Do you ever get the feeling that the glory of the Lord is about to be revealed in the next stall, and you're just there as a marking beacon or something?
I mean, what are we but individuals in our own cooped-up bathroom stall, only able to share what's written on our side of the wall?
God has blessed me tonight by dropping in my lap a tremendous witnessing opportunity. You never hear about nonbelievers coming to ask you about their spiritual questions. I've never known anyone to just approach me and ask me how to get to heaven, how to know with certainty that when they die they will not go to hell.
Sharing one's faith is usually like being the pitcher on a baseball field; you spend all your time throwing out the ball but you never expect much of it. Of course, every now and then you strike a batter out, but how often does someone throw you the ball?
Last night, a friend of mine from the French Club, he asked me if I was a Christian. Until very recently, he'd been commenting on my more biblical Facebook statuses with what I perceived as a sarcastic tone. When he asked me if I was a Christian, I told him I was, and then I asked him if he was.
He answered that he was Catholic, but really believed a hodge-podge of things. He told me he asked because he wanted me to pray for him, because he was genuinely afraid. His digestive system had stopped working altogether, and as his body grew weaker and weaker, he realized that he might die soon. He wanted someone who was obviously closer to God than he was to pray for him, because his praying wasn't doing much.
He had surgery yesterday morning. No change in his condition.
Growing up Catholic, he described to me all the traditions he'd been taught to accept as truth, namely "the sacraments, baptism penance, contrition, holy communion, extreme unction."
I did my best to explain that while those things have their place, they are not what saves a person in the end. I got the impression John believed he could work off his sins by feeling sorry enough for all he had done that whatever he did would be absolved.
I explained Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, quoted Jesus's "small is the gate and narrow is the door" statement, and then explained that whoever believes in Jesus will not perish but have eternal life. I told him there was nothing we could do to save ourselves, but that it was by faith alone in the freely given grace of God through the blood of Jesus that we are saved.
It was hard to tell how much of it sunk in because we were talking through text messages because that's all he had the energy to do.
Eventually, I began to feel John needed more encouragement than explanation. I told him the story of Lazarus the sick. He found it hard to believe that Jesus would be so bold in his power. He said he thought that Jesus was more humble than that. I explained to him that he was, that when Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, the whole story revolved around the idea of "I could do it, but I want you to see it's God the Father doing it through me."
We stopped talking at exactly 12:30. I cannot say if John found God, but I believe he found peace for the time being. I will post an update as soon as I know how he's doing. Your prayers are appreciated.
Showing posts with label john 3:16. Show all posts
Showing posts with label john 3:16. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Saturday, September 11, 2010
The First Nine Years of the Post 9-11 Era
Nine years ago, I was barely cognizant of the world I lived in; I was homeschooled and my aunt and cousins lived with me and my family. My young cousin Nick's birthday had been the day before. I'd known we were planning a big surprise party for him, and as usually happened when someone's birthday came in the middle of the week, we didn't celebrate the day of because everyone's schedules were different.
I'd already done my morning ritual, and had completed one of my assignments for the day already. I was waiting for it to be 9:00 when "The Magic School Bus" came on. It was one of the few shows my mom would let me stop doing school work to watch.
I couldn't watch it that morning, and that's when I first began to think something was wrong.
My mother was in the den watching the news. I could hear her speechlessness from the dining room table, but I didn't know what was up.
Moments before my show was going to start, my mother rattled off stern orders to my older brother, who sat in the TV room every morning to write about the news. The one command I remember most was for him to get a radio and keep track of all that was happening so he could let my mom know what the situation was while she was out.
Like nearly every parent, my mom hurried off to snatch the kids of the house from school (my cousins were not homeschooled).
My brother didn't have a radio he could carry around with him, but my mom remembered my grandma had given me a yellow radio-flashlight on her last trip. It'd come from the dollar store, and didn't work that great. That morning, it actually wasn't even assembled. The previous day--week--whenever, I had taken it apart to see what was inside it.
