Author: Suzanne

On Wednesday afternoons, several women in my neighbourhood sit in front of our computers doing an online simple English Bible study. We are allowed meet face-to-face now, but zoom has suited us well. We began during lockdown.

The other ladies in the group are mothers of international students at a local high school. They are happy to study the Bible if they can get English language lessons at the same time. I’m happy to teach English language lessons if I can introduce truths from the Bible at the same time. We all give and take a bit, but I think I speak for us all when I say that we are all getting so much more from the lessons than we had anticipated.

Last week’s lessons was, not surprisingly, from Luke 2. It was the story of Jesus’ birth. For me it is ‘old hat’, but for these ladies, it was fresh.

One of their questions stumped me. Let me explain.

An English lesson

I usually introduce vocabulary that they mightn’t know and any background to the passage which they need in order to understand it. Then we go through it section by section, reading and discussing it.

Luke 2:1-21 actually required quite a lot of pre-teaching. First there was the historical and geographical setting of the passage.

The ladies hadn’t learnt about the Roman Empire back when they were in school. They knew about the Mongolian Kingdom from the 13th century though. It spanned from Eastern Europe all the way across Asia and down into parts of the Middle East. In a similar way, I explained, the Roman Empire covered many parts of the world in the 1st century, including Europe and North Africa, parts of the Middle East and West Asia. I had maps ready to share through zoom and we located the various places mentioned in the Luke 2, including Syria and Israel, as well as Rome, Nazareth and Bethlehem.

Second, I taught a couple of unusual vocabulary items which they needed if they were to understand the passage. We use the New International Reader’s Version (NIRV) of the Bible because the language tends to be less specialised than some other versions. Nevertheless, the NIRV translators have left the relatively uncommon word ‘manger’ in this tale. (The other tricky word was ‘circumcised’.)

“Don’t worry about memorising the word ‘manger’,” I told them. “It’s enough to just recognise it. It’s not common in modern English except for when we tell the Christmas story. It’s old English, coming from a French word meaning ‘to eat’ – ‘manger’. In other settings, we would call that thing a ‘feeding trough’.”

We then worked through the wondrous story, one paragraph at a time. The climax of the lesson was a carol, ‘While shepherds watched their flocks by night.’

The question

“Why did Mary put the newborn baby in a manger?” A thoughtful woman in the group who is not over-familiar with the Christmas story asked this question.

It just so happened that I have recently re-read a chapter on the culture and history of that area, how mangers featured in homes and how that related to the Christmas story. If you’re interested in reading more about this, check out the book ‘Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes’ by Kenneth Bailey, published by Intervarsity Press.

So, in response to this quite reasonable question, I explained that a manger was just the right size for a baby. It was like a cot. The straw would almost certainly have been clean and comfortable. The new mother and those with her were making the best of what was at hand.

The lady looked puzzled. She continued, “But Mary must have been lying somewhere. Why would she need a special bed for the baby? Even if she was lying on the floor, wouldn’t it have been better for the baby to lie on her or next to her?”

She has a point. A manger is an odd choice for a baby’s bed. And what about mother-child bonding?

The significance of the manger

The more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that this lady was onto something. The manger is a significant element of the Christmas story. Kenneth Bailey, in the book recommended above, thinks so too.

Three times, the author Luke emphasised the manger in the section we studied a few days ago. In Luke 2:7, we read that Mary laid him in a manger because there was no guest room available for them. In Luke 2:12 an angel, in blazing light, gave terrified shepherds a sign to attest to the incredible incarnation. The sign was this: the newborn Saviour, Messiah and Lord would be found wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger. In Luke 2:16, the shepherds did indeed find the baby lying in a manger. After witnessing this miracle, they praised God and spread the word about what they had been told and what they had indeed seen … the Lord Jesus lying in a manger (Luke 2:17,19).

Humility

I tried again to answer this insightful lady’s question about the significance of baby Jesus lying in a manger in a satisfactory manner.

“The manger shows us how humble Jesus was. He went from powerfully sitting on a throne to helplessing lying in a feeding trough for animals. After all, Mary couldn’t hold him all the time, right? It would have been safer for the baby to be off the floor when Mary was up and about, don’t you think?”

This response isn’t as random as it might seem. Just a few weeks ago, we studied a passage from Philippians 2 in which Jesus is portrayed as having come from a position of equality with God to taking on the form of a servant. In fact, Jesus took on the form of not just a servant, but also a homeless waif whose parents had been forced from the security of ‘home’ by an edict of an oppressive government. In fact, the situation would get worse before it would get better. The horror of Herod’s jealousy was not covered in Luke’s tale.

The more I ponder the image of the baby Jesus lying in a manger, the more I appreciate the tremendous wonder of the incarnation.

Count the cost

These thoughts made me think me of something else related to humility, and that is the cost involved in following Jesus. I didn’t go there in our class last week, though. The elements of the Christmas story as recorded in the first part of Luke 2 would be enough for one day.

Philippians 2 contains that early church hymn which our group studied a few weeks back. But there is more.

A sobering injunction directly follows the hymn of Philippians 2:6-11. The writer clearly links the two with the word ‘Therefore’.

“Therefore, …. continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose” .

Philippians 2:12a, 12c-13

Jesus counted the cost when he descended from a throne to a manger. The cross was yet to come.

Perhaps the manger of his infancy also hinted at the homelessness that would be his lot in adulthood. Decades later, Jesus would explain to someone who asked to follow him, “Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head” (Luke 9:58).

I find this passage sobering because I thoroughly enjoy having a place to call ‘home’. Just the same, as a follower of Jesus, I have to be ready to relinquish it, as I have done before. It was easier when I was younger, though.

It is my hope and prayer that these ladies will, in time, choose to follow Jesus. There are some good people in their lives, of whom I am just one. We are quick to hold out the good news of Jesus’ incarnation, but the reality is that there will be costs in following him as well. May the God who took on frail human form strengthen them to persevere when that time comes.

A feast

A manger is a feeding trough. Animals gladly come to feeding troughs after farmers have been because they are usually filled with good food.

That the baby Jesus was laid in a manger was no coincidence.

The image of a baby in a manger has become a well-accepted image of Christmas. Many people have beautifully carved nativity sets which they set out at this time of year. The animals look adoringly at the newborn baby … at least, that is what we like to imagine they are admiring. Could it also be the fresh hay?

The picture of a ‘feast’ and a ‘table’ laden with good food is woven throughout Scripture. “You have laid a table before me in the presence of my enemies” (Psalm 23:5) is one such picture with which we are familiar. The theme continues through most Christian denominations even today as we ‘come to the Lord’s table’ to celebrate communion. Consider these words of Jesus, spoken near the end of his life:

While they were eating, Jesus took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples saying ‘Take and eat; this is my body.’
Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, saying, ‘Drink from it, all of you This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. I tell you, I will not drink from this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in my father’s kingdom.’

Matthew 26:26-29

Is it coincidental that the newborn Messiah should be laid in a ‘manger’ – a feeding trough? Jesus himself was the feast that God had prepared for his people. In a very literal way, the one who would call himself ‘The Bread of Life’ (John 6) spent his first hours in a manger, a feeding trough.

A Christmas greeting for 2020

At the end of 2020, I hesitate to greet people with the phrase ‘Merry Christmas’. It’s been a shocking year for many of us. ‘Making merry’ is actively discouraged in many parts of the world this year. No, ‘Merry’ is not the right greeting for Christmas 2020.

Yet Christmas remains special. On that first Christmas, God incarnate physically entered our broken, hurting, contaminated world.

And so, as we, too, contemplate the wonder of Christmas, I shall finish this blog post with this Christmas wish for each of us – you, me, and the many (including the ladies in my neighbourhood) who have come to the Christmas story with fresh eyes this month.

“May the wonder of Christmas be ours.”

For our Saviour was laid in a manger.

