jonesy
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Post by jonesy on Apr 12, 2006 11:21:57 GMT
Incompetence, In reading from "Messy Spirituality" again this morning I chuckled at the thought of competence being considered a fruit of the spirit in the modern church. As Isis a parrot in my daughter's apartment says "Hellllooooo!" Jesus never mistook spiritual professionalism for anything other than what it is a sham, a front, idolatry. He also never mistook desire and desperation for anything less than a deep yearning for His Father, and in turn Him.
Frederick Buechner in one of his sermons entitled "The Magnificent Defeat" spoke of competence and cunning in the story of Jacob. For moralizers the story of Jacob is a disappointment; he schemes and manipulates his way through life and succeeds. Esau who sold his birthright for porridge in a moment of weakness has a lifelong contention with his younger brother. In the twilight of Isaac's life he has as Buechner puts it "A few loose ends" such as blessing his son Esau. Instead Jacob disguises himself and enters the tent where Isaac is poised to give the weight of his stature in blessing to his eldest. As the dim light that filters through Isaac's enfeebled eyes betrays mere shadows he reaches out to touch his hirsute heir. Buechner describes the moment as shades of truth but he relates the imposter may not have fooled the old man he may have resigned himself to blessing Jacob in disguise, playing along with the ruse. In the end Esau's ire is life threatening and Jacob flees to the far country where in the dusk of a desert evening Jacob has his famous dream. Jacob's ladder a dream for a patriarch, a noble, and one appointed an heir, yet Jacob is none of these he's on the lam for grand theft blessing. Jacob marries, has a family possessions and wealth and finally after years have expired he makes his way toward home for reconciliation with his family-Esau. As the last stream is forded Jacob sends his family ahead he remains on the opposite bank, alone. As Buechner writes, "And then it happens. Out of the deep of the night a stranger leaps. He hurls himself at Jacob, and they fall to the ground their bodies lashing through the darkness. Jacob is winning. The stranger cries out to be set free before the sun rises. Then, suddenly, all is reversed.
He merely touches the hollow of Jacob's thigh, and in a moment Jacob is lying there crippled and helpless." Buechner writes further, "...the stranger had simply held back until now, letting Jacob exert all his strength and almost win so that when he was defeated, he would know that he was truly defeated; so that he would know that all the shrewdness, will, brute force that he could muster weren't enough to get this. Jacob will not release his grip, only now it is a grip not of violence but of need, like the grip of a drowning man." He concludes the sermon by telling of the horrifying face that besets Jacob in the early morning light-something more terrifying than death-the face of love; a blessing borne not of Human cunning but a gift of God.
"Power, success, happiness, as the world knows them, are his who will fight for them hard enough; but peace, love, joy are only from God." He give us this final devastating thought, "God is the enemy Jacob fought with at the river...in some way we all of us fight-God the beloved enemy. Our enemy because, before giving us everything, he demands of us everything; before giving us life, he demands our lives-our selves, our wills, our treasure."
Not much of a bargain in our estimation for God, us for Him. Him for us on the cross as Jesus of Nazareth stumbled on broken feet out of the tomb on His resurrection. It's not about prevailing, winning in life, or mastery of our fortunes; it's about desire...aching, itching, wrestling, rolling around in the dirt, desperate, incompetent desire for Him. John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on Apr 14, 2006 8:20:08 GMT
The trouble with trouble.
Jesus was slain in an indecorous manner because He was in a word trouble. Isaac was bound and placed on a makeshift alter on a mountainside the precursor to Jesus. He wasn't much trouble, just a kid with a grandfatherly old dad to lead him on the supposed final journey to his end. At just the last minute he was spared-by an angel.
The bulls and rams and lambs that were sacrificed on the alter weren't tormented flogged or held in derision, indeed they were esteemed, prized, unblemished-without spot or wrinkle. Jesus was tired, ragged, smelled bad, bloody, spat on, beaten and whipped to with in an inch of His life, and came from the wrong side of the tracks. He was no theologian of note his only recorded writings a scrawl in the sand-He worked most of His adult life. He was a moonlighting Messiah, noted in scripture as the carpenter Joseph and Mary's son, not "The Lamb of God". The only person who really had a clue as to His identity got his head chopped off in prison and afterwards presented as a party favor for the equivalent of a pole dancer.
He troubled the religious establishment; they'd invested themselves pretty heavily in the system of rite and ceremony. Jesus was neither-not a Levite, not astute politically; He ultimately blundered in their eyes with the temple cleansing stunt. John's Gospel puts the event in importance right up front with his depiction of Jesus' life as nominative rather than synoptic.
Couldn't God Himself spare Himself a lot of trouble and risk by allowing Herod to kill the newborn as he'd intended. He would have slain an innocent lamb, probably quickly dispatching him without a struggle. Herod as despot would have earned his place in ignominy easily enough. Why have the pursuers of Jesus the man tipped off by a kiss by a friend in a Machiavellian twist of fate. One who'd hours earlier communed and dined with his master, not to mention had his feet washed by the King of Kings. Jesus' life so troubled Judas that he hung himself afterwards, but even the betrayer's death was swift, not Jesus'. Death came after hours of accusation, beatings, torture and excruciating pain from dragging a cross through the streets. Every bump in the road telegraphed into the gaping wounds the wood digging into the raw flesh on His back.
The cross was dropped on the ground while He was fastened to the wood lying on his back arms outstretched naked. In the hours of His suffering and derision He hung there fighting for every last breath inching up to get some relief from the tightening of the muscles in his chest until the feet could no longer bear the pain of the nail piercings He slumped down. His head lolled from side to side, up and down, the splinters dug into His back where ribbons of flesh dangled from His shoulders. His nostrils didn't catch the scent of funerary arrangements of gladioluses, or carnations placed there in His honor. Instead he beheld the stench of garbage, rotting human waste, and the blood and filth of others who'd met this grisly fate before in the Roman killing machine. Below they auctioned off His clothes like a carnival prize the robes of the "King". While they smirked at this King shaking their heads in laughter this knock-kneed deity delusional to the last, giving absolution to one of his cross-mates. He finally had the good sense to die after gasping the obvious they sarcastically thought "It is finished".
In resurrection this same Jesus still troubles, still meddles, still inconveniences us-still loves us whether we like it or not. It's not a hectoring love-what some term tough love, it's an unrelenting love, a pursuing love, an eternal love. It's a love that says I went through all I went through just for you, and I love you enough to allow you the privilege of accepting or rejecting that act of love. It's a troubling love because it's not a love of royalty that deigned to bestow favor on some wretch. He became a wretch lower than me, and came to love me as an equal, a sibling, a friend, including me in His prayer to "Our Father". Refusing the iconography of religion and ceremony he lurks in my heart and my conscience, loving me in the most intimate recesses of my most shameful secrets. Unfettered by class distinctions He's the same whether ensconced in ancient cathedrals, modern mega-churches or in the graffiti scrawl of "Jesus Saves" on an overpass. To use a phrase that has assumed new meaning as something other than a vamp during a performance-"Thank You Jesus!" Thank you for your trouble. John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on Apr 14, 2006 9:09:59 GMT
I've noticed an up tick in the visitor's who post regarding bitterness and forgiveness. I'd like to take a chance and give a thoughtful reply.
Certitude is a funny thing as I see it, we pursue clarity and when we think we have it all else falls into place, we chance nothing for the sake of this vision we've established. It's funny how many in scripture go from a place of certainty about life to something otherwise. Moses plucked from the reeds in a basket and hidden in Pharaoh’s house-how secure can one be? He occupied the most powerful man's house in the known world sent there by a sovereign act of God with a destiny to map out. Well educated and groomed for leadership with the inner workings of the Egyptian empire as pedagogue he strode through life assured, confidant, and a good judge of right and wrong. Egyptians were meticulous record keepers, their tablets and hieroglyphs enumerate with great precision their existence. The discovery of a Rosetta stone unlocked the realm of the valley of Kings for us to glimpse in modern times the world that was his-Moses.
Scripture of course records his journey from householder to outcast, from herder to deliverer, from loner to leader. All through the valley of uncertainty, of the unknown. He eventually dashed the rod in disgust on a rock he was to speak to in disobedience he was denied the Promised Land-or was he. Several centuries later he appeared in the company of God the Father, Elijah, and Jesus on a mountaintop the mount of transfiguration. This particular geographic feature is located within the borders of Israel, inside the Promised Land, the land forbidden Moses.
