Family … At Christmas

What is “Family”?

Where does “family” fit into a busy world where so many have hardly enough time to figure out what is coming next before whatever it is has already passed us, often leaving us physically disheveled, emotionally unsettled and, perhaps spiritually wrung out, in its wake.

How does “family” work when distances are far too great to be covered with the shrinking travel dollar; or when the gulf of old wounds created by the weaponry of words is far too wide to span with the rickety bridge of rueful regrets and apologetic excuses?

What does “family” mean when “happy holidays revelers” bulldoze the normal routine of life aside and replace it with unfamiliar and even unwelcome choruses of laughter and albums of pasted smiles; or when the interminably long and lonely hours drag the weary and aching heart through the perils of darkness and rigors of uncertainty?

Where is “family” found by the one who utters the feeble plea that is scarcely heard above the noise of living, or by the one who is too proud for pleading because pleading is a confession of needing?

How does “family” respond when the fabric of memory grows threadbare and torn; when rich, warm, and familiar intimacies turn to stark, cold, and alien suspicions?

How does “family” look when once happy relationships now lie as rusty relics on the heap of broken down disappointments; and when once glamorous futures are no more than guttering flames that animate the haunted shadows of the mind?

What does “family” breathe into the sterile lifeless words of love, joy, peace, safety, acceptance; or how does if quietly quell the unhappy heart, quicken the dying hope and quench the terrible fear?

These questions, and more, are disturbing as the world gears up for a holiday celebration that is billed as the “greatest time for making and sharing family traditions in the entire year.”

And yet … traditionally … this time of year is characterized by the highest levels of depression and anxiety among the population.  Suicide rates are higher in December than in any other month of the year. (in the midst of writing this I received news of a 10 or 11 year old girl who took her life last evening by hanging herself). This is much more serious than the crooner who sings, “I’ll have a blue Christmas without you …..”

This is a time when men, women, and children … yes children … stand unnoticed, in the chilling cold, painfully close and yet just outside panes of the house of life where everyone seems to be having a great time making and sharing family holiday memories and traditions.  They are longing to somehow get inside.  Yearning for just a taste, a fleeting glimpse, the faint aroma, even the momentary experience of all that we “say” Christmas means and is.  Isn’t it true, to some degree at least, that you have stood there among them … been one of them?  Who among us can say that we have not?  Not I.

One of the wonders of Christmas is that it established new “family” traditions.  Think of how, and with whom, Christmas began. A poor peasant family, in a dark and dingy stable, in a little out of the way place, hardly worth anyone’s attention.  And yet it captivated the attention of the Throne and hosts of heaven and the hordes of hell!

Through centuries of time, the celebration of that event has taken on a life of its own.  Some might say, with merit, that it has become a monster far removed from its origins.  I care little about the present day glitz and hype and the wild riches which they represent.  Clearly they do not provide the sustenance of ideal familial relationships beyond that which is only superficial. What I find monstrous, however, is the fact that “something” has been left behind in the process.  Without that “something”, perhaps more appropriately that “Someone”, those who enter into the Christmas experience fashioned by the successive generations of our world enter through a door, festooned with mistletoe and holly, over which has been inscribed: Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate. No love and cheer.  No peace and joy.  Rather, “All hope abandon, ye who enter here.”

Regardless of your level of satisfaction, or lack of it, with familial relationships of the earthly variety there is reason to celebrate.  It is found in remembering the “Someone” who has been left behind in the process of the evolution of Christmas celebration.  It’s the Baby, who is Jesus (the Savior), Emmanuel (God with us).  God in his infinite wisdom, mercy, grace and love established through this humble peasant family, a family of His own making.  Through the gift of His Son, He made it possible for any and all to really know the benefits of “family” through every one of the vicissitudes of this earthly experience called “life.”

Are you a member of that “family”?  Can you sing this Christmas carol from the heart?

I’m so glad I’m a part of the family of God

I’ve been washed in the fountain, cleansed by His blood.

Joint heirs with Jesus as I travel this sod.

For I’m part of the family, the family of God.

