Living Next to Cemeteries

When I was in my growing up phase of life (read: still living with my parents) I lived in a nice two-story house in a rather nice neighborhood in a rather nice small town. The problem is that this town I lived in had cemeteries. In fact...

...I lived next door to a cemetery. The cemetery was old and me and my brothers used to play in it from time to time. Who wouldn't? It was a war dead cemetery in part and so I would also spend time there reading the names on the headstones and marvelling at the dates, ages of the people when they died, and the names of the people who were buried under the earth in that place. The following is from the hometown webpage:

Pioneer Boatman Memorial Cemetery was begun in the late 1700's and was dedicated in 1976 to Barnerd Boatman, a Revolutionary War soldier, who served with General George Washington. It was formerly known as "The Old Cemetery, Quaker Cemetery, Old East Palestine Cemetery or The Presbyterian Cemetery". It had been abandoned for many years when Barnerd Boatman's grave was found. Boatman Cemetery was once the grave yard of the first church of East Palestine, "The Calvanistic Meeting House." In 1838-1839 that was probably the only beauty spot in the hamlet with it's new frame church. There were many graves in the area, unfortunately many unmarked.

There are about 194 known burials in the cemetery which are listed on one side of a permanent memorial marker. On the other side are names of 21 veterans of 4 wars, Revolutionary War, War of 1812, Mexican and Civil Wars. Burial records have not been found…The earliest marked grave is that of Robert Scott Hamilton, 1836. By 1881 the cemetery was completely filled.

When I was a kid, I had no idea the place was so special. To me it was a place to be afraid of after I saw ‘Night of the Living Dead,’ or a place to play ‘ghost in the graveyard’ with neighborhood kids, or a shortcut on the way to the park. When I was a kid, no one cared about it at all. It sat behind a small manufacturing company building and was ignored by all but me and my brothers and some of the neighborhood kids. We were never vandals and in fact many times took it upon ourselves to stand up fallen headstones.

* * * *

I don’t live in that small town any longer. I’m no longer a child either. I have my own family and my own town and we are in the process of creating our own memories. We do not live next door to a cemetery. There’s no ‘ghost in the graveyard’ or fear of zombies coming after us and devouring our flesh. It’s relatively calm. That does not mean that I have escaped cemeteries though.

If I look out my front window I can see a cemetery. It’s too far away for ‘ghost in the graveyard’ but if zombies ever did become real it would only be a matter of minutes before they discovered our house and came a knocking. Still, we might have enough time to get into the van and drive off before they actually realized there was fresh meat in our direction. Hopefully, the wind would blow the opposite direction if that happens.

So, I’ve moved a little further away from the cemetery, the ‘necropolis’, but I can still see it. It’s in my line of sight every time I pull out of my driveway or look out my front window. It’s a constant reminder, a sort of living prophecy, a harbinger, constantly reminding me of something I'd rather forget: my childhood or my end. I cannot tell which one. I don’t necessarily fear the cemetery. Still, I’ve only ever noticed that no one there complains—at least in my hearing they don’t. Plus, someone else always takes care of the grass and there is a stone with everyone’s name etched into it. A cemetery is not all that bad of a place to be. I hope someday for a place with a view.

* * * *

I can say this much is true: The older I have gotten, the further away from the cemetery I have moved. I’m happy that I now live next door to a church building instead of a cemetery. I’m glad that I don’t have to live in fear of cemeteries and zombies or of other children hiding behind a headstone waiting to shout ‘boo’ when I walk by. I think I can fairly say that cemeteries are now, sort of, merely plots of land with nicely decorated stones pocking the land. Cemeteries have a pleasing, calming, serene feeling about them. As I said, no one there complains.

One of my goals as I age is to move further and further away from cemeteries. I’d like to live in a town where there are no cemeteries at all. I’d like to live in a town with no funeral homes either. I suppose there is not really all that much I can do about that though. There are no towns where people do not die. Honestly, I am not interested in living in a cemetery any more than I am interested in living next to one. I do not want to be chased by zombies, but worse, I do not want to be a zombie. It is rather ironic that my work sometimes requires me to commit people to the very place where I do not want to be at myself.

For now I will have to be content to live in such a place where, at least, the cemetery is off in the distance just within the limits of my distance vision. If I take off my glasses I cannot see it at all, but, you know, I cannot go through life blind either. So until I am willing to let go of my vision I will live in a land where cemeteries are very real, very seen, and very close.

* * * *

"When he had said this, Jesus called in a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come out!’ The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face. Jesus said to them, ‘Take off the grave clothes and let him go.’" (John 11:43-44)

I suspect that, when it is all said and done, the grave will wear out before I will. That's the hope I'm clinging to.