Life was hopeless … literally without hope. It was as if they were under a great weight – a breath-of-life-extinguishing darkness.

That was how the people of Israel felt around the time that Isaiah prophesied almost three millennia ago. Their northern enemy was oppressing them and threatening to take over their land. It was just a matter of time before they succeeded. The potential ally to the south would eventually prove inadequate too.

Their land … the land of God’s own people … the promised land … was soon to be stripped away. Almighty God, the One and Only Jehovah, would do nothing to stop the enemy, for he was angry. They were his people, yet they put their trust elsewhere. His was a righteous, zealous jealousy.

Right smack bang in the middle of some magnificent Christmas prophecies which we sing and print on cards today (sections of Isaiah 7 and 9), come these chilling words in Isaiah 8:

Distressed and hungry, they will roam through the land; when they are famished, they will become enraged and, looking upward, will curse their king and their God. They they will look toward the earth and see only distress and darkness and fearful gloom, and they will be thrust into utter darkness.

Isaiah 8:21-22

Pinpricks of light

Isaiah 8 is a dark and gloomy chapter. And yet, throughout, flecks of hope – Christmas hope – prick the inky blackness.

With imagery of torrential flooding and bloody war, Isaiah depicts God as being not absent, but present. God was there in the very midst of the horror. (See Isaiah 8 verses 8 and 10).

The prophet calls on his listeners to fear the LORD Almighty (verses 12-15). In the thick of judgement, he describes God as a sanctuary, even though in almost the same breath he also describes him as a stone that makes men stumble and a rock that makes them fall. This ‘stumbling stone’ imagery harked back to King David’s prophecy of Psalm 118:22-23 and would be directly applied to Jesus some eight centuries later. (Check out Matthew 21:42-44 and 1 Peter 2:4-8.)

And then, in the darkness, Isaiah declared his faith. He declared not only his own faith but that of the children whose very names were, in themselves, prophecy (see Isaiah 7:3 and 8:3)

Bind up the testimony
and seal up the law among my disciples.
I will wait for the LORD,
who is hiding his face from the house of Jacob.
I will put my trust in him.

Here am I, and the children the LORD has given me. We are signs and symbols in Israel from the LORD Almighty, who dwells on Mount Zion.

Isaiah 8:16-18

The final section of Isaiah 8 is somewhat of a mystery to Westerners like myself who barely understand the spirit world, though likely not to people whose daily lives revolve around appeasing the spirit world. In it, Isaiah spoke of the blackness of mediums, spiritists and those they consult (Isaiah 8:19-20). They have ‘no light of dawn,’ he stated. Then he finished with the desperate and distressing verses quoted earlier, in which humans and spirits were ‘thrust into utter darkness’.

Then and now

That was then. This is now. 2020 … a year of dismay.

I watched an hour of world news on TV the other day. War in the Middle East, pillage in Africa, plague in Europe and the Americas, fractured families fleeing violence and oppression all over the world, chaos at all levels of society … the only relief was the sports report at the end.

Tonight, as I edited this piece, I switched on the TV for ‘a break’. On a programme which is usually a light-hearted look at current affairs, I heard the story of a serial murderer. The reporter focused particularly on the pain of those whose lives were destroyed by him either directly or indirectly. At the end of the segment, of course, the television station broadcast telephone numbers for crisis help because the segment may well have stirred up memories of some viewers’ own horror stories.

Where is God in our broken and hurting world?

Isaiah 8 speaks to us today just as it did to the Israelites back then. In the chaos, God is present. Immanuel – God with us. Trust in him and wait. Trust and wait…….

Nevertheless….

Throughout 2020, our ‘annus horribulus’ (as the Queen might say), we have been encouraged ‘to pivot’. Thank God, quite literally, for a welcome ‘pivot’ in the book of Isaiah, initiated not by us through any cleverness or strength of character but by God himself. The first word in Isaiah 9 is a glorious transition word: ‘nevertheless’.

Nevertheless, there will be no more gloom for those who were in distress….

The people walking in darkness have seen a great light;
on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned.

Isaiah 9:1a, 2

In Isaiah 9, we are finally getting back into Christmas-card-quotable verses. This chapter contains magnificent words of hope that have been sung in multiple languages throughout the centuries.

For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given,
and the government will be on his shoulders,
And he will be called
Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

Isaiah 9:6

Then and now

When Isaiah spoke this prophecy, the people were living in fear and with a sense of hopelessness. Yet even in the midst of the darkness, they were told to trust and to wait.

Seven centuries later, after cycles of rebellion, exile, repentance and return of remnants, light blazed. Brilliance broke into darkness in a literal way that first Christmas with an angelic choir over Israel and a guiding star over a foreign land.

The first Christmas there in Israel has been and gone. Today we hang brightly coloured lights around our houses, over our trees and occasionally even on our clothing in celebration of that light.

Yet in another sense, our Saviour has not yet completely dispelled the darkness. Just switch on the TV and you will see what I mean. As Christians, indwelt with God’s Spirit, we radiate light in a dark and dreary world. The apostle Paul urged his readers to imitate Jesus’ life and in so doing, we would be “… children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe…..” (Philippians 2:15b)

A city of light

Jesus was born. The prophecy was fulfilled.

And yet we still live in a dark world. We sparkle like stars, yes, but darkness has not yet been fully dispelled. Disease, dismay and death surround us. Can we trust and wait, like Isaiah did back in Israel in the dark and hopeless days of the eighth century BC? Can we trust and wait on God as the early Christians did in the oppressive Roman world of the first century?

Consider the vision that the early church leader John was given. It’s purpose was to provide hope and to encourage perseverance of battered and bruised believers. It is as relevant to us now as it was to the early Christians back then. John wrote:

I did not see a temple in the city, because the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are its temple. The city does not need the sun or the moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and the Lamb is its lamp.

Revelation 21:22-23

Immanuel – God with us

Isaiah’s prophecy was fulfilled. God was with those Israelites even in their difficult days. Judgement was imminent, but in the judgement, mercy was offered. Immanuel – God with us.

Fast forward 750 years (more or less). Jesus, Immanuel, the Light of the World, was born. The darkness tried to put out the light, but the light prevailed for it was more powerful than the darkness. (See Matthew 4:12-17, John 1:5, 3:19-21, John 8:12, John 12:35-36.)

As God’s people, united with Jesus himself, we also shine in the darkness. (See 2 Corinthians 4:6, Ephesians 5:8, 1 Peter 2:9, 1 John 1:5-7.)

God is with us in our difficult days. Immanuel.

Jesus will return in power and glory. Death will be defeated once and for all, along with decay, disease, despair and darkness. Immanuel.

Right now, though, our world is still dark. Nevertheless, Almighty God has intervened decisively and continues to intervene. Immanuel.

At the end of a year the like of which we wish we may never have to endure again, may we shine brightly for Jesus. For he, the light of the world, has come. Immanuel.

And so we trust and wait … and shine. Immanuel.

Happy Christmas. Immanuel.

Life was simpler for past generations. 

You spent what you earned, but no more … not unless you borrowed money for a home. You focused on one task at a time without your phone constantly alerting you of this or that or something else. ‘Food miles’ were low and produce was fresh. To ’cut and paste’ required scissors and glue. 

But would I want to live in a world without antibiotics? I rather enjoy our modern cuisine from around the world. Sliced bread is a staple in my home. 

Modernisation has impacted us all. In some parts of the world, its impact has been immense, influencing even the very way we think. 

Cultural incongruity

Today’s post was sparked both by an academic article I read yesterday as well as a particular online conversation with an experienced Christian worker who played a significant role in training me for ministry. 

The article which sparked this train of thought was written by a world renowned social scientist, Dr Rodney Stark, and a PhD student of his with Chinese heritage. This is what they wrote just six years ago.