You will notice we say “brother and sister” ’round here,
It’s because we’re a family and these are so near;
When one has a heartache, we all share the tears,
And rejoice in each victory in this family so dear.

From the door of an orphanage to the house of the King,
No longer an outcast, a new song I sing;
From rags unto riches, from the weak to the strong,
I’m not worthy to be here, but PRAISE GOD! I belong!

I’m so glad I’m a part of the family of God

I’ve been washed in the fountain, cleansed by His blood.

Joint heirs with Jesus as I travel this sod.

For I’m part of the family, the family of God.

Healthy and functional familial relationships of the earthly sort are certainly important and they add a wonderful richness to life and times of celebration.  Of superior value and importance, however, is the fulfilling familial relationship of the heavenly sort, forged by the grace of God upon the basis of one’s faith in Christ as the Savior.  Don’t let this Christmas pass without making that choice of faith to enter into that family.

May God grant you a wonderful sense of “family” as we celebrate under the watchful eye of our Heavenly Father

O Come, Let Us Adore Him!  Merry Christmas Everyone!

Modern Day Magi

O. Henry’s marvelous short story, “The Gift of the Magi.” is a classic about a down-on-their-luck couple who sacrifice their dearest possessions to buy Christmas gifts for each other. The husband sells his pocket watch to buy some combs for his wife’s lovely hair. And she cuts off her lovely hair and sells it to buy a chain for his cherished watch. That story speaks to us at this time of the year as we give gifts to those whom we love.

O. Henry concludes his story this way: “The Magi, as you know were wise men – wonderfully wise men who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents…. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.”

Friends, let us not forget this Christmastime that there are Magi walking on the earth today as well. You and I are the Magi, as we give from hearts overflowing with love because of an even greater love shown to us. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life (John 3.16).”  May the gifts that we give include the telling of the story of the Savior who’s birth we celebrate … and in giving, may God bring some loved ones to Himself.

Read “Gift of the Magi”

Eating or Eaten

The desk at which I work in my home office sits under a window which looks out on the neighborhood and gives a clear view down the street where I live.  Yesterday, as I worked I observed dozens of sparrows as they raided the feeder that hangs outside the window.  It seemed to me as though they were in the same urgent mode of provisioning as the people whom I observed earlier in the morning as they raided the hardware store for bags of salt and snow shovels; and the grocery store as they loaded up with food.  Birds appear to have a sense of impending weather changes while people must rely upon the media outlets.  But both make preparation.

Suddenly, as I was watching, I was startled by an object that was hurtling toward my window.  The sparrows scattered and with a dull thud the object hit the window right in front of my face and dropped out of my sight.  A moment later a hawk flew up from the ground and sat in the tree not more than 15 feet away.  There were a few feathers stuck to the screen on the window at the point of impact.  The hawk was apparently somewhat dazed because it sat on the limb while I took pictures.  When I got too close though … it flew off.  It was almost 30 minutes before the sparrows came out of hiding and resumed their frantic eating.  They must have realized, as did I, that one of them might have easily become that which was eaten instead of that which was eating!

 

Possible Impossibilities

Many times during these coming days of holiday preparations we are certain to hear people say, “This is what the season is all about!” Maybe we’ll say it ourselves: Through a misting of tears, perhaps, as we look over our family gathered at the table. Or at the end of a beautifully sung Christmas concert.

I’ve heard it most often when someone is talking about children. Some folks even say, “Christmas is for children.” Do they mean that Christmas is no more than a fairy-tale? It cannot be denied that December is chock-full of kid fun, from cartoon specials and candy treats to Santa and his sack.

Even the simple statement, “Let’s not lose the real meaning of Christmas,” points us to the manger where we find — a child! But the mere fact that Christmas is about the coming of a child does not make it childish. Before we ever come to the climatic episode of Christ’s birth, we ought to take the time to turn over and ponder for a moment a hidden rock of faith concealed in the story’s beginning.