(Photos & excerpt are from the hometown webpage: http://www.eastpalestineohio.org/)

DG

Throwing Away Gifts

I went to the Half-Price bookstore today. It is one of my most favorite places to go. I cannot always buy a new book, or a used book, but sometimes going there and perusing the shelves just looking for a new or used book is enough. For me walking through the bookstore is like walking through the woods. Taking a book off the shelf and turning its new or old pages is like turning over a rock—finding a sentence worth remembering is like finding a salamander or a snake. I love going up and down the rows and rows of books neatly shelved, alphabetically, and lined like a platoon of soldiers at the edge of the shelf as opposed to being pushed back against the back of the case. I prefer the nice neat, smooth line of book covers rising and falling vertically as opposed to a jagged line of books rising and falling horizontally.

One book stood out on the shelves today and I scooped it up with all the enthusiasm of a 10 year old scooping up a salamander from under a rock beside a stream. It’s a book, surprisingly, that I did not even know existed. It’s the sequel to a book titled Fearfully and Wonderfully Made by Paul Brand and Philip Yancey. The book is titled In His Image. Currently, the prequel I own is on loan to a friend. It will be nice to have the set and I’m rather anxious to read this new volume I purchased for a mere $7.98. But there was something bittersweet about the purchase. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to have the book, in fairly good condition, and at a fraction of the price of a pristine copy. I’m not at all above or below adopting a book that has been ‘put up’ (as in, ‘put up on a shelf’) for adoption. I’m glad I can provide it with a home where it will be well cared for, where it will enjoy adequate ventilation in a temperature controlled environment, and where, every now and again, it will be taken out for a walk and have its ‘dog-ears’ scratched. Still there was something that made me sad about purchasing the book.

Inside the front cover were written these words: With Love from Mrs. O****, June 11, 1995. What this means is that someone was given this book as a gift, with love!, and that they, less than 12 years after receiving the gift, gave it away—even at a small price—to the Half-Price Bookstore—where it would sit neatly on a shelf (a bottom shelf) until someone happened to notice it. I’m thrilled to be the proud new owner, but I can’t help but wonder what precipitated the desire to give the book up for adoption. Were they short on cash? Were they no longer interested in the subject matter? Did it take up unnecessary space on a shelf? Did they get a new copy of the book? Did they have a falling out with the person who gave them the gift in the first place? Did the person who owned it die and leave it as a part of an estate that was sold by someone who didn’t like to read? Just why did this book end up on an anonymous shelf, with other anonymous books that this book has never met or shared space with before, where someone can come along, buy it, and take it home? How could someone receive a gift and so callously throw it away? How can a gift be so meaningless, so cheap, so easily let go of? There are a lot of reasons to get rid of gifts. I’m not sure I understand any of them.

I’m rather the opposite when I receive gifts. I have gifts that I have received more than 12 years ago. I cling to them—and, when appropriate, I use them with enthusiasm, and I cherish them with delight. That someone would think so highly of me as to give me a gift and what’s more, the gift of a book! I have never received a gift-book that I have not used (or at least read) or that I have decided to give away later. I even have a book from some folks that did not like me, nor I particularly they, that I will not part with (and they signed it too!). Furthermore, when it comes to gift-books, I’m more than willing to look them straight in the mouth! That’s just me though.

I suppose everyone is different. Everyone has reasons for holding on to gifts and reasons for discarding them. If you happen to read this and realize that I am writing about your copy of In His Image, the one that was a gift from Mrs. O**** on June 11, 1995, would you please leave a note and let me know why you parted with it? I will be more than happy to return it to you if you want it, if you had to sell it for money reasons, or if it was accidentally sold by someone you did not authorize to sell it. Just let me know. If you don’t want it back please know that I will give this book a great home with a view. I will walk it, talk it to it, listen to it, and scratch it dog-ears. We will be best friends.

Goldfish in a Bowl

It's now about 9:13 PM. I've been working since 9 AM. I'm ready to write my sermon for tomorrow. I'll let you know if I have survived.


DG

As I edit this post, I'm two pages into the sermon writing.

The End of a Day

The day is nearly over now. It's not late, but there is a fire in the fireplace and that can only happen when the family is home and in the living room for the evening. The children are being treated to story time with mom. The dogs are annoying me as is the cat. I'm doing laundry. I'm ready to sit on the couch and read. I'm ready to fight the temptation to watch television (I sort of like Top Design, although it is not nearly as good as Top Chef and not even close to Project Runway). I'm ready to indulge my senses in a book. I'm reading four different books right now and choosing which one to read is always a challenge. Maybe tonight I'll read about the Spartans or about Theology or Discipleship or Scripture. Or maybe I'll read my Bible for a while--I could read a little about all of them. I'm ready to relax and a book seems the way to go. Goodnight.