Turning to the particular situation of educated Chinese, we explore how the rapid influx of technical and economic modernity into a traditional society can create a crisis of cultural incongruity – a conflict between the cultural assumptions  of modernity and those of traditional religious culture.

Stark, Rodney, and Xiuhua Wang. “Christian conversion and cultural incongruity in Asia.” Interdisciplinary Journal of Research on Religion 10 (2014). Page 3

What are the ‘cultural assumptions of modernity’ and how are they different to ‘those of traditional religious culture’? 

Dr Stark and Dr Wang (I used the title ‘Dr’ for the latter presuming that Dr Stark’s student has earned the PhD by now) go on to suggest that differences in the very way we think is a key factor in creating such ‘cultural incongruity’.  (I really like the sound of that phrase … ‘cultural incongruity’ … it sounds intelligent and the repeated ‘k’ sound is fun.)

Drs Stark and Wang go on to explain that a traditional Chinese worldview actually focuses on and is devoted to the past rather than the future. This poses a challenge to modernisation.

The primary impediment to modernisation in Asia was devotion to the past, as symbolised by so-called ancestor worship. It was believed that history traced a descent from more enlightened times.

Stark, Rodney, and Xiuhua Wang. “Christian conversion and cultural incongruity in Asia.” Interdisciplinary Journal of Research on Religion 10 (2014). Page 8

As a language nerd, I see the academics’ observation that Chinese traditionally look to the past reflected in the very language itself. Let me illustrate this observation with some examples about how Chinese language expresses time.

First, however, gear up for a language lesson or skim over the following two sections if you’d rather. 

A mini language lesson – part 1 – year, month and day

The Chinese word for ‘year’, 年 (nian), was apparently originally written as a pictograph of grain 禾 carried by a person 人, looking like this: 秂. In an agricultural society with four distinct seasons, this is an activity that would occur annually. Over the years, the character 秂 was simplified to become 年.

The Chinese word for ‘month’, 月 (yue), is a pictograph of the moon. Can you see it there? A full cycle of the moon is, of course, a month. 

The Chinese word for ‘day’, 天 (tian), is a pictograph of the sky, the line at the top 一, with the symbol for ‘big’ 大 underneath it. ‘Big’ 大 is itself a picture of a person 人 with their arms wide out, as if to say, “THIS big!” 大. 

So there you have ‘year’, ‘month’ and ‘day’ in this language which is rich in symbolism. But this doesn’t yet illustrate the focus on the past that I am arguing is inherent in the national language of China itself. For that, I need to explain just a few more Chinese characters, and can’t resist the opportunity to highlight a few of the pictures within them. 

Mini language lesson – part 2

The Chinese word for ‘go’ is 去 (qu), made up of radicals for soil 土 and secret 厶. I like the idea of what is ahead being somewhat unknown – as if it were concealed in the earth and secret. If I bump into a friend on the road, I might ask, “Where are you going? 你去哪儿？” She might reply, “I’m going to XXX. 我去XXX.” Both English and Chinese use to verb ‘to go’ in a similar way. 

‘Light’ 明 (ming), is officially my favourite Chinese character. I once had the dubious privilege of participating in a televised Chinese language competition and had to write this character with a calligraphy brush, explaining why it is my favourite. The reason is that it is bright and meaningful, with both the sun 日 and the moon 月 present. 

‘Above’ 上 (shang) and below 下 (xia) are pretty obvious. In the character for ‘above’ 上, the ‘sticking out bit’ is above the line. In the character for ‘below’ 下, the ‘sticking out bit’ is below the line. I can see it quite clearly in the sprigs of mint growing roots in bottles on my kitchen window sill. Above 上 the waterline are green leaves while below 下 the waterline are tender little roots. 

‘Ahead’ 前 (qian) has changed over the centuries. I am told that in its earliest form, it was comprised of a foot 止 over a boat 舟. That makes sense of you think of the motion generated when pushing a boat away from the shore. 

‘Behind’ 后 (hou) is a character which has been recently simplified this past decade in mainland China and some other parts of the Chinese speaking world. In other places, it is still written as 後, in which you can see a radical which I understand means ‘stepping with the left foot’彳 (though find it hard to see that in the pictograph 彳)， thread 纟and friendship 友.  I like the idea that ‘behind’ us there is a whole history of friends and movement all bound together with thread. 

Time orientation reflected in Chinese language

Now we finally get to the point of this blog post … my assertion that a focus on the past is reflected in the very language of China. Let’s pull together the content of the two mini language lessons above. 

‘Last year’ – 去年 (qu nian) quite literally is comprised of two characters: ‘to go’+‘year’. Putting ‘last year’ this way (go to the year) sounds as if the speaker is facing the past rather than the future. 

‘Next year’ – 明年 (ming nian) quite literally is comprised of two characters: ‘light’+‘year’. As a Christian, I love the fact that when we walk in the light of God we have nothing to fear in the year to come. With 2020 having been so difficult, that’s a comfort. 

‘Last month’ – 上个月 (shang ge yue) quite literally is comprised of three characters: ‘above’+‘the’+‘month’. When a Chinese speaker describes the month which has past, it is as if they are looking up. 

‘Next month’ – 下个月 (xia ge yue) quite literally is comprised of three characters: ‘below’+’the’+’month’. When a Chinese speaker describes the month which is yet to come, it is as if they are looking down. 

‘Yesterday’ – 昨天 (zuo tian) involves the character for ‘day’ 天 preceded by a character I didn’t explain in the section above. You might, however, notice the sun radical 日 there, along with another radical 乍 (zha) which can mean ‘for the first time’. It doesn’t have any particular meaning apart from ‘yesterday’.

‘The day before yesterday’ – 前天 (qian tian) quite literally is comprised of two characters: ‘ahead’+’day’. Again, it is as if the Chinese speaker is facing the past as they refer to the day before yesterday. 

‘Tomorrow’ – 明天 (ming tian) quite literally is comprised of two characters: ‘light’+’day’. As a Christian, I am once again comforted to know that although I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, I need not be afraid if I am ‘walking in the light’. 

‘The day after tomorrow’ – 后天 (hou tian) quite literally is comprised of two characters: ‘behind’+’day’. Again, the Chinese speaker is apparently facing the past with their back to to the future as they look to the day after tomorrow.

Time orientation and culture

Are you thoroughly confused now? In short, in English we talk about the future as ahead of us, and we approach it with a forward motion. We face the future. However, in Chinese language, the past is referred to as ahead or above the speaker. Chinese speakers face the past. 

As I look at the Bible, a collection of books written in Middle Eastern cultures, I wonder about the time orientation of the writers. Yes, I know that the words were written by men but inspired by the Holy Spirit, and I’m not questioning the inspiration of Scripture. However, I am enjoying some fresh insights having had my own worldview expanded by a foray into Chinese language and thinking. 

Have you ever wondered why the Bible includes so many genealogies? Perhaps this reflects the value that Bible writers placed on the past. To be sure, powerful lessons about God’s heart for the downtrodden and weak (as well as the strong) are to be found when digging through some of the stories of characters in those genealogies. 

I recently blogged about the Jewish roots of Christianity, contemplating the apostle Paul’s severe admonition not to treat lightly our privilege of being like a cultivated olive branch grafted into the root stock of Judaism (Romans 11). Perhaps we don’t take this passage as seriously as we ought because we don’t have a mindset that looks primarily to the past rather than the future. 

A gospel application

As I ponder these matters, it occurs to me that I have always shared the gospel with a future-facing orientation.“We have all failed to live up to God’s standard of purity. Put your faith in Jesus,” I explain to enquirers, “and you will have life eternal with God. His kingdom is here and yet it is also to come. One day, he will usher in new heavens and a new earth and we shall have new resurrection bodies. Jesus has shown us what is to come. What a hope.” 

