Our family is reading in 2 Samuel during morning readings, and I loved a verse in chapter 22, verse 21 says something about how the Lord delivered David because He "delighted in him." Isn't that the coolest thing ever? I think it's awesome that David could say with such assurance, "Y'know what? The Lord delights in me."
I think verses about delight are cool in the Bible. I was just memorizing this verse from Isaiah the other day, and it said to let your soul delight itself in fatness. I thought it was pretty amusing, but nobody else did, I don't know why.
But verses about delight are such fun to read, for some reason. I love reading about people in whose delight is in the law of the Lord, and how the Lord delights in His saints, et cetera. I think I just like to hear the word "delight." But just think: we delight in what the Lord has given us, and He delights right back at us.
Enough to keep one smiling till the rapture, don't you think?
Friday, January 29, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Saul & Co.
There are some stories in the Bible that just make me sad. Anything to do with Tamar (either one, really), stuff about eating children, etc. But our family was just reading about the time there was a famine in the land, and it was because the Gibeonites were feeling upset because of the whole Saul thing (for a more complete rendering, please read 2 Samuel 21).
Anyhow, long story short, David up and killed a ton of descendants of Saul, just to make the Gibeonites happy. I think it's nice that the famine stopped, but seriously, at such a cost? That story just hurts me to read. Not to mention that it's not long after the whole Absalom story, which breaks my heart every time. Regardless, I'm discussing David and Saul.
I just find that whole Old Testament thing so hard to swallow sometimes. I mean, really, they had to kill those dudes to stop the famine? Wasn't there something else they could have done? Couldn't they have sent them some gift certificates to Camels, Ltd. or something? And when you think about Rizpa, the unfortunate concubine of Saul whose two sons were killed and left out to rot in the sun, you realize what a cruel situation it was.
Of course, I always wonder about Michal in all of this. Did she care about any of these going's-on? You'd better believe she was keenly aware of the fact that her sons with her ex-husband Adriel were being strung up by her current slash also-ex-husband David. How could she not? But did she care about Rizpa's sons? Did she care that Mephibosheth was living in the city, maybe even not too far from where she lived? I wish there was some way we could get a peek into the lives of the minoresque characters in the Bible. The dynamic between Michal and David is fascinating to me, and I often wonder if Michal, Jonathan, and David hung out, back in the day, when David was still just that kid who played the harp part-time for Saul. I know family dynamics these days aren't quite what they were back in the OT times, but still, the sense of family is pretty important, I think, no matter what era you're living in.
So the moral of the story is simply that the whole situation with David and Saul's kin makes me sad. Mephibosheth got a pretty good deal, but nobody else seemed to end up too happily. So much for the life of royalty, eh?
Anyhow, long story short, David up and killed a ton of descendants of Saul, just to make the Gibeonites happy. I think it's nice that the famine stopped, but seriously, at such a cost? That story just hurts me to read. Not to mention that it's not long after the whole Absalom story, which breaks my heart every time. Regardless, I'm discussing David and Saul.
I just find that whole Old Testament thing so hard to swallow sometimes. I mean, really, they had to kill those dudes to stop the famine? Wasn't there something else they could have done? Couldn't they have sent them some gift certificates to Camels, Ltd. or something? And when you think about Rizpa, the unfortunate concubine of Saul whose two sons were killed and left out to rot in the sun, you realize what a cruel situation it was.
Of course, I always wonder about Michal in all of this. Did she care about any of these going's-on? You'd better believe she was keenly aware of the fact that her sons with her ex-husband Adriel were being strung up by her current slash also-ex-husband David. How could she not? But did she care about Rizpa's sons? Did she care that Mephibosheth was living in the city, maybe even not too far from where she lived? I wish there was some way we could get a peek into the lives of the minoresque characters in the Bible. The dynamic between Michal and David is fascinating to me, and I often wonder if Michal, Jonathan, and David hung out, back in the day, when David was still just that kid who played the harp part-time for Saul. I know family dynamics these days aren't quite what they were back in the OT times, but still, the sense of family is pretty important, I think, no matter what era you're living in.
So the moral of the story is simply that the whole situation with David and Saul's kin makes me sad. Mephibosheth got a pretty good deal, but nobody else seemed to end up too happily. So much for the life of royalty, eh?
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
That's a wrap, Acts
So, I was corrected about my erroneous Acts assumptions. Apparently I missed the part where the ship didn't crash until they cut away from those awesome four anchors.