DG

www.dangoldfinch.wordpress.com

Monday, March 26, 2007

I hope you spent some time outside today. I did. I played catch with my son. Worked at the local barn theater for a while with my family. Took a short trip to the Dairy Queen and slurped down a chocolate shake. The day was so warm and breezy. It was unbelievable butter sunny. What a fantastic day today was. I hope you were able to enjoy a bit of it for a while.

DG

Coming Soon

Coming soon: Daily Devotional Thoughts from the Gospel according to John. A Special 90 Days with Jesus Scripture series coming June, July & August 2007. Stay tuned for more...

DG

Felt like Spring

Today what a day! Band practice tonight--yes, I got to jam with my band. Picked up a used piano--for free. Spent some time out of doors inhaling deeply the fresh, warm, spring air. Finished watching Cool Hand Luke with my wife--Luke was always smiling.

The boys are sleeping. My feet are cold. I wish my head would feel right for day, just a day. I subscribed to a journal the other day. The people who run the subscription department sent me a reply email that began with the word 'evidently.' Condescending, sniveling rat. Simmer down. Let off some steam. I responded in kind.

My brain is moving but my fingers not quite. I hope it is warm tomorrow. I need another nice day--but I need one without rain. Till then.

DG

Well...

Well...

I finally converted to the 'new' blogger.

DG

Post Your Thoughts

I copied and pasted this from a blog I came across today. Simply post a comment and let me know what you are interested in reading.--DG

1. One book that changed your life: Eugene Peterson, Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places

2. One book that you've read more than once: Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

3. One book that you'd want on a desert island: The Holy Bible (Or, following Chesterton, A Practical Guide to Ship-making)

4. One book that made you laugh: Lemony Snicket, A Series of Unfortunate Events (pick any of the 13 published volumes, they're all funny!)

5. One book that made you cry: JK Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

6. One book that you wish you had written: Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

7. One book that you wish had never been written: Rick Warren, The Purpose Driven Life

8. One book you are currently reading: David Wells, Losing Our Virtue

9. One book that you've been meaning to read: Catechism of the Catholic Church

Update

I should give serious consideration to updating this every now and again.

DG

Brilliance, pt 1

If I knew what it would cost before I did it, would I do it? Would I invest the time, effort, energy in the beginning? Is it pure insanity to jump in head first, feet first, body first, before the spirit jumps in? I'm trying to make sense of something that cannot make sense no matter how it is looked at, leaped at or listened to. I'll never know. Probably, I ought to quit while I am only behind and stop trying to get ahead before I am utterly lost.

____________________

I wondered aloud to my son today: I hope someday when we all get to heaven that after we have marveled at the wonders of God for a time that we get to see some baseball. I immediately regretted saying it. The reason? Do I really think that I will ever stop marveling at the wonders of God? I think eternity will scarcely be enough time to complete such an assignment as marveling at the wonders of God. "Oh the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgments, and his paths beyond tracing out! Who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been his counselor? Who has ever given to God, that God should repay him? For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be the glory forever! Amen." (Romans 11:33-36). I Don't think I'll have time to think about baseball then. I wonder what makes me think I have time for it now? Shouldn't I start marveling at the wonders of God now?

____________________

I wonder sometimes if it is terribly wrong to desire any sort of happiness here on this planet. Seriously. Is it wrong to enjoy a rest after a hard day's work? Should I look for opportunities to suffer for the Name of Jesus lest I forget my brothers who are suffering elsewhere in the world? Should I abandon all creature comforts in order to better identify with my sisters who are living in something worse than squalor? How shall I live in Christ in America? Should I abandon my dignity or should I raise the dignity of those who have already been humiliated? What shall I throw their way? A Prayer? A Dollar? A Rock? A Kiss? Who are they? Perhaps they are looking at the stone on which they write and wonder, "What shall I throw his way? Shall I abandon my humble place and join him in wealth or lower him? How shall I remember my poor brothers in America who suffer from so much affluence and abundance? What shall I throw him? My Loin Cloth? My Soleless Shoes? My Straw Mat? A Kiss? A Prayer for his miserable condition?"

___________________

I heard this song the other night. I think it was called 'Creep', by a group called Radiohead. I've never listened to Radiohead. I still haven't. I heard someone else sing it. But I like it. Call me a creep. Loser like me. Call me anything but what I am. I cannot live up to the billing. I'm likely to fail and let you down. I'm in a world I don't understand. What I cannot figure out is why God would do it. I talk a mighty big talk, but what do I know of real suffering? What does this mean, "And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge--that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God." (Ephesians 3:17b-19) He does not pray that we will have power or knowledge: How can you know something that surpasses knowledge? He prays that we will know a love that surpasses knowledge, and the power not to be powerful but to know love. I'm supposed to know this sort of love when all the time I am all too aware of who I am? I'm always in the way! That's why we need the power: To get beyond ourselves and to Christ. Maybe I'm not a creep after all, just a little weak; a little too thick.