A couple of months ago, I wrote a blog post about how we mortal beings can’t truly fathom the dimension of time. I believe that our finite nature restricts our ability to understand the full picture of eternity. As I contemplate the time-orientation of our very culture in this blog post, I wonder if there might also be another time-related aspect of the gospel that I have downplayed. I shall try that gospel summary again but facing the past rather than the future as best I can as a future-facing native English speaker.

Looking back to the beginning of time, we see that God created all things GOOD. God made people in his image to manage his creation. However, his image-bearers were seduced by God’s enemy. They chose to disregard God’s explicit instructions. Mankind’s relationship with this pure God was broken. Through Jesus’ atoning sacrifice, and overcoming the curse of death by his very nature as God, we can be restored to a right relationship with our creator. God is already restoring all things to their rightful order, as they were created to be way back at the start of time. We can have eternal life with the Ancient One and we look forward to the day when he will restore the heavens and earth to the perfection it had at the beginning.

Cultural Incongruity

I rarely think about ‘the good old days’ except, perhaps, as I reminisce with family and old friends about our recent past of the past half century or so. Mostly, however, I look to the future. In no small way, that is because I am a future-focused Westerner. 

My future-orientation is even reflected in my language. Next year … last year … I look ahead or behind.  Next month … last month … again, I look ahead or behind. Tomorrow – yesterday … again, I look ‘towards the morrow’ or behind.

Chinese people, however, have traditionally looked towards the past rather than the future. This orientation is reflected in the very language they use to express time, including the phrases 去年 (go towards last year), 上个月 (upwards into last month), 下个月 (downwards into next month), 前天 (ahead to the day before yesterday) and 后天 (behind to the day after tomorrow) . 

No wonder cultures have clashed (known as cultural incongruence) as traditionally past-facing Chinese engaged with the traditionally forward-facing West. 

Life was simpler in the good old days. In fact, it was good – very good – if you go WAY back to the beginning of time. The days when Adam (and, presumably, Eve) walked in the garden in the coolness of the evening and communed with their Creator and ours … now THEY were the good old days. 

How I yearn for a return to those particular ‘good old days’. What’s more, I have a very great hope that we shall indeed return to them one day! Bible imagery about the God’s kingdom are slightly different to that of the garden imagery of Eden, but the descriptions are just that – descriptions in terms that we mere mortals can understand. The bottom line is that in God’s kingdom, the curse of sin is obliterated, and all creation was once and will again be in harmony. We look forward to a city of divine light with a river and trees. As a modern woman who appreciates her modern conveniences along with the beauty of nature, the city of God sounds quite perfect.

Sweet smelling smoke wafts from behind the garden shed at the side of my unit. It’s not a naughty boy in my backyard. It’s a naughty boy next door.

Recreational drug consumption has increased significantly during this covid chaos. Authorities can tell that by testing our wastewater. 

That random fact was on the news this week, by the way. You can read about it here if you like: https://www.theaustralian.com.au/breaking-news/new-report-reveals-what-drugs-are-most-popular-in-every-state/news-story/30569b0a6b43e70c0a01224621a2a179

You’ll not be surprised to hear that illicit drugs don’t interest me. Caffeine is my drug of choice and its quite legal. Caffeine isn’t causing significant chaos in my inner world, however. No, my problem is far more respectable. 

The Brewing of Soma

The use of drugs, natural or man-made, illicit or legal, has been around since time immemorial. One of my favourite poems describes the ecstasy which imbibers enjoy.

If you’ve not read it, look up ‘The Brewing of Soma,’ written in the 1800s by John Greenleaf Whittier. If you’re a long-time church-goer, you will recognise some lines starting about 2/3 of the way through. Here is a sample.

“Drink, mortals, what the gods have sent,
Forget your long annoy.”
So sang the priests. From tent to tent
The Soma’s sacred madness went,
A storm of drunken joy.

Then knew each rapt inebriate
A winged and glorious birth,
Soared upward, with strange joy elate,
Beat, with dazed head, Varuna’s gate,
And, sobered, sank to earth.

(Stanzas 4 and 5 from the poem ‘The Brewing of Soma’ by John Greenleaf Whittier)

Distractions

My mind spins out of control sometimes too. A lot of the time actually. Probably even most of the time, just at the moment. 

Studies suggest that distractions affect our minds in a similar way to that of drugs or alcohol. A frequently-aired TV advertisement at the moment highlights the fact that distractions while driving are as potentially lethal as drink driving. Quite apart from driving a vehicle, distractions can also affect our performance on a host of other tasks too – tasks to which we would like to give our full attention. 

If we let it … and it’s hard not to … modern life can be FULL of distractions. Social media poses a particular problem. (If you’d like to read more on this, see https://theconversation.com/social-media-is-as-harmful-as-alcohol-and-drugs-for-millennials-78418 ) Pop psychology suggests that over-stimulated minds and a corresponding inability to concentrate is the malaise of millennials. I’m not a millennial, but I identify.

When I was a teenager, life was simple. I had my study, a casual job, family, friends and a few hobbies. Generally, I focussed on one thing at a time. Now, decades later, the various things that fill my life are all mixed up.

Throughout the day, my phone or iPad or computer continually dings, trills, quacks like a duck, rings and more. Social media apps keep me informed of what people I barely know (though quite like) ate for lunch today. ‘Prayer points’ (surely good and appropriate) come thick and fast. I constantly check the internet for the latest virus figures and stay there to understand a stranger’s opinion on some matter that I didn’t even know interested me until a moment earlier. 

Lessons from roses

As I sat on the back porch this morning pondering such things, my attention wandered to the glorious rose buds on a bush nearby. They are just about ready to burst open. Each stem carries six or seven rose buds. Although they stand tall and proud now, I know that once they open, the stems will bend under their weight and they will lower their proud heads. Some people would have clipped off all but one rose bud per stem so as to allow the bush to pour all its energy and nutrition into that one bud. I am not one of those good gardeners.  I can’t bear to ‘waste’ something with such potential. Pruning is painful … not just to the plant but also to some gardeners. 

The similarities between my overly prolific rose bush and what is inside, on my desk and in my head both, are stark. I have lots of interests, responsibilities and commitments. It’s hard to concentrate though. I don’t sense that God is asking me to prune any of them completely just now. However, I need to do something if I am to make headway on any of them. 

A popular hymn

‘Dear Lord and Father of Mankind’ was declared one of the most popular hymns in the United Kingdom in 2019, according to a poll conducted by the popular BBC programme, Songs of Praise.  (Check out the full list if you’re interested in this article: https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-49871456 ) It is one of my favourites too. Did you know that this whole hymn is actually an excerpt from the longer poem, a portion of which was quoted above, called ‘The Brewing of Soma’? The part about drugged frenzies, mentioned earlier, is NOT sung as a hymn. It contrasts with what we do sing about, however.

Today I sat in the backyard singing quietly the part of that poem which has become one of England’s most loved hymns.

Dear Lord and Father of mankind,
Forgive our foolish ways!
Reclothe us in our rightful mind,
In purer lives Thy service find,
In deeper reverence, praise.

Stanza 12 of the poem, ‘The Brewing of Soma’ by John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892) and now a hymn in its own right

A respectable problem

My problem is not soma or any other drug, illicit or otherwise. It is distractions. 

If you read this blog regularly, you may have noticed that a few weeks ago, I started a four-part series on the Jewish high holy days … but never got beyond part one. (I would like to get back to that, but those holy days are now long past. It can wait.) Why did I not get to it? How did I run out of time for other projects too? My days were full but full of what?

I blame my scattered focus and general lack of concentration on the unsettling times in which we live. In addition to the obvious covid chaos as well as changes at home, I have also been indulging in too much mental stimulation through the ever-changing news and more.

Life is settling down now. It’s time to take myself in hand. 

And so I pray, in the form of a song, while sitting in the backyard. 

Drop Thy still dews of quietness,
Till all our strivings cease;
Take from our souls the strain and stress,
And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of Thy peace.