Remember when the angel Gabriel told Mary of God’s plan, a plan which included her participation? It was totally out of sync with her plans and seemed humanly impossible. We’d all do well to remember that Mary was a bit perplexed — and shocked — hearing that she is about to bear a child. Before the multitude of angels announced Jesus’ birth — the “reason for the season” — this one angel told a lone young woman what all of this is going to do, to prove, to mean. Here’s the point of it all, Gabriel proclaimed: “Nothing will be impossible with God.“

This statement of faith hasn’t found its way into the messages on our Hallmark Christmas cards. But it is the explanation Mary received. It’s what the season reveals: “Nothing will be impossible with God.”

Children frequently regard their parents as being people for whom nothing seems impossible. Parents seem to know everything. And anything we needed or needed to know, they were able to provide.

The believer’s relationship with God has often been described as one of child and parent. “Our Father who art in heaven,” begins the most common prayer that many people pray. We are like the 3-year-old walking through life with our parents, needing and trusting them to provide everything. Children have little problem believing that with God nothing is impossible because they live it in their little lives every day.

But a part of growing up is the slow realization that parents don’t have all the answers to the world’s problems — or to ours. Believing that your parents can do anything is a fairy tale that fades.

It is unfortunate, though, when someone says, “Christmas is for children.”

If that is our attitude, then I fear that we are apt to miss Gabriel’s incredible statement to Mary: “For nothing will be impossible with God.” If Christmas is only for children, if we have grown beyond it, then what is Christmas for us?

The book of Daniel contains the well-known story of three young men who are threatened with death in the fiery furnace if they don’t worship foreign idols. They refuse to do so. The mighty King Nebuchadnezzar, who believes he holds their lives in his hands, asks them what god will save them. They answer: “It may be that our God will come and save us from your hand, but know this, even if it seems that God is going to let us be burned up, we will still believe!“

These three friends standing before the heat of the oven, and Mary kneeling in the shadow of the angel’s wings, accepted the grown-up truth about faith in God’s possibilities. Putting yourself in God’s hands means trusting in the promise that God will work all things for good in God’s way, in God’s time, according to God’s own purposes. It does not mean we will always understand what is happening in us, through us, to us — or why.

Mary’s belief in God’s possibilities led her to be an embarrassment to her family, unwed and pregnant. Later she watched as her Son was executed as a criminal. It was not an easy lot. The three men before the furnace did not assume their faith would save them. But they acknowledged that even death could not kill the hope within them.

The Christmas story is nothing like the Disney fairy tales where all your self-centered dreams come true. No rags-to-riches. No happily-ever-after that the world would understand.

Responding to the Christ Child … trusting the living Savior … does not guarantee that our cancer will be cured, our jobs will be secure or our children will all be above average. We aren’t wishing upon a star, we are being led by one. And that makes all the difference in how we understand our lives.

I remember an incident in which I learned of a man who was in the last stages of cancer. Someone who was a party to that conversation asked if the man belonged to a church, if he had a pastor to care for him. The response was that he left the church 30 years ago — after the loss of a second child. No further explanation was needed. All around us, even in our own church family we have those who have been crushed with despair and disappointment. The Christmas promise of God’s possibilities is challenging in the face of the tragedy, oppression and hopelessness the world can send our way. But the message of this season is clear: Nothing is impossible with God. The Christmas angels tell us there are no God-forsaken people or places. Emmanuel is here — God with us, and with us all the time.

In this Christmas season, as we hear the story again, we each must choose whether to receive it as fairy tale or truth. “For nothing will be impossible with God,” the angel said. We can only assume that includes turning our impossible hearts as well.

What do YOU think?  What impossible thing does God want to do in YOUR life?

A SEASON OF SALVATION

Christmas has different meanings for each one of us, but family gatherings, good food, friends, travel, shopping, ball games, exchanging of gifts and religious celebration still seem to be part of almost everyone’s Christmas celebrations. The true meaning of Christmas, of course, is that it is a season of salvation.

Paul writes in Galatians 4.4,5: “But when the fullness of the time came, God sent forth His Son, born of woman, born under the Law, in order that He might redeem those who were under the Law, that we might receive the adoption as sons.” In order to have a season of salvation, the world needs a Savior.

