Mudshot Eyes

Today’s post is by guest blogger Krista Barmer, a brilliant writer who happens to be my wife.

“You are the anti-curse. Death going in reverse.” ~ Derek Webb

There’s an Asian woman who walks around our apartment complex when the weather is nice, like it was today, this first full day of Spring. In front of her, she pushes a gadgety black wheelchair that carries her son. I’ve studied them many times from my driver’s seat, slowing to a near stop to respectfully pass them. I studied them today.

His face, as always, was blank with retardation. Drool traced the line of his jaw and had dripped onto his t-shirt. He sat slouched, his tall and robust body curved like an S, his legs dangling just off the footrests. He could be my age, or close to it. And, if he was, he might be a writer or a singer or reader who would cross my path and we would chat for a minute about Steinbeck or Billy Collins or Sting’s Labyrinth at the local bookstore while waiting in line on our tea and coffee. But, we won’t; he only has the mind of an infant.

And she, mom, stands barely five feet tall. With all her petite strength, she pushed this hulking, dead-weight child: her lower back arched, shoulder blades pinched, knuckles white, palms wet. Her leg muscles contracted with definition. But it’s her face that told the stories. Too many stories. Determination has formed her jawline. Courage and constance have carved her cheekbones. Tenacious-ness has lined her brow. And some kind of longing I don’t understand now (and maybe never will) has colored and crowded her eyes.

I watched them today, this holy & good Friday, a day to remember necessary death and imperishable sacrifice, lifesaving atonement and finished work, a broken Saviour, a satisfied Father. I watched this mother and her son and asked, “Why?” knowing full well it was the wrong question. Knowing full well that it was good to grieve this loss because He has wept all our tears with us. Knowing that where there is death and veil and mess, life and fullness and beauty lie in wait. They wait for the third day. And for the anti-curse.

(This article first appeared at Pendrops, Krista’s blog)

Readers of this blog are going to have to find their history fix elsewhere. Though I enjoy reading about history, I have discovered that writing about it succinctly is like trying to describe occupants of a moving train while I’m still in the station. So I’m bailing on my attempt to write about four key historical figures in church history. I’m sure none of us will loose any sleep.

Why did I bring this up in the first place? My original motivation for writing about church history was twofold.

First of all, without an understanding of our history, we forfeit lifetimes of experience that could guide us today. Where would we be without the grueling theological discussions that took place at the Council of Nicea in 325 AD? While Christianity was rapidly expanding only a couple hundred years after Jesus’ death and resurrection, there was a controversy stirring regarding the question of whether or not Jesus was divine. Around 300 bishops from every part of Christendom gathered for a discussion that would provide important theological direction for all believers.

Of course, we continue to discuss and interpret Scripture, but we have the benefit of some important and difficult theological discussions that have already taken place. If you ever doubt that events like the Council of Nicea had implications for all future followers of Christ, then read through the Nicene Creed and consider the fact that most evangelical church congregations today would say it matches what they believe.

Second, the road the church is on now was paved by those who have gone before us. This unfortunately includes the errors and misjudgments of the Church, but also those who have listened to the voice of God’s leadership and have exemplified what it means to follow Christ.

For example, in 1865, William and Catherine Booth started a ministry called The Christian Revival Society in the East End of London. They served the neediest members of society, including alcoholics, criminals and prostitutes. Booth was often derided for his ministry of soup kitchens and Bible teaching, but he was determined that God had given him a vision to feed bread to the poor if he was ever to feed them the gospel.

Booth’s ministry, The Salvation Army, is currently one of the world’s largest providers of social aid. They spent around $2.6 billion in 2004 helping more than 32 million people in the US alone. They operate community centers, provide disaster relief, and work in refugee camps, especially among displaced people in Africa.

Booth followed Christ toward the poor by showing then telling them the gospel. He is one of the many who paved the way for our growing emphasis in the church on a whole-person gospel.

In some way, the members of every generation of Christ-followers are pioneers. Since God is always doing something new, we are pioneers with God.

However, it’s important to realize that we are linked with every previous generation of pioneering believers. We have their achievements, their mistakes, and their words to guide us, to inspire us, to awaken us. We stand on their shoulders and would do well to be aware and thankful for their Christ-centered labor. But above all, we share with them a universal need that can only be satisfied by God’s mercy and grace.

“As I ‘roared by reason of the disquietness of my heart,’ all my lack was laid before you.”
- Augustine, from The Confessions of Augustine

When I think of the great saints of early church history, I rarely imagine a person who was perplexed with the meaning of life. The tendency is to assume that the great saints throughout time were spouting brilliant answers from the time they were kids. The life of Saint Augustine clashes with that stereotype.

Augustine committed his life to Christ after a long road of searching. Through the teachings of the Bishop of Milan, Ambrose, Augustine began to appreciate and understand Christianity, which led to his dramatic conversion in 386.

Before reaching this pivotal moment in his life, Augustine spent his younger years on sensual pleasures, while also developing a thirst for wisdom and truth. He dove into philosophy and an intense study of rhetoric, which sharpened his reasoning abilities. The one problem that continually disturbed him is also one that has plagued me ever since I began to think for myself: the problem of moral evil. Why would a good God allow evil into the good world he created?