(Stanza 16 from the poem, ‘The Brewing of Soma’ by John Greenleaf Whittier (1807–1892)

Our state premier has said that we can look forward to “a COVID-normal Christmas”. That’s nice, but little comfort for Melbourne’s Jewish community. And Melbourne is where about 55,000 of Australia’s 91,000 Jews live. 

The most holy day in the Jewish calendar, a day celebrated by devout Jews and agnostic Jews alike, is Yom Kippur.  As Gentile Christians, we are perhaps more familiar with this festival’s Old Testament name – ‘The Day of Atonement’. It was held from sunset on Sunday to sunset on Monday of this week (as I write). 

There are two other important Jewish holy days at this time of year too. Rosh Hashanah (The Feast of Trumpets) was held over a week ago and Sukkot (The Feast of Tabernacles) will be held in a few days time. These (and specifically the first two – Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur) form the Jewish ‘High Holy Days’. 

Here in Melbourne, they have all been celebrated in a very quiet fashion this year thanks to our citywide lockdown. 

I hope to write three short blog posts over the coming days looking at each one of these very special holidays from the perspective of a Gentile follower of Jesus.  First, though, I have another question to ask myself.

What is the relevance?

Why should I, an Australian Christian woman of British stock, care about Jewish holidays? I’m not Jewish, after all. But care I do … and the more I learn about these holy days, the more I care.  In glimpsing devout Jews in the city in which I now live commemorating these festivals, I learn so much more about my own heritage as a Christian.

Some might say, and rightly so, that the early church leaders declared at the Council of Jerusalem (described in Acts 15) that Gentile believers such as myself need not be burdened by keeping the Jewish Law. Nevertheless, there is a great deal that we can learn even as spectators of Jewish customs. 

The great apostle to the Gentiles, Rabbi Paul, warns us Gentiles about thinking ourselves in any way ‘better’ than the people of Israel. “You do not support the root, but the root supports you,” he wrote to early Christians in Rome (Romans 11:18). He went on to express his ardent hope that Israel would ultimately turn to God through his Messiah. The details of Romans 11 have confused greater minds than mine, but one thing is clear: we are to honour our Jewish roots. 

I think, from my reading of Romans 11 in particular and the Bible generally, that God has a very special place in his heart for the people of Israel even now. 

Here in Melbourne, there are quite a lot of these men and women who, in Paul’s words, “… God loved on account of the patriarchs, for God’s gifts and his call are irrevocable.” (Romans 11:28b-29). There are devout Jews, agnostic Jews, modern Jews, orthodox Jews and, amongst them, Jews who recognise Jesus as Messiah.

I have appreciated watching online services held by Messianic Jews to commemorate the first two of these three holy days. I plan to watch the third at the end of this week. You can access them too from their website: https://beithamashiach.com 

Crossing Cultures

The good news of salvation through Jesus spread from Jews to Gentiles. Jesus told his disciples, shortly before his ascension, that they would be his witnesses “… in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8). That has certainly come to pass.

As the gospel spread, it crossed cultures. This has posed no end of challenges for church leaders over the years. The Council in Jerusalem, mentioned above and described in Acts 15, specifically looked at the question of how much Gentiles like me needed to adapt to Jewish ways in order to follow Jesus. Various other church leaders have met over the two millennia since to seek God’s guidance and set church policies on other matters too (including, though not exclusively, cultural issues).

The gospel continues to cross cultures. Questions continue to be debated. Some followers of Jesus in Central Asia ask questions like these: “Can Christians string prayer flags around their homes if we put Bible verses instead of Buddhist words on them?” “How about prayer beads if we chant Bible words or prayers instead of Buddhist words or prayers?” (Rosary beads immediately spring to mind.)

Where does one draw the line between lifestyle and deep-rooted belief? When is the line crossed? What word should be used for the name of God in certain languages … a local word for the supreme deity with Buddhist overtones or an imported word from Hebrew or something else entirely?

Wisdom is needed today as much as it ever was as the gospel enters new territory. Pray that God will grant wisdom to those who grapple with such matters.

Today, however, I am thinking more about how much has been lost in our understanding of things of God as we – the Gentile church – cast aside Jewish traditions. It’s not wrong. It’s just a bit sad, because we miss out on a tremendous depth of understanding about God and his kingdom.

Festivals

Our premier has promised us a COVID-normal Christmas here in Melbourne. That’s nice. Christmas is the most important festival of the year for many Melburnians. Easter is equally as significant to Christians, but Christmas is more enthusiastically celebrated in my particular culture.

But not all people are like me. Not even here in Melbourne.

Some people in Melbourne are flesh-and-blood descendants of Abraham. What a privilege.

I gave up waiting. 

My hair was in my eyes. I had originally decided to wait for a trim. Surely our city’s virus numbers would come down. Only then I would brave visiting a hairdresser, I had thought.  

Our numbers didn’t improve. We went from level three restrictions to a ‘hard lockdown’. Whenever the wind blew, I looked through hair.

It had been far too long … which was why my fringe (bangs) was far too long. 

And so I watched a YouTube tutorial on cutting hair, picked up a pair of scissors with a shaking hand, and snipped. 

If only it was so easy to quit waiting for other things too. 

Waiting is Biblical

I was honoured recently to be invited to give a talk in our church. It was part of a series called ‘Hope in the Waiting’. My allocated topic, ‘hope realised’, was about two elderly Bible characters – Simeon and Anna. They waited a l-o-n-g time … but in the end, that for which they waited came about. Their hope was realised. The main point of the sermon was this: ‘God can be trusted to keep his promises and fulfil his purposes in his perfect time’. 

It was only when I sat down to prepare the sermon that it struck me that the Bible is FULL of waiting. From the measured daily progress of creation (rather than one quick ‘ta-da’) to all creation waiting in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed (Romans 8:19), we wait. 

Consider these few examples of waiting:

Adam and Eve waited for the promised consequence of eating from the forbidden tree … death.  Yet even in judgement, God offered hope and mercy through another promise about the seed of the woman who would crush the head of the serpent … but not yet. They had to wait … and wait … and wait. 

In Noah’s day, there was a lot of waiting for judgement too … waiting to build that ark, waiting for the animals, waiting for the rain to fall and the waters of the deep to gush up, waiting for the water to subside … waiting, waiting, waiting. 

Poor old Abraham was promised a country of his own and so many descendants that they couldn’t be numbered. Yet he waited almost his whole lifetime before seeing even his firstborn. And then that child wasn’t the one who had been promised … so he had to wait some more. 

Joseph of the multi-coloured coat waited for many difficult years before the fulfilment of a childhood dream.

Space doesn’t permit me to elaborate on the Jewish people’s wait for their promised land, the fulfilment of all that the sacrificial system pointed to, Israel’s return from exile or the wait for her Messiah as promised by the prophets. Think of phrases such as ‘Wait for the Lord’ which appear in quite a few Psalms. The New Testament has a lot of waiting too, for although Jesus came to save us, we still live in a ‘now and not yet’ era.

Waiting is Biblical. 

I’m not a fan of waiting. But that, unfortunately, is irrelevant. 

The marshmallow test

 A psychological experiment about delayed gratification, ‘the marshmallow test’, has become popular again in recent years. Search the internet and you will find no end of YouTube clips about cute kids who are given the choice between one marshmallow now or two if they can wait a few minutes before eating the first. I’m currently enjoying a book entitled ‘The marshmallow test – Understanding self-control and how to master it,’  written by the researcher who pioneered ‘the marshmallow test’, Dr Walter Mischel.

Dr Mischel’s research is convincing.  Overall, preschoolers from the 1960s who could sit with one marshmallow and wait without gobbling it down immediately have matured into adults who earn higher incomes than those who couldn’t wait way back then. They are overall fitter, healthier and less likely to struggle with addictive behaviours such as gambling and substance abuse. 

