Jamie and I have been debating about whether the material on this blog should be relegated to just the Czech mission, or if it would be acceptable for us to post our thoughts and personal feelings for all to see. Well, we have decided that we need to post our feelings and thoughts, as they can be a small window into the type of people we are, which helps those who do not know us feel closer to our minds and emotions, even though Jamie and I are physically separated from many of you.
Here it goes:
Have you ever wondered whether this whole "mustard seed" that Jesus talks about in the New Testament can be seen and felt in your everyday life? I know that I do. But sometimes I think my perspective on the matter of the Kingdom coming and my idea of eschatology can be narrow. It is very easy for me to sit back and point to very tangible manifestations of the mustard seed when I am on a mission trip, or at a Christian camp, or in a great theology class where my understanding is challenged. But, I do struggle to see it at my house or even in my thoughts. Building homes for low income families, counseling forgotten teenagers, micro-lending for economic development, fighting for peace and being the ear for a lonely senior citizen relegated to a nursing home are all great, and I know that we all can see Christ in those acts and through the people those actions help. However, what about us being able to see the Kingdom growing through tragedy and violence?
Can we see the Kingdom in a hurricane that kills 200,000 people? Is Christ there when an African man is beaten because he voted the wrong way? What about sex trafficking?
Is the Kingdom present? Is Christ present?
I would have to say yes. Just as God was present for Daniel in captivity, so he can be in tragedy today, which brings me to today.
Jamie and I decided to take a nice spring bike ride across the Ohio country side. We had planned to rent a movie, so we decided to bike into town. It was a nice ride: the sun was shinning and there was a wispy breeze, just what we wanted. Renting the movie did not take very long, and because we had to get back to dinner, Jamie and I chose to turn back after only a few miles and head back into camp. As we entered the drive way and biked up about a quarter of a mile, we both were struck by a noise at the side of the road. It sounded very distinct and not the normal chatter we all hear from the spring birds. The sound was loud. Jamie had to point it out to me, as she saw it first. Gazing upon the ground, I was suddenly struck with an overwhelming feeling of happiness__we were both gazing at a baby raccoon.
We watched it for awhile and listened to it as it was making a kind of crying sound; I thought nothing of it. Jamie wanted to run and get her camera, so I stayed and inched my way closer to the little guy, making sure to keep my distance, yet, be intimate enough to really look at it. As I did this, it began to dawn on me that not all was well with our little friend. It must have fallen out of a tree at one point, because what looked like the wobbly steps of a baby, really turned out to be the pain of a paralyzing fall; the raccoon could not move its back legs. I heard the mother making a call back to her little baby, but she was high up in a tree overhead. Literally, my emotional spectrum shifted 360 degrees from elation at seeing new life, to dread at watching a young life snuffed out. Jamie and I could do nothing: "well, can't I pick it up and help it?" "Oh! The camp could make it into a pet for the children." "Maybe it isn't REALLY hurt."
I wanted to convince myself that nothing was wrong, that all was going to work out and that I had the answer to make this little animal's life better. Yet, with every agonizing cry it made, the more I became defeated. Ten minutes was enough for me. I had to leave. Jamie and I decided to grab our bikes and turn away on the raccoon. As we left, it was laying on the forest floor and was digging its head into the dead leaves from fall.
When people have attachments to animals I sometimes get angry. I mean, why do people seem to care more about a stray dog than a homeless man? The affection towards animals and the love towards a fellow human being are different for one main reason: Human beings have more intrinsic value than animals. I am not saying that I think it is OK for human beings to rape and pillage the earth, which is what we have been doing for quite some time. No, I am talking about Biblical stewardship. Human beings are to cultivate God's creation, bring it into its most glorious form. However, after today, I can see how people are attached to their pets or to an animal they live to protect.
The pain of watching the raccoon suffer overwhelmed me for sure, but I am not convinced that what I was seeing was a bad thing. I knew the entire time that my attempts to help the animal would be in vain and were completely "irrational"; yet, I cared so deeply that I knew I had to at least entertain the thought. At this point, is where I believe I saw the mustard seed today. Not in the suffering of a tiny raccoon, but in the true emotion that overwhelmed me.
Yes, the world is fallen, but it is very far from being chaotic. Some might look at the innocent death of a child or the painful death of a baby raccoon as sure-fire reasons as to why God can't be at work here on earth, but they might only see the dark. Is it not through suffering that Christ is present? Does Christ not work through broken vessels? Vessels are human beings and suffering is the world; God works through both. We are all broken; we all have problems and we all fall short. The world is violent and ruthless, but at the same time both are great vehicles for us to see beauty. Death and destruction are away from God, but our hope is light. I am not saying it is OK to ignore destruction; we must mourn; we must hurt; we must get angry; yet, we can't have happiness without some sadness, and we can't have beauty unless we know that which is ugly.
The raccoon will die. The vividness of my emotional clarity watching the raccoon suffer will surely dull, but I know that I had a true genuine urge to help restore, not to hurt. Maybe this is what Christ hopes for all of us to do? The feelings of restoration are the catalyst for the mustard seed. I hope I might be able to see it more often in my own thinking. What is left now, is whether I can feel the same for people.