Ever since the fall of Adam and Eve and the promise of a deliverer in Genesis 3.15, the Lord God was arranging for the birth of the Savior. God had predicted the birth of his Messiah, a son who would come out of the loins of Adam; from the loins of Shem, one of Noah’s three sons; out of Abraham through Isaac (not Ishmael ); out of Jacob (not Esau); out of Jesse’s son David (not one of David’s seven older brothers); out of Solomon (from all of David’s sons). Eventually, this son would be born of a virgin (Isaiah 7.14) in the city of Bethlehem.

Some 700 years before the fact, the prophet Micah wrote:

“But as for you, Bethlehem Ephratah, Too little to among the clans of Judah, From you One will go forth for Me to be ruler in Israel. His goings forth are from long ago, From the days of eternity. Therefore, He will give them up until the time When she who is in labor has borne a child. Then the remainder of His brethren Will return to the sons of Israel. And He will rise and shepherd His flock. In the strength of the Lord, In the majesty of the name of the Lord His God. And they will remain, Because at that time He will be great To the ends of the earth. And this One will be our Peace” (Micah 5.2-5)

Some 30 years later, five miles away in the city of Jerusalem, this same Son would be taken down from the cross and placed into a borrowed tomb. Paul reminds us in his letter to the Corinthians, “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that through He was rich, yet for you sake He became poor, that you through His poverty might become rich” (2 Cor. 8.9).

In his book Psalms of My Life, Joe Bayly wrote the following poem:

Praise God for Christmas.

Praise Him for the incarnation for Word made Flesh.

I will not sing of shepherds watching flocks on frosty night or angel choristers.

I will not sing of stable bare in Bethlehem, or lowing oxen,

wise men, trailing distant star, with gold and frankincense and myrrh.

Tonight I will sing praise to the Father who stood on heaven’s threshold

And said farewell to His Son,

as He stepped across the stars to Bethlehem and Jerusalem.

And I will sing praise to the infinite eternal Son

Who became most finite a Baby,

Who would one day be executed for my crimes.

Praise Him in the heavens,

Praise Him in the stable,

Praise Him in my heart.

Christmas is a season of salvation. We should rejoice that Jesus was born in the ancient city of Bethlehem long ago, and our hearts should be filled with joy because that Child was and is the Savior Christ the Lord. The angel Gabriel had said to Joseph, “you shall call His name Jesus, for it is He who will save His people from their sins.”

If there had been no Christmas morn,

No Christ Child in a manger born,

No shepherds watching in the night,

No angel song, no star of light

Then there would be no hope today

For this old world where sin holds sway.

No peace for souls weighed down with sin,

No deep abiding joy within,

No burdens lifted by His grace,

No strength to run life’s weary race,

No sorrows eased, no tempests quelled,

No fears dispersed, no doubts dispelled.

No song of praise, no answered prayer,

No loving Lord to guide and care:

But friend, there was a Christmas morn

When Christ, the Son of God, was born.

Oh, Hallelujah, praise His name,

Hope lives today because He came! – Harriet Heine

Christmas was and is and will always be until Christ comes again a season of salvation to every one who is willing to trust Jesus as their Savior.

The (Not So) Great Commission

Yesterday I read a blog post by a brother who is part of the Southern Baptist Convention.  In his post he wrote rather pointedly and honestly about his enthusiasm and his disappointment as he contemplated a new emphasis in that Fellowship called “Great Commission Resurgence.”  Some of the specifics in his post are clearly culturalistically SBC.  The point which he makes, however, has a cross-cultural application in the Church, the Body of Christ in this country.  Read carefully and you will discover what I mean.  Take a moment to leave a comment and let me know what you think!   My thanks to Marcus Pittman, who graciously granted permission for me to share this here. The link at the end of this article will take you to Marcus’ suggested solution. - T

Why The GCR Will Fail!