So, disregard my rant. Though... I still find it somewhat intriguing that those anchors carry such weight amongst us all. I mean, why don't we wax eloquent on the 153 fish that the disciples counted after the night they did all that fishing with Jesus?
Apparently smaller numbers are easier to interpret...
So, disregard my rant. Though... I still find it somewhat intriguing that those anchors carry such weight amongst us all. I mean, why don't we wax eloquent on the 153 fish that the disciples counted after the night they did all that fishing with Jesus?
Apparently smaller numbers are easier to interpret...
Monday, January 25, 2010
Change
My title was inspired by a post in another friend's blog; thanks Joy.
This past weekend we had a big Sunday School bash, where we rent out a school, all the Sunday School classes put on little plays, and there is way too much pizza and candy. So pretty much, a lot of fun. Fun when you're a kid, I guess I should say, and a little more harried and crazy when you're a teacher of one of these said classes.
Not that I don't love my girls, because they're pretty much awesome. I have 10-, 11-, and 12-year-olds, and they are truly amazing. And hilarious. And they all love vampires, a less hilarious subject which I find myself shooting down during class nearly every Sunday. Come on, how many different segues are there into the subject of Twilight, anyhow? Apparently, a lot.
All that aside, I was thinking about how awesome my play was on Saturday. Not because it turned out insanely well (though, considering the talent levels of both the actors and me, the writer/director/ahhh, it really did turn out impressively), but because our story was a cool lesson.
We did the story of John Newton--we started with his mother dying and him being shanghaied by the British Navy, and moved on to his disregard of all things nice and polite, and finished up with his getting saved, marrying the pretty girl, and writing Amazing Grace. We covered a lot in roughly seven minutes.
Anyhow, there was something I didn't even notice until the play actually began, and we were live in front of the audience--which is to say, the happy mix of girls in my class. John Newton was a slave trader, and doing the play on Saturday, I was incredibly thankful for how much had changed. A little Hispanic girl played Mr. Newton (she did a pretty good job of convincing the captain to search for "his" son until John was found), and a little African-American girl played a captain--the very captain who talked John into dealing slaves in the first place. It didn't even dawn on me when we were doing the "auditions" (auditions comprised of all the girls wanting to be Mary, the eventual wife, and everyone being sad when they realized they couldn't all have the same part) that I could have done the casting differently. But I don't think I would have changed it if I could have, you know? Who cares that my slaves were played by little girls who look more Swedish than African, anyhow? This is what we've moved beyond, and I'm thankful that I honestly don't even notice it any longer.
So this is a tribute to those brave men and women who fought for what was right, who did the hard thing, who sacrificed personal comfort for the good of others. I'd like to think I would follow in their footsteps, given the chance (yes, yes, I know there's a lot I can be doing now--see what I mean? I'm not as impassioned on the subject as they obviously were), but I'm scared that it's just another thing that I'd ignore in favour of "protecting the family" or something like that.
Food for thought, this change stuff is...
This past weekend we had a big Sunday School bash, where we rent out a school, all the Sunday School classes put on little plays, and there is way too much pizza and candy. So pretty much, a lot of fun. Fun when you're a kid, I guess I should say, and a little more harried and crazy when you're a teacher of one of these said classes.
Not that I don't love my girls, because they're pretty much awesome. I have 10-, 11-, and 12-year-olds, and they are truly amazing. And hilarious. And they all love vampires, a less hilarious subject which I find myself shooting down during class nearly every Sunday. Come on, how many different segues are there into the subject of Twilight, anyhow? Apparently, a lot.
All that aside, I was thinking about how awesome my play was on Saturday. Not because it turned out insanely well (though, considering the talent levels of both the actors and me, the writer/director/ahhh, it really did turn out impressively), but because our story was a cool lesson.
We did the story of John Newton--we started with his mother dying and him being shanghaied by the British Navy, and moved on to his disregard of all things nice and polite, and finished up with his getting saved, marrying the pretty girl, and writing Amazing Grace. We covered a lot in roughly seven minutes.
