Journal posting

Week 2: Journal Entry (1 Corinthians 2:1-5, 9:19-22)

Prior to his conversion enroute to Damascus, the apostle Paul (then knows as Saul) was, by most standards, a religious elitist. He had the best education, was well-versed in the scriptures and highly regarded fellow religious leaders. In his time, Saul was among the upper class in the social caste system. When revelation came to Saul in the form of Jesus himself, he cast off the pedigree of his former life choosing instead a new beginning with the knowledge of Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection—and with it, a new name, Paul, to signify the transformation within.

 

In his first letter to the church in Corinth, Paul writes of his detachment from his previous life. Given his social and religious standing as Saul, he had probably been a resounding orator, speaking and presenting to governing heads and religious leaders. With his newfound revelation, Paul could have argued and justified his point quite substantially. But demonstrating his superior intellect would further confuse and belittle most of the people with whom he was trying to connect.

 

In the verses selected for this week’s journaling, Paul notes his difficult but determined and humble approach to limiting himself to the perspective of his immediate listener, adjusting his frame of reference to theirs. Doing so removed the clout and influence of Paul’s perception to create space for the Holy Spirit. Paul understood that, though he had been given great skill and understanding, it would be those precise gifts which would undermine his efforts to reach out to various people groups.

 

The end of 1 Corinthians 9:22, the crux of this week’s text, is a sticky point between concept and reality. Paul writes, “I have become all things to all men so that by all possible means I might save some” (NIV). Earlier in the text, Paul suggests that the people groups (Jews, religious leaders, leaders of the law, etc.) are segregated which allows him to tailor his conversation. While the point of meeting the listener within the same context is the goal, I wonder how much more difficult that may be today—particularly from the vantage point of a church pastor.

 

It is difficult for a local church to be all things for all people—given the number of churches in a community and the variety of denominational differences, it would seem that we have conceded that premise. Identifying with the audience is much easier in small groups or individual conversation. Complications increase with group size. Finding common ground is obviously key, though rarely available at first brush.

 

In what ways am I remiss to consider the context of my listener? I find it much easeir to meet on their terms those who have not had like training and experience as me, as compared to those who have learned, but failed to make connections. Sometimes i get too far ahead of myself (and the Spirit) and make unfounded presumptions about the listener–mainly that they share my unspoken frame of mind. I catch myself getting impatient with others who are unable to follow my line of thought. In this week’s text, Paul would suggest that the disconnect lies not with the listener, but with me–failing to fully conisder the context of those who will hear, and to remove myself to create space for the Spirit to intervene.

Journal posting

I’m taking a course called The Biblical Communicator. The premise of the course is to develop skills in interpreting scipture and communicating biblical truths with consideration of historical, grammatical and literary study in context of different audiences. The course seems very reforming, which I find refreshing. Essentially, the goal is to approach scripture text from various points (historical, cultural, etc.) which we had not previously considered, then effectively communicate those revelations.

Part of the course requires weekly journaling about a provided text. Over the next few weeks, I’ll post here what I am submitting in my course journal. Following is my first submission.

————————————-

Week 1: Journal Entry (Exodus 3:1-4:17)

The humility and Moses’ poor self-worth in regards to God’s request is often the focus of this passage of scripture. Instead of positioning Moses as a humble servant, something traditionally considered, I found myself viewing him as a natural, everyday person—living only in that moment, with full knowledge from where he’d come, but blind to know where he would soon go.

Reading this week’s journal assignment, and considering it within the context of Moses’ journey, it was evident that Moses just plain did not want to do what was being asked of him. Every excuse he could think of exposes more his resistance of the task. He must have known that his life history had prepared him for each of the flimsy excuses he offered.

Here is a man who has struggled through his formidable years with a huge elephant in the room—a Hebrew living in the palace of the Egyptian pharaoh while his kinsmen were enslaved. Clearly he recognized the difference: the outward environment and circumstance which set him apart to be educated and esteemed as an Egyptian separated from his beaten and mistreated Hebrew brethren. In this place he was a misfit—both as a Hebrew-looking Egyptian and as an Egyptian-trained and dressed Hebrew.

While saving his own life was the immediate motivation for fleeing Egypt, I would suspect that he had often dreamed of different circumstances. When Moses fled to Midian, the geographical and emotional distance he placed between himself and Egypt was intentional. He wanted out; he had no intention of ever returning. The chance to make a new start where he would never again have to justify or deny his Hebrew blood or his Egyptian upbringing was perhaps greater than he had dreamed possible. Here, in this place of new beginnings, his past forgotten, God presents his commission to Moses: return to Egypt—the one thing Moses would intently resist with every excuse he could consider. God could have delivered the Hebrew nation without Moses. But he wanted Moses. He chose Moses. By allowing himself to be used by God, Moses’ opened the way for his past to be redeemed.

God’s redemption of one’s past is found elsewhere in scripture. From Esther’s reluctant request of a presence with King Xerxes (Esther, chapters 4-5), to Jesus’ plea to be spared the cross (Luke 22: 42) and Ananias’ vision to approach Saul (Acts 9:10-18), the human resistance to blindly heed God’s direction is apparent. Yet, through each of these examples, and many more, God is found faithful to strengthen the faith within us and to bring others into the fold.