As someone who was pretty much born and raised Southern Baptist and is passionate about evangelism I was really excited about the Southern Baptist Conventions “Great Commission Resurgence.” Upon first hearing about this I became a huge cheerleader for it. I watched the streams of the convention, followed #sbc2009 tag and was extremely proud of my denomination to see it pass. However recently as I have been researching it and following what the GCR plans to do in terms of church planting and missions, I have become incredibly disappointed. You see it’s not that the plans to reshuffle the IMB and NAMB are a bad idea, it’s not. In fact I am a huge fan of placing missions back into the hands of the local church and disassembling the mission boards are part of that.

However if you think reshuffling and rearranging the current structure is going to make the Southern Baptist Convention transform the world for the Gospel…your out of your mind.

The primary problem is not the mission boards. The primary problem in the Southern Baptist Convention are people who believe that they can come to church once a week, place their money in offering plate and perform their weekly act of evangelism by telling the waitress at Shoneys that they “just got back from church.”

The root of the problem is not the structure of the current system.The root of the problem is people who don’t care about the Gospel.

The problem is we are trying to get Church planting into the hand of people who could care less about other churches besides their own. We are trying to place missions into the hands of people who really believe as long as their local church meets their Lottie Moon goal every year…they can mark “Great Commission” off of their list of Christian things to do.

The problem with the Great Commission Resurgence is that for to long the Southern Baptist Convention has done little to nothing to raise up soldiers for the Gospel. Our altar calls and fast food evangelism at the end of a sermon has made entire generations have no clue how to share the Gospel with their own families or neighbors.

You can prove this quite easily.

Stand up in front of your Church next Sunday and announce that the entire Church will be going to the local mall to share the Gospel after service. Tell them were going to swarm the halls of holiday shoppers with the true meaning of Christmas. Let them know all they have to do is pass out tracts to strangers, they don’t have to say a word to anyone…

Then simply count how many people show up and that number will be the reason the GCR will fail.

Its quite simple, if you go into a SBC church and ask the people to step outside and share the Gospel they will stare at you as if you are a pregnant teenager.

Unless the Southern Baptist Convention addresses the root issue the Convention will never be a Church planting convention. And let me be clear. This is not about seeing every church member on a soapbox on the corner. This is not about street preaching. The problem is far more serious then that, this is about getting people to talk about the Gospel with people they know and getting the boldness to talk to people they don’t know.

So please Albert Mohler, Danny Akin, Johnny Hunt and the rest of the GCR committee include some ways to get the back row baptist on the front lines or else you are seriously wasting your time.

In the next blog, I’ll give you some ideas on how to accomplish this.

Shots Fired In My Hometown

A police officer was shot and wounded in my hometown today. Two thugs tried to rob a local bar at lunch-time. An officer was about a block away when he got the call and confronted the thieves as they left the bar. One took off running, apparently, and the other engaged in an exchange of gun-fire with the policeman. Both men took a bullet and were taken to the hospital.

Thankfully the policeman’s wounds were “not life-threatening” according to the news reports. They have not announced the name of the officer yet. I have a few friends on the force and I hope that it wasn’t one of them, but I’m sorry that it had to be anyone at all.

The odd thing about this is that yesterday I was reflecting on the tragedy in Lakewood WA, with the murder of four policemen and then the subsequent discovery of the suspect in Seattle and the fortuitous alertness of another patrolman who could easily have been a fifth victim. I remember thinking that I was glad to live in a place where such things did not happen. I’m not naive. I know that we have crime and nasty characters here in Dubuque. But we are rather insulated from the high profile type of crime and nastiness that captures national attention because of its grievous nature.

Well, apparently not as insulated as I thought. We could have had another dead law-enforcement officer lying on the sidewalk of Dubuque. I am a little more appreciative of my friends and others like them who put their life on the line each time the leave for work, in order to assure my safety and yours. Theirs is a sometimes thankless job. Their value is taken for granted. Their presence is expected. And should they fail to perform up to the flawless expectations of the largely unappreciative public, their lives could be ruined. Already the media is saying “we don’t know who shot first, the policeman or the suspect” as if that really matters!  What really DOES matter is that no citizens were killed. What really DOES matter is that the thief is in jail. What really DOES matter is that the officer’s family is not in mourning this evening.