Peter who went from dissembling about knowing Jesus at the trial withering before a servant girl had made a long trip from a few hours before taking up one of two swords in his company of followers to defend his Messiah-Jesus from the midnight rabble hastily assembled for skullduggery of Caiphas' bidding. His writings over time reflect the diminution of the wobbly rock that declared I'll never leave you, born from above the day he crashed to his knees in the bottom of a boat imploring Jesus to leave him a sinful man-Peter his name an in-joke for the Messiah. Brennan Manning writes, "In the First Letter of Peter, there is no trace of self bleeding through the lean and sparse verses: less narrative because the narrator was disappearing. “Wrap yourselves in humility and be servants of each other, because God refuses the proud and will always favor the humble” (Peter 5:5)."
I hope we are able to give grace here and there to each other as we trace the path of our lives through times which shift as desert sands. John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on Apr 14, 2006 9:29:00 GMT
Mark Twain said "I suffered many things in my life. Some of which actually happened." John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on Apr 14, 2006 20:48:36 GMT
"They were good in the worst sense of the word." Mark Twain
I fear the worst possible outcome for a ministry like EN is to succeed, and in so doing silence our quarter of the world the miniscule number of dissidents who have a less than proper manners and etiquette.
We who make noise, question, and elbow our way into life as an inconvenience to others more erudite in their beliefs? In pursuit of humility, which I think is admirable, we aren't called to personal diminution, we aren't called to sit down and shut-up. Jesus was anything but quiet, Moses the meekest man of the earth, scripture records, none the less parted the Red Sea and broke four hundred years of bondage in an afternoon. It of course took forty years for the bound to relinquish their chains; it seems we have a taste for the security of those walls even if they exist only in our minds and hearts.
They called Jesus a wine bibber, Beelzebub, a heretic and any number of other names. Religionists are good at names especially the title "unspiritual". As for the regard for the lost reading our posts they have a tendency to see through our shams more easily than we the approbation of insight by Jesus of "The sons of this world are more astute...than the sons of light" still applies. What they are searching for is honesty, desperate honesty like the folks who tore the roof off to get at Jesus. When in Maranatha I held court at a pool hall in L.A. and when the chips were down I turned to Joe a Mafia wanna be and recovering alcoholic who tended bar in said pool hall. After I moved from L.A. and returned for a visit on business it was Joe's couch I slept on. The crews at the TV stations where we had MSPN would invite me to their parties and I bought the beer and ice for them along with my diet coke to have after we tore out the set in the wee hours of the morning. Frankly I'd be less concerned about the deportment of our posts and more frightened about coasting along on a gizmo that devours some along the way in the name of progress. John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on Apr 16, 2006 0:01:04 GMT
I'm at present reading a book by Anthony DeMello which I'm enjoying if for no other reason than I agree with his premises. Bertrand Russell said, "All good ideas start as a blasphemy." how true. One of the things that got me into trouble back in the day was the notion that as Christians we're no better than sinners. Not we're no better-just saved. The question follows then what advantage is there in believing, in following Jesus, in sacrificing, in committing ourselves? I think we certainly feel the indwelt presence of God but then I think others sense God's presence; Old Testament priests felt God's presence, yet were not born again at the time. Old Testament prophets felt the spirit of the Lord come upon them and as a consequence gave prophetic utterance. Daniel certainly had insight given him by God's spirit and a supernatural manifested presence in the furnace-a fourth individual seen there.
Jesus saw Himself as no better than sinners, He wasn't caught up in altruism, piety, and acts of magnanimity, He was Himself. On the cross between two notorious sinners both deserving death one crying out save yourself-use your power to your advantage-and by extension mine as well. The other saying, have mercy on me use your power in a far more redemptive fashion to remember. Which Jesus said he would and not only that he would be in paradise with him that day? Both of them urged Jesus to use His power, one in a fashion Jesus was incapable of doing. He couldn't think of himself, He couldn't save himself; it wasn't within His being to suppose Himself better than us on the cross to take-up His divine right as sovereign Lord. He was with us, one with us, one of us just without sin, He is with us now. G.K. Chesterton was once asked what he would do if Jesus were standing right here right now, his reply, "He is."
In my mind the mistake of moderns, that would include those from several centuries back, is that we've mistaken the notion of dominion, of Lordship as an advantage; as a mandate to take over; to have a special relationship with the Father; to save ourselves. Though certainly it was well within Jesus' power to not only save Himself that day but to have the planet burned to a cinder, a smoking crisp in a moment vaporized, but it wasn't within His personality, His make-up, His being. You see Jesus was at home with us sinners, we're physically made of the stuff of stars, but we're also made of something of God and Jesus saw that in everyone. When Jesus spoke of the day when we would meet Him in judgment and He would tell of anecdotes where we in feeding the poor, the imprisoned and the disadvantaged we had fed Him. We would say "When?" in astonishment, "When have I done these things." it's not some do-gooder adventure where we set-out on predisposed to be Godly for that day, scripture is clear we won't have a clue in the doing.
I'll explain further but I want to leave you with this thought, Jesus didn't "save Himself" that day He trusted in the Father "Unto thy hands I commend my spirit Father." When we seek advantage, to suppose there is some bootstrapping involved we resemble the Rich Young Ruler who in his miasma of goodness did recognize He who was good, and perfect, and true, and didn't give a whit about advantage. Jesus gave us this promise "In the world you will have tribulation, but be of good cheer for I've overcome the world." Not the tribulation but the world; the temptation to save yourselves, to seek advantage, to use others or suppose God has some regard for some over others because of their piety or dedication. John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on Apr 17, 2006 9:57:50 GMT
Is it possible for the rose to say, "I will give my fragrance to the good people who smell me, but I will withhold it from the bad?" Or is it possible for the lamp to say, "I will give my light to the good people in this room, but I will withhold it from the evil people"? Or can a tree say, "I'll give my shade to the good people who rest under me, but I will withhold it from the bad"? These are images of what love is about. Anthony Demello
Could Jesus withhold His love from us from anyone? Yet when we do so we qualify not others but ourselves. For example when we say "We're not a hospital Church" what we're really saying is "We're not a church". We suppose that in giving God glory while trampling others underfoot that that is Glorifying? To whom, not God. The church is to be a reflection of Jesus living out Himself in us corporately, by the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. For us to see Him in our midst requires repentance from religiosity, from appearances, from lying. John says "If we say we have no sin we are lying and the truth is not in us" salvation, the act of being made whole is an on going experience; the issue of sinfulness doesn't enter into the matter.
Our sin isn't a barrier anymore, our pride is. I've read over and over some Christian’s premise that there are some who've lived or are attempting to live a sinless life. When Paul excoriated the Galatians for allowing some to come in with a false Gospel of circumcision, a ritual act of supposed sinless ness, he nailed them on an ungodly pursuit in the flesh. "Why stop at cutting off the foreskin?" he asks in essence "lets get at the root of your sinfulness go all the way and emasculate yourselves" cut away the part of you that propels your evil fleshly desires. Pretty soon other limbs and parts of the human body will be up for consideration of removal. Paul said the whole of your being, even the parts that cause you to sin, to desire, to go astray are "good" in Jesus' eyes. His sanctifying work is complete, you are in Him, His love is abundant it floods the soul.
"Theologian John S. Dunne tells of a group of early Spanish sailors who reached the continent of South America after an arduous voyage. Their caravels sailed into the headwaters of the Amazon, an expanse of water so wide the sailors presumed it to be a continuation of the Atlantic Ocean. It never occurred to them to drink the water, since they expected it to be saline, and as a result some of these sailors died of thirst. That scene of men dying of thirst even as their ships floated on the world's largest source of freshwater has become for me a metaphor for our age. Some people starve to death spiritually while all around them manna rots..."
We are surrounded by the indiscriminate love of God as the air we breathe, He permeates all that there is. When the Old Testament priests swung the censors about the tabernacle and the temple they were representing the Spirit of God. The scent, the aroma of that incense permeated their clothes their hair, skin they breathed it in it became a part of them. Where the sticking point came was in the priest's administration of his office. Was it singularly devoted to God, was it focused? The priest prepared for the entire year for this moment he was robed and clad in a ritual way to appear to be holy before God. The sound of the bells around the hem of his garment signaled his movements about the holy of holies illumined only by the presence of God. Jesus our high priest has proven Himself honorable, a faithful priest, who has gone in and once and for all created a place for us to inhabit in God and likewise for Him to dwell within us. The incense was a symbol of God's presence, as were the other "props" of the temple. The precision reflected in the make-up of the temple reflected the perfect-ness of God, and His desire to have communion with us, His tabernacle in the wilderness. The wilderness reflective of our bareness, of our fruitlessness and in the midst of that His presence manifests, in the desert of our abilities.
Well, I'm supposed to go stroll around the neighborhood now. Thanks for your consideration of my posts, more later... John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on Apr 19, 2006 11:59:55 GMT
I wrote in the post above that the issue for us isn't sin as a barrier it's pride. I thought I'd elaborate on that for a moment if I may. The prodigal's return though expected wasn't perfect he'd squandered his inheritance, wasted it, and used it up obviously not the father's first choice but not an unexpected outcome.