How often do I resist God’s working through me? There are events, places, people groups found in all our pasts that we’d rather just avoid in the future. Perhaps by heeding God’s prompting, we allow God to redeem both the past circumstance and our past experience. How much we must miss of God’s revelation and future blessing when we resist our commission.

Book review: In the Heart of the Sea

Sometimes fact is better than fiction. It can be more unbelievable, more appaling, more unnerving. This kind of thing just can’t be made up.

Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick (Dover Giant Thrift Editions) is a well-known work of fiction which has engrossed readers for more than a century. But, perhaps, it gets better. Melville’s story was inspired by the real-life events of the Essex sailing crew from Nantucket 1819-1820, familiar to all the whaling industry in that time. It is a story of a whaling ship sunk far in the Pacific Ocean by a vengeful sperm whale. But where Melville’s story ends, the real adventure for members of the Essex had only begun.

Through In the Heart of the Sea: The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex, Nathaniel Philbrick recounts the journey of the crew through their own historical accounts–journals, sea logs, published books. Philbrick weaves together the unimaginable story of being lost at sea for three months, covering 3,000 miles of open sea. Winner of the National Book Award and named to the New York Times Bestseller list, this is an engrossing nugget of U.S. history.

How we pray.

Prayer: petitioning God in word or thought. We pray for everything from world peace to athletic victories (going so far as to adapt the name of a plea for intercession from the mother of Jesus as a ditch-effort play), from good weather and academic grades to divine intervention.

We petition quite a lot. It’s left me wondering how thoughtful we are about what we ask. Perhaps we have all been cautioned to “be careful what [we] ask for”, and certainly that applies in prayer life. I’m particularly struck by how we pray for one another. We pray for safety, for deliverance, for protection, for miracles–and we limit the way that the deliverance, protection and miracles may take shape. It seems that most of our petitions are one-demensional, bound by our physical world and focused on the immediate situation (specifically avoiding or escaping that circumstance).

We are uncomfortable with suffering, with struggle. We are so focused on escaping trial, that we miss the opportunity to pray for sustanence within it. Just fix it. Make it stop. I want to be happy, without worry. Without pain.

I’m not suggesting that we give up on miracles. I merely suggest that “fix-it” miracles not become the gut-reaction, the sole answer–”well…we’ll just pray for a miracle”–as though we through up our hands in disgust at the helplessness of the situation. Or, rather that we cast off our responsibility to really minister and intercede at a deeper, more intimate level.

So, pray for strength to endure, for emotional and spiritual growth, for deeper faith to result. Pray for comfort, encouragement and sensitivity in the physical world. Pray that eyes will be opened to the suffering in and the redemption of the world. Might these be the true miracles we hope for.

Book review: A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

First published in 1943, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith is an instant and endearing classic I wished would never end. As Anna Quindlen describes in the book’s forward, “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is not the sort of book that can be reduced to its plot line. The best anyone can say is that it is a story about what it means to be human.”

Through the eyes of young Francie, the reader is drawn to Brooklyn circa 1919 where Smith weaves realistic issues of race, poverty, alcoholism, gender roles and immigrant status at the turn of the century. This book has been a favorite of my book club.

Book review: The Worst Hard Time

Timothy Egan’s The Worst Hard Time: The Untold Story of Those Who Survived the Great American Dust Bowlis undeniably one of the best, most engrossing, books I’ve read in a long time. If all of history was written this way, I believe more people in our country would know and appreciate the years and events which have shaped this nation. Egan’s book is more than just history. He weaves together an engaging saga of real life, where fact is more compelling than fiction. This is an outstanding book–a ‘must read’.

While Steinbeck wrote of plainsmen who fled the dust storms of the 1930’s in The Grapes of Wrath (Centennial Edition), Egan tells the gripping realities of those who remained. Using their own words from journals and newspapers, their story is haunting and raw. This is the grit and determination which has shaped people of the Great Plains. As one pioneer wrote, “It was not a rain cloud. Nor was it a cloud holding ice pellets. It was not a twiter. It was thick like coarse animal hair; it was alive. People close to it described a feeling of being in a blizzard–a black blizzard, they called it–with an edge like steel wool.”

Natural disasters occur with regularity around the world. Earthquakes, flooding and ice storms are all part of the earth’s cycle. The dustbowl of the 1930’s is different in that it was a completely man-made natural disaster. As ecological stewardship gains in popularity in the 21st century, this book recalls the same pursuit during the dirty ’30s. As politicians today debate the merits of a number of government programs in light of a struggling economy, Egan brings to life the people and circumstances behind several of Franklin Roosevelt’s policies during his presidency.

The end of the book references a film created in 1936, describing the erosion of both soil and spirits in the Great Plains. The film, The Plow That Broke the Plains, was inducted in 1999 to the National Film Registry of “artistically, culturally, and socially significant” films. The first half of the film is available online at http://www.archive.org/details/PlowThatBrokethePlains1.