Just a Moment

Today's passage:  Job 2:9-10

 "9 Then said his wife unto him, Dost thou still retain thine integrity?  curse God, and die.

10  But he said unto her, Thou speakest as one of the foolish women speaketh.  What? shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil?  In all this did not Job sin with his lips."

     As hard as I tried to concentrate on Genesis this morning (and I did read it), a verse jumped out at me last night and it just won't let me go until I get my thoughts about it out.  Maybe after I've written about it for a bit, I can focus more on the passage I am supposed to be studying.
     In Bible study last night, we flipped briefly to these verses and something about them leaped off the page for me.  It was one of those lightbulb-I-never-saw-that-before moments.  Probably anyone reading this saw it a long time ago, but for me, it was brand new.  And when I see something like that, I just have to share (ask my husband--he's probably very glad I share with my blog now, cause I get over-the-top excited sometimes).
     Anyhoo, I have always given Mrs. Job a bad rap.  I think a lot of people have.  Here Job is, he has lost his fortune, he has lost his children (and his heirs, which would also mean the family name would disappear), and now his health.  He is mourning, he is itching, he is discouraged beyond anything I can imagine.  And is his wife any encouragement at all?  No.  She says something hateful.  She says something irrational.  I tend to forget that she lost a little too.  The Bible doesn't say anything at all about her health failing so she couldn't be suffering as much as Job, but take children away from a mother, and well, there is little else I can think of that would plunge her into despair.  She was grieving too.  Does that make her tirade acceptable?  No, it does not.  It might make her a little more sympathetic, but it doesn't make her the heroine.  Job was able to hold his tongue, why couldn't she?
     When I think of Mrs. Job, I think of this bitter woman with a pessimistic life outlook. Indeed, wouldn't Job have been better off without this negative woman?

Courtesy of http://breadsite.org

     Then I read his response.  What hit me is that he doesn't call her a foolish woman.  He says she is speaking like "foolish women" do.  That indicates to me that this was not characteristic of her.  She would not normally say such things.  Grief had overtaken her and in this moment, she said exactly what she thought. Now I realize that what is in our heart is what comes out of our mouth, but have we not all had moments where our hearts felt too empty?  Or too full?  I have said things in a moment that I wish I could take back.  In that one moment, she said something that maybe she wished she could take back too.  Maybe she didn't.  I have no way of knowing.  I just wonder how many times I have said something in a moment of weakness that might become my legacy.  Just one moment.  God chose to put these words in the Bible about Mrs. Job to help us understand some things.  Obviously there is the contrast between Job's reaction and his wife's.  But maybe too, it is to show us that even one moment in our lives may be the historical record by which we are judged.  Perhaps she was as bitter and pessimistic as I have always thought, or maybe, just maybe, she was overcome with her pain in one moment that the worst thing she could think or say came out.
     She lashed out at the only One who could ease her pain.  But before, I am too harsh, I might look at times in my own life, or times to come, that I might have been less than generous with my words, that I might let the sorrow rise and the unwise words hit their mark.  If God chose to record some of my less-than-stellar comments, it might have been only one moment in my life, but anyone who does not know me will judge my character by them.  Just as I have often judged Mrs. Job for hers.

 