_____________________

I watched Rambo: First Blood tonight. Rambo was a Vietnam vet who got shafted--seriously. Halfway through the film some gung-ho weekend warrior National Guardsmen launched a rocket at him. The rocket hit the front of the mine he was in and sealed it prohibiting him from escaping. They thought he was dead and they went about their business. But inside this grave, this underground mine shaft, he was alive. They went back to their lives--celebrating, enjoying 'their' town, back to work. He, Rambo, crawled, crouched, and climbed through seemingly miles and miles of underground passages until, at last, he found an exit. He climbed up the ladders until he, bloody and bruised, arrived at the top. Rambo died. Rambo Resurrected. And the funny thing about it is this: When he resurrected he was angrier than before he died. Strange that. Either way, he did come back to life. The grave he was in could not contain him. He found a way out of the earth.

______________________

It is cool this evening. I like that. I hear frogs. I hear crickets. I hear an occasional car drive by. Crickets certainly are wonderful to listen to. I will miss them when winter comes. Maybe a few will move into my house and live here until summer comes. I don't want to miss a single note of their song. Some things are far too important to miss. Even crickets. I want to enjoy them now because the way this world works, I may not get to hear them tomorrow. I'm awake at 2 AM because I want to be found watching, waiting, listening for the note that will drown out and replace the crickets and announce that new, better music has arrived. Even the crickets will stop to listen. Or they may join in the band. Crickets!? Imagine that: They stay awake all night, all day just singing, waiting and watching.

The Church Building, pt. 2: Suffer the Chairs

http://www.persecution.org/Countries/afghanistan.html

http://magicstatistics.com/2006/03/22/more-afghan-christians-suffering-persecution/

I’ve been on a roll. I confess. I’m expecting visits any moment from clergy wearing dark sunglasses, leather gloves, and tiny curly-wired ear pieces they keep touching as if they are receiving information from some one I cannot see. It’s not likely to happen, but it might.

I’ve listed a couple of web-links here. I hope they work when you click them. They discuss, in part, the trials and travails of the church as it exists in Afghanistan. I don’t suspect these are complete views and, to be sure, some of the information at persecution.org appears a bit dated. Still, they are a place to start. Do your own search and see what comes up. Go to google.com. Type in these words: Afghanistan, Christian, suffering. See what turns up. Fact is, the church in the greater part of the world is not living life nearly as close to heaven as we in the United States are. Although, if I may, I would suggest that most of the church in the world is closer to the Throne that is in heaven (Revelation 4 & 5).

http://www.cbc.ca/story/world/national/2006/03/21/afghan-christian060321.html

This might be old news, this story of Abdul Rahman. He was sentenced to die because he became a Christian. But his story, just this year, highlights the way Christians live in places where Christ is hated. Rahman, as if this writing, did not die. The stories of Christians being persecuted in other places are numerous—too numerous for me to document here. I have heard it said, seen it written, more than once that the 1900’s were one of the bloodiest centuries ever when it comes to Christians being persecuted. More Christian deaths in the 1900’s than in the previous 1800 combined! I’m blogging.

I received a magazine in the mail today. I did not order it or subscribe to it and, frankly, I have no idea to this day why I receive it in the mail. I usually flip through the pages and look at the pictures and scan for something interesting, but in all the time I have been receiving this magazine I have read maybe 1 article. It’s called Your Church and declares on the cover that it is ‘Helping you with the business of ministry.’ Inside are all sorts of helpful hints about sound equipment, musical instruments, lighting, stages, buildings, construction, and more. The back page advertisement declares: “Ready for a quality sign? How one church grew from 200 to 800 in just 16 months.” There is an interview with the pastor of the church. Here is what he says, “And how has the ****** sign done so far?” His answer, “To date, we’re up over 300 percent. The ****** sign by far is the number one reason. I’m really happy.” Isn’t that special?

I’m sure the sign had a lot to do with the church growing. It doesn’t matter that Scripture says the Lord adds to His church daily those being saved, or that Jesus would build his church, or that faith comes by hearing the Word or any of that sort of nonsense. It's the sign. Don't you get it? We will never attract the right people, let alone the right sort of people until we get the right sort of sign; a sign that speaks their language; a sign that announces exactly who we are and what we are about. Heaven forbid people see these things in the people who bought the sign. As long as the sign says it, I don't have to.

Here’s the reason I bring up Your Church: The front cover. There is a picture of a chair skeleton. There is a nicely dressed man, staring at this chair skeleton as it hovers in front of him like the Spirit hovering over the waters of creation, or Jesus as His baptism. His hand is placed carefully on his chin like Rodan’s Thinker. The cover announces, “Anatomy of a Chair: Our Guide for Diagnosing Quality. Plus: Chair Choices.” As I was saying, Abdul Rahman is living, I think in Italy, after the Italian government offered him asylum.