What interests me is the author’s claim that self-control can be learned and practised. 

My city was presented ‘a path out of lockdown’ today (as I write) by our premier. “We all want to get on with life as we knew it,” our premier explained, “but if we don’t wait for these case numbers to get down to single digits, then we will enjoy two or three weeks of freedom before a third wave. We have no choice but to wait.” 

Not everyone agrees with him, but he claims to have made this decision based on advice from epidemiologists. It feels like a grown-up version of the marshmallow test. We can have one marshmallow now … haircuts, face-to-face social interactions, sports and more … or we can wait. If we wait, we can expect so much more. 

A measure of ‘indulgence’

‘Indulgence’ (versus ‘restraint’)  is one aspect which is highlighted in a series of cultural measurement tools called ‘Hofstede Insights’. (You can read more about it if you’re interested on https://hi.hofstede-insights.com/national-culture .) International companies sometimes use this tool as they navigate different cultures in their business dealings. 

One example of ‘indulgence’ versus ‘restraint’ could be illustrated by the marshmallow test. People from a culture with a relatively high ‘indulgence’ score would be more likely to take one marshmallow now than wait for two. Conversely, people from a culture which values ‘restraint’ would be more likely, in the marshmallow test, to restrain themselves.

In the world of adults, our use of credit cards, rather than marshmallows, could illustrate the difference. In a culture in which people like to indulge ourselves, we would be more likely to run up credit card debts to enjoy some of life’s little luxuries now rather than wait a while. In a culture which values restraint, however, people would be more likely to do without some of life’s luxuries in order to save first and avoid hefty interest rates. 

Not surprisingly, Australia scores quite high on the ‘indulgence’ scale according to the Hofstede Insights tool. Our score of 71 suggests that, overall, we like to have fun and to indulge our impulses NOW. We don’t like to wait. Compare this, say, to China, with its score of 24, which suggests that people there, overall, do much better than we Australians at delaying gratification.  (https://www.hofstede-insights.com/country-comparison/australia,china/ )

I’m not pointing the finger at anyone. In one sense, we are the product of our cultures … and yet, in another sense, we create our cultures. I’m thinking about ‘waiting’ at the moment and realising that I need to work a little harder at living according to Biblical culture norms when it comes to waiting well.

A walk in the park

Waiting isn’t a walk in the park … metaphorically speaking.

I quite literally walked through a park, actually, as I thought about this blog on the topic of ‘waiting’ and dictated thoughts into my phone at the same time. (Under our lockdown restrictions, we are allowed out for one hour of exercise a day, masked of course.) I stopped frequently to admire spring blossoms, comment on strangers’ pet dogs and laugh at the antics of cute kids with ribbons dangling off their tricycle handlebars.

In contrast, two lycra-clad women pumped it out in the centre of the park with music blaring. Kick – punch – lunge – do the plank – run like crazy on the spot – push ups and more. It was exhausting just watching them.

I am reminded of a Bible verse, the first part of which I like to quote out-of-context. 

For physical training is of some value, but godliness has value for all things, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come. This is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance. That is why we labour and strive…. 

1 Timothy 4:8-10a NIV

That’s not to say that physical exercise is not admirable. It is just to say that working on godliness is so much more important.

As the fitness fanatics wait purposefully in the park for lockdown to end, so I wait … kind of. I’m not talking about pushing my body quite like they do, though. Godliness has value for now and for eternity … and so I labour and strive towards that end … kind of. 

That’s the ideal, anyhow. Even as I dictated these thoughts into my phone while wandering about the park, I found myself tightening my glutes and picking up the pace. Physical training is, after all, of some value.

How, then, do we wait?

I’m waiting for more than just ‘covid-normal’ criteria to be set in my city. I’m waiting for all that God has promised us for eternity. 

I think of the fabulous chapter of hope which has been of such comfort to me lately – 1 Corinthians 15. The chapter is about the assurance of our resurrection and an eternity with Christ. It finishes with a flourish … victory … immediately followed by one last statement. We have so much to look forward too, so while we are waiting, the writer urges us to … what? It’s an admonition to work hard.

Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain.

1 Corinthians 15:58 NIV

I still don’t like waiting. I want my marshmallow and I want it now … figuratively speaking. Yet as a follower of Jesus, I am reminded of the value of waiting. And not just waiting lazily like a middle-aged woman taking a gentle amble in the park but waiting purposefully like a fitness freak in that same park. 

I’m not sorry that I gave up waiting for hairdressers to re-open so that I can get my fringe (bangs) trimmed. There is no point in that waiting. But waiting for God to fulfil his promises and usher in his kingdom … now THAT is worth waiting for. 

And so I wait, working on being godly, looking to Jesus. 

God can be trusted to keep his promises and fulfil his purposes in his purposes in his perfect time.

And so, we wait.

 “It’s not the flower,” I explained through tears. “It’s all that it represents.” 

It had been ten days since Dad’s funeral. After lowering the coffin into the grave, we each took a rosebud from the floral arrangement that had decorated it. The flowers had opened beautifully within a few days. 

And now it was the 85^th anniversary of Dad’s birth and also happened to be the day when ‘my’ rose had clearly passed the point of beauty. It appeared … well … dead. 

Lakeside Lessons

Rewind forty years. I remember sitting in the front passenger seat of the family car after Girls’ Brigade or a church youth service, travelling along the road that wound alongside the lake. Dad was healthy and fit then … and super intelligent. We would discuss things that mattered … really mattered … things like what actually constituted ‘reality’.

Dad was fascinated with something called ‘string theory’ at the time. It involved atoms bouncing so fast that they escape the very limitations of time and space.  Like a string curled up or stretched out appears shorter or longer yet is still essentially the same piece of string, these atoms morph into another dimension. It is the stuff of science-fiction, yet it is, Dad assured me, ‘science’.  

Time and space – four dimensions – breadth, width, depth and time – this is usually all we experience in our limited bodies, Dad explained. But that’s not all there is to reality. God is big – very big – bigger than anything we can fathom. In our resurrection bodies, which will be perfect like Jesus’ resurrection body is, we too shall experience reality as it is and not just as we perceive it now.

I went on to gain a science degree but still never quite grasped string theory. It’s not that I doubted it was ‘a thing’ … I trusted my dad implicitly … but my mind is just not flexible enough to grasp it. 

A Fresh Perspective

Dad’s perspective brings a freshness to the  stories a good Christian kid like me learnt in Sunday school. 

When God became man, it wasn’t just a sweet story about shepherds and mangers for us to re-enact year after year with tea towels wrapped around our heads. Far more significantly, the infinite became finite. 

When Jesus was killed on the cross – an abhorrent story really, the dramatisation of which could justifiably be restricted to adult viewings – it was more than just tragic. The infinite briefly appeared silenced – finished – defeated. Who knows what three days actually is in a dimension beyond time that we can’t quite fathom.  From our perspective, it took three days … and on another note, Dad was always adamant that the crucifixion happened three full days before the resurrection, a special Sabbath in addition to the regular Sabbath filling the void. But that’s another story. You can look at John 19:31 if you’re interested in checking that out. 

Jesus’ resurrection body was similar yet different to his temporal body. He would be walking with others on a road, talking and then sharing a meal with them, then suddenly he would be gone. He would appear in a closed room through locked doors, and invite the man who has ever since been known as ‘Doubting Thomas’ to put his hand in his pierced side and hands. He would sit by a fire on a beach, inviting his disciples to join him for breakfast. He would ascend to heaven in full view of many. 

After his ascension, he would appear to the apostle Paul. Some would suggest … and it makes sense to me … that even before his birth, it was Jesus himself who had appeared to a variety of Old Testament characters and who was referred to as ‘the Angel of the Lord’ – a phenomenon we call ‘theophanies’. 

