landed. It looked peaceful now, as if it never had been splashed, but the boy knew well it had been because there were still so many strong ripples traveling towards the inland.

“It’s too bad the rock can’t see its ripples.”

“What are you talking about?!” Grampa incredulously asked. “That rock has the best view out of the three of us! It can see all its ripples now. It just has to look to the surface.”

“I still don’t think the rock sees its ripples.”

“Well, why not?” a very confused Grampa asked.

“I think it’s too busy enjoying the lake.”

“Not My God!”

“Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace.” ~ Ephesians 4:3

War is stressful.

Patriots always love hearing stories about servicepersons who found themselves in dire situations and faced probable death, only to have the hero within manifest itself and bring out the best. And certainly those things do happen in war.

But war can also bring out the worst.

Steve, though my immediate supervisor, was a close friend of mine. From the moment I was first assigned to him, we instantly clicked. We were both firm in our Christian faith, and we complemented each other’s weaknesses with our unique strengths. We were very successful in every duty we took care of together, and our commanders took pleasure in our achievements.

After about a year of working with each other, we were ordered to go to Afghanistan to serve a combat tour. Unfortunately, this came with an undesirable circumstance: while Steve was slated to operate out of eastern Afghanistan, I would be conducting my operations in central Afghanistan. I was so disappointed that we were being transferred away from each other that I talked to Steve’s commanding officer and requested that he allow me to work directly under Steve in eastern Afghanistan instead of where I was scheduled to go.

Surprisingly, my request was granted. But even more surprisingly, my granted request caused me more misery than I could’ve ever imagined.

When we got to Afghanistan, Steve didn’t handle the stress of war very well, and took out his frustrations on me. He would praise me to my face and on my evaluation reports, but then would belittle me in front of other soldiers to make it seem like he carried our entire team’s success. When I asked him a question when he was in a bad mood, he’d simply point his finger towards our office door and say “go” as if I was a dog not capable of understanding human communication. Eventually, his contempt for me spurred him to concoct false accusations against me; when I finally returned to my home unit after the deployment, I found many of the officers thought very little of me because they had heard very negative stories about me that had been fabricated by Steve.

I don’t think Steve had a particular vendetta against me, I just think he didn’t handle war very well and I, being his only direct subordinate, was an easy outlet for him to unleash his tension. Yet, that didn’t change the fact that I deeply resented him for his transgressions against me, and after we returned to the U.S., I not-so-politely told him that I never wanted to hear from him the rest of my life. Often, I found myself wanting to divorce my religion from his in an attempt to justify my bitterness towards him; it was a frequent occurrence for me to think to myself, “This man is a beast, and we don’t believe in the same God.”

But here’s the thing: Steve and I absolutely, positively, unequivocally believe in the same God. Yes, Steve permanently damaged my reputation and ultimately tarnished my military career. Yes, Steve consciously sinned against me and, in turn, sinned against God. But you know what? I’m a sinner, too. I’ve sinned against brothers and sisters in Christ. But that wouldn’t justify anyone accusing me of worshiping a false God.

And why is that? Because Christians are united, whether they want to believe that or not. Just because one person sins against you doesn’t mean that it’s justifiable to desecrate the oneness we share in Christ Jesus.

Steve, though it certainly didn’t come out in the way he treated me, is devoted to God and His holy ways. Steve is seen by many people as a resolute follower of Jesus, and he’s made a Christian impact on handfuls of people’s lives. Steve is one of the best preachers I’ve ever heard give a sermon, and it’d be ridiculous for me to suggest that God doesn’t speak through his messages. Steve has a testimony that has touched and changed the lives of others in a way that is very pleasing to the Lord. Steve and I are united in a spiritual brotherhood that can’t be broken, whether I approve of that or not.

Christians are one united body. Period, end of discussion. Yes, we sin against each other, but that doesn’t give us the right to deny the unity of our faith. To claim that Steve and I worship different Gods is akin to me bursting into a wedding ceremony and exclaiming that the bride and groom aren’t fit for one another; both claims are declared without authority and ultimately don’t produce change (other than the fact that I embarrass myself in front of everyone who heard my declaration).