My mom wouldn't leave until I'd gotten that radio for my brother. That included me putting it back together in working order.
It was the only pocket-sized radio we had in the house, without digging out the old hurricane emergency radio.
As she hurried out the door, my mom mentioned to me that she was going to go pick up Billieanne, Paulina, and Nick. I didn't understand, and again, I thought it was a surprise birthday celebration for Nick. What was cooler than getting out of school early for the day to party?
For those who don't know, I live next to a giant naval air base. Jet noise is common place here.
We'd never heard jet noise like we did that morning.
I was walking into the den sometime that morning--still totally unaware of the chaos the world was in--when two jets sonic-boomed overhead.
A jet's afterburners are loud. The loudest they get around here is a whooshing roar that drowns out all noise for about ten seconds, and that intensity is actually pretty rare. The jets are normally only that loud during airshows and at random during the summer.
I may be wrong, but I don't think they're actually going super-sonic even when they're that loud. Also, they aren't allowed to fly that loud beneath a certain altitude because they're flying over a populated area. From what I understand, flying too low could rupture a person's ear drum, causing severe pain and bleeding.
Nine years ago, a pair of jets took off from the naval base at such an angle and velocity that hearing anything other than a dull ringing was impossible for a half hour.
I don't know how fast they were travelling, nor how low they were, nor do I even know what direction they were going in, but I know the only other time I've heard them that loud was at snack time later that day.
Now that I'm older, I wonder where they scrambled to and what, if any influence they had over the day's events.
That night, after a day spent entertaining my cousins by playing Mario 64 and pretending to be Mario giving them a tour of Peach's castle, my parents brought me into their bedroom.
They had been crying, and one of their bibles was open on the comforters.
They told me about everything that happened, how many people died.
Afterwards, we prayed together for the first time as a family that I can remember, other than the "say grace" ritual before dinner.
During this past week, the world has almost felt like it's just as bad a place to live in now as it was that morning when so many lives were lost.
There's that nutcase claiming to be a Christian leader advocating a burning of the Kuran to spite Muslims out of remembrance for what happened nine years ago.
Just in case you didn't know, no one was burning the Kuran in the World Trade Center.
Don't hate Muslims because a few "super devout" radical psycopathes did some heinous acts in the name of allah or whatever.
They are no less exempt from God's love than anyone else, and for that we need to love them.
A topic I've seen bouncing around the headlines is that the vast majority of Americans/experts/whoever don't think Osama Bin Laden will ever be caught, captured, or killed. Some even go as far as to accuse the people going out and looking for him or the government for which they stand in the matter, claiming we can't kill a Saudi Prince.
If we as a nation are capable of risking war by invading a hostile country to assassinate a South-American drug lord like Pablo Eskabar, why would we hold back against the person responsible for brainwashing countless terrorists to kill countless more lives?
No, justice has to be done. Regardless of whether a US Marine zip-ties Bin Laden's hands behind his back, a 200lb bomb knocks his door down, or he trips over a stone in Pakistan and croaks, God will serve vengeance.
As hard as it is to believe, even Bin Laden could be forgiven of his sins. We must not forget that.
The times are dark, but there is a God shining in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome.
I'd already done my morning ritual, and had completed one of my assignments for the day already. I was waiting for it to be 9:00 when "The Magic School Bus" came on. It was one of the few shows my mom would let me stop doing school work to watch.
I couldn't watch it that morning, and that's when I first began to think something was wrong.
My mother was in the den watching the news. I could hear her speechlessness from the dining room table, but I didn't know what was up.
Moments before my show was going to start, my mother rattled off stern orders to my older brother, who sat in the TV room every morning to write about the news. The one command I remember most was for him to get a radio and keep track of all that was happening so he could let my mom know what the situation was while she was out.
Like nearly every parent, my mom hurried off to snatch the kids of the house from school (my cousins were not homeschooled).