Augustine’s willingness to dive head first into this difficult question has always inspired me to never turn from the things I can’t completely explain or understand. Along with the courage that I discovered through Augustine’s journey, I have also found faith. Consider these two passages from Confessions:

For if [God made me], how is it I will to do evil and bypass the good, and so earn punishment for myself? Who gave me this will? Who planted this seed of bitterness in me when all I am is what God made me, and he is Sweetness itself?

These questions are followed by more of the same, where he questions how evil could possibly exist if God is perfectly good and can prevent it. Then, without finding a definite answer that completely satisfied his questioning, he speaks of the role of faith in this philosophical struggle:

Yet in my heart I still clung to faith in Christ our Lord and Savior, as the church trained me to do. I was not clear on many points and was unsound on others, but my mind didn’t entirely let faith go; rather, I kept drinking in more and more day by day.**

This increasing consumption of faith has become my answer to the most vexing theological questions. There are plenty of philosophers who can offer an explanation for the problem of evil that falls just shy of satisfying the difficulty. However, my greatest need is not for explanation, even though there is some benefit to that attempt. My greatest need is to yield: to God’s embrace, to God’s wisdom, and to God’s sufficiency.

**I highly recommend reading Augustine’s Confessions, especially the out-of-print translation by Sherwood E. Writ from which the above quotes came. It’s very readable, and his use of language brings out a very personal feel that was probably obvious to the original readers in Latin. Here’s a link to a used copy I found on at Amazon.

“We’ve become too polite. We don’t laugh and cry with God. We’ve forgotten the excitement of the Good News. What greater sign of the extraordinary, lavish, marvelous love of God than the incarnation! God so loved the world and all of us in it that God himself came to live with us as one of us! Is it so good that we’re afraid to believe it?”

- Madeleine L’Engle from Penguins and Golden Calves

May you celebrate the lavish gift that is Christ the Savior.

Merry Christmas to you and your family.

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year…”

In spite of the song sung every Christmas season about how wonderful Christmas is, I have mixed feelings. One one hand, I enjoy the nostalgic feelings that come along with all the decor, the food, and the music. It reminds me of the oblivious days of childhood, when every harsh reality could be easily kept at bay by playing in the dirt and pretending that I was one of the Dukes of Hazzard.

On the other hand, I am quickly annoyed by the forced cheerfulness that is sometimes a part of the holiday season. Earlier this week, I was quizzed as to why I wasn’t in a better mood. “It’s Christmas, after all!” It was topped off with a comment from one co-worker to another that Christmas “is a time when we are supposed to be cheerful.” This comment only further entrenched my Grinch-likeness.

What bothered me about that? Were they right? Should I put aside any feelings of angst, just for the sake of “holiday cheer?”

“Don’t Worry, Be Happy” is the mantra for these happily-going-lucky types, but there’s something there that doesn’t feel much like real life to me. We sometimes carry heavy burdens, regardless of how close we are to Christmas, and those burdens don’t go away just because we try real hard to get in the spirit.

Christmas is about one thing only: becoming receptive to a God who has come to us through the humble, messy trappings of humanity. We can be in an interactive, life-transforming relationship with God precisely because his invitation did not come with a requirement that we “cheer up” before we come to him.

So be a Scrooge at Christmas if that’s all you have to offer, but do so with the knowledge that Jesus welcomes you to friendship with God, whether you are the Grinch, Cousin Eddie, or the Happy Little Elf.

An acquaintance of mine recently made a decision to shift his whole way of looking at Christmas. He decided that it was foolish to spend $500 on trinkets, socks, and CDs as gifts for friends and family who needed no such things. Instead, he is taking the money he would have spent on these gifts and giving to Blood:Water Mission.

For each person on his Christmas list, he is giving a donation to B:WM in their name. He is informing each person–probably with a message in a Christmas card–that their name is on a gift that has been sent to another continent. This gift will help “to build clean wells in Africa, to support medical facilities caring for the sick, to make a lasting impact in the fight against poverty, injustice and oppression in Africa through the linking of needs, talents and continents, of people and resources” (from B:WM’s web site).

Great idea, huh? Apparently not. Some members of his family have, in Grinch-like spirit, expressed their displeasure over his decision. They are upset about being “forced to support an organization they know nothing about.”

This kind of thinking drives me nuts. First, my friend never required anyone else to do the same for him , nor did he say that everyone else is morally required to do this just because he is.

Second, he didn’t choose a controversial political organization to support in this endeavor. B:WM is an organization that is providing clean drinking water for people that are dying because they drink bacteria-laden water EVERY DAY. If we saw the water they were drinking, we wouldn’t even suffer a sip. They also minister to the lepers of our day: AIDS patients.

What could he possibly give that would be more meaningful? He’s not making a statement about who to vote for, how to think, or what to buy. He is helping people who are desperate in their need, and putting his family member’s names on the donation.

In other words, he is toppling the Christmas apple cart and giving fruit to the poor.

For many of us, it’s too late for this year, but I wonder what Christmas would look like if we cut our gift-giving budget in half and gave the other half to an organization that is making a difference in the world in the name of Christ.

If you try it, you may upset some people who enjoy the status quo. Won’t that be fun?

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