Sunday, September 11, 2005
Simply Deep.
I have many friends furthering their education in graduate school. They are soaking in the thoughts and ideas of minds far exceeding my own, and walks of faith that have inspired generations to know the Living God. In many ways I envy their position, at the feet of the great men and women of God, expanding their spiritual horizons, opening their minds to the depths of the faith that we share. I wish I were there to soak it all in.
But then there are moments when I am pulled from the wishful clouds of daydreaming back down to the concrete sidewalk of reality. As I was partaking of communion this morning, my mind flew away to Grad School, to the desire to learn exceedingly more. Albeit a righteous ambition, it was hardly appropriate. I have longed so many times for the depth of understanding that I overlook the simplicity of the story. Convicted, I shamefully returned to my communion reflections last April:
"Some might say that I have a fairly romantic, Jewish-esque view of the Lord. Though I would beg to differ, I can see where they are coming from. When I look back at the Old Testament I see a God who desired justice and righteousness, who longed for them to roll like a river, like a never failing stream. I see a God who delivers consequences for the actions of the people, the God who swallows rebellious men with the earth, or the God who laces their drinking water with gold dust that once resembled a calf.
Yet more than that, I see a God who delivers his people time and time again, from the bondage of slavery, from the constant raiding parties of the Midianites and Hittites, from the persistent pestering Philistines to the captivity in Babylon and Assyria. Despite the failing love of his people the unfailing love of their God never failed in redeeming them from whatever their circumstance. When I read the old stories, I do not see two separate people, I cannot see a God waiting to move, waiting to act, but a God continuing a story, a story set in motion before the beginning of time. We have a heritage, whether we choose to see it or not, if we want to understand the present, we must first understand the past.
So maybe we shouldn't be so quick to find ourselves nailing the Old Testament to the cross by limiting its study to the Great Sunday School stories or quick glimpses into the Holy character of God. Instead, perhaps we should find ourselves in the middle of April, several thousand years ago among the community of Israel, trapped under Pharao's heavy hand, listening to Aaron and Moses as they give the explicit directions from the mouth of God. "Take a lamb for each family, a year old male without defect. Take care of the lamb until the 14th day of the month, when we will all slaughter them at twilight. Then take the blood and put it on the sides and tops of the doorframes of the houses, where you will eat the lamb. That night eat the lamb, made in haste over a fire with bread made without yeast. This is how you are to eat it: with your cloak tucked in your belt, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand. Eat in haste; it is the Lord's Passover. The blood will be a sign for you on the houses where you are; and when I see the blood, I will pass over you. This is a day you are to commemorate; for the generations to come you shall celebrate it as a festival of the Lord -- a lasting ordinance. And when your children ask you, 'What does this ceremony mean to you?' then tell them, 'It is the Passover sacrifice to the Lord, who passed over the houses of the Israelites in Egypt and spared our homes when he struck down the Egyptians.'"
In finding ourselves there we more completely understand the meaning when we find Jesus, with his Apostles gathered around the table in the middle of April, several thousand years later, celebrating the Passover, and completing the story. Perhaps we can better understand the real significance when in his own haste the Lamb of God offers his body to eat, and his blood to be poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.
So as we find ourselves gathering around this same table for this same feast, again, in the middle of April thousands of years later, we come knowing a little more of the great story. That despite our failures, the unfailing love of God offered us his perfect Lamb to be slaughtered. It is his body that we eat through the bread made without yeast, and in haste it is his blood that we put on the doorframe of our heart. So that when the God of justice and righteousness comes rolling like a river, like a never-failing stream, he will see the blood of his perfect Lamb, and pass over us, redeeming us yet again."
How many times have I gone through the motions of faith seeking the door to something deeper, all while holding the key in my hand. Too long have I overlooked the enormity of the "little" things we do -- and if that is what God intends for me to learn before Grad School, may I be a willing pupil. For true depth can only come when you have first understood the simple -- only then can my faith be simply deep.
I have many friends furthering their education in graduate school. They are soaking in the thoughts and ideas of minds far exceeding my own, and walks of faith that have inspired generations to know the Living God. In many ways I envy their position, at the feet of the great men and women of God, expanding their spiritual horizons, opening their minds to the depths of the faith that we share. I wish I were there to soak it all in.