But what of the other, the elder he sat on his inheritance. In point of fact neither brother did what was pleasing to their father with their inheritance. The elder rat-holed his inheritance, his feelings, his expectations, his life, squirreled away for something, his own self approval. His self esteem came at a high cost-his soul. Squished way down in the bottom of his being there sat a rebel, it dreamed away the days of his existence. When the younger trooped off to find his fortune the elder sat there smug. Curious to me is that he didn't ask leave to go and seek out his sibling, to beseech him, or even out of curiosity find out about his whereabouts and report back to dad. When the younger did return it was indifference, disdain, and disapproval, accusations not only against the vagabond prodigal but against the father as well. Somehow I think he knew this scenario would play out someday.
The party happened in spite of the older brother not because of him or maybe even with the consent, possibly even grudging consent, it happened in the midst of accusation. In the time the prodigal had been gone the elder hadn't bothered to kindle a relationship with the grieving father, if he had his disposition would have been different. Even if he disliked the behavior of the prodigal he would have rejoiced at the relief the father had on his return, he would have possibly gained insight into his heart. Instead he did as many who claim to followers of Christ do today, they get cabin fever.
They molder in a wintertime of accounts kept and scores settled, rules and regs and resumes. Spring never comes for them; the folks without seem more and more distant the d**nation of those who don't conform their only pleasure. The cynical animal runs wild in their innards, he creates scenes of disappointment, of outrage, of nere-do-wells disciplined. Where do you suppose the younger got the idea of falling under someone's hegemony at home? The prodigal had seen how his father treated his servants with regard; he didn't evoke the thought of his brother’s warm embrace as a family member.
The parable doesn't say but I could certainly hear it spoken by the elder, a word of scorn as he left, of derision, his disapproval ringing in his ears. The father also allowed the elder to fester, and rebel in his own way as well during this time and when crisis came he failed too. His inner self-hatred and disdain came tumbling out when the father embraced the lost son and called for the party. The seething anger and loathing boiled over, the story never speaks of repentance for him, or of a change of heart at his father's generosity towards him. There was never an embrace. How many of us (me) have shambled about the Father's house muttering to ourselves, wringing our hands about things which play out in our minds and hearts but matter little? In short both had at hand the full provision of the Father's bounty, one as the anecdote I posted earlier states was afloat on a sea of fresh water and vitality, but dead within because he refused to take a simple risk and dip his hand into the waters and drink.
I John 4:7-21 speaks of three of the basics of life; love, hatred, and fear. Do you suppose the eldest son would have been spurned by the Father had he expressed his feelings to him? No, the parable evidences that in the Father's dialogue, in pleading tones he tells his son of his love for them both. Frankly I find some of both brothers in me at times, I brood over some imagined ill and I scheme to cover myself when I'm found out and have no place to go but home to the Father. In the end it says in I John 4:16, 17 that it will go well for those on judgment day who live in the Father's love and are like Him. That is we're not concerned with being Christian in the realm of behavior modification, rules and regs, but we know from our relationship with Him firsthand His love. John
P.S. The Father came out to both brothers in their time of crisis.
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on Apr 20, 2006 6:22:52 GMT
This is a thought I shared elsewhere in response to the discipleship techniques of Every Nation and their booklets used in small groups. It I think however has application for us all not only in a chruch government context but in just plain ole everyday life.
I thought I'd scamper through here again this morning. To me the issue of age or maturity isn't the meat of the subject, what is the question? Are you inspired, do you live a life that has in it the spark of the eternal?
When I could drink wine we always looked forward to the Beaujolais season. The new wine from France when bottled at the distillery would be immediately packed and shipped sometimes by charter 747 'round the world. The vintage ending up in Toni quarters of New York eateries, West Coast bistros here in North America with celebration and consumed with appreciation for the appellation’s unique qualities. What made the new wine unique was the skillful care the vintners give their tender earthy beverage. Though the wine was new the winery wasn't. The deft touch of creating something satisfying, fresh, and bold requires years of experience and comprehension of the wine's characteristics which vary from season to season. There is scripture tells us eternity bound up in the soul of every man and woman, as I've said elsewhere stardust and God all play a role in our makeup.
There must be husbandmen and women-gardeners who gather their collective experience for the benefit and well being of those they tend-some young some old. The vintages of new Beaujolais must be appreciated along with oak casks of aged Chardonnay, the effervescence of Champagnes, and the rich sips of Cognacs made from Champagne. Jesus in turning the water into wine relished I'm sure the prospect of creating something more unique than a screw-cap knock-off miracle, and the testament of the sommelier at the time tells us, "You've saved the best for last".
The transformation of people who are just wet in the latter rain to those who are a vintage of refreshment is something that is the reserve of the Almighty in each of us. To recognize that and nurture that in the people we live with, worship with and follow God with is nothing less than art. When we create the atmosphere for inspiration something happens to those around us, something possibly unseen as the yearning for God is appreciated the soul of a person comes alive. As I believe Proverbs tells us "A merry heart doeth good like wine." For it not only imbues us with a warm sense it preserves, cleanses and stimulates us all and in turn our culture. Wine in a bottle, in a cellar, a dusty dank place, isn't realized for what it is until the cork pops. John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on Apr 20, 2006 8:40:07 GMT
Bunny trail anyone? I wrote of the bible study that I led a couple of years ago which was supposed to last for five weeks and went for five months. One of the articles I wrote then deals with a theme that haunts me still. I write in fact to be honest as much for me as for anyone, I think the need to get it out compels me. That and as I read this stuff or dreck it speaks to me at least.
We would sit in MLTS's and hear of the dominion mandate and hear sermons and prophetic polemics centered on Skousen's "Twenty Thousand Year Leap" or something to that effect. We'd march in anti-abortion rallies and produce films about same and have near-celeb brushes with Randall Terry's ilk of Martin Luther King wanna be's. The confluence of uber-mensch ideology and the excoriation of those who indulge in the disposability of human life as a political football bemused me.
What I wondered about the Twentieth century and have written about and talked about is the fact that it was the most violent century in history save the one of Noah's day. I still find it odd that those who clamor for the Ten Commandments' posting on the wall of all things public and decry Roe v Wade sleep well at night under the umbrella of a nuclear arsenal. The current fleet of nuclear missile subs-boomers each contains the lethality to exterminate 100million people in the time it takes to watch an episode of out favorite prime-time sit-com. The Manhattan project sprang to life (death?) and within months we exploded a nuclear device dubbed the 3M bomb because the detonator wires were held in place with copious amounts of masking tape. The art community sought to make sense of the senseless with post impressionism, cubism, Dadaism and surrealism. Museums like the Guggenheim line their walls and even stair wells with the efforts of exiled and displaced creatives scattered about Europe and émigrés to the U.S, during this time.
The church has in my mind at least been swept up in this onrush of progress into modern dark ages where we work more, love less and care minutely about those who don't materially contribute to their immediate well being. I think this left bank bistro of an online board is a eclection of those displaced and exiled from their spiritual homes whiles the dictates of a few spread violence of a subtle sort through the spiritual landscape. I read of folks, who attend meetings upon meetings, and their doctrinaire posts frighten me, they exhibit a mendacity that chills to the bone.
Frankly I watch with sadness as a former friend Rice Broocks meanders his way through an urbane recitation of "Winning in Life" and yet I don't see that life in his eyes, they seem vacant, burdened, tired, the winning words don't connect with the soul. I see folks whose idea of success is in acreage under roof and furnishings from around the globe. In the name of Roche-Bobois, or some other Architectural Digest iconography, find designer fulfillment at the business end of an overused checkbook. I sometimes feel like these light and dark spaces on the screen are like a Joan Mirro work of pain or some other abstraction the Catalan artist portrayed of a fork, a piece of dried fruit, a bottle, and an old shoe. John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on Apr 22, 2006 11:36:07 GMT
In a Devotional written by Brennan Manning he had this to say for today, "Modern theology's preoccupation with the resurrection of Jesus Christ is not apologetic. His Easter triumph is no longer simply viewed as the proof par excellence that establishes the truth of Christianity. All New Testament scholars agree that the resurrection actually occurred and that the force of the gospel flows from it. For example, the teaching of the Sermon on the Mount is powerful because the risen Jesus stands by it, and thereby gives it its final and present meaning.
If Jesus did not rise, we can safely praise the Sermon on the Mount as a magnificent ethic. If he did, praise does not matter. The sermon becomes a portrait of our ultimate destiny. Faith means that those who believe in the resurrection receive the Gospel message, and it reshapes them in the image and likeness of God. The meaning of the resurrection is inseparable from the teaching of Jesus. The gospel reshapes the hearer through the power of the resurrection. The gospel claims there is a hidden power in the world-the living presence of the risen Christ. It liberates man from the slavery that obscures the image and likeness of God in man."
"Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled." Matt 5:6
I was found by Jesus sitting in a green plastic chair in my shop one February. I was born again, again, no alter call, no band, no choir-just Jesus. He called me to repent not of my sins so much as my goodness, my effort, my striving. I was working yesterday afternoon in the sun and noticed I was having the shakes and was irritable. I knew I needed to come in and get something sweet to eat my blood sugar was low. Still after I ate some candy and my sugar was up I still felt lousy, we had a dinner date with some friends so I decided to capitulate to my humanness and get a shower and call it a day. I noticed on the way home from dinner that my irritability had disappeared; I was calmer, not edgy. I had been struggling in the hot sun, hungry. Candy got my sugar up but it didn't nourish me. My Christianity, my being Christian didn't nourish me-the resurrected Jesus did. The gospel of His resurrection, the power of His resurrection filled me and still does even today. John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on Apr 25, 2006 9:22:57 GMT
In a teeming throng of folks who knew Jesus one woman who probably didn't was the one who touched Jesus' garment and received a healing.
Her issue of blood had made her ceremonially unclean, an outcast, an undesirable. I take heart that Jesus seems drawn to those who suppose themselves out of the in crowd with Him. I'm encouraged that when she in desperation reached out in hope to grasp merely His hem for relief, her's was the touch that the spirit of God in Jesus flowed out to. He unknowingly was an avenue of not only God's power, nor His love alone but of the Father's regard for those who shudder to think they're noticeable.
I think of modern Christianity which busies itself with notions of dominion, of political savvy, of knowledge and respectability, crowded around Jesus, noisy, and important, and out of touch with the Father. How I can be self important to cover the issues I have which make me unclean as well, yet I'm too busy with other stuff, too afraid to reach, too proud, too knowledgeable.
Fortunately God has regard for me as well as He does each of us. The woman with the issue of blood has for all of us illustrated how when we blanche in shame, in the unreachable recesses of our being amidst the business of life that He desires to touch us, to have power flow out of His being into ours, to make that which is unclean, clean. John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on Apr 26, 2006 21:32:58 GMT
Awareness, awareness, awareness... Not to spook y'all but it seems a mantra for lack of a better word seems to be the tone of the book I'm reading by Anthony DeMello. He held retreats for those who sought to gain insight into life through being awakened; some might say spiritually, I would say in general.
One of the techniques employed by spiritual guides and gurus, and possibly even Christian ministries is the use of focus on a word or object. In so doing the mind becomes a blank sheet they say, DeMello explains that this eastern mindset is a course proscribed in scripture. Conversely, that we are called to be aware, to be awake, to put off the slumber, the nightmare in which we live. In being aware we see ourselves maybe not entirely in truth but in a greater light of honesty. Buechner, who I am also reading at present, speaks of the line between truth and a lie-honesty may be in a blink, an emphasis, or the capitalization of the letters of words in a phrase. "I BELIEVE" may be more truthful as "I believe".
Awareness is at present something I've practiced and believed but never articulated as well as DeMello's writings, he passed away suddenly in 1987 I believe. His retreats were well received by his colleagues, it is said he spoke for several days straight for hours on end and held the attention of members of the Jesuit order of which he was a member. The editor of his posthumous releases stated that feat alone, much less the truth of his ideas commended this fellow to him. I know Jesuits give some heartburn, I can only say that truth comes to those who search for it, and in the community of the faith we parse in love the fruit of our searchings.
I had a refreshing time with the new senior pastor of the congregation I attend here, yesterday. He is preparing a series of teachings on the DaVinci Code not as an evisceration of Dan Brown, but of an exploration of points raised by the book such as the canon of scripture, in particular the New Testament. One point in his pastoral care he is expressing from the pulpit which I think is germane is the notion that we Christians have that we must fix ourselves. He extrapolates the errant notion of the fixing of ourselves to the mission of fixing everyone and everything else as well. Modern Christianity has industrial strength investment in this ideology of course and it may be the burden of our generation to shed or not, as Israel had to outgrow Egypt in the wilderness.
One of our most worldly pursuits of which I am convinced is ungodly is the sense that we need to be accommodated, that if things go just so then we'll be happy, and victorious. I'm speaking as an addict here; Hello my name is John and I'm a sociological addict of the Christian ghetto. I swill self satisfaction in the name of Christian fulfillment and indulge in orgies of self recrimination, jugementalism and a categorization of people and life. My most notorious outrage is the affixing of labels to everything and every one, myself-particularly myself included.
This mental gymnastics excursion is exhausting, self defeating, and unprofitable. But wait; hold the phone equally unprofitable is the exercise of self immolation over the discovery of the fact that I'm a product of the insane society in which I live. To be aware is to be forgiving and understanding of myself and others. To see that we are the product of our programming and to live in a time of transition and growth, the toddler doesn't wallow in self pity and remorse for being unable to run a marathon.
Paul wrote of running the race so as to win, we assumed in my Maranatha days that meant great personal effort, much huffing and puffing, spiritual calisthenics, and denial of self. To use the well worn phrase of our self-help generation "no pain no gain." Emotional pain is an indicator just like physical pain, we are asked by the doctor "Where does it hurt?" not as an ascetics exercise but of diagnosis and treatment toward well being and health. Pain is an abnormality, an indicator, a sign to be noticed and the resulting cause treated, not ignored or worse yet entertained. Years of grief would have been spared if I'd known that truth and not for example married because I thought it would appease God. Had I instead of found the reason for getting myself all tangled up in something false as a consequence of a church doctrine (which was essentially false itself) I could have avoided much hurt and pain for my first wife.
I walked through the greeting card aisle in search of a sympathy card today to send to an old friend. I noticed the marketing stratagem was to make the purchaser feel better about buying a card; the end reader might be offended in reality at the sentiment of the prose. I found the most inane pictures and poetry on some of the sympathy cards including the word "Sympathy" itself embossed in gold, in swirling script and all manner of fonts and fashion. I suppose it's better than "Too Bad" or "Tch, Tch, Tch...” to be obvious but what else would be expressed here but sympathy? (Inheritance Check?). I found a card with something which I found the least repugnant, I hope the recipient's heart is warmed, and touched more than my sentiment in buying the thing.
In expressing that we care for each other, and that we want to do so in an unselfish manner may be awkward at times, maybe for some at the start at least most times. Luke 2:41-52 illustrates the quizzical growth of the boy Jesus into stature as a man; it was awkward, for Him and His parents. Growth, not the appearance of growth, is transforming, ungainly at times and ultimately Godly. But it comes as a result of the Father's touch in our lives of which our elder brother Jesus is no stranger. And so comes a close to today's hodgepodge, thanks! John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on Apr 27, 2006 21:43:22 GMT
In anticipation of rambling off into the sunset for a few days, AKA vacation I need to get my through-put of stuff out for the next few days. I write as much for me as anyone else it helps make sense of the hampster wheel spinning in my head.
I watched the Mel Gibson film "The Passion of the Christ" last night for the first time on television. Oddly enough one of my proteges was in Africa prepping for Mad Max V when they decided to pull-up stakes on that location shoot because of unrest in the area. Instead Mad Mel began lensing The Passion, passionately. The film makes Jews an object of scorn, and Mary an object of objectification, which brings me to my point: Thumbing through a new book arrival the chapter heading I'm about to refer to is familiar to some of us, "Would Jesus be a Christian?" The iconoclast who unequivocally stated, "I am the way, the truth, and the life..." has the annoying habit of loving us and calling us to Himself still. He didn't institute the religion of Himself in second or third person coloquialisms He states for the record we are to seek His person, now; He's still an "Am". John
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Post by richthrone on May 3, 2006 8:14:59 GMT
Hi! John,
I'm not sure if you are the John Jones I knew way back many years ago in Maranatha Ministries, but your name struck a chord so I though I'd check and see.
I'm Richard Riley...the 'Cut the Strings' guy who travelled a bit with Rice Broocks and was on the Phillipines and S. Korea missions with you (possibly) and David Whitehead. Do I have the right guy?
God Bless,
Richard
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on May 5, 2006 20:06:03 GMT
Hi Richard, yeah it's me. John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on May 5, 2006 20:49:19 GMT
Our last stop yesterday aboard a cruise ship was Ensenada, Mexico. Our tour guide on the bus gave us a jaunty view of life as a Mexican National to a boatload of over-fed, drowsy, tourists from mostly Southern California.