My brother didn't have a radio he could carry around with him, but my mom remembered my grandma had given me a yellow radio-flashlight on her last trip. It'd come from the dollar store, and didn't work that great. That morning, it actually wasn't even assembled. The previous day--week--whenever, I had taken it apart to see what was inside it.
My mom wouldn't leave until I'd gotten that radio for my brother. That included me putting it back together in working order.
It was the only pocket-sized radio we had in the house, without digging out the old hurricane emergency radio.
As she hurried out the door, my mom mentioned to me that she was going to go pick up Billieanne, Paulina, and Nick. I didn't understand, and again, I thought it was a surprise birthday celebration for Nick. What was cooler than getting out of school early for the day to party?
For those who don't know, I live next to a giant naval air base. Jet noise is common place here.
We'd never heard jet noise like we did that morning.
I was walking into the den sometime that morning--still totally unaware of the chaos the world was in--when two jets sonic-boomed overhead.
A jet's afterburners are loud. The loudest they get around here is a whooshing roar that drowns out all noise for about ten seconds, and that intensity is actually pretty rare. The jets are normally only that loud during airshows and at random during the summer.
I may be wrong, but I don't think they're actually going super-sonic even when they're that loud. Also, they aren't allowed to fly that loud beneath a certain altitude because they're flying over a populated area. From what I understand, flying too low could rupture a person's ear drum, causing severe pain and bleeding.
Nine years ago, a pair of jets took off from the naval base at such an angle and velocity that hearing anything other than a dull ringing was impossible for a half hour.
I don't know how fast they were travelling, nor how low they were, nor do I even know what direction they were going in, but I know the only other time I've heard them that loud was at snack time later that day.
Now that I'm older, I wonder where they scrambled to and what, if any influence they had over the day's events.
That night, after a day spent entertaining my cousins by playing Mario 64 and pretending to be Mario giving them a tour of Peach's castle, my parents brought me into their bedroom.
They had been crying, and one of their bibles was open on the comforters.
They told me about everything that happened, how many people died.
Afterwards, we prayed together for the first time as a family that I can remember, other than the "say grace" ritual before dinner.
During this past week, the world has almost felt like it's just as bad a place to live in now as it was that morning when so many lives were lost.
There's that nutcase claiming to be a Christian leader advocating a burning of the Kuran to spite Muslims out of remembrance for what happened nine years ago.
Just in case you didn't know, no one was burning the Kuran in the World Trade Center.
Don't hate Muslims because a few "super devout" radical psycopathes did some heinous acts in the name of allah or whatever.
They are no less exempt from God's love than anyone else, and for that we need to love them.
A topic I've seen bouncing around the headlines is that the vast majority of Americans/experts/whoever don't think Osama Bin Laden will ever be caught, captured, or killed. Some even go as far as to accuse the people going out and looking for him or the government for which they stand in the matter, claiming we can't kill a Saudi Prince.
If we as a nation are capable of risking war by invading a hostile country to assassinate a South-American drug lord like Pablo Eskabar, why would we hold back against the person responsible for brainwashing countless terrorists to kill countless more lives?
No, justice has to be done. Regardless of whether a US Marine zip-ties Bin Laden's hands behind his back, a 200lb bomb knocks his door down, or he trips over a stone in Pakistan and croaks, God will serve vengeance.
As hard as it is to believe, even Bin Laden could be forgiven of his sins. We must not forget that.
The times are dark, but there is a God shining in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Love is all you need
If God is love, then it's true, love really is all you need.
Bear in mind, there's a difference between real, biblical love, and the popular definition of love used by today's society, cupid, and highschoolers.
Although Paul's explanation of love covers a lot of what would constitute a happy romance, nowhere in that entire chapter on love, is it specified that love is only for couples. The truth is his words on love can be applied to all circumstances where love is required.
My buddy Jesus taught entire sermons around one statement, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and love your neighbor as yourself." The only way we can show we love God is to walk in obedience to his commandments, by a conscious choice. The most important commandment is of course to love the Lord, but the next one echoes what Jesus said about loving your neighbor.