Anyhow, there was something I didn't even notice until the play actually began, and we were live in front of the audience--which is to say, the happy mix of girls in my class. John Newton was a slave trader, and doing the play on Saturday, I was incredibly thankful for how much had changed. A little Hispanic girl played Mr. Newton (she did a pretty good job of convincing the captain to search for "his" son until John was found), and a little African-American girl played a captain--the very captain who talked John into dealing slaves in the first place. It didn't even dawn on me when we were doing the "auditions" (auditions comprised of all the girls wanting to be Mary, the eventual wife, and everyone being sad when they realized they couldn't all have the same part) that I could have done the casting differently. But I don't think I would have changed it if I could have, you know? Who cares that my slaves were played by little girls who look more Swedish than African, anyhow? This is what we've moved beyond, and I'm thankful that I honestly don't even notice it any longer.
So this is a tribute to those brave men and women who fought for what was right, who did the hard thing, who sacrificed personal comfort for the good of others. I'd like to think I would follow in their footsteps, given the chance (yes, yes, I know there's a lot I can be doing now--see what I mean? I'm not as impassioned on the subject as they obviously were), but I'm scared that it's just another thing that I'd ignore in favour of "protecting the family" or something like that.
Food for thought, this change stuff is...
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Asking about Acts - Part II
Let's talk for just a minute about Acts 27. Great chapter, truly it is, but there's one thing I always hear about it that sort of gets to me. Which is to say, Acts 27:29. "Then fearing lest we should have fallen upon rocks, they cast four anchors out of the stern, and wished for day."
The romantical side of me just likes to hear about a ship full of people wishing for day. Sounds cool (especially since you know they all survived at the end, phew), but it's the four anchors I hear a lot about. I'm not sure if any of the rest of you hear about these four anchors, but I highly recommend that if you're not familiar with a good sermon or two on the subject, that you head over to Google and, well, google it. "Acts 27 four anchors" is all it takes to come up with dozens of thoughts on these anchors.
I hear all sort of thoughts about them. Article number one on that Google search says that the four anchors are representative of Paul's steadiness in the storm. 1. He was in the presence of God, 2. He was God's possession, 3. He had a sense of purpose, and 4. He had a positive confession of his faith.
Well, these things are all good and right, but is that really what those four anchors represent?
Another article (also in the top ten Google listings under the search for "Acts 20 four anchors") says that the four anchors were that Paul 1. Prayed, 2. Had the Word of God, 3. Obeyed God, and 4. Had the hope of salvation. Once again, great things, but is that what those anchors mean?
I've heard other things. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, if you'll believe it, were once referred to as the four anchors. In Acts 2:42 mentions new Christians continuing steadfastly in 1. The apostle's doctrine, 2. fellowship, 3. Breaking of bread, and 4. prayers. That's pretty popular from what I've personally heard.
Anyhow, there are more, which doubtless I'll remember in the middle of the night tonight, but you get the idea.
Now, I'm not trying to be contrary (although I realize I come off as sort of contrary sometimes), but I'm trying to be practical, I guess. My hang-up with this whole situation is this: why are we comparing things to these anchors, anyhow? The anchors sure didn't help the ship, did they? This was a ship that, if we're trying to compare apples to apples, wouldn't even be qualified as a Christian ship (re-read the chapter, I'm sure it'll make sense in a moment!). So the illustration is already a little flimsy, in my opinion.
So, like I say, we have a ship who'd been trying, on its own merit, to reach land, cast these four anchors into the sea, and, well, that didn't work either. The ship broke in pieces, much like Humpty Dumpty, I imagine, only with less yolk.
May I reiterate: why do we like this illustration so much? These four anchors gave those sea-sick people not one ounce of help, and I'd like to keep viewing prayer and obedience to God as something that'll help me, thanks for asking. I once decided that I was going to sermonize all on my own, and started telling people that I thought that the four anchors referred to Jacob's four wifely things. Moral of that story? Have just one wife. For some reason that doctrine never really caught on, funny... =)
This really solved nothing, I suppose, but it felt nice to spit it all out.
The romantical side of me just likes to hear about a ship full of people wishing for day. Sounds cool (especially since you know they all survived at the end, phew), but it's the four anchors I hear a lot about. I'm not sure if any of the rest of you hear about these four anchors, but I highly recommend that if you're not familiar with a good sermon or two on the subject, that you head over to Google and, well, google it. "Acts 27 four anchors" is all it takes to come up with dozens of thoughts on these anchors.
I hear all sort of thoughts about them. Article number one on that Google search says that the four anchors are representative of Paul's steadiness in the storm. 1. He was in the presence of God, 2. He was God's possession, 3. He had a sense of purpose, and 4. He had a positive confession of his faith.
Well, these things are all good and right, but is that really what those four anchors represent?
