Videos of my "Family"

***COVID has made me think of whether “watching church” is the same thing as “going to church”… or more to the point - “being the church.” It makes me think of someone who watches videos of their family once a week, but never actually sees their family… wouldn’t that be a tragedy?***

…

I watch a video of my family once a week…

… And you’re probably thinking: “You mean you video-chat with your family once a week, right?”

No. I mean I watch a video OF my family once a week. 

… And you’re probably thinking: “Oh, they must live really far away or something?” 

No. They are 5 minutes from me.

… And you’re probably thinking: “Then you also visit them sometimes too, right?”

Well, my Dad comes over regularly. But I don’t visit. Not unless I really need something - or one of my siblings really needs something. I guess I’m saying that if I visit them it’s got to be for a really good reason. I avoid large family gatherings at all costs.

… And you’re probably thinking: “Well, those must be some really awesome family videos then…” 

No. Not really. They’re almost all the same. Exactly the same length. Kind of predictable, if I’m honest. My brother talks for a half-hour every time. There are better speakers on YouTube.

… And you’re probably thinking: “Doesn’t that get boring?” 

Yes. For sure. But my couch is comfortable. And my PJ’s are comfortable. And seeing my family is just not comfortable.

… And you’re probably thinking: “Did your family do something that hurt you?”

No. I mean, I’ve been hurt - but nothing normal families don’t go through. My family’s not perfect.

… And you’re probably thinking: “Then is there something physically wrong with you?” 

No. Well - I was afraid for a while that I’d get really sick. But I’m not afraid of that anymore.

… And you’re probably thinking: “So you just don’t like your family, then?”

No, no, no… I like them - really I do… 

… And you’re probably thinking: “That must break your Father’s heart!” 

… No. How?

…“Because the Head of your family had to die to adopt you into your family (Eph. 1:3-10). Because family unity means so much to Him (Ps. 133). Because one of His last prayers before He died was that you and your siblings would be completely united (Jn. 17:20-23). That’s what I’m thinking.” 

Heaps of Justice

Justice. I want justice. A flood of it. A heap, a mess, a mass of it. For the world to look the way it’s supposed to. For everyone to treat everyone else like they’re made and loved by God. For every human to treat this planet like it was made by and belongs to God.

But then I look at myself and realize I’m part of the reason things are not right. I treat people, at times, like God didn’t make them in His image. I treat the planet, at times, like God didn’t call it “good.” I need justice to break out in me first. Right now. Right here. Then in my neighbor. Then in my nation.

To be clear - God is concerned about a crooked nation.
But He’s also concerned about a crooked town in that crooked nation.
And a crooked house in that crooked town.
And a crooked man in that crooked house.
And a crooked heart in that crooked man.
And that crooked heart is mine.
And my crooked heart needs justice - though I am often too prideful to admit it.

This heart needs to be pressed, pruned, scrubbed, scoured, worked and washed by God until it begins to produce the fruit of justice.
My log-eye needs justice so that I can help my neighbor’s speck-eye.
So that I can align what’s misaligned in my crooked house.
So that I can sweep oppression from the streets in my crooked town.
So that I can cure injustice in my crooked nation.

And when my nation fills with people who have hearts that crave justice within, then we’ll humbly pursue justice without. When I look at my lying neighbor I’ll admit, “I could have lied too.” When I look at my thieving neighbor I’ll admit “I could have stolen too.” When I look at my killing neighbor I’ll admit, “I could have killed too.” Then justice will flow like frigging rivers.

I want justice for every man, woman, child, beast, and bug. Everyone’s crookedness straightened. Everyone‘s wrongs made right. Criminals punished. Victims restored in full. Retribution for the bad guy. Restoration for the little guy. I want justice. But now I know that the justice that breaks the curse is the justice that breaks out in me first. The justice that rolls over the heart that beats in my chest.

It's Nothing. He Watches.

A meditation on the Soldier that speared the side of Jesus of Nazareth when He was crucified.

When the soldiers came to Jesus and saw that he was already dead, they did not break his legs. But one of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and at once there came out blood and water.  - John 19:33-34 

When I think of that Soldier’s Spear… I don’t think he dreamed this would be a part of his job. Soldier, sure… but Executioner? Putting people to death every day? Did he apply to operate the electric chair? Did he dream about maiming and mutilating helpless people?

He watches human beings raised up into positions they will never escape from. Nailed to wooden beams. Trapped on death boards.

It’s become nothing to him. The shock’s gone, and he just watches… watches people… suffocate to death, slowly. In agony. Over and over again.

It’s nothing. He watches - them hopelessly beg for mercy, or at least a drink of water.
It’s nothing. He watches - he breaks the legs of those that don’t expire quickly enough. Like clockwork.
It’s nothing. He watches - he spears the sides of dead men. Spear-in, spear-out. It’s nothing. He watches.  

I imagine he would daydream; like a shield from the trauma he’s been self-inflicting for years in this routine.
He daydreams, perhaps of how much time remains until his shift is over.
Of making his way back home. Of dinner. Of wife, of children, of friends.
But right this moment: spear-in, spear-out. Clock-in, clock-out. It’s nothing. He watches.

Without any hesitation, he walks beneath another cross with his spear and shoves it sharp-side into the soft-side of -- the radiance of the glory of God? And it’s nothing? Not a blink?

He forces the blade up under the ribs of the King that created him. And it’s nothing? No pause?

Moving it deeper into the dead Son of God. And it’s nothing? Not a wince?

Blood and water gush out the side of the same God who once pierced Adam’s side to bring out a beautiful bride. And it’s nothing? Not even a question?

The maimed, mangled, deformed, disfigured, tortured, slaughtered King of Life pronounced dead by a man He had breathed life into, and had been delighted to knit together inside his mother’s womb. And it is nothing…

Does it trouble him at all? 

Will he sleep as well tonight as He did on Thursday?
Just a spear-in-the-side and a job-well-done?
Or does it matter to Him at all?

Does it matter to me?
Every sin I’ve committed, substantial or small - did I even pause?
Every time I lived like I knew better than God - did I even blink?
Every deviant thought I creatively justified - did I even hesitate?
Every shred of selfishness - did I even think twice before I put God’s Son on the cross?

It was for my sin that the Son of God died…
And is it nothing?