As for Jesus’ bodily ascension, that was taught but not emphasised in Sunday School … something I now consider an unfortunate oversight. Broken, limited, cursed humanity was restored, released and sanctified. Humanity in holy form was incorporated into the very Godhead itself through Jesus, the ‘first fruits of those who have fallen asleep’ (1 Corinthians 15:20). 

A Divine Coincidence

Return with me now, however, to my limited here-and-now sadness earlier this month as I stood by a wooden coffin covered with flowers and containing the broken remains of my father. It was positioned on two sets of webbing and two stout bars (called ‘putlogs’) and balanced above a very deep hole. 

Then I heard the minister say something quite unexpected. It wasn’t ‘dust to dust, ashes to ashes’ that I heard, but ‘Don has been released from our limited dimensions.” (It was words to that effect, anyhow.) It turns out that the minister has his PhD in mathematics and, like my dad did, has quite a complex view of reality. 

He knew that my father was an avid reader. Even after Dad wasn’t really able to follow a convoluted argument due to failing health, he still found comfort in holding a book in his hands. The pastor referred to Dad’s voracious appetite for knowledge. But, as he confirmed afterwards, he had no idea that Dad had spent time explaining string theory and the possible physics of theophanies to his teenage daughter decades earlier. 

That comment at the graveside was providentially provided in part, at least, as a comfort to me, I suspect. The minister made other comforting comments that were full of meaning too. 

Memories and more

 The rose that I wrote about at the start of this piece with has gone. Well, strictly speaking, the matter that comprised that rose remains somewhere, but not in a vase and not in a form that brings joy to those who view it. Effectively, it is no longer a rose. Only its memory remains.

Dad’s limited body too has gone. Well, strictly speaking, the matter that comprised Dad’s body remains in a box at the bottom of a deep hole in a cemetery, but that is not the person who was my Dad. Yet more than just a memory remains. 

My father lives on in a different form. His ‘soul’ (‘nephesh’ in Old Testament Hebrew) or ‘spirit’ (‘psyche’ in New Testament Greek) is no longer constrained in a limited, failing body but in heaven itself. 

In Dad’s words, he now exists in a dimension that is beyond my ability to grasp in my limited, temporal form. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn in eternity that string theory somehow features. We can debate the what and where and when of heaven, of the new creation and of our resurrection bodies, but those very questions reflect our limited perspectives, fixed as we are in time and space. Eternity with God is reality. I can’t explain it or picture it, but I can be sure of it. 

Hope

The rose has gone. The memories remain. 

My dad has gone. But far more than memories remain. 

The great apostle Paul, to whom the resurrected, ascended Christ appeared, wrote a beautiful passage about resurrection bodies. He quoted in part the prophet Isaiah who had himself glimpsed the Lord in human form. I shall finish with his words:

For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: ‘Death has been swallowed up in victory.’

1 Corinthians 15: 53-54 NIV

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. This is what the ancients were commended for.

Hebrews 11:1-2 NIV

Does it seem to you like our world is spinning out of control? Plague … pestilence … floods … famine … explosions … uprisings … corruption … loneliness … loss … death….. And I’m only talking about 2020.

That’s where faith makes ALL the difference.

Death is not the end

Hebrews 11 is a fascinating ‘Who’s Who’ of Old Testament times. The tales summarised here could fill a book. These characters must surely have often felt that life was spinning out of control. Some were murdered while others were mysteriously spirited away. Some gave up all they had for a promise from a God they couldn’t manipulate while others were given back loved ones they had lost.

Even as they faced death, many looked ahead to the fulfilment of promises that had not come to fruition. Joseph, for example, said as he lay dying, “God will surely come to your aid, and then you must carry my bones up from this place” (Genesis 50:25 NIV).

Hebrews 11 said of those people of faith:

And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth….

…. they were longing for a better country – a heavenly one.

…. for he (God) has prepared a city for them.

Hebrews 11:13, 16 NIV

Faith impacts our living

Because of their faith, these ‘heroes of the faith’ could live boldly.

Moses’ parents risked the ire of a powerful Pharaoh because they knew that their baby boy was special. Moses himself grew up to disdain the treasures of Egypt and chose instead to endure disgrace. He reluctantly accepted a mandate even less desirable and more taxing than that of a national leader in a pandemic.

Hebrews 11 describes these people as heroes. Because of their faith, some endured torture, jeers, flogging, chains, imprisonment, stoning, being sawn in two, killed by the sword, and many were destitute, persecuted and mistreated (Hebrews 11:36-37). Their lives make mine look positively boring.

I like boring. I like it very much.

We’re not all called to embrace horror and torture. God calls many of us to steady, faithful lives of service to him. Though our lives be blessedly boring, our hope is no different from those heroes of the faith who lived in such a way “… that they might gain a better resurrection” (Hebrews 11:35).

The point I want to make here is that faith impacts our living. Death is not the end.

Hope

The apostle Paul was another hero of the faith … a New Testament hero. He put up with an awful lot in order to preach the gospel. He could ‘suck it up’ only because of his faith … faith that there was so much more beyond this life. He stated that conviction in black and white terms when he stood before Roman governors and Jewish leaders on a couple of occasions in his colourful career.

… I have the same hope in God … that there will be a resurrection of both the righteous and the wicked….. ‘It is concerning the resurrection of the dead that I am on trial before you today.’

Acts 24:15, 21 NIV

‘Heaven’ is our destination. I’m not exactly sure what ‘heaven’ is like, let alone where it is. As a little girl, I pictured a city gate made of a ginormous pearl, inside which were golden streets. The city was build around a river which was lined by trees covered with tasty fruit. Perfect people bustled about doing meaningful tasks. There were no light posts in heaven. The whole city was illuminated by a very special light source at its centre.

In Old Testament times, those who died were said to be ‘gathered to their people’. Jesus comforted his frightened followers when he spoke of ‘my Father’s house’ (John 14:2). To that thief who hung beside him on Golgotha, Jesus said, “I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise” (Luke 23:43). Paul emphasised the certainty of our future imperishable, no-longer-weak, glorious, spiritual resurrection bodies (1 Corinthians 15:42-44). Revelation 9 paints a picture of people of God drawn from all tribes and nations standing in his very presence.

Now that I am grown up, I suspect that my childhood picture of heaven was too small. Even as a middle-aged woman, my mind is too limited to grasp the enormity of heaven. New heavens and a new earth … the coming judgement … evil defeated once and for all … the heavenly Jerusalem, the city of the living God … so much is beyond my comprehension.

But of this, I am sure. Heaven is real.

People of faith

The writer to the Hebrews summed up that ‘Who’s Who’ list of Old Testament heroes of the faith with an astounding statement.

These [heroes of the faith] were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised. God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect.

Hebrews 11:39 NIV

I don’t pretend to understand how it all works. I think in a fixed space-time continuum. What I can fathom is that Jesus makes us all perfect in himself. Through Jesus, those people of faith from of old have received what was promised, just as we do.

This planet is riddled with disease … decay … and death. As our world seemingly spins out of control, I am reminded that there is a much bigger reality than what I perceive with my five senses.

My hope is in God, through Jesus.

Death is not the end.

When life settles down, I will be able to focus … to work hard … to achieve … to fulfil my potential. When all my ducks are in a row (metaphorically speaking), then I shall write, I shall weed, I shall create and I shall be the woman God wants me to be. 

That’s a lovely dream. A nice ideal. But not realistic.

A wild ride

In my imagination, inspired by a Bible verse and distracted from a webinar, I find myself flying high.

Wind whips my hair. My cheeks are red and chapped. The air is icy. My heart pounds in my throat. My fingernails just about pierce the skin beneath strong feathers and my legs flail wildly, trying desperately to stay on top of the giant wing and not behind it. I look down, down, down through squinted eyes. There, I see my safe and cosy home, a tiny speck in the landscape.