You know, I really wish that signs and chairs were all it took to grow a heaping helping of committed Christian disciples of Jesus Christ. I really wish the right architecture could develop the sort of people who would take up their cross, deny themselves and follow Him. I really wish the sound system mattered in the Kingdom of God. And these things do matter, we are told, because we should want to do our best for God, be excellent in all we do, and do something here that speaks of His Majesty there; give people a little taste of heaven right here on earth. I’m serious. All the good books say it. All the key speakers preach it. All the statisticians prove it. And all the popular musicians endorse it. It must be true because no church has ever grown without these things.

And to what end? So more people can join the church, so that we can have more money, so that we need to build bigger campuses to accommodate the crowds? We need our own bookstores, restaurants, and barber shops. I’d rather go to Barnes & Nobles and hang out in a bookstore where I might see a book I shouldn’t read but where I might also meet a person I would never have met if I had bought the same book from the bookstore in my church building.

Rant. Rant. Rant. What I don’t understand is why these things matter. I’m trying to figure out if these things (Billion dollar buildings, perfect chairs, and amazing sound systems) are God’s blessing or man’s hubris. I honestly do not know. I do know this: While Abdul Rahman was on trial for his life, because He loves Jesus, I did not hear of one church in America offering to bring him here and offer him asylum. “Remember your brothers and sisters who are in prison as if you were their fellow prisoners and those who are mistreated as if you yourselves were suffering.” And I don’t understand all these billion dollar architecture projects being undertaken while nations of people literally starve to death. You realize that some congregations spend more money on the building of a building, its maintenance, and its additions than some nations spend on their people in a year? I’m leaning more towards hubris…

I’d like to think that everyone reading this would agree with me, but I’m just as much a part of the problem. I didn’t offer Rahman asylum. I did not send him a basket of fruit or box of cookies. And although I prayed, I did not conduct a meaningful prayer service on his behalf. For that matter, I too often forget about those who suffer for Christ because I’m too worried about whether or not I visited enough sick people or if I picked the right songs for Sunday’s worship or if I managed to get a guest speaker so I could go on vacation. I think I have a long way to go before I am considered an equal with someone like Rahman. I think this church in America has a long way to go before we can say with Jesus: Suffer the Little Children to Come unto me. For now, we can just suffer the chairs.

The magazine gives us one more clue as to the problem we are facing in the American Church. The magazine's title: Your Church. The problem is, of course, that this is not our church. In some sense we have stolen the church, ruined its reputation, squandered its wealth on frivolous living, and we have misused the Name of God in our justification of opulence and grandeur. Jesus said: "I will build MY church and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it." I truly wonder if the gates of hell would prevail against my church. I know Jesus' church will do fine. I wonder about mine.

Remember the Suffering.

Thinking Out Loud About Jesus in Hebrews

There is something about the first four verses of the letter we call Hebrews that boggles the mind. I'd like to have the ability to say that much, about one 'topic', in as few sentences, as the writer of Hebrews did in the first four verses. However, it is more than likely that I, being as American as I am, and being far more interested in saying something clever, and enjoying stringing words together in long chains, that I will use more words than necessary to say far less than I had hoped, and, thus, leave the reader more confused at the end of the paragraph than they were before they started reading the thoughts I put down on paper, computer screen, or in the sky, where, the best one could hope for is an eraser, delete key or wind. That should help.

"In the past Go spoke to our forefathers through the prophets at many times and in various ways, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, and through whom he made the universe. The Son is the radiance of God's glory and the exact representation of his being, sustaining all things by his powerful word. After he had provided purification for sins, he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty in heaven. So he became as much superior to the angels as the name he has inherited is superior to theirs" (Hebrews 1:1-4, NIV).

Take a breath now. Breathe deeply, slowly. Let these words sink in deep as you consider the granduer, the awesomeness, the overwhelming stature of Jesus, the Messiah.

________________

I just received a free issue of CCM--Contemporary Christian Music. "Enjoy your FREE issue!" they say. So I will. The thing that bugs me is the blurb on the fake cover: "Worship is the most popular genre of Christian Music." (Emphasis is theirs.) I have a problem with this notion that worship has become merely a 'genre' of music--as if there is anything else to do with music, as if one particular style can be called 'worship,' as if worship is merely a Christian thing. I'm ranting, perhaps. I just don't think worship should be downgraded to a mere genre. After all, worship is directed to God. Who is to say that music is the only way to worship? Who says worship will go away if the CCM genre went away. Sounds to me like another way of riding a green wave. To think that we should grow rich because of worship is, to me, scary.