Unlike L.A. where everyone drives it seems something exotic not made in America as a way of being truly American, Baja was much less preoccupied with style and more concerned with existence. As a well-fed American, I can offer an opinion but I do so out of respect for the folks here who live an ernest life. Though the streets of the city are as much about flea markets, bodegas, and booze, they reflect I think the tastes of those who journey here on these floating beheamoths twice a week in search of a deal-at the expense of the locals.
As we left the town behind the countryside unfolded with the surprisingly cool air filtering through the mountains into a region that is a well kept secret the Baja peninsula wine region. The hills undulated with vinyards and well tended rows of varietal grapes. It seems the Europeans have a particular taste for their vintages where most of the vino is shipped. The U.S. is the major consumer of another distilled native spirit-Tequilla. I found the folks here creating a life at an unhurried pace, what we in our busy-ness mistake as making a living, which is nothing of the kind. They in fact seemed amused at our nefarious lifestyle that consumes everything in its path in the quest for happiness. Don't misunderstand me poverty isn't a virtue, and they know it, but our avarice isn't all that attractive as well.
Philip Yancey once spoke of the oddity of nations that consider themselves Christian, that they are the largest consumers of resources and live in a glut of blessings. Yet other nations that don't fare as well seem more centerd, more spiritual, more genuinely Christian without the hoopla of "Christianity". My yard needs mowing, the phone is on the fritz from a storm that occured in our absence and I have come to a place of appreciation for the good earth. Not Mother Earth as some like to deify our planet, but that I exist on a planet in an obscure corner of the galaxy. Where I once wiggled, and squirmed, and postured, and exagerrated about my success, and wanted more, I can rest and enjoy my life. There are more adventures yet to come but I am enjoying the L.A. that was once my Waterloo, and I can shuffle around town as me and not a beautiful people wanna be. John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on May 8, 2006 6:30:30 GMT
What did Jesus mean when he called God Father? I can only imagine, as Jesus used the term in key places such as the Lord's prayer-"Our Father...", or on the cross where He asked once "Father forgive them..." and later "Father why have you forsaken me?". The Old Testament holds many names for God and the reference to "God" is in itself a reverential other name so as to avoid inadvertant blasphemy. He is descibed as many-membered or with a multiplicity of eyes, or winged, each probably a symbol of God that gives us a somewhat manageable concept of who or what God is. Elsewhere in the New Testament we're told God is Love-"For God so loved the world...".
I'm beginning to draw a conclusion which brings me to an interesting place these days. The use of the word "Father" by Jesus is in some cases in clusive as in His prayer. In other cases He is given the place of redeemer as one who forgives. In either case He is cast in a possessive light, that we are His. Not as merely property, but as family, as one who loves, who is sovreign in His regrd for us. As a Father, which Jesus who was more intimate with God than any other figure in history named Him to be, He has given us Himself through Jesus and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. I'm sure in reality the word "Father" barely scratches the surface of God's regard for us and of His person. Even the word "God" itself may be a construct that becomes less usefull in our consideration of Him. Jesus in His portrayal of the Creator as Father gives us a timelessness to an idea of temporal proportions. Our Dad image as some have taught is colored by how our earthly Fathers treated us, we in turn project that image onto God as Father. Certainly the creator of not only Fathers, but sons and daughters who themselves will in turn parent by and large in some capacity knew of this dilemma. (As an aside for a real head spinner consider the book "Is it all Right to Call God Mother?") He knew we'd have gender issues, image issues, and consternation about our own roles as family members, Jesus spoke of these conflicts as reflected in the Gospels. Knowing this I wonder why Jesus was inspired to use the term "Father" when refering to God.
I can only say that Jesus who when approached by some who informed Him of the presence of His family without replied "Who are my mother, brothers, and sisters, but those who do the will of God?" The idea and terminology of spiritual family have taken quite a beating as some of us know painfully well. Yet Jesus chose to couch His teachings and orthodoxy, and most importantly orthopraxy in a familial tone. That Jesus as our elder brother has called us His siblings, and Paul in his writings details this relationship quite eloquently, indicates sovreign irrrevocability of not only our membership. But that inspite of conflicts, and turmoil, and even sometimes a bad taste in our mouths for the words "Father" or "Family" that He intends to hang onto us in the midst of these troubles, and love us regardless of how the church family mistreats us, or even we ourselves. "For God-The Father, so loved the world, that He sent His only begotten Son..." Even when mistreating His Son as we have the Son asked for all the ages that we be forgiven for we knew not what we did, not only to Jesus, but to each other.
Where does all this lead, you might ask? And rightly so, I think the Father established through Jesus a bond that isn't legal alone, or transactional, or contractual. It isn't adversarial, or aloof, or juridic, it is a passionate, unreasonable, unrelenting, single minded love that knows no bounds. A love constrained only by a concern for our right to choose, our freedom to reject, our capacity in Him to seek, our need for Him as creator. That we cannot escape, hide, conceal, or dress-up ourselves to make ourselves any more presentable because that has nothing absolutly to do with His relationship with us. John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on May 9, 2006 6:39:04 GMT
To shamelessly plagiarize an article title from today's L.A. Times: What of "The Taming of the Shrewd"?
I write I suppose because I need to other than that I found that I had in my walk become more dependant on and worried about how I fit into Maranatha, (fill in the blank of the organization of choice_________) and how Maranatha had fitted itself into me. Though I certainly hope that reform comes to the ministry as a whole and to the leadership in particular, it's the folks who need Jesus-as I did.
It's late, we just walked in the door from our trip, and I need to go beddy-bye. But I wanted to share this thought we are called to serve God, to serve Him with all our might, strength, and heart as scripture says. Jesus indeed told us in response to a question by a Pharisee that the commandments can be summed up in loving wholly God and our neighbors. He did this in response to a system that interposed itself, that made God unapproachable, distant and austere. Yet Jesus said go ahead throw yourselves into a love relationship with my Father, trust yourselves in His care and in turn love each other with His love not in stilted ritual and rite, but in truth.
Jesus gave us the pattern for the New Testament that love not rules are what the Kingdom is made up of. That relationships, not regulations matter, and that the fabric of His being is about His people, not veils, curtains, courts and tabernacles of stone. Jesus saw the devices of man's making-religiosity held people in contempt and God at arm's length.
Secondly Jesus in summarizing the commandments into two truths laid the foundation for the Mystery of Christ and of the Father that seems still to this day a stumbling block. He stated more about who God is not than a definitive Who God is. In a contradiction of the system of religious minutia created as an enterprise of the clergy of His day, Jesus opened the door to wonder, to intimacy with His Father, not borne of professionalism. He invited rank amateurs, beggars, prostitutes, even heretics into the Holy of Holies as His Father's guests. The festal garment of the feast is repentance from dead works, pretence, performance and snobbery. Nitey-nite! John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on May 10, 2006 16:17:57 GMT
One of my favorite films released on DVD recently is "Second Hand Lions". The quixotic tale of old curmudgeons and a young pup speak to both in me. The pack of dogs that meanders around the film on their farm is an eclectic squadron of muts assembled in dodgy form. Imagine my great surprise and pleasure at meeting one of these canine celebs the other day at Universal Studios while being a dyed in the wool tourist.
Buster is a Terrier-Bassett hound mix from a dog pound in Simi Valley. His lower lip is scarred from his life as a fence fighter; he would mix it up with other dogs through the chain-link fence. Bearing these scars makes him all the more endearing. His coat is a wild mix of cross breeding; he's his own dog and loved for it. The trainer told us he's a family dog and goes home every night along with the occasional orangutan name Archie and other animal buskers.
What stood out to me anyway is that Buster the dog-pound hound stood out to them in his uniqueness enough to be rescued, trained and employed. For the rest of us dog pounders or Second Hand lions, or princesses, or other denizens of the rogue's gallery it seems that life hands us disappointments at times, or as it seems all the time(s). He was appreciated; I wonder sometimes why can't we? My answer is that I am called to be appreciated by Jesus and in turn by my own self. Faith in this regard means that we wear our own skin, we be ourselves and trust that that is good enough. Another favorite film of mine speaking of good is "As Good as it Gets", starring Jack Nicholson. He obsessively/compulsively meanders his way through life avoiding the cracks in the sidewalk, figuratively and literally. I admire his character because even though he is a hopeless mess he still risks life, he goes out the door every day.