A seminar

In reality, I was sitting in my safe and cosy home. I was in front of the computer screen, participating in an online seminar, watching a presentation by a fellow student at MST (the Melbourne School of Theology). The topic was the ancient Israelites’ two confessions of faith. One dealt with who they themselves were (Deuteronomy 26:5-11) while the other, known as ‘the YHWH creed’, described their God and ours (Exodus 34:6-7). 

The content was fascinating. I sat, listening, doodling, making notes to keep myself focused. Then one aside that the presenter made caught my attention. Or, rather, God pointed me to it. I scribbled furiously. 

… the LORD … said…. ‘You yourselves have seen what I did to Egypt, and how I carried you on eagles’ wings and brought you to myself….’ 

Exodus 19 3b, 4 NIV

Eagles’ wings

As the presenter continued with his topic, I skipped around Biblehub.com following this delightful tangent. 

‘Eagles’ – plural. God’s people were carried on eagles’ wings. I picture myself on one wing of an eagle, hanging on tightly, and you, perhaps, on the other. He (whoever ‘he’ may be) is on a wing of a second eagle and she (whoever ‘she’ may be) is on that eagle’s other wing. 

I know, I know … I am being too literal. Those ancient Israelites had to take one frenzied step after another even as God miraculously liberated them from Pharaoh’s grip.  

In a parallel passage in Deuteronomy 32:11, God represents himself as an eagle which stirred up its nest so as to force the young out. The eaglets then had no choice but to make their own feeble flight attempts, afraid yet secure with the wings of the parent eagle underneath. That sounds outright scary. 

Out of Egypt

God carried his people on eagles’ wings from Egypt. 

Egypt, in the context of Exodus 19:4, represented slavery, suffering, oppression and hopelessness … yet it was familiar to that generation of Israelites. They knew what each day would hold.

Leaving Egypt meant that they became fugitives then nomads. Yes, there were incredible displays of God’s power along the way. Their divine direction was indisputable, in the form of a special cloud or pillar of fire to follow. Yet it was anything but comfortable. 

This was how God treated his people. He carried them from Egypt on eagles’ wings. Uncomfortable, inconvenient, the future unknown, but carried nonetheless. 

And he carried them to himself. 

A theophany

After God spoke these words through Moses, he proceeded to give the ancient Israelites a glimpse of his own nature – he, the one who had been their God for generations. 

It would do us good to stop sometimes and meditate on this expression of God. It is a rather different to some of the various pictures that our culture paints of the Divine One. Fire – lightning – thunder – billows of smoke – loud trumpet blasts – the whole mountain reverberating with the divine presence – an experience that made even the great leader Moses tremble with fear (Hebrews 12:21). If I had had the privilege of standing there with the Israelites, I would have probably joined them in begging Moses to make it all stop (Exodus 20:19-20).

This is where those eagles’ wings had taken them. To God himself. 

Carried

When I think of God carrying me on eagles’ wings, I think of an effortless flight. I sing with a sense of peace and harmony, “I will rise on eagles’ wings”.  I visualise myself soaring – high, confident, calm, safe and triumphant in God. 

I wonder how those ancient Israelites thought about their flight from Egypt? Were they confident? Calm? Did they feel safe?  

Many people are struggling these days. As well as the pandemic, there are the usual pressures of life transitions, the added concern about our national economic outlook, uncertain work prospects for those we love and more. In the middle of these current uncomfortable, unsettling, insecure and sometimes outright frightening days, I wonder how we see God. 

It is right to think of God as a place of refuge, safety and stability. However, I wonder if we ever think of him unsettling us, like a parent eagle unsettles her eaglets?

In no sense am I suggesting that this pandemic or other forms of suffering are all about us. Our current situation is quite different to The Exodus. But I am suggesting that being ‘carried on eagles’ wings’ isn’t necessarily a smooth ride. 

Symbols

The presentation finished. I stopped scribbling. But I kept pondering, intending to write this blog post. And then … it’s a long and irrelevant story as to how … I came across this carved eagle that very same day.

The carving came from a Siberian Baptist pastor whose life was anything but secure. He gave it to my father many years ago. It reminds me that even in the uncertainties, the difficulties and the chaos of life, God still carries his people. He is an unchanging God. He carried his people out of Egypt and to himself. He carried that Siberian pastor decades ago. And he carries us – his people – on eagles’ wings today. 

Forget my ducks being in a row. That’s not going to happen. 

Even in the chaos and clutter of life, we are living out our identity as people of God right here and now. The ride might look a bit different, though, to what we anticipate when we sing, “I will rise on eagles’ wings.” 

God carries us to himself.  As the writer to the Hebrews put it, we have not come to a burning mountain but “… to the heavenly Jerusalem, the city of the living God” (Hebrews 12:22). 

It’s quite a ride. 

A wealthy woman … that’s me. 

I have just received my ‘tax-ready notice’ from our government. The number is not big but that’s good because with the low-income offset, a few tax-deductible receipts and a number of work-related expenses, I should get quite a nice refund. 

But all that is irrelevant to my status as a wealthy woman. 

Stereotypes

An Asian friend once told me that Westerners are poor in terms of relationships, though materially rich. I could feel my hackles rising. (I’m don’t actually have hackles, but something fiery rose in my spirit.) I clenched my fists. My pride was bruised. 

“That is a stereotype,” I retorted. “We value individualism, yes, but we are NOT relationally poor.” 

After watching a news report this week about a tragedy of a woman not so different to myself, however, I wondered if perhaps my friend had a point. 

A tragedy

It was a tragedy. A disgrace. A crime. Guilty by neglect … though who or what institution is guilty is not yet clear. 

Ann was a single woman just a couple of years older than me. And a lot wealthier  … if you define ‘wealth’ by one’s possessions or the balance of one’s bank account. She had gold hair clips custom made for her. Shopping for gold jewellery constituted a pleasant afternoon’s outing. She lived in a fancy house in a posh suburb. 

She had a disability. 

And she was alone. 

The last year or more of her life was spent stuck in a cane chair in her living room. Literally.

Her paid carer came and went. Her gold jewellery and a couple of fridges also went who knows where. Her car was used and fines incurred. Her neighbours minded their own business. 

Eventually she died.

Poverty … absolutely destitute in terms of relationships was Ann, despite her financial security.  

A pandemic

This pandemic has highlighted the gap between those who have homes in which to isolate and those who don’t. The virus rips through communities in developing countries where personal space, running water and indoor bathrooms are a luxury.  

And yet in such places, you are unlikely to find vulnerable people living alone, sitting in solitude, their neighbours unaware of their plight. 

Now don’t think that I am romanticising material poverty.  I am profoundly grateful for my home. I am very fortunate not to stress about paying for the necessities of life. I appreciate the privilege of being able to isolate at home and reduce the risk of getting or passing on the virus.

I am one of the lucky ones.

But material wealth is not all there is to life. 

Kingdom culture

Two millennia ago, Jesus had a lot to say about wealth. Material possessions don’t feature prominently in his definition of ‘wealthy’. 

Parables about people selling everything they have to purchase one precious thing – a pearl or a piece of land – spring to mind. 

Jesus spoke of a rich fool who built silos and stored grain but died just like anybody else. 

Lazarus and the rich man ended up in quite different places despite their vastly different social and financial statuses on earth.

I think sadly of the rich young ruler who wanted to join the band of Jesus’ followers, but couldn’t bring himself to sell all he had and give it to the poor. He left, dejected. 

Jesus taught that his community of followers was not just ‘like’ family but actually was family. The early church lived accordingly. 

Wealth

According to Jesus’ teaching, I am a wealthy woman. I have treasure in heaven and I have community on earth. On top of all that, I have a roof over my head and food in my fridge. 

What’s more,  I can spatially (and, thank God, not socially) distance myself from others. I will likely come through this pandemic physically unscathed by the virus.

May I use well all that God has entrusted to me.