By the dozen

I won't bore you with my regular introduction of "we have the best family dinners ever," but last week we had a particularly funny episode that I'll recount in part.

So, we were were talking about the old-timey way of hanging people (throwing them up on stakes on a wall, just in case you were curious), and other random things like why my brother and I long misunderstood Ezekiel 4, and eventually we started talking about clocks. This is because we have a heinous clock that chirps, hoots, and makes other bird noises ever hour, on the hour. It's awful. I took the batteries out one time, but my mom actually likes the clock, so she found new batteries and now the clock is as loud as ever. This is fine, as we say, because what makes her happy makes us happy, but during supper we kept hearing it (it ended up being a long supper, so we heard the clock at least twice, and possibly even three times) and it was quite the topic of conversation.

That brought us to the thought that we should manufacture a clock with the twelve disciples on it! By the way, this may seem like a confusing train of thought to you, but we were talking about clocks, and we'd been talking about hanging people, and Judas was a disciple, and he hanged himself... well, somehow this made sense to us.

So anyhow, we had great discussion about how the clock would look. Would it have sounds for each disciple? Like Matthew, being a tax collector, would have clinky money sounds, and John would have some angelic sound, and Peter and the fishermen-type guys would have... fish sounds. Well, we decided that maybe the disciples wouldn't get sounds after all. But then there was the discussion of where we'd put the disciples. Who would get the 12:00 spot, right at the top of the clock? I voted Peter, but there was significant pull for John. Then we questioned if Judas should even get a slot. Maybe we could stick Matthias instead of Judas. My brother, of course, thought that perhaps we could have Judas at the 6:00 slot, and the clock could show the rope hanging him.

My mom wasn't impressed.

After a while we thought maybe we should just skip the disciples (too much drama!) and just do the twelve tribes. Of course, then there's the discussion about which tribe you should leave out (remember, Joseph got two tribes), and then we started all over again.

I Googled "twelve disciples wall clock" later, sure I'd find that somebody had already invented it, and to my surprise, didn't find anything. I looked only casually, but the closest I could find was a Last Supper clock and an old clock in Prague with the twelve on there, but it's an old clock, and not for sale. Also, there's a rock formation in Australia called The Twelve Apostles, and you can get clocks with the rock formation on the face, but that is, in fact, no help at all.

So one day if you wander into a Christian bookstore and see a twelve disciples clock, well, perhaps it was I, who somehow managed to finagle a deal to design clocks. It could happen!

Second Chances

My brother and I were talking about second chances the other day. Sure, there are second chances, but can we really go back to the way things were? When something starts over can it really be a continuation of the original product, or does it have to be built on a new foundation?

Actually, we weren't really getting that philosophical about it, it went more like this:

My brother: "It was stupid that [so-and-so] said that they could never start again."

Me: "I know, right?"

But I sort of ended up thinking about it a little more on the side, so these thoughts were what I've been pondering about it.

The song Castaway by Chasen (love these guys!) always reminds me of this thought. The last line of the chorus says, "And I know You gave me a gift of a second chance." Even though I was saved when I was quite young, and sometimes bemoan the fact that I don't have a dramatic story of being saved from a live of unhealthy addictions (actually, I'm fine with that fact, trust me), I still love knowing that my whole life is a second chance. And when I mess up (and I do, sigh), the Lord stands, waiting, holding out His hands, willing to give me that second chance.

It's only through His grace that such opportunities exist. His grace extended to Rahab, giving her a whole new life, a new chance, and a lineage of joy. To King David a second chance was given, even after his indiscretion with Bathsheba and murder of Uriah. To me, when I stray, and cease to seek His voice in favor of my own way, He stands, giving chance after chance.

Oh, plus, there's Israel. Nearly every chapter in the Bible has an account of yet another time the Lord gave them yet another chance, and saved their day yet again.

He's a God of second chances. And even though we humans are weak and can't go back to where things started and truly start anew, God can. The cross was the starting point for all of our second chances, and through his gift to us of our second life, we have the assurance of knowing that in His eyes, we begin through the work of the cross. My second chance is possible because of His sacrifice. My eternal life--and rescue from the second death--is mirrored out in everything I do, or He does through me, because Jesus Christ gave His life for me.