Underfoot

Today's passage:  Romans 16:18-27
     "And the God of peace shall bruise Satan under your feet shortly.  The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you. Amen."
     I recognized the first part of the verse from Genesis 3.  God tells the serpent that he "will put enmity between thee and the woman, and between thy seed and her seed; it shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel."  Of course, God was referring to the Son He would send into the world someday.  Paul is writing this after Jesus has already been crucified and risen, so Genesis 3 has actually been fulfilled, but the Roman church will have the opportunity to bruise Satan in a different way.  I'm sure this is partly referring (and maybe wholly referring) to the verses I mentioned yesterday (See:  Marked).  A church who marks and avoids heretics will be successful, they will be victorious against Satan.  But part of me wondered about something else.
     I decided to do a little checking.  It is widely agreed that the book of Romans was written about 55-56 AD probably from Corinth.  He makes it clear in this epistle that he plans to visit the Roman church at some point in the future.  He does eventually make this trip, and as far as anyone can tell, he was martyred there around 60-61 AD.  A year or two after the book of Romans is written, one of the most antagonistic emperors of the Roman empire assumes the throne.  It is Emperor Nero.  Paul, and many of the apostles (including Peter) were believed to be killed under his rule.  I would imagine the Roman Coliseum would serve as Nero's arena but I also learned this was about 15 years too early.  Though that arena was not the location of Nero's persecution, his gardens were often lit with Christian believers as torches.
     With this information, I wonder if God directed Paul to write these words with an even wider scope in mind.  Would Satan's head be bruised by the suffering of the saints?  Would the persecution of God's church further crush Satan?  We know that because of the death of believers, the Gospel was spread even farther. And really, what could bruise Satan more than another soul lost to him?   Paul often mentions the peace and grace of God in the beginnings and ending of his epistles, but it seems particularly important in this passage, because when they were being persecuted they would need both grace and peace.  I'm not saying that is why God directed these words, but God could see the future and Paul could not.  Perhaps He meant more in the statement than even Paul could know.
     When Paul writes "shortly", it could mean anytime in the near future.  I just wonder if that near future might be in the following years when many would be put to death in His Name.  Given that possibility, we should not be filled with dread at the prospect of dying for our Lord.  If this is indeed a way that God allows believers to bruise Satan's head underfoot, then I should be like the brave soldiers who defend us and volunteer for that position.  I can't say I've gained that kind of courage yet, but if there ever is a day, I might think about the privilege I get to grind Satan's head into the pavement.  That seems like a job any Christian would be happy to take.

Lift Up Your Heads (Remembering 9/11)

