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Sunday, December 30, 2007
Friday, December 21, 2007
All the stars looked down
The Christ-child lay on Mary's lap,
His hair was like a light.
(O weary, weary is the world,
But here is all aright.)
The Christ-child lay on Mary's breast,
His hair was like a star.
(O stern and cunning are the kings,
But here the true hearts are.)
The Christ-child lay on Mary's heart,
His hair was like a fire.
(O weary, weary is the world,
But here the world's desire.)
The Christ-child stood at Mary's knee,
His hair was like a crown.
And all the flowers looked up at Him,
And all the stars looked down.
G. K. Chesterton in The Wild Knight.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Home for Christmas
As a kid, I always skipped over the genealogies in the Bible (to be honest sometimes I still do – admit it, you do too). But lately I’ve been thinking about their importance.
In Bible times it was their scrapbook, their photo album. It was a way of saying you belong in the family. Perhaps that’s why the book of Ruth ends with a genealogy (looking forward) and the book of Matthew starts with one (looking back). That Ruth, an outsider and enemy of Israel, would be included in both gives me great hope.
I heard the true story this week of a little girl around age 4 or 5 who was adopted into a rather large family. As she began settling into her new surroundings, she often went to the wall in the house where photographs of all the other family members were on display. She would stand there for long periods of time, silently studying each face. About a month after the girl arrived, her new mother took her to a photographer. The mother noted that she wasn’t sure this little one understood the significance of that outing until days later when she came in from playing and her mother sent her to look at the wall. When the little girl saw her own picture hanging on the wall with the rest of the family, she laughed and sobbed at the same time.
That Ruth was included in the genealogy was God’s way of saying, “You’re a part of the family.” No matter where the holidays take you, I hope you find yourself “home for Christmas.” I hope you experience what it means to be at home with God. To see your photo in His album. To know your picture is on the wall in His hallway.
In Bible times it was their scrapbook, their photo album. It was a way of saying you belong in the family. Perhaps that’s why the book of Ruth ends with a genealogy (looking forward) and the book of Matthew starts with one (looking back). That Ruth, an outsider and enemy of Israel, would be included in both gives me great hope.
I heard the true story this week of a little girl around age 4 or 5 who was adopted into a rather large family. As she began settling into her new surroundings, she often went to the wall in the house where photographs of all the other family members were on display. She would stand there for long periods of time, silently studying each face. About a month after the girl arrived, her new mother took her to a photographer. The mother noted that she wasn’t sure this little one understood the significance of that outing until days later when she came in from playing and her mother sent her to look at the wall. When the little girl saw her own picture hanging on the wall with the rest of the family, she laughed and sobbed at the same time.
That Ruth was included in the genealogy was God’s way of saying, “You’re a part of the family.” No matter where the holidays take you, I hope you find yourself “home for Christmas.” I hope you experience what it means to be at home with God. To see your photo in His album. To know your picture is on the wall in His hallway.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Why Rahab?
Is anyone else surprised that God chose Rahab as one of the premier examples of faith in the New Testament (see Matt 1:5; Heb. 11:31; James 2:25)? I mean, when we first meet her she is described as a prostitute.
What I love about Rahab’s story in Joshua 2 is that even though she had very little information about the true God – just the little she could gather from the gossip around town – she responded in faith to the light she was given.
I was up on a ladder the other day when my little nephew wanted to do what every boy his age wants to do. “Can I climb the ladder, Uncle Dougie?”
“Sure,” I said, “as long as I’m here to watch you.” Climbing up the ladder was no problem. It never is. Climbing down, backwards, that was the problem. No longer able to see where to place his foot, the steps seemed long and uncertain. It felt, to him, as if he were stepping off a cliff.
As he would lower his foot, I would steady the bottom of his sole and encourage him saying, “Just a little further.” Each step got easier.
When we first come to faith, like Rahab, God often finds us in wobbly, precarious places. And the spiritual journey back to Him is often made up of short, awkward steps; backing out of the places we find ourselves.
