This Holy City
We paused under the overpass
Begging shelter from the rain,
The hail, the despair.
Remarkably overcast,
The sky like a stain
Seems vaguely unfair.
The sky shatters
And I audibly pray my windshield won't.
This is the beginning of a journey.
People like cars are bruised and battered.
You'd think they feel remorse, but they don't.
We are still learning.
The world is a flood.
Recycling bins float by me
Tainting the streets with good intentions.
Our only hope is holy blood
To pay our ransom fee.
We each seek redemption.
Set us free! Set us free!
From this city of mud
And human inventions.
Rain pours down as I stand beneath a tree,
Enveloped in the filth of this Holy City.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
When the Earth Celebrates Good Friday...
Matthew 27:45-54
From noon until three in the afternoon darkness came over all the land. About three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” (which means “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”).
When some of those standing there heard this, they said, “He’s calling Elijah.”
Immediately one of them ran and got a sponge. He filled it with wine vinegar, put it on a staff, and offered it to Jesus to drink. The rest said, “Now leave him alone. Let’s see if Elijah comes to save him.”
And when Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit.
At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook, the rocks split and the tombs broke open. The bodies of many holy people who had died were raised to life. They came out of the tombs after Jesus’ resurrection and went into the holy city and appeared to many people.
When the centurion and those with him who were guarding Jesus saw the earthquake and all that had happened, they were terrified, and exclaimed, “Surely he was the Son of God!”
I find it interesting that Earth Day coincides with Good Friday this year. Earth Day is a celebration of the beautiful earth on which we live. Good Friday is a time to mourn the death of Christ and humanity's sin, which nailed Him to the cross. Thousands of years ago, on the actual day of Jesus' death, the earth was very literally rocked. The sun stopped shining for three hours in the middle of the afternoon, and in the complete, unexpected darkness, Jesus gave up His life for us. The earth trembled, rocks splitting apart, and godly men and women who were dead broke free from their earthy burials to appear to many people in Jerusalem. It was as though the earth herself was mourning the sacrificial death of God's only Son. Today, the earth mourned again. Instead of being a sunny, warm celebration, Earth Day brought a torrential downpour and an uncharacteristic chill blown in from the sea. So while some planted trees and got free Starbucks coffee in celebration of the earth, the very earth ignored the celebration to mourn the death of Jesus. And as I drove home, through the pouring rain and bitter wind, to be with my family for Good Friday I found myself mourning alongside the earth for the brokenness of man. There was a certain beauty in the earth's rejection of the secular worship offered to her. There was also a beauty in the earth and me worshiping God together with our grief. Once again, the earth trembled in honor of Christ's death. Jesus' death on the cross is the perfect picture of grace. Such grace feels unnatural in our broken world, like a cold rain on Earth Day. Surely, Jesus is the Son of God.
From noon until three in the afternoon darkness came over all the land. About three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” (which means “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”).
When some of those standing there heard this, they said, “He’s calling Elijah.”
Immediately one of them ran and got a sponge. He filled it with wine vinegar, put it on a staff, and offered it to Jesus to drink. The rest said, “Now leave him alone. Let’s see if Elijah comes to save him.”
And when Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit.
At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook, the rocks split and the tombs broke open. The bodies of many holy people who had died were raised to life. They came out of the tombs after Jesus’ resurrection and went into the holy city and appeared to many people.
When the centurion and those with him who were guarding Jesus saw the earthquake and all that had happened, they were terrified, and exclaimed, “Surely he was the Son of God!”