Neil, Joe, Dave, Adam … I salute you tonight. Thanks for being there on the thin blue line. Thanks for putting it on the line every day for me! Stay alert … it’s a jungle out there!  Before long I expect that these two thugs will lawyer up and our wonderful legal system will be used to their advantage to get them back on the street  … so that they can rob … and shoot … again.  I appreciate you and pray for your safety!

A Bloody-eared Tooth Doctor!

It will soon be two months since I had one of my wisdom teeth extracted (euphemism for “cut into pieces and yanked out of my mouth”) and it has been a decidedly difficult dental experience. Expecting the aftermath to be painful, I suffered through a dry socket for a week before going back and saying “something is wrong”. During that week, I found my comfort in the bottle (Ibuprofen). The doctor stuffed a wad of gauze into the crater and the pain almost immediately subsided. The bottle was put back on the shelf and only used occasionally. We went through that process three times as he checked it every few days and finally I was relatively pain free … until the infection was discovered. For a week I was hitting two bottles, the antibiotic and the ibuprofen. When I was finally released from the Dr.’s observation I was feeling pretty good. I was not yet painless but the discomfort was of a very low level so that 95% of the time I was unaware of it.

A week ago that all changed with the growing awareness of pain in that area. Somewhere along the line in this experience, I think probably during the “infection phase”, I noticed that I have begun clamping my jaw shut while relaxing. This tends to give one a jaw ache … even a headache after a while. I read on line that one solution is to place your tongue between your teeth to keep you from doing that. Apparently the prospect of clipping off the tip of your tongue is enough of a deterrent that it will keep one from clenching his teeth. I returned to the oral surgeon when I had had enough of the recurring pain.

My Dr. was on vacation so I saw his “substitute”. I knew I was in trouble the minute he walked in the room. The man had blood dripping from his ear! It occurred to me that it might have spurted from the mouth of one of his patients and landed there. That was something I did not want to contemplate for long so I channeled my imagination to consider other causes. That did not make me feel any better!

He was polite and ordered some more Xrays. After a brief examination and reading of the xrays he told me that the main source of the pain seemed to be muscle spasms, possibly related to the clenching. He told me one option was to inject some medication directly into the muscle in an attempt to treat it. I must have blanched because he quickly added that he could prescribe a muscle relaxant. Then, however, he told me that the socket where the tooth had been didn’t look quite right and that he would suggest re-opening it, excavating it to clean it all out and then letting the healing process begin again. I suddenly felt faint. The nurse put her hand on my shoulder and asked, “Are you OK?”. I managed to play the man and said, “I’m fine.” The Dr. with the bloody ear wanted to go excavating in my mouth? I’m fine? I lied.

Thankfully he said that he would prefer that my original surgeon do the deed if he was of the same opinion. So I left with an appointment for next Tuesday and a prescription for the muscle relaxant.

I’m finding my solace in the bottle again … and in a muscle relaxant that the pharmacist told me might make me “hungover”. There is an entire paragraph of nasty symptoms that this med may cause and one wonders why it is even legal to sell!  However … here we are … waiting for the next chapter of Jeske’s Law to unfold.

Henry II and Thomas Becket

I recently read an historical novel about a stone mason/church builder during the latter part of the 11th Century and into the 12th. The English King, Henry II was an intelligent, interesting and able ruler. He is known for an ongoing argument with a close friend, Thomas Becket. Becket’s father was a Crusader and his mother was a princess.

In 1156, Henry appointed Becket, at the age of 38, to be the chancellor of England. That was the highest civil service position in the land.  During his term in that office Becket ruled in power and was in essence a de facto king, Henry’s closest ally.

In 1162 Henry wanted to appoint Thomas as archbishop of Canterbury.  Becket opposed this move and warned Henry that if Thomas was appointed it would break their friendship. In spite of that, Henry was made the head of the Church of England. In protest, Becket traded his splendid clothes for rags and wandered through his cloisters shedding tears for past sins. He whipped himself, read the Bible, and spent hours in prayer. And to Henry’s horror, Becket consistently sided with church against crown. The frantic king finally banished his onetime close friend from the country.

