Best left unsaid

Our family dinners tend to be sort of an open form for chaos. I don't mean that in a bad way, and in fact, our family dinners are pretty much the best ever. Sometimes, however, my brother and I get a little too chatty for my parents' tastes.

It's bad enough that we frequently reminisce about the days before we understood Ezekiel 4, question exactly what every colour of scab and hair in Leviticus 13 means, but Monday night at dinner we spent an inordinate amount of time discussing Judges 19.

For those who don't recall the story, it's the charming little tale of the time that the Levite and his concubine spent the night in Gibeah, and due to some terrible treatment from the men of that place, the concubine died. Ahem. Anyhow, the Levite realized that he should stand up for this wrong (or something), and decided to prove a point. So he took the dead concubine, cut her in twelve pieces, and sent her via messenger to the twelve tribes of Israel, hoping to incite righteous anger. Or something. That he did, and by the time all was said and done, thousands of Israelites had given their lives fighting for the cause. This, of course, inspired the whole Rock-of-Rimmon passage, which is a story for another time.

So the discussion my brother and I were so animatedly having was that matter of exactly how the woman would have been divided. For instance, if the arms/hands were divided into three pieces, then you wouldn't have need of the legs/feet to be divided into three pieces. Perhaps the larger the tribe was, the larger the piece was?

Anyhow, my parents didn't seem to have much appreciation for our highly spiritual discussion, and shot it down. But seriously, the quandary is remarkable!

It brings to mind the age-old discussion from Revelation 13 about the heads and horns/crowns. How can seven heads have ten horns/crowns? Which heads get the extra horns/crowns? Is it symmetrical, like the heads on either end and the one in the middle get those extra horns/crowns? It's just so confusing.

But, these are things that don't really make a difference in the long run. There are many, many other things in the Word of God I should be spending my time considering.

Like, you know, whether or not the lions in Solomon's temple were real or not. Always a good one.

One hundred twenty-five

For some reason I noticed that this is my 125th post, and instead of just smiling and carrying forth, I decided to see what interesting things are associated with the number 125 and discovered that the Pantheon was built in the year 125! I'm not sure why this seemed so interesting to me, however, the thought of one day soon seeing such an old place (Europe this summer, huzzah!) struck me as awesome.

So, I had to write that, instead of something witty or profound. Ah, well, I'm sure I wouldn't have been able to hit upon the witty or profound anyhow.

Also in the year 125 a Christian by the name of Thamel was martyred, along with his sister, by the emperor Hadrian. Huh.

Yamaha has a bike, the Zume 125, that is, according to the reports, "amazing." It looks sort of weird to me, but gets up to 89 mpg, so I guess you can't argue with that.

In May of last year the STS-125, was the NASA space shuttle that was the last one sent to service the Hubble Space Telescope. What I thought was cool about this was that I read about the wake-up music that they play the crew aboard these spacecrafts. Apparently each day a different track is played at the start of each day, typically chosen by the family of the specific crew members. On this particular mission, the song God of Wonders (by Third Day) was chosen and played on the fifth day for mission member Michael Good. Nicely done, Michael Good's family.

Five cubed, obviously.

Opus 125 was a symphony by Beethoven, which ended up being his last complete symphony, in fact, and the first symphony ever to use a chorus. Who knew?

In my Bible, page 125 has the last part of Numbers chapter 7, which is very long and repetitive. When our family reads it together for Bible reading, we each take a "section" and try to read it in one breath. After a while all the spoons, lambs, kids, bowls, and fine flour ends up jumbling together into a mass of words. I've tried for years to set that portion to the tune of The Twelve Days of Christmas (due to it being the twelve days the princes came and dedicated the alter), but you have to sing terribly quickly to get that accomplished.

And finally, penal code 125 is the code they use for speeding. Good to know, I'm sure.

London

I've been listening to Brandon Heath's song, "London," pretty much non-stop this week, and now I miss London. It's silly, because it's not like I've been there a billion times (in fact, unless you count camping out in the airport, I've only been there once), but there's something about listening to that (somewhat sappy) song about snapping pictures of Parliament and Big Ben ringing and standing by the River Thames that makes me reminisce about the amazing time I had there one year with my two best friends.

It wouldn't be the same if I went back, I'm sure, but it was one of those trips that I won't ever forget. Unless I get dementia, or maybe Alzheimer's.

Other than that, though, I pretty much expect to remember it!

How's my driving?

I saw a sign in front of a church on a busy road the other day that read, "How would Jesus drive?" Not quite as catchy as the "And you think this is hot?" or "We may not be Dairy Queen, but we sure do have good Sundays!" but I thought it had a good point--my driving is reflecting the fact that I belong to the Lord.

I know there are those age old questions, "What would Jesus drive," "What would Jesus wear," "What would Jesus eat," "How would Jesus do taxes," that sort of thing, but I like that this sort of brings it down not to just the dos and don't, but to the actual actions of the matter. When I'm topping 70 in the 55-zone (this is in miles per hour, in case you Canadians were thinking I drive terribly sluggishly), am I really acting in a manner that a child of Christ should? When I cut off that guy because he was hogging the left lane and I really wanted in, was that acting in a gracious manner? I'm thinking.... not.

And I know, I know, if I'm convicted, why do I still speed? Uh, good question. Truthfully, it's something that convicts me every once in a while and then slowly my conviction wears down and I'm that annoying lady trying to get into the left lane.

The verse "be not conformed to this world" keeps popping into my head right now. I wonder why that is! =)

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.

SO not my home

Some days I just can't even believe we're still here. Not because I'm depressed and can't handle life, but because I miss Heaven. Yes, you can miss Somewhere you've never been. You can miss Someone you've never met. When I consider that one day soon (yay rapture!) I'll be tucked in the Lord's warm embrace, I honestly get Homesick.

When I hear talk of politics and problems, I honestly usually just don't care. This is not my home, I think to myself. When I'm asked why I don't write to my senator to demand that abortions be stopped, I think, but this isn't my home! I'm not trying to hide my head in the sand, but I just don't live here. My heart isn't here. I value this Earth because it's the place I've been placed, but my heart isn't in it. I value the people and lives that surround me because the Lord made them too, but I'm not going to fight for my rights here on Earth. I'm just visiting.

My heart is where my Home is. And my Home is with the One who prepared that place for me on the cross. Earth is nothing but a temporary dwelling. Sorry, politics, you're out of luck.

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.