I'm sitting at a terminal in NYC as I write this, quite happy to not be surrounded by Yankees paraphernalia to the extent that I had expected, and waiting to board my flight in an hour and a half for Chicago. Eventually, I will be home. Or what used to be home, anyway.
There is something nostalgic for each of us as we go home, something that makes us remember the bad times and the good ones in slightly skewed lights. The worst experiences may be darkened, and the best glorified still further, but most seem to fade into the average, leaving you with a vast recollection of thoughts and memories, but only a handful of lucid ones.
Christianity is, in a way, like this. We remember the best of God (Jesus coming to die for our sins), as well as the worst (when we feel abandoned, even though at such times, it is invariably we who have strayed), but much of our daily lives fades into the grayness of the past. It is remembered, and yet forgotten.
The children of Israel experienced more miracles in a couple months than most of us will see in a lifetime. The plagues on Egypt, the parting of the Red Sea, water from the rock, manna from heaven: they saw so much...and yet remembered so little. Victor Hugo wrote, "The most sublime poetry is worth less to the stomach than a piece of cheese." It is such a succinct and ringing condemnation of our human nature. Our immediate wants and needs make us forget all else. The very God Who had saved the Hebrews became an enemy Who had dragged them out in the desert to kill them as soon as they became hungry.
I see evidence of it in my life, too. I've had wonderful conversations with my closest friends, gone on terrific dates that leave my lips tingling, and gone to fantastic parties where I laughed until my sides hurt...only to get upset with the first person who does something I really don't care for. I've gotten thousands of dollars in bonuses or stock upswings, then later on cussed out a traffic light for having the nerve to inconvenience me another two or three minutes.
Right now, the airport is bustling with people headed home or on vacation. Christmas carols were heard playing on the radio earlier. One of my favorites is Silver Bells. "It's Christmas time in the city..." And though it is right to celebrate this time (though it is most assuredly not Jesus' actual birthday; that, according to scholars, was almost certainly in the spring sometime), we so often seem to forget Jesus at the other times of the year. We remember Him and know about Him, but where is the real celebration? I'm not suggesting caroling in May and leaving wreaths and Christmas lights up all year, but many of us seem to honestly celebrate Jesus only at this time and Easter.
It's Christmas time now, but we should act like it's Christmas time all the time. His presents are not good only for December, nor even for the next year, or ten years, or even the rest of our lives. They are good for eternity; should we not celebrate more than one month and then another spring weekend?
It's not a matter of trying harder. Trying to celebrate is like an always single person trying to be genuinely happy that their always-dating-someone friend swooped in on the person the first person was interested in and is getting engaged. It has to come from the heart or it will come out flat and insincere, not only making the initial attempt worthless, but poisoning those times when some actual excitement is felt.
It's a matter of the heart. It's a matter of how we see Jesus, of how we view God. Our false images of God paint Him as magnificent, but yet not worth worshiping from the bottom of our hearts year-round. It's as though we knock Him down to our level of understanding because we can't comprehend Him, but with our understanding flawed by our human nature, we add flaws to God. In our heads, He is either not as powerful as He is, or as loving, or as generous, or as...anything good you care to name. Until we view God as something more wonderful than anything else, our heart-felt celebration of His Son's birth will never be more than annual.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
A God of Miracles
One of the things I hear from non-Christians is that they don't believe in God because they don't see any works or wonders. "If God would only do a miracle, I'd believe in Him." "If He exists, let Him prove it by fixing such-and-such situation in my life." God worked a lot of miracles in the Bible, so many people expect Him to work one in their lives. It's only fair, right?
There are many problems with this request. The first is that God doesn't owe any of us a miracle or even proof of His existence. He's given us Jesus, which is more than we could ever repay, and enough proofs in all the other miracles He's done. What He chooses to do in someone else's life does not mean that He somehow owes us the same.
Second, if God proved Himself through a miracle, there would be no faith. I can tell you that the paint on a given chair is wet and you can believe that I am telling the truth without testing it. That is faith. If you touch the chair and find the paint is wet, there is no faith in me, for you have the evidence on your fingers that the paint is wet. We need to believe in God through faith, not through proof, and so He will not prove Himself to us by fixing everything.
Also, if God just fixed everything for people in order to get them to become Christians, it's highly unlikely that anyone would become a Christian for the right reason. They would seek God for the blessings and not for God. He will not let Himself become a cosmic vending machine for us, especially when the true blessing is greater knowledge of and fellowship with Him.
Fourth, God is still a God of miracles. My mother has more medical issues than I can usually remember, not the least of which was a pancreatic tumor. Pancreatic tumors are among the most dangerous type, for they almost always turn into a malignant cancer, with little chance of survival for the victim. Her chances would be practically nil with her other issues weakening her. She just found out from the most recent scan that the tumor has somehow disappeared entirely. Not gone into recession, but completely gone. She had no operation, no chemo, no radiation therapy. It just disappeared and the doctors don't know how or why.
Her neck had several herniated discs in it; the latest x-rays show only one. Her migraines, which have plagued her for years and were the original reason she became unable to work, have been attacking her less often. Days where she used to have no energy and be pretty much bed-ridden are becoming less common as well. There is still a number of issues, but across the board, she seems to be getting healthier for no apparent reason.
I'll be honest; the main point of this post was to talk about my mother rather than to make some deep theological point about God. I'm just in awe at what He has done and perhaps a little skeptical, like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. It is an issue of my faith, not only in God's power, but more so in His goodness and personal love for me and my family. I, too, sometimes need to be reminded that He is, indeed, a God of miracles.
There are many problems with this request. The first is that God doesn't owe any of us a miracle or even proof of His existence. He's given us Jesus, which is more than we could ever repay, and enough proofs in all the other miracles He's done. What He chooses to do in someone else's life does not mean that He somehow owes us the same.
Second, if God proved Himself through a miracle, there would be no faith. I can tell you that the paint on a given chair is wet and you can believe that I am telling the truth without testing it. That is faith. If you touch the chair and find the paint is wet, there is no faith in me, for you have the evidence on your fingers that the paint is wet. We need to believe in God through faith, not through proof, and so He will not prove Himself to us by fixing everything.
Also, if God just fixed everything for people in order to get them to become Christians, it's highly unlikely that anyone would become a Christian for the right reason. They would seek God for the blessings and not for God. He will not let Himself become a cosmic vending machine for us, especially when the true blessing is greater knowledge of and fellowship with Him.
Fourth, God is still a God of miracles. My mother has more medical issues than I can usually remember, not the least of which was a pancreatic tumor. Pancreatic tumors are among the most dangerous type, for they almost always turn into a malignant cancer, with little chance of survival for the victim. Her chances would be practically nil with her other issues weakening her. She just found out from the most recent scan that the tumor has somehow disappeared entirely. Not gone into recession, but completely gone. She had no operation, no chemo, no radiation therapy. It just disappeared and the doctors don't know how or why.
Her neck had several herniated discs in it; the latest x-rays show only one. Her migraines, which have plagued her for years and were the original reason she became unable to work, have been attacking her less often. Days where she used to have no energy and be pretty much bed-ridden are becoming less common as well. There is still a number of issues, but across the board, she seems to be getting healthier for no apparent reason.
I'll be honest; the main point of this post was to talk about my mother rather than to make some deep theological point about God. I'm just in awe at what He has done and perhaps a little skeptical, like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. It is an issue of my faith, not only in God's power, but more so in His goodness and personal love for me and my family. I, too, sometimes need to be reminded that He is, indeed, a God of miracles.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