I sat on the deck of our cruise ship as the Pacific glided under the hull staring out into the dark; all around folks were having a great time in the lounges and restaurants with acreage of buffets. I sat there wondering if I'm worth the trouble, if my family would be better off without me, how productive am I at this point in life? I don't imagine I was alone in that consideration on those decks others I'm sure have pondered that there as well it seems a place made for being contemplative. My conclusion was a sort of "Good as it Gets" resolution-I'm here in the flesh at present happiness, sadness, fulfillment or despair I live as God has purposed for me to. That in itself is a gift, that I bear the scars of life, my coat is scruffy and the fact that I aint no show dog are taken in stride, as are any successes or failures of the past. The bow wave coming from the ship's hull is a place for the dolphin's to frolic, were I to take a bucket and lower it down and scoop up some of the water, though I might have some ocean water it no longer flows or is a part of the wave. I can't scoop up some chunk of life and clutch it, I must allow it to pass, to flow and be a part of it, and realize that I too am flowing a part of life of God's creation it’s a part of being alive. John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on May 11, 2006 14:04:36 GMT
Several years ago I became the proud owner of a new block plane. It's a woodworking implement which woodworkers are always in need of, the poundage of catalogues for new implements outweighs one of my machines.
Planes are an odd duck when it comes to tools however they are in their absolute worse condition new out of the box. Some manufacturers who attach price tags that would be at home on a tablesaw to their handtool wonders claim they're ready to use out of the box...um yeah. So I took this little goody home disassembled it and began to ruin it. First I spent hours using progressively finer grades of autobody sandpaper to polish the sole of the plane taking out the mill marks. Then I filed the throat where the plane blade passes through the sole to contact the wood. Then I sandpapered the frog which holds the plane blade in place. As I did this I increased the contact area of the parts so that when in use the plane wouldn't skip and chatter digging into the wood.
The sole now held a gleam from polishing and as I used the plane and adjusted it further the thin shavings curling up from the wood translated into two sensations. One is a distinctive "snick" sound that the plane makes as it cuts the wood. The other is a smooth gliding feel as the plane and wood mate perfectly together to create a "Plane" a flat surface. I used this plane to flatten large panels of figured wood where an ordinary plane would have gouged out chunks of grain. This small plane did the job nicely and quickly.
Sometimes we need to take the time to adjust our machinery, I remember the stories about brother or sister sandpaper, yada, yada, yada...smoothing our rough edges. I've found however that as we work out our differences we have greater contact with each other. The agreeableness doesn't mean we all have to agree. The plane has different parts some a varying angles to each other, when they work together the result is smooth, I mean smooooooooth. No machine I own can make the surface of a piece of wood as smooth as a hand plane, not give it the feel that the hand work brings. I hope as we progress in life as the church that we realize this simple truth: The world will know we are Christians by our love. John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on May 14, 2006 17:05:03 GMT
To pick up on the working out our differences thought, so what of them. When I read the 70 times 7 forgiveness thing where the disciple asked Jesus how many times should he forgive the offender I see a leverage deal going on. The disciple is asking Jesus to involve himself in their dispute and give the disciple asking an edge over the other fellow who has offended. Jesus basically said give-up trying to paint your brother in a bad light with me over a difference or a character flaw it's a waste of time.
How much time and energy is spent on parsing the degree of tolerance we have for someone and how they align themselves with us ideologically. I am a firm believer in having a sense of belief, a grounding in a philosophy of life whatever that may be; it is a necessity for our individuality. I also have found in my existence anyway that at times I built a Ft. Knox structure around my convictions and dared people to contradict me. As I discovered the reality of grace I also began to realize that I was judgmental toward everyone, me included. I don't know if this is etymologically correct but I found I would mentally judge or qualify people and label them and deal with them on that arms length basis, a defense mechanism.
Jesus was telling his disciple several things in saying forgive seventy times seven; to be forgiving of others and of yourself, that this is something that the Father empowers us to do in the divine number seven, that seeking to find an edge in life as an advantage over others isn't the way of the Father. In leveraging our relationships we don't build community we create hegemonies and oligarchies. We make others acquiesce to our way of thinking or acting, we don't make disciples that way as Jesus taught we make followers. When we serve each other, preferring each other in love we create freedom in ourselves and most significantly in others. In discipling and other relationships we must resist creating an atmosphere that is comfortable for us and instead make a place inviting for others. We must wash their feet, in so doing we help make the others more comfortable which was the purpose of foot washing to relive the guest or master of the discomfort and displeasure of the grime of life in the streets. The guest didn't track in the stuff from the streets and in cleansing them with our service they were made acceptable. Jesus in doing this was basically saying in our serving one another we make each other acceptable to the Father, as He was doing.
Indeed instead of finding ways to diminish someone in the sight of the Father Jesus was saying we are to lift each other up in prayer, in love, and in practice. What I found and am finding is that as I experience the forgiveness of the Father, His spirit not of mere forbearance, but of acceptance that I can give that experience to others, cleansing them of self consciousness and insecurity.
One of these days soon I want to talk about the power of serving, about how as we serve we create freedom in the spaces we occupy. John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on May 15, 2006 11:37:11 GMT
I have to confess I don't feel well today, I'm battling a cold which usually way-lays me. I was running an errand last night to retrieve dinner and after I'd passed over a bridge that connects our parish to the neighboring one I thought, "Now what am I doing here?” So if I have a similar kind of moment over the keyboard that connects our "parishes" please forgive me. I am reading several books these days trying to keep abreast of the latest writings and have a sense of spirituality about me as well, good luck. We are in fact privileged to have a raft of good authors these days that have depth and character to complement their pithiness. I've read today some of two authors who wrote about writing in fact, I'll spare you quotations from them but give a bit of insight.
In the gulags of Siberia and elsewhere handwritten sheaf’s of Christian thought were smuggled through the camps and relished as savory nourishment, risking death in the doing. It is said that a peasant cleaning girl who was literate found scripture on a scrap of paper in the pressrooms of Gutenberg and fell on her knees in repentance. In our sea of writing afforded us by the information age where everyone blogs and opines ad-infinitum, magazines crowd stands with ever finite readerships are we literate? Do the words pour over us like a Niagara of thought that wears away our soul and numbs our beings inwardly as it all crashes down on our insides? Not to mention the ubiquitous tumult of television, radio, I-pods, video games and elevator music providing a soundtrack for everything.
In the U.S. we live a theme-park existence even when shopping for groceries, or clothes, or cleaning supplies, or mundane building materials. We have a wealth of distractions to abide as believers, even Christian ones. I find myself on a daily quest to sell all and follow Jesus in this arena. I've read accounts by some authors who purpose to set aside Quiet times twice daily morning and evening as a way of creating focus, I get by with that in the morning. How about mid-day or afternoon rush hour, prime-time news casts and phone calls, (My phone rings all hours of the day and night as a consequence of having college students under roof, not to mention all night movie/laundry marathons on the weekend.) that barge in on our peace.
I remember reading the gospel account of Jesus attendance of synagogue on the Sabbath as was His custom. I also remember being brow beaten about church attendance using that scripture-funny they omit the second half of that particular episode where they sought to throw Him off the cliff. I caught on to something in that passage though "His custom" stood out to me. In other places He spent time alone with the Father or in the pursuit of that time was mobbed by the needy. I began to ask myself though about this "custom" of relating to the Father, to God personally as well as corporately. Jesus read from the scrolls that morning from Psalms and then stated to their outrage that the scripture had been fulfilled in their hearing-it stood there before them. For Jesus the Father was real, He grew in that reality on a daily basis until it poured out of Him in His words and deeds.
In reading Anthony DeMello's book "Awareness" it was confirmed for me at least that we must seek the reality of the Father in our daily lives. This goes beyond the ego salving of religiosity and into the depths of knowing a heart relationship with our God.
Though Jesus is the human face of God He perplexes as much or possibly more than He soothes at times. We arrive sated with a sense of satisfaction at our particular spiritual achievements and He asks for them to be sold off, to benefit the poor, to enable us to follow Him. We arrive disheveled, doubting, heartsick, and ashamed to be there but left with nowhere else to go here we are, and silence is the answer at times. Jesus' custom was more than habit, or ritual, more than self discipline, or asceticism alone it was a part of Him.
One of the things I'm leaning about life is that He tabernacles with us in the wilderness of our busy selves if we let Him. In the inner recesses of our beings, purified by the blood of the Lamb, there lies a realm illumined only by the light of God's spirit. For each of us that place is unique, He relates to us as His creation, it is a priesthood and yet more for we are not mere participants, or even officials, scripture tells us we are the dwelling place of God Himself. Oddly enough I became firmly convinced of the necessity of this inner resource as my priesthood in the midst of Maranatha and my stint in churches where the discipling mania was most invasive. Where I was challenged to hear God's voice and know that I heard it above that of man’s or of the world's both in the guise of God yet more expedient than profitable. I learned the truth of the saying "what does it profit a man to gain the world, and yet loose his soul", and know that could happen in church as easily as it could in the street. John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on May 16, 2006 11:24:25 GMT
Let's be honest, we all like being waited on, to be served a good meal, tailored clothes, express checkout, being called by name in our favorite haunt. These are all normal desires for us who are well to do or at least moderately so, what about a street person, a leper, an aids victim, a drunk. Their being waited on may be the sustenance of life itself, not merely a preference for lobster, or a silk suit lining, or having the chrome polished. To be frank not many of us have regular contact with those dying of disease, or starving, or convulsing from the D.T.'s while drying out in rehab. Most of us live fairly well, have nice friends and go to church regularly where we serve on a committee, or fix lunch occasionally for a retreat group. We're not Theresa of Avila in Calcutta ministering to the dying, or are we?