Today's passage:  Luke 21:28
     "And when these things begin to come to pass, then look up, and lift up your heads; for your redemption draweth nigh."
     Ten years ago tomorrow, I lifted my head, started my morning routine, and drove to work.  I taught third grade.  My husband and I (no kids yet) had just bought our house that May.  I was just getting used to the morning rush hour commute, having only been driving to the school for a few weeks.  We live across town, couldn't afford anything on the side of the city where both of us worked, so I spent my usual 35-45 minute ride listening to the radio, thinking about who knows what since I didn't have kids fighting and complaining or asking questions in the back seats.  It is hard to remember what life was like before children, and yet I had a very full and busy one teaching.  I didn't hear the reports on the radio because I arrived early enough for teacher's meeting.  I was actually on time.  In Chicago, you can leave at the same time every day, and still arrive at a different time.  But this morning, I was a little early.  Every morning we had devotions and prayer requests before starting the day.  Our kindergarten teacher is the one who asked for prayer because she heard that a plane had hit the top of the World Trade Center.  As most everyone thought, without having seen any pictures, we assumed a little Cessna had calculated terribly and possibly skimmed the top, only injuring those on board.  It seemed like one of those fluke accidents you sometimes hear about.  As was often my routine, following the meeting, I went into the school kitchen to pour my cup of coffee (this is where I started the caffeine habit) ready to face the day.  Little did I know what a day it was to be.  As I was talking with some co-workers, our principal came into the kitchen and said to us, "Another plane has hit the World Trade Center".  Conversation stopped.  We were in disbelief.  Another one had hit?  Well, then, that had to mean...Yes, he told us, we were under attack.  Living in a city like Chicago, you automatically think you are a target.  We aren't exactly under the radar, and if you have ever seen our downtown, it would be a terrorist's dream.  I can get to O'hare International Airport in ten minutes.  I stress International because if we were at war, and hijacked planes were being used as missiles, what was next?  I tried to process this information as quickly as I could because I had about twenty 8 and 9 year olds to teach that morning.  Children are very intuitive.  They can sense when something is not right.  I was in the middle of Bible class when our school secretary discreetly slipped in and told me another plane had hit the Pentagon.  The Pentagon?  Not 20 years ago, my own father had worked in that building.  Suddenly a personal connection.  I had been to his office.  This is a place I knew.
     Parents started arriving (many who worked downtown, which had mostly been evacuated, just in case) to pick up children.  Some of them because they had nothing else to do for the rest of the day as their workday had ended early, some of them because they felt the sudden need to have their little ones close.  At break times, teachers would visit the school kitchen where a TV had been set up (this was not the norm) so we could catch updates.  This is how we heard about the plane going down in Shanksville, Pennsylvania although we weren't entirely certain if it was related to the other three.  Then I saw replays of the towers crashing to the ground one by one.  We had been given word that all the planes had been grounded.  This was of great relief and great concern.  As I monitored the children playing outside, carefree,  every plane that flew overhead was distressing.  Was it obeying orders to get out of the air, or was it on a renegade mission?  After a while, the sky became eerily quiet.  In Chicago, there always seems to be a plane flying overhead, so the absence of them was odd.
     I drove home listening to the reports of all that happened that day, by that time I had learned that the fourth plane was taken down by the brave passengers on-board.  I heard about many of the rescue workers who had been killed on their way up to save those trapped in the towers.  Arriving home, I switched on the television, toggling between channels that had only the coverage of this horrific day.  It was then that I saw people leaping to their deaths.  I sobbed convulsively.  People trying to escape the flames, but if unsaved, were falling into even greater flames. 
     As I lifted my head that gorgeous Tuesday morning, the weather here as pleasant as it was in New York City, I had no idea what would transpire that day.  As New Yorkers, and Washingtonians and all those who boarded Flight 93 lifted their heads from their pillows, ten years ago, they thought they were going to have an ordinary day.  As those in Manhattan lifted their heads to look up at the devastation above, they saw what looked like unleashed fury. 
     But some of them, in death, lifted their heads, and as they went to glory saw their Redeemer.  One day, I will lift up my head and it will not be to see these disturbing images that are played each year as a reminder to us what happened that day, but it will be to see my Lord and Savior coming to take me Home.  It will be to see Jesus, white robed, gathering all those who have accepted Him as the only Way, to take us to Heaven.  My redemption will be near.  We will never forget what happened on September 11, 2001.  We will never forget those who gave their lives, and those who continue to give lives to save us.  Somebody else gave His life.  It was Jesus Christ, and if you have never accepted Him today, don't wait.  Lift up your head and see that He died for you.  Your redemption is right there, waiting to save you.  You may not need to be saved from a hijacked airplane.  You may not need to be saved from a burning building, but if you do not know where you are going after this life, you may as well be in one of those situations.  Please visit my page:  Understanding Salvation if you have any questions about how you can know for sure that you will see Jesus at the end of this life.  Then one day you can lift up your head and see His hand outstretched to you, as He will to so many others who have accepted Him as their Savior, welcoming you into your eternal Home.

Gethsemane Times

Today's passage:  John 18
     I do not feel capable enough to comment on the next few passages of Scripture.  Do the chapters affect me?  Yes.  Do I take anything from them?  Yes.  Do I see anything new?  Sure.  But I feel ill equipped to explain Christ's suffering, because I have never suffered.  Nobody has suffered as Christ has, but I feel there are people close to me who have a much better idea of what testing is.  I am surrounded by people going through difficulties. It seems almost callous to sit at a computer screen some days talking about trusting in God, and allowing Him to work through me.  Sometimes it sounds so generic and fake. I don't feel that way when I'm writing it, but then I look at people who are living their faith in a tangible way, and think to myself, "What do I know?" The faith that is tangible is a cousin's family who day in and day out tend to their comatose son and his various medical emergencies.  The tangible trials are the ones of my in-laws coping with the daily struggle of her adjusting to life in a wheelchair because bone cancer has taken her ability to walk.  I'm not sure why I am going down these avenues today.  I just have been thinking recently that I can read God's Word, I can get joy from sharing it, I can feel like God has shown me something to apply in my life, but I look at people around me who understand far better than I do.  I would venture that there are people who could understand Christ's turmoil better than I can.  I am sure that persecuted Christians around the world are in their own Gethsemane right now.  These people understand that they may be facing death head-on soon.  They could empathize with Christ's arrest, trial and subsequent persecution.  I can't.