But then there are moments when I am pulled from the wishful clouds of daydreaming back down to the concrete sidewalk of reality. As I was partaking of communion this morning, my mind flew away to Grad School, to the desire to learn exceedingly more. Albeit a righteous ambition, it was hardly appropriate. I have longed so many times for the depth of understanding that I overlook the simplicity of the story. Convicted, I shamefully returned to my communion reflections last April:
"Some might say that I have a fairly romantic, Jewish-esque view of the Lord. Though I would beg to differ, I can see where they are coming from. When I look back at the Old Testament I see a God who desired justice and righteousness, who longed for them to roll like a river, like a never failing stream. I see a God who delivers consequences for the actions of the people, the God who swallows rebellious men with the earth, or the God who laces their drinking water with gold dust that once resembled a calf.
Yet more than that, I see a God who delivers his people time and time again, from the bondage of slavery, from the constant raiding parties of the Midianites and Hittites, from the persistent pestering Philistines to the captivity in Babylon and Assyria. Despite the failing love of his people the unfailing love of their God never failed in redeeming them from whatever their circumstance. When I read the old stories, I do not see two separate people, I cannot see a God waiting to move, waiting to act, but a God continuing a story, a story set in motion before the beginning of time. We have a heritage, whether we choose to see it or not, if we want to understand the present, we must first understand the past.
So maybe we shouldn't be so quick to find ourselves nailing the Old Testament to the cross by limiting its study to the Great Sunday School stories or quick glimpses into the Holy character of God. Instead, perhaps we should find ourselves in the middle of April, several thousand years ago among the community of Israel, trapped under Pharao's heavy hand, listening to Aaron and Moses as they give the explicit directions from the mouth of God. "Take a lamb for each family, a year old male without defect. Take care of the lamb until the 14th day of the month, when we will all slaughter them at twilight. Then take the blood and put it on the sides and tops of the doorframes of the houses, where you will eat the lamb. That night eat the lamb, made in haste over a fire with bread made without yeast. This is how you are to eat it: with your cloak tucked in your belt, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand. Eat in haste; it is the Lord's Passover. The blood will be a sign for you on the houses where you are; and when I see the blood, I will pass over you. This is a day you are to commemorate; for the generations to come you shall celebrate it as a festival of the Lord -- a lasting ordinance. And when your children ask you, 'What does this ceremony mean to you?' then tell them, 'It is the Passover sacrifice to the Lord, who passed over the houses of the Israelites in Egypt and spared our homes when he struck down the Egyptians.'"
In finding ourselves there we more completely understand the meaning when we find Jesus, with his Apostles gathered around the table in the middle of April, several thousand years later, celebrating the Passover, and completing the story. Perhaps we can better understand the real significance when in his own haste the Lamb of God offers his body to eat, and his blood to be poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.
So as we find ourselves gathering around this same table for this same feast, again, in the middle of April thousands of years later, we come knowing a little more of the great story. That despite our failures, the unfailing love of God offered us his perfect Lamb to be slaughtered. It is his body that we eat through the bread made without yeast, and in haste it is his blood that we put on the doorframe of our heart. So that when the God of justice and righteousness comes rolling like a river, like a never-failing stream, he will see the blood of his perfect Lamb, and pass over us, redeeming us yet again."
How many times have I gone through the motions of faith seeking the door to something deeper, all while holding the key in my hand. Too long have I overlooked the enormity of the "little" things we do -- and if that is what God intends for me to learn before Grad School, may I be a willing pupil. For true depth can only come when you have first understood the simple -- only then can my faith be simply deep.
"I don't know how to say this, but I'm kind of a big deal. People know me. I own many leather-bound books and my apartment smells of rich mahogany." That's right folks, yours truly was on the WB11 News here on Long Island, and looking good -- at least that's what they tell me. Apparently a camara man will tell you anything to get you to do what he wants, which is a valuable reiteration of a previously learned lesson during some of my steamier photo shoots while moonlighting as an underwear model.
But the real truth behind this story is the incredible amount of airtime that my dog received. No joke, my dog Eve was the focus of cameras, reporters and anchors alike for a solid 3 minutes... and the majority of the footage was her back end (which may I say is the Foster family's finest foot forward, so to speak -- except Ben). So yes, to awaken any buried insecurities I might have previously squelched let it be known that the camera and general viewing population would prefer to watch video of a pig and my dog's butt over me.
Let me tell you one thing that you need to do before you die: take horses swimming. You would be surprised at their aptitude in the water, and by the fact that even horses blow bubbles when they fart underwater -- a fact that caught me off guard as indicated by the picture below. Smooth move Cisco...
And finally, to complete the randomness of this "catching you up" blog, I would like to apologize to all of those who I have neglected to contact within the last several weeks, especially those like Josh Lankford who call my work extension and leave threatening messages. Again, my deepest, sincerest, heartfelt do-it-again-and-I'll-get-a-restraining-order apologies. Josh Lankford -- this picture's for you:
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