Before you start thinking your neighbor is the shmuck next door (or across the street if you need to gossip), you should understand who else we're told to love. For one, Jesus taught that we need to love our enemies and pray for those who mistreat us. True, "enemies" is such a strong word, (in this context meaning the Greek word echthros; a foe, adversary, or one who gives reason for enmity or hatred--thanks Emerald! Love the concordance!), and most of us just aren't lucky enough to have any enemies. We can't all know supervillians, unfortunately. So, for those of us sans enemies, there's always the friend or brother or in-law who does something that drives us up the wall. If you love him/her, forgive them.
While we're talking about love, I'd also like to bring up love's superlative, that is, the most love you can ever show and the most love ever shown. If you love someone, you are willing to sacrifice everything for them, be it your social life, your physical strength, your money, or whatever. But, the biggest sacrifice you can make for love is to forfeit your own life for someone's benefit or protection. That's one reason I have such a profound respect for soldiers and sailors, but of course only one reason.
Back to what I was saying, the biggest demonstration of love ever shown was when Jesus died on the cross. Nothing tops that.
It's encouraging to remember what Jesus did for us, isn't it? Nothing can get me down when I'm thinking that, and I pray that for any one who reads this, they might find the same comfort, the same solidarity, the same hope.
Bear in mind, there's a difference between real, biblical love, and the popular definition of love used by today's society, cupid, and highschoolers.
Although Paul's explanation of love covers a lot of what would constitute a happy romance, nowhere in that entire chapter on love, is it specified that love is only for couples. The truth is his words on love can be applied to all circumstances where love is required.
My buddy Jesus taught entire sermons around one statement, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and love your neighbor as yourself." The only way we can show we love God is to walk in obedience to his commandments, by a conscious choice. The most important commandment is of course to love the Lord, but the next one echoes what Jesus said about loving your neighbor.
Before you start thinking your neighbor is the shmuck next door (or across the street if you need to gossip), you should understand who else we're told to love. For one, Jesus taught that we need to love our enemies and pray for those who mistreat us. True, "enemies" is such a strong word, (in this context meaning the Greek word echthros; a foe, adversary, or one who gives reason for enmity or hatred--thanks Emerald! Love the concordance!), and most of us just aren't lucky enough to have any enemies. We can't all know supervillians, unfortunately. So, for those of us sans enemies, there's always the friend or brother or in-law who does something that drives us up the wall. If you love him/her, forgive them.
While we're talking about love, I'd also like to bring up love's superlative, that is, the most love you can ever show and the most love ever shown. If you love someone, you are willing to sacrifice everything for them, be it your social life, your physical strength, your money, or whatever. But, the biggest sacrifice you can make for love is to forfeit your own life for someone's benefit or protection. That's one reason I have such a profound respect for soldiers and sailors, but of course only one reason.
Back to what I was saying, the biggest demonstration of love ever shown was when Jesus died on the cross. Nothing tops that.
It's encouraging to remember what Jesus did for us, isn't it? Nothing can get me down when I'm thinking that, and I pray that for any one who reads this, they might find the same comfort, the same solidarity, the same hope.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
A funny thing called choice
Christianity is founded on one principle above all others. You could argue this one principle is even more fundamental to Christianity as a whole than Jesus' dying on a cross.
It's the concept of free will.
God gave us free will, so that we could choose for ourselves what seemed like the wisest decision for us.
I'm sure we've all heard the story of free will in the garden of Eden, and how Adam and Eve chose to sin rather than be with God.
Then, some of us choose to believe in God, and we do our best to see where that takes us in life.
What about the choices we see others make? As unaffiliated third parties, it often feels like we can see details others can't in their own lives. Sometimes, we want to step in but we know it's a pointless effort because people are stubborn mules whose minds cannot be changed.