I find it interesting that Earth Day coincides with Good Friday this year. Earth Day is a celebration of the beautiful earth on which we live. Good Friday is a time to mourn the death of Christ and humanity's sin, which nailed Him to the cross. Thousands of years ago, on the actual day of Jesus' death, the earth was very literally rocked. The sun stopped shining for three hours in the middle of the afternoon, and in the complete, unexpected darkness, Jesus gave up His life for us. The earth trembled, rocks splitting apart, and godly men and women who were dead broke free from their earthy burials to appear to many people in Jerusalem. It was as though the earth herself was mourning the sacrificial death of God's only Son. Today, the earth mourned again. Instead of being a sunny, warm celebration, Earth Day brought a torrential downpour and an uncharacteristic chill blown in from the sea. So while some planted trees and got free Starbucks coffee in celebration of the earth, the very earth ignored the celebration to mourn the death of Jesus. And as I drove home, through the pouring rain and bitter wind, to be with my family for Good Friday I found myself mourning alongside the earth for the brokenness of man. There was a certain beauty in the earth's rejection of the secular worship offered to her. There was also a beauty in the earth and me worshiping God together with our grief. Once again, the earth trembled in honor of Christ's death. Jesus' death on the cross is the perfect picture of grace. Such grace feels unnatural in our broken world, like a cold rain on Earth Day. Surely, Jesus is the Son of God.
Monday, April 18, 2011
This is not my life.
It's true.
What defines a life? Breathing, heart beating, mind reeling? A purpose, a family, love, passion, embracing every moment?
I do not belong to myself.
I lost myself a long time ago.
"If you cling to your life, you will lose it; but if you give it up for me, you will find it." Matthew 10:39
I've always seen paradoxes in life. For me, there's a beauty to the fact that truths can seem completely contradictory yet they collaborate to create a greater sense of truth. We all question truth. What really is true? Is truth different for everyone? What truths are meaningful in our lives? What do we do with paradoxical truths?
Sitting in my high school English class during lectures, I would always lean forward and whisper one word to the back of my friend's head: "Paradox." He would laugh and it because a joke between us--my obsession with finding paradoxes. And that's when I found the greatest paradox of all: I had lost my life so that it could be saved. How is that possible? You can't give up your life while simultaneously saving it, right? Sure...you can't. But God can. When Jesus entered the equation, our inadequacies and brokenness no longer belonged to us. He took them and paid the price for them. Paradox. Now, we who are born to sin can be forgiven and defy sinful nature. Paradox. We who are depraved can have a relationship with a holy God. Paradox. We can choose to give up our lives and in choosing to do so, Jesus is the means by which our lives can be saved...eternal life! Paradox. So my life is a paradox. Except, this is not my life. Now, my life belongs to Christ. It's a beautiful paradox: This is not my life. If it were, it wouldn't matter. Since it's not, it matters greatly.
What defines a life? Breathing, heart beating, mind reeling? A purpose, a family, love, passion, embracing every moment?
I do not belong to myself.
I lost myself a long time ago.
"If you cling to your life, you will lose it; but if you give it up for me, you will find it." Matthew 10:39
I've always seen paradoxes in life. For me, there's a beauty to the fact that truths can seem completely contradictory yet they collaborate to create a greater sense of truth. We all question truth. What really is true? Is truth different for everyone? What truths are meaningful in our lives? What do we do with paradoxical truths?
Sitting in my high school English class during lectures, I would always lean forward and whisper one word to the back of my friend's head: "Paradox." He would laugh and it because a joke between us--my obsession with finding paradoxes. And that's when I found the greatest paradox of all: I had lost my life so that it could be saved. How is that possible? You can't give up your life while simultaneously saving it, right? Sure...you can't. But God can. When Jesus entered the equation, our inadequacies and brokenness no longer belonged to us. He took them and paid the price for them. Paradox. Now, we who are born to sin can be forgiven and defy sinful nature. Paradox. We who are depraved can have a relationship with a holy God. Paradox. We can choose to give up our lives and in choosing to do so, Jesus is the means by which our lives can be saved...eternal life! Paradox. So my life is a paradox. Except, this is not my life. Now, my life belongs to Christ. It's a beautiful paradox: This is not my life. If it were, it wouldn't matter. Since it's not, it matters greatly.
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