Another article (also in the top ten Google listings under the search for "Acts 20 four anchors") says that the four anchors were that Paul 1. Prayed, 2. Had the Word of God, 3. Obeyed God, and 4. Had the hope of salvation. Once again, great things, but is that what those anchors mean?
I've heard other things. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, if you'll believe it, were once referred to as the four anchors. In Acts 2:42 mentions new Christians continuing steadfastly in 1. The apostle's doctrine, 2. fellowship, 3. Breaking of bread, and 4. prayers. That's pretty popular from what I've personally heard.
Anyhow, there are more, which doubtless I'll remember in the middle of the night tonight, but you get the idea.
Now, I'm not trying to be contrary (although I realize I come off as sort of contrary sometimes), but I'm trying to be practical, I guess. My hang-up with this whole situation is this: why are we comparing things to these anchors, anyhow? The anchors sure didn't help the ship, did they? This was a ship that, if we're trying to compare apples to apples, wouldn't even be qualified as a Christian ship (re-read the chapter, I'm sure it'll make sense in a moment!). So the illustration is already a little flimsy, in my opinion.
So, like I say, we have a ship who'd been trying, on its own merit, to reach land, cast these four anchors into the sea, and, well, that didn't work either. The ship broke in pieces, much like Humpty Dumpty, I imagine, only with less yolk.
May I reiterate: why do we like this illustration so much? These four anchors gave those sea-sick people not one ounce of help, and I'd like to keep viewing prayer and obedience to God as something that'll help me, thanks for asking. I once decided that I was going to sermonize all on my own, and started telling people that I thought that the four anchors referred to Jacob's four wifely things. Moral of that story? Have just one wife. For some reason that doctrine never really caught on, funny... =)
This really solved nothing, I suppose, but it felt nice to spit it all out.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Asking about Acts - Part I
So here's a good question: how do we know that Luke wrote Luke and Acts? I've been pondering this recently, and have been doing my best to look it up, but everyone just says that "it's generally acknowledged" Luke wrote them. We know the author was a traveling companion of Paul, and that he uses "we" starting whenever he jumped aboard Paul's journeys, but Paul had lots of companions.
No seriously, why are we all so certain that he wrote the books?
No seriously, why are we all so certain that he wrote the books?
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Contented
I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. ~Paul
That Paul was an amazing fellow. Content in every situation? That's some seriously amazing stuff. There are a lot of things that make me content, of course, like freshly-fallen snow, or seeing people read books, or my room being tidy, or watching old people who still love each other, but I'm the first to admit that I'm a long way away from being content in every situation.
My brother and I were discussing last night about whether or not it's possible for a Christian to be perfect. I think yes, he thinks no. The Lord gave us a new life, and it we let the flesh talk us into sinning, then it's our fault. I think we should be able to live our life as the Lord intended us to. Not because we're perfect people (we've already sinned, so it's not like it would change that), but because we're changed. Changed for most situations means a different colour of paint, or less time in the principle's office. Changed for a Christian means entirely, %100 different. That's huge.
So maybe I should take my own thoughts to heart and take a look at what makes me discontent and change my feelings on the matter. After all, if Paul, who was beaten and stoned and eventually killed could be content in all situations, than who am I, with my roof over my head, the coziest bed on planet earth, and a family never far away to be discontent in any situation?
Put that way, there's really not much left to say, is there?
That Paul was an amazing fellow. Content in every situation? That's some seriously amazing stuff. There are a lot of things that make me content, of course, like freshly-fallen snow, or seeing people read books, or my room being tidy, or watching old people who still love each other, but I'm the first to admit that I'm a long way away from being content in every situation.
My brother and I were discussing last night about whether or not it's possible for a Christian to be perfect. I think yes, he thinks no. The Lord gave us a new life, and it we let the flesh talk us into sinning, then it's our fault. I think we should be able to live our life as the Lord intended us to. Not because we're perfect people (we've already sinned, so it's not like it would change that), but because we're changed. Changed for most situations means a different colour of paint, or less time in the principle's office. Changed for a Christian means entirely, %100 different. That's huge.
So maybe I should take my own thoughts to heart and take a look at what makes me discontent and change my feelings on the matter. After all, if Paul, who was beaten and stoned and eventually killed could be content in all situations, than who am I, with my roof over my head, the coziest bed on planet earth, and a family never far away to be discontent in any situation?
Put that way, there's really not much left to say, is there?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)