Here it goes:
Have you ever wondered whether this whole "mustard seed" that Jesus talks about in the New Testament can be seen and felt in your everyday life? I know that I do. But sometimes I think my perspective on the matter of the Kingdom coming and my idea of eschatology can be narrow. It is very easy for me to sit back and point to very tangible manifestations of the mustard seed when I am on a mission trip, or at a Christian camp, or in a great theology class where my understanding is challenged. But, I do struggle to see it at my house or even in my thoughts. Building homes for low income families, counseling forgotten teenagers, micro-lending for economic development, fighting for peace and being the ear for a lonely senior citizen relegated to a nursing home are all great, and I know that we all can see Christ in those acts and through the people those actions help. However, what about us being able to see the Kingdom growing through tragedy and violence?
Can we see the Kingdom in a hurricane that kills 200,000 people? Is Christ there when an African man is beaten because he voted the wrong way? What about sex trafficking?
Is the Kingdom present? Is Christ present?
I would have to say yes. Just as God was present for Daniel in captivity, so he can be in tragedy today, which brings me to today.
Jamie and I decided to take a nice spring bike ride across the Ohio country side. We had planned to rent a movie, so we decided to bike into town. It was a nice ride: the sun was shinning and there was a wispy breeze, just what we wanted. Renting the movie did not take very long, and because we had to get back to dinner, Jamie and I chose to turn back after only a few miles and head back into camp. As we entered the drive way and biked up about a quarter of a mile, we both were struck by a noise at the side of the road. It sounded very distinct and not the normal chatter we all hear from the spring birds. The sound was loud. Jamie had to point it out to me, as she saw it first. Gazing upon the ground, I was suddenly struck with an overwhelming feeling of happiness__we were both gazing at a baby raccoon.We watched it for awhile and listened to it as it was making a kind of crying sound; I thought nothing of it. Jamie wanted to run and get her camera, so I stayed and inched my way closer to the little guy, making sure to keep my distance, yet, be intimate enough to really look at it. As I did this, it began to dawn on me that not all was well with our little friend. It must have fallen out of a tree at one point, because what looked like the wobbly steps of a baby, really turned out to be the pain of a paralyzing fall; the raccoon could not move its back legs. I heard the mother making a call back to her little baby, but she was high up in a tree overhead. Literally, my emotional spectrum shifted 360 degrees from elation at seeing new life, to dread at watching a young life snuffed out. Jamie and I could do nothing: "well, can't I pick it up and help it?" "Oh! The camp could make it into a pet for the children." "Maybe it isn't REALLY hurt."
I wanted to convince myself that nothing was wrong, that all was going to work out and that I had the answer to make this little animal's life better. Yet, with every agonizing cry it made, the more I became defeated. Ten minutes was enough for me. I had to leave. Jamie and I decided to grab our bikes and turn away on the raccoon. As we left, it was laying on the forest floor and was digging its head into the dead leaves from fall.
When people have attachments to animals I sometimes get angry. I mean, why do people seem to care more about a stray dog than a homeless man? The affection towards animals and the love towards a fellow human being are different for one main reason: Human beings have more intrinsic value than animals. I am not saying that I think it is OK for human beings to rape and pillage the earth, which is what we have been doing for quite some time. No, I am talking about Biblical stewardship. Human beings are to cultivate God's creation, bring it into its most glorious form. However, after today, I can see how people are attached to their pets or to an animal they live to protect.
The pain of watching the raccoon suffer overwhelmed me for sure, but I am not convinced that what I was seeing was a bad thing. I knew the entire time that my attempts to help the animal would be in vain and were completely "irrational"; yet, I cared so deeply that I knew I had to at least entertain the thought. At this point, is where I believe I saw the mustard seed today. Not in the suffering of a tiny raccoon, but in the true emotion that overwhelmed me.
Yes, the world is fallen, but it is very far from being chaotic. Some might look at the innocent death of a child or the painful death of a baby raccoon as sure-fire reasons as to why God can't be at work here on earth, but they might only see the dark. Is it not through suffering that Christ is present? Does Christ not work through broken vessels? Vessels are human beings and suffering is the world; God works through both. We are all broken; we all have problems and we all fall short. The world is violent and ruthless, but at the same time both are great vehicles for us to see beauty. Death and destruction are away from God, but our hope is light. I am not saying it is OK to ignore destruction; we must mourn; we must hurt; we must get angry; yet, we can't have happiness without some sadness, and we can't have beauty unless we know that which is ugly.
The raccoon will die. The vividness of my emotional clarity watching the raccoon suffer will surely dull, but I know that I had a true genuine urge to help restore, not to hurt. Maybe this is what Christ hopes for all of us to do? The feelings of restoration are the catalyst for the mustard seed. I hope I might be able to see it more often in my own thinking. What is left now, is whether I can feel the same for people.
1 comment:
Thank you for this Jeremy.
You made me feel better.
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