There are "lepers" who are dying of rejection and disappointment all around us, some don't show it. There are those who deep within have a hemorrhage, an uncleanness that makes them unacceptable in their estimation and need healing. There are those who are addicted to acceptance, approval, gossip, and self destructive behaviors all around. For some the distance traveled to see those in need isn't across continents or even across town but the nearest mirror.
What of the power of serving? Jesus took the posture of slave revealing his true identity unlike a Clark Kent who as I like to say "Wears tight clothes and fights crime!" stripped naked and wore a towel. He was himself, something Jesus desires for us all and yet He knows it is one of the most difficult things to become; open and honest before others. He got together simple implements a bowl of water a cloth and He began to serve. No cameras, sound-systems, computers, no automatic foot washer gizmo, no forms to sign, no commitments, just sit there and be served is all He required of the disciples.
Jesus is a quizzical fellow for me; He amended His calendar to meet the needs of folks He met along the way. His day might as well end at a party as a prayer session. The Sabbath was observed in synagogues, open fields, houses, roadsides, and boats. The gospels record His sermons here and there with a few notables like the Mount, or His teaching on prayer, much focus is on how He met people's needs. Getting back to the foot washing He didn't give in to Simon's wanting to be bathed head to foot, his service in foot washing was adequate. He commended to His disciples the posture of slave, of serving even though during the course of the evening as usual there was an argument about place card setting at the eternal feast in heaven. One of the paradoxes I find in this however is that Jesus as servant didn't diminish the import of His words to them; He served from that sense of importance. What he did had significance, it mattered to Him that He serve them well, not in an offhanded manner to communicate to them that He meant what He said to people who meant something to Him.
To sum up, Jesus was a servant because he was a servant-no object lessons here. What Jesus did was important to be an example of a servant and teach His disciples to serve. To serve others from a sense of worth, Jesus laid aside His royalty to serve; He didn't discard His royalty however. In serving Jesus communicated that the people served mattered, they meant something to Him. His service mattered because he valued the people He served. "It will go well with them on that day when Jesus takes up a towel about Him and waits on them at the feast." John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on May 17, 2006 14:28:22 GMT
To paraphrase Francis Schaeffer, “How do we then live… now?” As I grow whether it’s up or older I hope wiser I’m realizing the grace of living now.
When I was a young’un I had great dreams, visions of the future, I prayed for direction, wisdom, and blessing from God. I bugged Him for a “word” I needed to have a reason to exist, a future, a sense of accomplishment-TA DA! Wandering through the streets of L.A. where I had always dreamed of living and working in Hollywierd recently brought it home to me that I had been hoping to draw something from the city, as I guess a lot of others do-identity. To digress for a moment as one who looks back now I can’t draw my identity from the comfort of hindsight either.
Change as many wise folk have said is the only constant in life, amen. My wife sometimes accuses me of changing things around just for the sake of change, probably so. It sounds nice and properly Christian to say I want to draw my identity from Christ and though that is so what does that mean? Brian McLaren speaks Jesus’ self reference as “The Son of Man” as Him being the essence of humanity in that imagery. In drawing my identity from Him who is the essence of created beings, us we realize the image in which we are created-Him. So, if I’ve not confused you, I am most at home as becoming more myself, because myself was created in the likeness and image of Him, the Father, God.
I would recommend “Abba’s Child” to any on a pilgrimage of a similar route to find out who’s you. Because as one sage put it “If you ain’t who you is, then who you is, is who you isn’t”. Returning to the change thangy if we aren’t who we were biologically seven years ago with every cell in our body replaced by then how about spiritually? Or emotionally, or ideologically, why do we represent a cosmos of inner change just like a solar system that is in dynamic balance?
One of the great conundrums of Christianity is that we follow a personal God. He is no longer locked up in a religion of ritual and rite, of juridical quid-pro-quo. Jesus for all of His deity gave us a persona to deal with in approaching God as essentially human. He included us as family; He referred to God as Abba-Daddy. Now please don’t misunderstand when I say essentially human where some have said God is six feet high, has blue eyes, brown hair and wears a robe, sandals, and holds a staff in one hand and a remote control clicker for the universe in the other. He is what we are and a whole lot more. Some have said God communicating with us is like us talking to ants only more so with Him.
Even the gender construct of God as masculine is a misnomer God is nether male or female he is both and beyond that. So why refer to himself as Jesus did as being both God, “I and the Father are One” and as “The Son of Man, who has no place to rest his head”? Jesus the boy became Jesus the man “Eche Homo” behold the man. He grew in physical stature, aged physically and grew in awareness and in understanding as to who He was and in turn who the Father was. For His followers he termed His relationship in the way of travel to follow after Him, to move about from place to place as He did. When they marveled at the glory of the temple to Jesus, He remarked that one stone would not remain upon another, foretelling the siege of Titus some seventy years distant. Are we a spiritual band of Gypsies, no home? Like the Roger Miller song “No phone, no pool, no pets…I’m a man of means by no means, King of the Road.”
Let’s get back to Hollyweird again for a moment, the town of façade, lights, cameras, action! L.A. is a town built on faults that shift from day to day sometimes enough to be noticed. The cool ocean breezes on the west side of town shoo the smog over the hills each afternoon to make it the posh place some of it is-high rent living with low brow morals. The town of paradoxical folks who appear naked on screen and hide behind the gates at the Malibu colony. What’s all this got to do with the point? Well the show must go on, we have to maintain our appearances as Christian, or more to the point what some have told us is Christian. We read our script some interpretation of the Bible and off we go hitting our well rehearsed marks.
I once held up a Victoria’s secret catalogue in Sunday school as I was teaching and opened it to pages that were the least offensive and asked what was the message being communicated? Sex! One woman blurted out in distaste, others nodded in agreement as they wondered “Ol’ John has finally gone ‘round the bend.” I asked, “How about desirability, do these unnatural poses and phony airbrushed models speak of desirability?” They gravely nodded yes. “I asked do you find this offensive in some way.” Again they nodded gravely and most christianly yes. “Then do you suppose when we strike unnatural poses ourselves fearing un-desirability and instead of trusting that Christ has robed us in righteousness we stand there in our own naked self-righteousness that that might be offensive to Him?” They sat there and blinked for a second and then nodded yes. Then I said “Do you suppose we might want to relax not only our poses but in the fact that we are righteous in Jesus and also made acceptable?” We went on from there and no one left to summon the deacons to usher me out the door.
I could go on about Narcissisms and the Caravaggio painting of the child caught up in their reflection in the table top but I won’t. I’ll say simply that it’s hard to walk, to travel, to follow while looking in a mirror. When our discipleship becomes not about looking good, but about how we look to the master’s lead we’ll be true to ourselves and to Him.
I’ve more to say on the subject (Who knew?) and thank you for your indulgence
John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on May 19, 2006 11:12:33 GMT
I was droning on about finding my identity in Hollyweird and I wanted to wander through that neighborhood this morning. We were told In Maranatha that our gift makes room for itself, we centered on the scripture about the gifts and callings of God being without repentance.
I can certainly understand in hindsight the focus on calling, particularly if your entire existence hinges on that calling. So in my niche understanding of the church I thought I'd earn my keep and be allowed to stay around if I was a good Christian producer and director in the industry. I remember sitting in the corner office of a genuine Hollywood mogul at Universal Studios in a meeting arraigned by my pastor through his acquaintance with him. I walked in compensating for my insecurity and sense of being overwhelmed with a mix of bravado, denial, and hope that this was my preordained big shot at becoming who I knew I was called to be. The gentleman was very kind, and oddly enough originally from near where I grew up, he knew Paducah well. He asked me what I wanted to do in the business and I, without batting an eye said I'd like to run a studio like this someday. Oh yes my take dominion gene had kicked in, I didn't notice him stifling a chuckle which this gentleman probably was too well mannered to do anyway, he just said "I see". Well is there anything you'd be interested in doing in our industry in the meantime, I blurted out "anything, shove light stands around, whatever." He asked me to call him on a certain day and frankly I couldn't do it out of fear. I called a few days after but I'd been allowed to slip past in the stream of all things urgent in Hollywood...or did I.