_________________

Have you listened to the David Crowder Band? There are not enough words to describe how unbelievably good this band is. Their music is quality, deep, and delights the imagination, stirs the heart for God, and draws the listener into a participatory worship. In other words, one cannot help but sing along. I suspect that is what DCB would like to know. I only just received 'A Collision or 3+4=7' on my birthday. I have already listened to it, in its entirety, like 100 times. It is that good. I praise God for DCB! I first heard this band at Ohio Teens for Christ about 5 years ago. I only wish then I had known what I know now about this band and their music. Go buy their CD today.

_________________

Thanks for reading. I might have more to say later. I am sort of overwhelmed right now. My church has put together a team of missionaries to take a trip to Austria in 2008 to work at a mission house. Please pray for us.

DG

The Church Building, pt 1: Christian Mecca

Where does God live? Is the place where I worship the 'house of God'? That's what I grew up believing. I think perhaps people said such absurd things because they wanted us children not to run around the building. They wanted us to be respectful of the property. So instead of saying to us, "Hey, that door cost us $1500 don't swing on it." They said, "Hey this is the House of God. Show some respect." Either way, I suppose, we did not swing on the door. I'm reminded that God does not live in houses built by human hands. I'm also reminded that the body of the Christian is the Temple of God--something that seems to be lost in our church-speak nowadays unless we are trying to guilt people into not drinking, smoking or abusing themselves with all sorts of sexual laxity.

I have a lot of things to say about church buildings. I think they get too much credit for being the Christian version of Mecca. And, to be sure, there are a about 10,000 Meccas in the world of churchianity. Every other day, there is a new Prophet building a new Mecca hoping to attract a throng of pilgrims. I dislike buildings as much as I recognize they are, probably, a necessary evil. I sincerely believe that the modern craze of building giant buildings is as bad as the ancient craze of building giant cathedrals. It is all a waste of money, labor, and vision. Is our vision for the Kingdom of God merely concerned with how much property we own, how big our buildings are, and how many removable, stackable chairs fill the auditorium? I'm reminded of a comment I read the other day that the Church's effectiveness is not measured in its seating capacity, but in its sending capacity. I will tear down these barns and build bigger ones to accommodate all the grain this bumper crop has produced.

I'm not interested in a bigger building. I'm not interested in folding, stackable, and/or removable chairs (chairs that normally cost around $75-$150 each!). We don't need a building with bigger seating capacity and better parking. Rather, we need a building with bigger doors. Because when church is done correctly, that is, when the Body of Christ functions well, people will be as anxious to get out as they are to get in. People will not be content to merely 'come to church' or 'go to church.' Instead, they will be anxious to go and be the church in places where the church is not. Thus, their 'House of God' will be the world. Their altar will be a darkened place where light is needed. Their pew will be a park bench where some lonely person is sitting. Their pulpit will be a dugout at a little league baseball field. Their communion cup and bread will be the meal they share with a hungry person. Their offering will be their very life they give as a living sacrifice.

I'm sure others have said this before and that I am not the last who will say it either. I don't need to be original. I do want to impress upon anyone who happens to glance at this, however, that if the Church is going to win the lost then the church must be in those places where the lost are. In other words, it seems to me far more biblical to go instead of to wait; far more biblical to serve and not be served; far more biblical to give it away than to keep it for the self; far more biblical to live on the edge of disaster than in palaces of opulence. You know, if we have all that we need here then what is left to look forward to? "By faith Abraham made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country; he lived in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God" (Hebrews 11:9-10).

"Instead, they were longing for a better country--a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them" (Hebrews 11:16). Me too. I don't want a building. I want an entire country; an entire city, something made not out of stuff that will perish.

DG

Madonna's Messiah Move

Friends,

Here's a story that might interest you, or not.

http://www.breitbart.com/news/2006/03/03/060303130812.lo9imhbg.html

Evidently, Madonna wants to move to Israel to await the Messiah. You know, I'm hopeful about this. First, Michael Jackson leaves the country to live in the Middle East. Madonna wants to move. I'll tell you what, if we could get George Clooney, Barbra Streisand, Al Gore, and Michael Moore to move over there also this might be a happier place to live. I can only imagine. Actually, we ought to find a way to air lift the entire Nation of Hollywood to another place. I can only imagine.

DG

Just Wondering about Fish

What do fish think about all day long? Is there life consumed only with thoughts of what to eat, how to avoid being prey, and perhaps where to sleep, safely, at night?

Do you ever wonder if fish think about what they look like or if they are offending other fish by, say, not smelling like a fish?

Do they take a bath after being hooked by a fisherman and thrown back? Are they concerned about that less than fishy smell that coats them after being handled by a fisherman?

Do they thank God when they are thrown back?

Do fish ever get tired of constantly havin their thirst slaked? That is, do they ever get tired of not being thirsty?