While Steve and I have our differences, there’s a bigger concern at hand: Satan is constantly finding ways to drive us further away from Christ. We’re under attack by hell, and we need to band together in this spiritual war by seeking direction from the same God and not denying each other of our oneness in Christ. We’re united in the Lord, and it would be sinful for either of us to deny our oneness in Christ.

27 is the Magic Number

“But now, Lord, what do I look for? My hope is in you.” ~ Psalm 39:7

When I was a kid, there was something I hoped for more than anything else in the world: to someday turn 27 years old.

In my child’s mind, being 27 signified the prime of one’s life. After all, 27 year-olds generally don’t have major health issues yet, they’re in the best shape their body is probably ever going to be, they’re grown-ups but still young enough to be cool, and in my specific case, I knew I’d be a famous film actor by the age of 27, maybe even getting my first Oscar that year. I figured that, after 27, life kind of goes downhill. I wasn’t interested in being 28. And 26 was a little too young. No, I hoped to be 27. That was the perfect age.

My 26^th birthday will be on the horizon in a few months, which means my “prime” is right around the corner, though I doubt it will satisfy my childish expectations that I had of it. Besides the fact that I have yet to be nominated for an Academy Award (and I have yet to even star in a film), my body is already on the rapid decline. Just a few years ago, I was a bundle of energy; now I’m dependent on caffeine just to get through my days. Back when I was a little younger, I was offered a job as a sniper in the Army because of my eagle-like eyesight and steady hands; now I can barely see the TV several feet in front of me, and my hands shake from my overindulgence of caffeine.

I used to sometimes have headaches as a teenager; now I frequently have headaches and sometimes have migraines as an adult.

I used to play football in junior high; now my back feels like it’s shattering a little more each day, and I could never take hits like I used to.

I used to have braces as a kid, but otherwise my teeth perfectly white; now they’re starting to turn a shade of butter and my gums are receding.

I used to run outside and let the rocks scrape my calloused feet; now my feet are bandaged and I wear socks because I contracted plantar warts somewhere along the line.

I used to be able to concentrate on anything I wanted to; now I have to battle spells of dizziness when I’m working.

I used to be able to put my ear against my parents’ door to hear what they were talking about; now I have to have my wife repeat the things she’s said up to three times before I can understand her.

I used to grow my hair out so long that I could feel my sexy locks bounce as I walked; now I’m rapidly balding and get frequent haircuts to mask its effects.

I used to weigh 120 pounds in high school; now I’m teetering towards 160 pounds and too fat to put my socks on while I’m standing.

I used to be the healthiest kid in my class; now I’m bleeding in places that I know I probably shouldn’t be bleeding from.

I used to see my pediatrician as minimally as possible; now I’m constantly making appointments with doctors with all kinds of different specialties. Just last week, I was hospitalized for chest pains and found out that I have a rare heart condition and therefore I should stop doing extraneous activities altogether or I may suffer what’s known as “sudden cardiac death symptom.” The doctor seemed to indicate that this symptom is generally unpleasant, so I’ve obeyed him and now my arms are getting weaker every day I don’t work out.

If things keep going the way they’re going, then if I even make it to age 27, I’ll probably be bald, fat, weak, suffering afflictions, and just generally ugly. This isn’t what I expected; it turns out, I won’t be the handsome, suave, healthy, stunning cool cat I was supposed to be at age 27. My “prime” has already passed, and I wasn’t even aware of it when it happened.

Fortunately, as my body has aged, so has my maturity, and I’ve since learned that I shouldn’t place my hope in being 27. If that’s where my hope still lies, then I’ll be in for a big disappointment. I used to place my hope in my future; now I place my hope in Christ alone. I wasn’t created to someday turn 27 and live a single year of awesomeness; I was created to someday know Christ and live my life for God. I hope for a day that I get to kneel before Jesus and thank Him for walking me through all my hardships and helping me not to focus on my physical ailments.