At a Christian producer/director's breakfast I was invited to attend on a regular basis I made the acquaintance of another gentleman of experience in Hollywood. He was an independent producer with a mom and pop production company with another partner. I began helping him on small projects which translated into knowledge that I could use doing Maranatha projects. His family life, kids and all were refreshingly free and also refreshingly Christian, and he was very intent about his calling. His calling was to be a husband and father and use his gifts and talents to provide for his family. A profound swicheroo from my perspective from Maranatha where the ministry was el-supremeo and family brought up the rear. This gentleman had Emmys on his credenza, and everyone in the business knew him and his partner a former network V.P., they also knew him to be Christian. Not in your face Christian, but genuinely, tangibly Christian. To say I learned a great deal about life and the business would be and understatement. Our friendship spanned the time when I went through being asked to leave Maranatha, getting married and divorced, he flew to Paducah after I had moved there to help me on a small project for a church for the sake of our friendship. He'd actually stopped editing a film out in L.A. to come and be a friend when I needed him most. His calling was to be a Christian, unlike I had known or even been myself, my friend walked it out in integrity and openness and honesty. My Genesis of grace became more apparent in that time of meeting this fellow and his family.
As we tourists sauntered through the theme park in So. Cal. a couple of weeks ago I looked over at the office building there where I'd had my brush with what could've been, the gentleman who'd taken the meeting with me was regularly thanked my Oscar winners by the way, and knowing that what had been was what was best. My calling? To follow Jesus, my vocation is to use the talents He's given me to serve, right now it's being Mr. fix-it at home and Chef John at church where we cook meals for meetings. The sense that I am called to trust the Father with my hopes, my dreams, and my desires is real to me these days. I also know that those gifts, callings, graces, whatever they may be are ultimately His, and that I'm called to give myself as a living sacrifice in the doing and being. John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on May 22, 2006 16:42:30 GMT
As I've read some recent posts elsewhere a thought comes to mind; he who pets snarling dog soon counts fingers. John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on May 22, 2006 17:38:38 GMT
Picture me sitting in the front row of the assembled in a meeting with a stricken look on my face. "My name is John and I am an addict. I am addicted to being right. I became a user of my gifts and my intellect to compensate for my inadequacies by figuring out how to overpower, or possibly persuade people to think like me or if not that accept me. I further used those abilities to impress with my vocabulary and intellectual prowess, my insight and mental agility. My addiction to acceptance and being liked is out of my control and I am seeking the reliance on a higher power to help free me of my addiction."
Brennan Manning freed me in a most profound way when he spoke of his journey through Hazelden a rehab facility in Minnesota. I sat there unable to relinquish my grip on the book, which I finished in one sitting in my garage one spring day. In another book "Ruthless Trust" he ruthlessly tells of sitting on a curb in New Orleans in front of a Detox center drunk on the verge of passing out in a lapse of sobriety. I fall off the wagon of becoming like a child; as a child in the days of Jesus where childhood wasn't composed of playgrounds, amusements of all kinds and the outright worship of youth, a child didn't matter.
Children were simply incompetent to earn their keep, they were a burden, their worth wasn't intrinsic other than they might grow-up some day and take over the tedium of daily existence so the old could die in peace. When the Rich Young Ruler arrived Jesus gave him the opportunity to become like a child and divest himself of his respectability, to care for others, and in so doing naturally follow Him-Jesus. What in essence Jesus was saying is the appearance of being right ritualistically doesn't matter, being right in your heart does. I may appear Christian and not actually be in possibly oversimplified terms.
Soon thereafter, the Gospels relate the incident of a child in their midst taken up and blessed by Jesus, one relating of the incident tells actually of many children taken up individually and blessed by Jesus. He held the child up for His disciples to see and told them to inherit the kingdom you must become as a little child. You must be incompetent, not thinking you're more important than the people you minister to, or give them the impression that you are important. That you have some special standing with God, and have dotted all the "Is" crossed all the "Ts" in keeping a bargain with God, because you haven't. John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on May 23, 2006 18:28:08 GMT
I got to be a dad last night, which I enjoy. I spoke with my oldest about being in the moment and enjoying it.
I told her that as a twenty-somethinger I couldn't enjoy life because I worried about the future, and how the now affected the then, and how the past made the now tougher because I was paying for the sins of the past and trying not to mess-up the future. Worn out now reading all that? Imagine living it. I said now you are in a great time of life enjoy it, some day you'll be married and have responsibilities that you don't have now.
As an artist I said to her; create on the canvass you have before you it's there for a reason, the portrait, landscape, still-life etc. of tomorrow will come soon enough. In other words when at the seashore we come might not come away with a portrait on someone posed in their library, it would be possible to do so, but the seascape is there for us to take in, to study, to know. To watch the rhythm of the waves, the horizon, the smells, to imagine what lies beneath. To feel the surf careen around our ankles and feel the sand squish between our toes.
What I sought to speak to her about is that we sometimes don't think we deserve the luxury of the present, that somehow we need to atone for the past and plan for the future. And though certainly those merit consideration and our attention they also require perspective, now is the only thing we really have any involvement in, tomorrow isn't promised us and the past is. I believe if we learn to live the now well the other will take care of itself. John
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jonesy
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Post by jonesy on May 25, 2006 9:32:07 GMT
Jesus gave one of His first sermons based on the prophet Isaiah which spoke of his ministry of proclamation of God's favor and release of captives, to heal and comfort and speak to those in poverty to which the crowd responded favorably to. However His further explanation of their rejection of Him as Messiah was provocative, so much so that they sought to do away with Him right there. He spoke of the miracles in Capernaum and the lack thereof in Nazareth owing to their lack of faith. Imagine the stir created in the small town when the occupants spilled out into the streets on a quiet Sabbath morning to riot in the streets propelling Jesus to the cliffs where they might vent their anger at his audacity.
Odd that they didn't repent when Jesus spoke to them about their heart condition, which concerns me for me. Secondly Jesus didn't flex his muscles, whip up a miracle, or float over their heads, He didn't seek reconciliation with His neighbors, He simply walked through the crowd and left town.
I sometimes wonder if we create a hostile atmosphere for His spirit when we don't get what we want, or are indifferent, or just create our own little kingdom of human effort. The turn on a dime of the emotion and vehemence with which they reacted is surprising, yet we have possibly more polite yet similar responses to His majesty. The incongruity of the workingman Jesus as Messiah still perplexes the respectability of our society and nature. Jesus has the bad habit of still showing up in our midst in comfortable surroundings and provoking us.
In contrast to Jesus' demeanor in this circumstance of giving the crowds every possible opportunity to think about Jesus' words as they pushed Him along through town, we like to evangelize from threatening postures, and dangle folks over Hellfire if they don't respond to our unction. Or music plays in the background as we use emotional pleas to get the needed "I see that hand" from the speaker. Jesus cut to the chase with these folks interesting at how offended they were that some low rent Messiah had shown up at the synagogue where He grew-up and knew them personally. He'd seen the years of services, rites, feasts, and scriptures read and expounded on by a Rabbi. My guess is that He saw the dependence more on their quality of Judaism, of how well the rules were kept and laws observed than anticipation of a Messiah. Or that obviously He didn't meet their expectations of same. That His Messianic qualities didn't match-up with their excellence of religion; that has me concerned for me.
When I read or hear of Christians engaging in Quality Control I get uncomfortable. When I hear of levels of heaven and echelons of eternity my gizzard quivers. What I hear is our expectation of reward for how well we "Christianed" our way through life, how devoutly we prayed, how many we saved, how expertly we delivered, how wealthy we were. The scroll handed to Jesus was prophetic, it was read and they were told that the prophecy was fulfilled in their hearing, which they though eloquent in the sense that He'd just pronounced their religious expertise as being spot-on. Which frankly it probably was, their hearts however were unable to bear the weight of reality.
What scares me as a Christian of some years is that we become more about the how of life than the Who of Jesus. Repentance, forgiveness, miracles, healing and reconciliation were at hand that day far beyond the ritual of the service they held, yet they preferred the rite over truth. I think they had come to believe in themselves, they were self-reliant and blind spiritually because of it. I don't look askance at them, judgmentally, or lightly, I hope the Messiah likes me enough to help me be freed of religious professionalism. To not only hear the words of Isaiah, but to respond to them, to appreciate my poverty, my need for the Messiah, and the simplicity of the Gospel, which as Richard Foster states isn't simplistic. That my heart acknowledges the Messiah in daily life and that I have eyes inwardly that see His coming.
Many, many in the church are keen on a certain eschatology, yet I fear that has little to do with Jesus' coming, of His appearance in our midst. Others who were completely ignorant of Jesus, of religion, of scripture even found His favor because of their openness of heart, humility, and acceptance of His person. Do we know more about the kingdom than we do of the King? John
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