But as we respond to God’s voice and touch, it gets easier. Little by little, one step at a time, into the arms of God.
What I love about Rahab’s story in Joshua 2 is that even though she had very little information about the true God – just the little she could gather from the gossip around town – she responded in faith to the light she was given.
I was up on a ladder the other day when my little nephew wanted to do what every boy his age wants to do. “Can I climb the ladder, Uncle Dougie?”
“Sure,” I said, “as long as I’m here to watch you.” Climbing up the ladder was no problem. It never is. Climbing down, backwards, that was the problem. No longer able to see where to place his foot, the steps seemed long and uncertain. It felt, to him, as if he were stepping off a cliff.
As he would lower his foot, I would steady the bottom of his sole and encourage him saying, “Just a little further.” Each step got easier.
When we first come to faith, like Rahab, God often finds us in wobbly, precarious places. And the spiritual journey back to Him is often made up of short, awkward steps; backing out of the places we find ourselves.
But as we respond to God’s voice and touch, it gets easier. Little by little, one step at a time, into the arms of God.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Clinging to Hope
As we approach Christmas I will be looking at the women in Jesus’ family tree. Each one is a wonderful scandal.
Like Tamar. Childless, and widowed by two husbands, she takes things into her own hands and disguises herself as a prostitute to seduce her own father-in-law and had a baby. No wonder teachers skip this story in Sunday School.
But a closer look at her story reveals that the Bible paints her in a positive light. In fact, her story in Genesis 38 ends with Judah declaring, "She is more righteous than I.” vs. 26.
In what way is she righteous?
Tamar had married into a family with a promise. Through the lineage of this family the Messiah would come. But Tamar was the victim of two horrible marriages; in each case her husband died before a child was produced.
It helps to know that in that culture if a man died without a child, his closest, unwed, relative (like a brother) was required to marry his widow. More than that, recent discoveries of ancient documents indicate that the father-in-law was also responsible in the same way, if no brother would fulfill the duty. This is almost certainly the law of the land when Tamar lived.
But forget that law, because Tamar’s father-in-law had stopped believing, stopped hoping. He had forgotten the family promise.
While Tamar still believed. Still hoped. Still trusted. And within the law of the land she acted in faith in the hope of a promised child.
The focus of her faith would only be realized centuries later in a place called Bethlehem, where the descendant of Tamar -- this descendant of a baby born out of the strangest of circumstances, a wonderful scandal -- was born.
Tamar reminds us that God still has a plan even when things seem bleak. He keeps his promises. This season, remember we have been grafted into a family with a promise. And cling to hope.
Like Tamar. Childless, and widowed by two husbands, she takes things into her own hands and disguises herself as a prostitute to seduce her own father-in-law and had a baby. No wonder teachers skip this story in Sunday School.
But a closer look at her story reveals that the Bible paints her in a positive light. In fact, her story in Genesis 38 ends with Judah declaring, "She is more righteous than I.” vs. 26.
In what way is she righteous?
Tamar had married into a family with a promise. Through the lineage of this family the Messiah would come. But Tamar was the victim of two horrible marriages; in each case her husband died before a child was produced.
It helps to know that in that culture if a man died without a child, his closest, unwed, relative (like a brother) was required to marry his widow. More than that, recent discoveries of ancient documents indicate that the father-in-law was also responsible in the same way, if no brother would fulfill the duty. This is almost certainly the law of the land when Tamar lived.
But forget that law, because Tamar’s father-in-law had stopped believing, stopped hoping. He had forgotten the family promise.
While Tamar still believed. Still hoped. Still trusted. And within the law of the land she acted in faith in the hope of a promised child.
The focus of her faith would only be realized centuries later in a place called Bethlehem, where the descendant of Tamar -- this descendant of a baby born out of the strangest of circumstances, a wonderful scandal -- was born.
Tamar reminds us that God still has a plan even when things seem bleak. He keeps his promises. This season, remember we have been grafted into a family with a promise. And cling to hope.
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