Jesus Prays in the Garden--Taken from Standard Bible Story Readers, Book Six
By Lillie A. Faris, Illustrated by O.A. Stemler and Bess Bruce Cleaveland
The Standard Publishing Company, 1929

     The more I see trials in the lives of people around me, the more I realize I don't know anything.  I've said before that I really only want to sympathize with others, I don't really want that empathy.  But then again, will I ever really understand God's work without those testings?  If you are going through some Gethsemane times in your life, I'm sure you are thinking, "Here, sister, you can certainly have mine."  I am not saying I would gladly take them, because I wouldn't.  I am just saying, you, who are going through these rough patches, are closer to God for them.  Easy for me to say, right?  Yes, easy, and hard.  Easy because I can sit here, knowing that so far, my life has been peaceful and easy.  Hard, because I don't know what to say to those of you who are having difficulties.  I can say the trite thing, "Trust God".  I can quote numerous passages of Scripture about how God can comfort you in your troubles.  I don't even know if anyone reading this today is having troubles.  I know this, someday you might be.  And so will I.  Maybe I'm writing this for posterity's sake, for when I am further down the road in my life and I look at the hurdles ahead.  When I think I can't make it over the hurdle, I can look back at the time in my life when there were none, and see how God has brought me along.  I'm obviously in a very reflective mood today, and really don't feel like I've shared much.  Yet, I feel better just getting it out there, regardless of who reads this.  Jesus went to His Gethsemane to gather strength from His Father, maybe God is just preparing me for mine.

Laboring

Today's passage:  John 16
     "A woman when she is in travail hath sorrow, because her hour is come:  but as soon as she is delivered of the child, she remembereth no more the anguish, for joy that a man is born into the world.  And ye now therefore have sorrow:  but I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you."
     How clearly I remember the birth of my first son.  My poor husband had just worked his shift (4PM-12AM) and had barely been home an hour when my water broke.  I called the doctor and was instructed to go to the hospital.  I didn't have a lot of pain--at first.  Around 2AM the contractions started, and were pretty much non-stop.  I was expecting a breather between each one.  I had been told that when they first start there might be five minutes in between narrowing within a minute of each other.  Now maybe my labor was different from others, but that never happened.  I would say a 30 second delay between each contraction, and that's how it proceeded for hours.  I couldn't turn over in bed without a contraction, I couldn't carry on a conversation without a contraction.  It was certainly more intense than I had ever expected.  Around 3:30AM the nurse asked me if I wanted medication.  I caved.  Mostly because I had no idea how long the labor would last, and I knew I would have no strength to push when the time came.  She administered Stadol which really did nothing but make me groggy.  I could still feel each contraction, I was just too drowsy to be able to protest.  Finally around 9AM I was given an epidural (and when you are having contractions the entire time, it certainly is nerve-wracking trying to stay still when a long needle is about to pierce your back).  In short time, I couldn't feel the contractions anymore.  I really pity the pioneer women.  I have sympathy for the pregnant ladies during the Depression.  Bless the ladies today who choose natural childbirth.  You are braver than I am.  I admit that I am a wimp and a sissy.  I can't imagine having gone another 4 hours with the contractions I was experiencing.  Thank you, Lord, for modern medicine.  Around 12 PM it was time for the most strenuous part of the labor.  Two hours of pushing, and finally my doctor had to use forceps to get him out.  (This tells you a little about the stubbornness of my first child).  I didn't cry, like I expected to when I first held him.  I was just so relieved to be done with the labor process.  No, the tears came later.  When we were alone that first night, and I held him in my arms, I admired each tiny feature and am certain no baby ever born was as handsome as he was (until my second and third son were born, and they are the only ones that I think could ever compare).   In the middle of the labor process, going through those hideous contractions (sorry expectant mothers), I remember thinking to myself, who on earth would ever do this more than once?  But that night, holding my son, I understood why.  Obviously, my first labor experience did not deter me from going through it two more times.  I'm thankful God was more merciful with my next two labors.  Each was only four hours, and far less difficult.
     Jesus is about to experience the worst pain anyone could ever go through.  This would be far more difficult than any woman's labor.  It would be worse than the torture any man has ever experienced, and I've heard of some pretty grueling tortures.  The disciples are about to sorrow as they have never sorrowed before.  They are about to have their world turned upside down.  They will be afraid, upset, discouraged, paranoid.  They will feel deserted and alone.  They will wonder what comes next.  But Jesus explains to them that just as a woman goes through that pain in childbirth, it is only for a short while, then comes the joy for a lifetime.  How true that is!  These disciples were going to have three days of pain and confusion, but following that, they would have a glorious future.  Many of them would experience death in a similar fashion as their Lord, but they would go to a Heavenly home.  Jesus would die such a painful death for me.  He knew the joy on the other side when I would someday accept Him as my Savior.  That would be worth all the pain.  If He had moments on the cross, thinking "Why am I going through this?"  He would think of the many who would believe on Him.  He would think of the joy He would have when each person, one by one, accepted His work on the cross as payment for their sins.  He would think of the disciples boldly going forth after His resurrection and proclaiming His words.  He would think of how Heaven would be filled with the people He loved.  Well, not all the people He loved.  There would still be many who would reject Him.  There would be some at the foot of the cross who would die never believing.  Knowing what He does now, knowing the suffering, the grief, the torture, the pain,  would He do it again?  Yes.  If it was the only way to purchase our salvation, He would do it again.   Why?  Because it was worth it.
     Would I have had another child if I hadn't had the medication that aided me through that first delivery?  Absolutely.  The pain was awful, but if it was the only way to have my child, then I would have no qualms repeating it.  If my second and third deliveries were as intense, I would do those again too.  Why?  Because my kids are worth it.  And for some strange reason, God thinks I'm worth it too.  I don't understand why.  I can only say this.  Maybe somebody today reads this, and can't understand why Jesus would die the way He did.  I don't understand why.  I just understand that He had to.  He had to do it to save our souls.  Nothing we do can ever accomplish what He did on the cross.  No prayer we say, no money we give, no presence in any house of worship, no kindness, no rite of baptism will ever wash away the sin nature we carry with us.  Only Jesus could take care of that.  It is only by believing that His death on the cross accomplished the payment for my sin, that I can have the joy that follows.  It is only by going through the turmoil of recognizing my filthy sins, repenting, and accepting what Christ did for me, that I can understand the eternal joy He brought.  If you have any questions about how you can know about the home in Heaven God has prepared for you, please see the page (Understanding Salvation).  He went through the pain, to bring the joy.  And you are worth it.