This frail body serves as a reminder that I was made for God alone. And someday, I’ll die. Maybe it’ll be a quick death, like a car accident. Maybe it’ll be long and painful, like suffering from terminal cancer. Maybe I’ll get lucky and get that “sudden cardiac death symptom” when it’s my time. But none of that matters compared to what will follow. Because, what follows is everything I hope for: eternal life in the presence of Jesus Christ.

Nothing less, nothing more.

God Let That Happen

“I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.” ~ Romans 8:18

The phone rang.

“Hello?” my dad answered.

“Bernie!” Uncle Jeff cried on the other end of the line. “I’m clear! It’s in remission!”

“Really? The cancer’s gone for now?”

“Yes, we just got the news from the doctor. We’re finally hearing exactly what we wanted to hear. Praise God! It’s a miracle! God is so good! I am so blessed! It just goes to show, God really was in the midst of this situation!”

“Oh, He certainly was! That’s amazing, Jeff. That’s such a relief.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me. God spared me from succumbing to this cancer.”

“Jeff,” my dad paused for a moment, unsure of how to say what he was going to say next. “But Jeff… what if He hadn’t spared you?”

Uncle Jeff’s jubilation ended in a hurry as he contemplated what just came out of my dad’s mouth.

“What if it hadn’t ended this way, Jeff? What if it didn’t go into remission? What if you ended up having to leave Jan and the four girls?”

Uncle Jeff didn’t utter a word as he continued to somberly contemplate what my dad had just said.

“I’m not trying to poop in your Cheerio’s, Jeff. It’s just…”

“No,” Uncle Jeff finally piped in. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. It’s a blessing that I’m alive. But God is good no matter what. I’m blessed no matter what. Praise God. He’s always in the midst. If I die tomorrow, God is still good.”

Uncle Jeff was appreciative of my dad’s candid thoughts, and he committed to praising God, no matter what storms he might see during the remainder of his life.

“If my sickness brings even one person to Christ,” Uncle Jeff said, “then it’s well worth the sacrifice.”

Uncle Jeff continued to live by this phrase, uttering it over the next several days. And then over the next several weeks. And then over the next several months. And on one August day, Uncle Jeff’s anecdote was retold for the whole congregation to hear.

The pastor stood before the congregation and pointed at Uncle Jeff.

“Jeff used to tell me that if his sickness brought even one person to Christ, then it was well worth the sacrifice.”

The pastor glanced at Uncle Jeff, and though the pastor had many things he wished to say, he couldn’t say them. He was crying too hard, a lump preventing any audible words from coming out.

But Uncle Jeff’s eyes didn’t water, nor did he even flinch. He just lay there, motionless in his casket as everyone else in the room wept.

Uncle Jeff had succumbed to a renewed onset of his cancer a few days prior. The day he died, Uncle Jeff was in unbearable pain. His kidney had stopped functioning while he lay in his own bed one night, and anytime someone touched him, he screamed out in excruciating pain. The EMTs found great difficulty getting him in the ambulance, but eventually were able to transport him. Not that it mattered: he would die in a pain most unimaginable within hours, anyway. God let that happen.

Uncle Jeff left a widow and several children behind.  God let that happen.

Most people never got to say goodbye to Uncle Jeff, as he died much more suddenly than anyone anticipated. God let that happen.

Uncle Jeff had been a good Christian man with a pure heart; after all, not just anyone can make the church pastor cry at the funeral. Uncle Jeff was going to continue to selflessly serve in his church had he survived the cancer, but instead, he was taken away. God let that happen.

But Uncle Jeff also knew that his life was nothing more than a gift from God, and it was his charge to live in a way that honored the Lord. Uncle Jeff knew that if he died, his family would probably never know why God allowed it to happen, no matter how much thinking they did about it. But he trusted that God had a purpose for all that He did; Uncle Jeff placed his security in the Lord instead of the world, and now belongs to God’s Kingdom. God let that happen.