It makes every day worth living. And every second chance that we extend, worth giving.

Spread it with a little margin

I love reading the margins in my Bible. I'd guess I've read very nearly every footnote my Bible has to offer, on account of reading the marginal notes along with the actual text when I read. But I recently came across a good one in Numbers 4. The verse (23, for starters, in case you want to look it up, though actually, several verses in this chapter use this same word) was about entering in to perform the service, to do the work in the tabernacle of the congregation.

Well, instead of just being "service" right there, it's really the Hebrew root word for going out to war. And it sort of makes sense, since now-a-days it's not uncommon to hear someone say, "I was in the Service for six years back in the fifties." We call the military the Service these days, so I guess it makes sense that it all stems from each other.

But I just thought it was hilarious that the word was the same. I'm not typically one to grouse about work, but the point is, work is work. You may be in charge of animal sacrifices (like in this chapter), or you may be the person who checks the chlorine levels at the neighbourhood pool. Either way, sometimes crazy stuff can happen. Half the time it's like organized warfare.

The other thing I was thinking was this: you know how the Levites just did the tabernacle stuff, and didn't go out to war? Well, if this is sort of like war, then did they get to skip out of work for a year after they got married? Because the rest of the tribes got a get-out-of-war-free pass for a year after they tied the knot, so why not the Levites? Their version of war was service in the tabernacle, but hey, no fair that those young dudes from the tribe of Simeon got time off for finding a wife, and the Levites didn't, you know?

Not like life is fair. Or that it was "fair" for the Levites to be the only ones to be consecrated to the work of the Lord. They were just stand-ins, so to speak, for all the firstborn from all the tribes, after all.

So now, in my head, whenever the Levites got married, they were off work duty for a year. I'll get confirmation (or deconfirmation) of it when I get to Heaven, I'm sure, but the thought amused me. Quite frankly, I'd never noticed that verse before.

Isn't reading the Bible grand? Something new every day. I love it!

As the Lord commanded [me]

I was reading the end of Exodus the other day, chapter 40, to be exact, and I was struck by how many times it's recorded that the Israelites/Moses did everything as "the Lord commanded Moses."

There wasn't any wishy-washy, "As they thought best in terms of engineering," or "they did what was aesthetically pleasing," or anything like that, but they just did it. The Lord commanded? We're on it. Now, we know that through history, Israel didn't exactly keep that up (can you say "every man did what was right in his own eyes"? yeah, it gets a little crazy in Judges), but for this point in time, they did what they were asked.

And sure, we all think that if the Lord came directly to us and requested that we do such-and-such we'd be more than happy to do it just as He asked, but really, if we were honest with ourselves, I think it would occur to us that that's simply not the case. We do what we think is the smartest thing. "Oh, the Bible seems to indicate that we shouldn't do a certain thing? Well, they didn't really have [fill in the blank] back in the days when the Bible was written, so I think we can safely say that we can in good conscience to [fill in the blank]."

Riiiiight.

But it's all good and well talking about what "we" do or don't do, but really, what about me? Now, I'm not trying to be self-centered here, but it bears consideration that I, Little Jo Sleep, should always do exactly what the Lord commanded me.

Ouch.

Bright shining as the Son

Everyone loves something glowy and warm. When we travel through Indiana we pass the Warm Glow Candle Outlet Store, and we just love it. I've only stopped once (the smell was overwhelming and I wished I hadn't), but passing it is better, anyhow. There's a whole wing of the building that shaped like a candle.

That all is beside the point, except to say that I've been thinking of shiny, glowy things recently.

So, Moses. We all know about when he went atop Mt. Sinai to talk to God and he managed to see part of God from the cleft of the rock. Pretty cool stuff, I must say.

But here's what I wonder. When did that warm glow from Moses' face disappear? When did Moses not need that veil any longer? Was it a gradual thing that he didn't notice, or was it abrupt, after the first time he lost his temper after coming down from the mountain? Did the people notice it? Where they secretly glad that they didn't have to see Moses in this supremely spiritual state any longer? and did Moses mourn the loss of that outward display of the fellowship he'd had with the Lord?