Bruised

Today's passage:  Isaiah 53
     I don't enjoy correcting my children.  It is probably the least favorite thing I like to do in life.  If I had my way, my children would never fight, they would always respond with the right attitude, they would always obey immediately.  That is not usually what happens, without a little persuasion.
     Speaking of Christ's suffering, verse 10 says, "Yet it pleased the LORD to bruise him..."  It pleased God that His Son was suffering?  That seems contrary to God's nature.  Why would He be pleased with the torment of His Child?  Perhaps, when the bruising brings about a result.  When I have disciplined my children, I find no pleasure in it, but when their fighting has ceased, when their attitude has sweetened, when they do what they are told, I am pleased.  Unfortunately, sometimes it takes unpleasantness to accomplish the goal.  When Jesus Christ's body was badly beaten, when it was nailed to the cross, when it had no life left in it, it accomplished it's purpose.  It redeemed me.  The result of the bruising was pleasing to the Lord.  In verse 11 it says, "He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied..."  God knew what the end result would be, and that was to purchase the salvation of all the people He loved.

The Suffering Savior--Taken from The Bible in Pictures:The New Bible Symbols
By M. Bihn and J. Bealings
The John A. Hertel Company, 1922

     It doesn't please God to bruise me.  Sometimes it is necessary to achieve what is necessary in my life.  He doesn't enjoy the process, but He likes the product He gets. If I try to live a life where I don't fight, I keep the right attitude, I obey God immediately, He will have fewer reasons to give me bruises.  If He can get the result without the persuasion, wouldn't that makes things pleasant for both of us?  For Christ, there was no choice but to offer His body.  There was no other way.  He satisfied and pleased the Lord with His sacrifice.  He took my lumps so that I can live without bruises.