The original disciples of Jesus were there when their Rabbi was crucified on a tree. Jesus was flogged, beaten to near-death, forced to literally carry a cross He knew He would later die on, got His hands and feet nailed, and suffocated for hours until He died. God let that happen.

The original disciples felt hopeless in the aftermath of Jesus’ death. Certainly they wondered if Jesus was really the Messiah. Certainly they felt guilty about not doing more to save Jesus. Certainly their hearts were in despair after they witnessed the brutal crucifixion. God let that happen.

But then Jesus rose from the dead, told these same disciples to spread the good news to all the nations, and promised that anyone who believed in His sacrifice for the world would be saved for eternity. Humans, so corrupt and sinful that they couldn’t possibly be worthy enough to be admitted into God’s Kingdom, would finally have a way to stand in the presence of their Lord.

God let that happen. I don’t know why He chose to let that happen, but He did. Like Uncle Jeff, I know that I need to accept that I will never understand the ways of God, and just praise Him no matter what happens. Because, if my life brings even one person to Christ, then it’s well worth the sacrifice.

A Cold Stumbling Block

“Be careful, however, that the exercise of your freedom does not become a stumbling block to the weak. If what I eat causes my brother to fall into sin, I will never eat meat again, so that I will not cause him to fall.” ~ 1 Corinthians 8:9,13

While I was deployed in Afghanistan, the Army did everything it could to lessen the vices that soldiers most often succumb to.  We were not allowed to possess alcohol or pornography, and for many soldiers, those two things are more important to them than anything else in the world.

But for soldiers like me who couldn’t care less about those two things, the Army actually encouraged my vice.  Every day at my base, we were served ice cream with our lunch.  Not every base was as lucky as mine, and so I cherished the blessing of having ice cream available almost daily.  After all, in Afghanistan, ice cream helped me cope with the situations at hand.

I remember one day, I was sitting with a friend of mine.  Now this soldier was a good twenty years older than me, and keeping himself in shape was a much more daunting task than it was for me.  After I finished with my lunch, I got out of my chair to get a few scoops of vanilla, and then returned to my friend.  When I sat down, my friend began eyeing my ice cream.  I could tell he was lusting for some, and sure enough, within a few seconds, he got up to go get himself a few scoops as well.  When he sat back down, he said to me, “You convinced me that I needed this.”

Not even a week after, I once again found myself having lunch with a fellow acquaintance, this soldier also much older than me.  As usual, I got my daily dose of ice cream with my meal.  The soldier eyeballed my dessert for a few seconds, got out of his seat, and treated himself to a few scoops.  When he sat back down, he told me that he had gone four months now without eating ice cream, but that my indulgence persuaded him to go get some, too.  He said that he was going to enjoy it, despite knowing that he would have to spend a long time working it off in the gym later that night.

That’s when I realized that I was the cause of my brothers’ stumbling.  Silly as it may seem, my vice was affecting other soldiers’ healthiness.  It was then that I decided that I would no longer get ice cream if I was sitting with anyone else, unless they got up to get some first.

As a Christian, that’s a responsibility that I’m charged with.  It would be too easy for me to say “Oh, they need to learn self-control when they’re around me, that’s all.” Because really, is it them that needs the self-control, or am I the one that can’t control myself?  What if I was their age, and eating ice cream required as much effort to work it off as it does for them… would I still succumb to my vice?  And how would I feel if I was trying to fight the temptation, and some young soldier with a great metabolism sat down with an ornate serving of ice cream?

Christ told His followers that they need to die to themselves, and that’s a very heavy responsibility. Obedience is demanded by our Lord, and we have no right to ever say “I don’t feel like carrying my cross today, God.”  As such, I will not eat ice cream around people who long for it.  I won’t drink a beer around someone who is a recovering alcoholic.  I won’t watch movies that I know have seductive sex scenes around someone who is trying to rid their addiction of porn.  I won’t encourage someone to come with me to a casino if I know they have a gambling problem.  As a Christian, I must sacrifice the things that please me so I can avoid hurting the people around me.

Besides, if those things hurt my brothers and sisters, there’s a good chance that they don’t do me any good, either.