In those cases, we're left feeling helpless, like all we can do is pray for their well-being and wonder how the choice they made fits into God's plan.
A while back, my brother broke up with his girlfriend of five years. At the same time, he started hanging out with this other chick. When he broke up with Amanda, my family and I were all really devastated because we loved Amanda and we wanted to see the two of them stay together. They had been really good together, and it was a total shock when my brother ended the relationship.
Just today, Facebook told me what I'd kind of suspected since he broke up with Amanda; he was dating the other chick.
It would be nice if I could say I didn't make stupid decisions, but to do so would be lying.
A little more than a year and a half ago now, I proposed to my first girlfriend even though at that time it had been like three years since we'd last dated. She was engaged to a butthead she hated, and I wanted her to see, funnily enough, there was always a choice. Fortunately for me, Shana said no. Had she said yes, I would have thrown my entire life down the storm drain.
Of course, I couldn't see that at the time.
If I'd married her, I wouldn't be where I am in my faith today because for starters, Shana was not a born-again Christian. Even though she grew up in a church, she didn't know what it meant to be saved. I shudder to think that I could have married a girl who gets offended if you talk about the Bible.
It's the choices made by those who are closest to me that seem the hardest to bear. I've seen friends reject the Lord or fall to the allure of idiots. As a friend, I want only to support them in their decisions--God knows I can't live their life for them. Heck, I can barely live mine, let alone someone else's at the same time. When I can, I try to guide them in a safer, saner direction, but usually I don't have the luxury. If I offer advice and they don't want it, I better duck.
So, I pray.
Because I've been thinking a lot recently about the choices my peers make, I pray also that God will help me be a positive influence on their lives. I know I'm no expert decision-maker myself, but I believe God can and will use me regardless.
It's the concept of free will.
God gave us free will, so that we could choose for ourselves what seemed like the wisest decision for us.
I'm sure we've all heard the story of free will in the garden of Eden, and how Adam and Eve chose to sin rather than be with God.
Then, some of us choose to believe in God, and we do our best to see where that takes us in life.
What about the choices we see others make? As unaffiliated third parties, it often feels like we can see details others can't in their own lives. Sometimes, we want to step in but we know it's a pointless effort because people are stubborn mules whose minds cannot be changed.
In those cases, we're left feeling helpless, like all we can do is pray for their well-being and wonder how the choice they made fits into God's plan.
A while back, my brother broke up with his girlfriend of five years. At the same time, he started hanging out with this other chick. When he broke up with Amanda, my family and I were all really devastated because we loved Amanda and we wanted to see the two of them stay together. They had been really good together, and it was a total shock when my brother ended the relationship.
Just today, Facebook told me what I'd kind of suspected since he broke up with Amanda; he was dating the other chick.
It would be nice if I could say I didn't make stupid decisions, but to do so would be lying.
A little more than a year and a half ago now, I proposed to my first girlfriend even though at that time it had been like three years since we'd last dated. She was engaged to a butthead she hated, and I wanted her to see, funnily enough, there was always a choice. Fortunately for me, Shana said no. Had she said yes, I would have thrown my entire life down the storm drain.
Of course, I couldn't see that at the time.
If I'd married her, I wouldn't be where I am in my faith today because for starters, Shana was not a born-again Christian. Even though she grew up in a church, she didn't know what it meant to be saved. I shudder to think that I could have married a girl who gets offended if you talk about the Bible.
It's the choices made by those who are closest to me that seem the hardest to bear. I've seen friends reject the Lord or fall to the allure of idiots. As a friend, I want only to support them in their decisions--God knows I can't live their life for them. Heck, I can barely live mine, let alone someone else's at the same time. When I can, I try to guide them in a safer, saner direction, but usually I don't have the luxury. If I offer advice and they don't want it, I better duck.
So, I pray.
Because I've been thinking a lot recently about the choices my peers make, I pray also that God will help me be a positive influence on their lives. I know I'm no expert decision-maker myself, but I believe God can and will use me regardless.
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