Do fish ever get a hankering for lobster? Would they like to have a glass of wine every now and again?

Absurd, right?

Just wondering.

Big Deal

Is there anybody out there?

More fun from nature. Actually, Renee took this one.

Jerry

Writing #9: Exodus & Numbers

The people at my church are engaged in a month long adventure to read through the Bible in a mere 31 days. These writings have been designed to be encouragement along the way. I prefer an honest look at what I read and the way life works. This is, after all, a blog about the way I see life and its myriad of varieties. But, I have a confession to make which I will get to in a moment or two.

I am a big fan of literature. I love to read--oh, and I love books. I think the proper term is bibliophile. To make matters worse, with very few exceptions, I'll read just about anything that consists of words: advertisements, books, essays, scholarly papers, novels, commentaries and magazines. To further complicate matters, I will read just about any genre of literature: Scientific papers, history, literature, poetry, opinion--whatever. If I thought I could get away with it, I would be a reader for a living; oh, wait--I am. But I have a confession to make. My love of books and my greater love of the words printed inside of books does not make it any easier to trudge through the books that have come to be called Exodus, Leviticus and Numbers.

Now, I must be fair. Within those books there are, I noticed especially in Numbers, periodic episodes for the rote recitation of law is interrupted by grumbling, complaining, stoning or outbreaks of plague. I suspect that these episodes were inserted in the text for the express purpose of relieving the unmitigated boredom of reading who gave what, how much, when and how many of 'them' there were and where 'they' camped along the way. Let me give you an example from Numbers 7:

The one who brought his offering on the first day was Nahshon son of Amminadab of the tribe of Judah. His offering was one silver plate weighing a hundred and thirty shekels, and one silver sprinkling bowl weighing seventy shekels, both according to the sanctuary shekel, each filled with fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering; 14 one gold dish weighing ten shekels, filled with incense; 15 one young bull, one ram and one male lamb a year old, for a burnt offering; 16 one male goat for a sin offering; 17 and two oxen, five rams, five male goats and five male lambs a year old, to be sacrificed as a fellowship offering. This was the offering of Nahshon son of Amminadab.

This is not so bad. Until you consider that these verses are repeated, word for word, twelve times for a total of 89 verses. Our modern ambitions would be a little less monumental: Ditto. And that is only one example. Another is in chapter 29 where we learn about the Feast of Tabernacles and the offerings that are to be made during the feast. There we are treated to a description of all the offerings that are to be made during the eight day period of feasting:

" 'On the fifteenth day of the seventh month, hold a sacred assembly and do no regular work. Celebrate a festival to the LORD for seven days. 13 Present an offering made by fire as an aroma pleasing to the LORD, a burnt offering of thirteen young bulls, two rams and fourteen male lambs a year old, all without defect. 14 With each of the thirteen bulls prepare a grain offering of three-tenths of an ephah of fine flour mixed with oil; with each of the two rams, two-tenths; 15 and with each of the fourteen lambs, one-tenth. 16 Include one male goat as a sin offering, in addition to the regular burnt offering with its grain offering and drink offering.

" 'On the second day prepare twelve young bulls, two rams and fourteen male lambs a year old, all without defect. 18 With the bulls, rams and lambs, prepare their grain offerings and drink offerings according to the number specified. 19 Include one male goat as a sin offering, in addition to the regular burnt offering with its grain offering, and their drink offerings.

One the third day, the number of young bulls to be offered drops to eleven. On the fourth day, ten; and so on and so forth. It is an interesting chapter. I mean that sincerely. But if you think about it, at all, you soon come to realize that in the Book of Numbers there are a lot of sacrifices that have to be made. Everything the Israelites did involved sacrifice. Blood was shed for everything under the sun. There were even sacrifices that were simply called 'morning' and 'evening' sacrifices. Some animals ver even got to live because they were firstborn and belonged to the Lord: They could not be redeemed; they were born, they were killed (sacrificed). There were supplemental offerings, offerings for unintentional sins, sacrifices for the cleansing of water, Sabbath offerings, Monthly offerings, Passover offerings, Day of Atonement offerings, Trumpet offerings, Offerings for Vows and it seems to never end. It got me to wondering: how did they keep it all straight.

Then the answer became clear. The only way to keep all these and many more rules and commandments and sacrifices straight was to be reading the book of Numbers and Exodus and Leviticus every single day, every single minute of every single day to see what the Lord prescribed. Imagine that: they had to read the Bible every day. It's no wonder the priesthood was so important and so exempt from everything but tabernacle/temple duties. They had to be involved in the Word so that they knew what the Lord was prescribing each day. If a day went by where they were not in the Bible it seems altogether too likely they would mess up and forget something thus incurring the Lord's wrath.