On this day, December 1, 1170, Becket returned, electrifying all England. Henry, in a careless moment of rage, shouted, “By the eyes of God, is there none of my cowardly courtiers who will deliver me from this turbulent priest?” Four knights took up the challenge, and on December 29 they fell on Becket during evening vespers. “In the name of Christ and for the defense of his church, I am ready to die,” Becket uttered as the blows fell. “Lord, receive my spirit.” The attackers slashed at his head, spilling his blood and brains on the floor.

Becket’s murder caused waves of horroried reactions in the Christian community and the tide of popular opinion quickly turned against him. In order to make atonement, Henry walked through Canterbury’s streets with bleeding feet, entered the cathedral, kissed the spot where Becket had died, and placed his head and shoulders on Becket’s tomb. There he was flogged by the priests.

Alas, however, the remainder of his days were filled with calamity and Henry died with a broken spirit and cursing the day he was born. In some ways that reminds me of Cain, who in a fit of anger killed his brother Abel.

I was reminded by this story of the terrible damage that can be done in a fit of anger. Wars can be started, friendships dissolved, marriages destroyed, children broken in spirit and testimonies lost. We’ve all seen it in action, even on our highways where it manifests itself as “road rage.” Fits of anger rarely, if ever, accomplish anything positive. They almost always leave the angry one to be the loser. And that which is lost is very difficult, if not impossible, to regain.

“The angry man stirs up all kinds of trouble, and the passionate or furious man commits plenty of sins.” – Proverbs 29.22.

An Iron Jesus

The following “news” item was recently published by the Associated Press:

AP – METHUEN, Mass. — A Massachusetts woman who recently separated from her husband and had her work hours cut said an image of Jesus Christ she sees on her iron reassured her that “life is going to be good.”

The woman said a brownish residue on the bottom of the iron looks like the face of a man with long hair. The 44-year-old Catholic and her two college-age daughters agree that the image looks like Jesus and is proof that “he’s listening.”

She plans to keep the iron in a closet and buy a new one.

I wanted to gag! 

What this woman has experienced is a psychological phenomenon called “pareidolia”, which involves a vague or random image or sound being perceived as significant.

In 1978, a New Mexican woman thought that the burn marks on her tortilla looked like the traditional western version of the face of Jesus Christ.  She framed the tortilla and thousands of mindless lemmings flocked to see it.^[1]

There is a market for such items as evidenced by the presence of them on eBay.  One famous instance was a grilled cheese sandwich with the Virgin Mary’s face.^[2]

In September, 2007, a callus on a tree resembled a monkey, and “believers” flocked to the tree to pay homage to the Monkey God.^[3]

The fact that this happened is not, however, what made me want to gag.  Consider this:  This likely emotionally vulnerable woman (recently separated from her husband and having her work hours cut) may have been particularly susceptible to wishful thinking and imagining.  Sadly, two college-age daughters (I’m assuming they are in college), whom one would hope would know better, affirmed their mother in this silliness.  But even THAT is not what made me want to gag.

What made me want to gag is the fact that this woman, believing that this reddish brown crud on the bottom of her iron is a message of comfort and reassurance from Jesus … assuring her that He is listening … takes Jesus and puts him in a closet somewhere … and goes out and buys a new iron.  Hmmm maybe the new iron will produce an image of the Virgin!

It occurs to me that there are also many true Christians who, assured of His love and His care and provision in their lives, put Jesus into a closet somewhere … and go on to live their lives as if He were no more significant or real than a random Rorschach-type inkblot image on the bottom of the iron in the closet. Then they bring him out on Sunday (maybe even only on Christmas and Easter).

It made me gag to think that sometimes I may come perilously close to doing that very thing.  How about you?

May I suggest, if you want assurance that Jesus is listening, and that He will provide for your needs, that you   not go looking at the bottom of irons, or on your tortilla or your trees.  Instead, look at the pages of God’s Word.  That is where God reveals himself and His Son Jesus.