I know that seems like a lot of questions about something we'll never really know the answer to, but I think it's something worth considering in our own lives. For instance, I should glow. Goodness, I should radiate. But do I? And if there are times when the Lord is able to shine through me without words, how long does it last?

I want to shine bright shining as the Son. Without Him I am nothing, and I want it to show in every word and facial expression I make.

Well-favoured

I'd actually forgotten about this until I was reading the story of Jacob and Leah/Rachel yesterday morning, but I think it bears repeating.

You know how the Bible describes Rachel as well-favoured? Well, that word "well favoured" is usually coupled, in the Bible, with the term for people who were a little stockier, or chubbier, or whatever word you choose to use.

The cattle in Pharaoh's dream, the one Joseph had to interpret, the one where they were fatfleshed? Yeah, well-favoured cattle.

Remember how the prince of the eunuchs in Daniel's time was worried about them eating the pulse instead of king's meat, because they'd get too skinny? Those kids were well-favoured.

Does that mean Rachel fell in that category? Not per se, however, I thought that was pretty amusing.

I'm not sure this bears any significance upon my daily life, or yours, but it made me grin as I read it in my Bible reading. Nice.

Of apples and trees

We had supper the other night at my grandparent's house. The food was delicious, the fellowship was wonderful, and the conversation... familiar. Familiar, because it was the same conversation we have every time we go. The embarrassing thing? I haven't even memorized it yet.

I love it, don't get me wrong, I just appreciate the humor of the whole thing. What happens is we talk about this and that--what various family members are up to, who's studying up on what Biblical topic, what we feel about chiropractors or torture chambers--and then, all of a sudden, we're talking about Israel. And that's fine, truly it is, I love all things Israel. What makes it so familiar is that the conversation almost always goes the same way.

My grandpa talks about how Israel is being protected only by the hand of the Lord, and how nations are retarded to try to fight against Israel. My dad backs this up with recent news items about countries who want to attack Israel. They talk about American politics for a moment, then revert back to all the points in history wherein Israel was protected in miraculous ways. Anyone who's had a meal with these guys has no doubt heard at least some of the stories. 90 Minutes in Antibe being a fairly popular one. They also talk about the times when the Israeli soldiers would stand out in the open and always hit their guys, while the enemy always missed them. The time when Israeli planes came to a Russian airfield and managed to knock out all the actual fighterly planes, and somehow miss all the decoy planes is a good one, too.

It's always interesting, and about 20 minutes into this hour-long ordeal my grandma falls asleep and my brother and I start conversing among ourselves. But one day (if the rapture holds off for a while longer), no doubt, I'll find myself having a meal with my brother and his family, and he and I will start telling all of his bored children about all the miracles the Lord performed for Israel when they didn't even know it. And they'll roll their eyes and start talking about something else. That's OK, they'll no doubt get a chance to hear it again, if they choose not to listen that time. And again. And again.

Judging errors

OK, who among us understands the story of Jephthah? And I’m not talking about the vow situation and the thing with his daughter, but I’m talking about how he got to where he did. Namely, a judge.

So his brothers hated him because his mom was a disreputable woman. That’s fairly understandable, if you want my personal opinion. So Jephthah, after being thrust out from the familial roof, runs away, gets to be buddy buddy with some vain guys, and that’s all we hear for a while. We have no idea if he had been married before his brothers kicked him out, or maybe after, we have no idea.

What we do know, is that once Ammon starts attacking the brothers back home, all of a sudden they’re like, “Oh hey, remember that clever Jephthah fellow? Let’s invite him back to fight for us!”

How did they know that he was the right one to pick? I mean, they’d most likely ousted him years and years prior to the Ammon debacle, and he was the best they could come up with? Even if he’d been a great sling-shotter back in the day, or maybe he could use his spear like none else, how did they know that he’d still keep those skills? And how could they know that he wouldn’t backstab them in payment of those good old days when they’d ill-treated him? I just don’t understand how they thought it was a smart thing to do, calling Jephthah to help them.

No wonder things were so crazy in Israel in those days. I mean, that is just not a smart thing to do. If this is what’s classified as “right in their own eyes” then I seriously question the judgment of any of those fellows.

No wonder they thought they needed a king!