This says something to the Christian too. If the Word of God is a Double Edged Sword, if it is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting, and training in righteousness, if it is like the Rain and Snow which are sent forth with a purpose, if the Word of God is our only rule of faith and practice--if all these things are true, then does it not behoove the Christian to be reading that Word every day to see what God has said to us about Himself, about sin, about righteousness, about the Gospel, about His Son Jesus and more? This month has been a challenge for me because I have put on hold most all reading projects (mostly the books) in order that I might concentrate entirely on reading the Bible. What I have found is that I am no less informed about the world than if I read the paper every day. No, in fact, I believe I am actually more informed, better educated, and more in step with God from having done so and I am only 17 days into the adventure.

I saw what happened to Israel when they got away from the daily preparation and sacrifice of reading the Bible: they fell into apostasy. They were so uninformed that God said this to them, "Your children will be shepherds here for forty years, suffering for your unfaithfulness, until the last of your bodies lies in the wilderness. For forty years--one year for each of the forty days you explored the land--you will suffer for your sins and know what it is like to have me against you." (Numbers 14:33-34) Later, it was as a celebration when under Josiah's leadership the Law was found and read. And, later than that, it was Ezra who came back from captivity, well versed in the Law, and made a daily habit of reading to the people God's Holy Word. I just wonder what would happen in the Church if we spent more time reading the Bible than reading Joel Osteen, Rick Warren or Max Lucado. Not that I have anything against these fellas, but I think even they would confess that their words pale in comparison to God's.

Writing #8: Exodus

I finished the book of Exodus today. What an amazingly diverse book. What a profoundly sincere look at the ordered lives of those Israelites who were led out of Egypt into 'freedom' as God's Covenant people. They moaned at times, "Why have you led us out here into the desert? In Egypt we sat around pots of meat!" After reading the book of Exodus, in a lot of ways I have to agree. The life of faith, which is necessarily the point of Exodus, is, at best complicated, and at worst, difficult. Anyone who tried to read or live the book of Exodus would have a difficult time doing so apart from faith. And when I say faith, I mean much more than 'yes, I agree this is true.' I also mean, 'yes, this makes sense to someone even if I agree with it and it makes no sense to me.' Put blood on the ear lobe, the thumb, and the big toe in order to consecrate Aaron as a priest. Yes, in the world of faith this makes perfectly logical sense.

But I read somewhere that faith is believing all things make sense to God even when they don't make sense to us. Someone asked me Tuesday evening what the blood on the earlobe, thumb and big toe meant. I responded that I had little idea, or, maybe, it was a way of saying you are consecrated head to toe. Or, maybe it was a way of saying, "May your ears, your hands and feet be found doing the work of God always." Or, maybe it was a way of saying: "Even the smallest parts of your body have been redeemed by the shedding of blood; don't take anything for granted when it comes to your redemption." Faith issues are not nearly as complicated as, I believe, some want to make them out to be. True, faith does sometimes involve that so-called 'leap', but more often than not the we take the leap knowing full well that the leap makes sense to God even if it does not make sense to us. That is to say, we don't put our trust in the leap itself, but in the God who may or may not have told us to take the 'leap' in the first place. We know the end result of the leap and we trust God with the landing or the not landing.

At the beginning of Exodus, Moses' mother took that leap of faith when she 'saw that he was a fine child.' She took another leap when she hid him in the river. She took another leap having Miriam go and watch for him. And her faith kept going and going. It took faith for Moses' to go back and declare before Pharaoh: Let my people go! And it took faith for Moses to approach the burning bush, and throw his staff onto the ground, and raise his staff over the Red Sea and hope the water split in two. I think it took a tremendous amount of faith, perhaps more than was required when he went before Pharaoh, for Moses to go before his own people and say to them, "Follow me." This man of faltering tongue and shallow self-confidence had the faith to go before the most powerful man on earth at the time and demand that God be recognized. Faith is the victory that overcame the world. I suspect it still is.

I think it also took sincere faith to follow a cloud around through the desert. I'm one for knowing where I am going and it seems to me that following a cloud around in a windy desert could be hazardous to our plans. Therein, however, I think is the key to faith. Their journey's were not a matter of going where they wanted to go but God's. So is ours. It is, and I say this humbly and passionately, entirely too easy to go where we want to go and do the things we want to do. Only faith gives us the courage and stamina to stay on course when God invites us to go His way. I'm not saying the journey is not filled with trouble along the way. On the contrary, wind blows clouds all over the place, everyday. Our job is to seek the cloud and follow it. "In all the travels of the Israelites, whenever the cloud lifted from above the tabernacle, they would set out; but if the cloud did not lift, they did not set out--until the day it lifted." What he means is, we have to pay close attention to what the Lord is doing and follow Him. To do otherwise will inevitably result in peril and disaster.