Mulled Vine

Reports have been coming in from all over the world about sudden, mass disappearances of individuals. Mrs Agatha Krone from Eadlepug, Tennessee, said she was in the middle of a conversation with her neighbour, Tabatha Widget and her daughter Frieda, when “they just plain vanished.” Early analysis from the Global Statistics Bureau of the missing people has revealed a very strong correlation with belief in the Judeo-Christian God. Professor Richard Dawkins author of the best-selling “The God Delusion” has been quoted as saying “Good riddance. Now we can stop debating the non-existence of God and get on with our lives.” Representatives from other faith groups have declined to comment.

Jeshua was frankly a little down; he had known from birth that his was a special calling, that his birth was supernatural, and that he had a divine imperative to be good, perfect in fact, but today it was all a bit too much.

A familiar voice spoke in his head, “What is the matter, Jeshua?”

“Abba, you know what the matter is, you know all things.”

“I know I do, but I like you to talk to me, so tell me what the matter is.”

“Well,” began Jeshua, “there is this boy at schul, Aaron is his name, and he picks on me all the time, I suppose because I am little and not very good at games; I so badly want to smite him dead, but I know I mustn’t.”

His Father smiled sadly from his omnipresent viewpoint, and said, “Listen, I know it’s tough, but your calling is so very important, so you must resist. I will send Gabriel to minister to you.”

Jeshua sighed.

“Uhm, Abba?”

“Yes, my Son?”

“What does minister mean?”

(I have always wondered what it would have been like for Jesus as a boy, and whether he had any powers, or whether these came with the Spirit at his baptism.)

He opened the door and saw her before him, a pretty young blonde woman with a bright, perky smile, holding a wad of attractive leaflets. Her smile wavered slightly when she saw him, and he knew why – it was a familiar experience for him – he was ugly.

He was so ugly in fact that his father used to joke to his friends that the doctor slapped the mother at birth, causing everyone to laugh, thinking that the boy was asleep, rather than cowered at the top of the stairs, tears flowing down his disfigured cheeks.

The woman on his doorstep recovered her composure, held out a leaflet and said, “Did you know that Jesus loves you?”

He looked at her kindly, conscious of his coarse, gnarled hands, his broken smile and twisted countenance, and recalling the years of lonely pain and sorrow replied, “Does he?”

She stood silent for a while, gazing at this broken creature before her, then reached forward, took hold of his hands in hers, and wept.

There are some things about substitutionary atonement that I don’t get.

If I do something wrong and someone offers to take the punishment for me, then it is a very noble thing to be sure, but is it “right”? I deserve to be punished, not the other person, so to say that justice has been fulfilled feels a bit more like fancy accounting to balance the books than real justice.

I also don’t get punishment. If my children do wrong they need to be taught not to do it again, and punishment is part of that, but its more to do with teaching than with settling a debt in justice terms. It is up to me, the law giver to decide whether the misdeed needs repayment, and usually I choose to write off the debt.

So why is God not like that? These are His laws, and he says what is just or not, so why can’t he just write off the debt? Unless there is a higher law which says its unjust for him to do this, then there is no reason why Jesus had to die.

Please don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that I’m not grateful for His death, I just don’t understand the logic.

We’re doing a series on the Last Days at our church, something I’m really enjoying since its an area I’ve avoided until now. There’s probably some deep psychological reason for this but I think its mostly to do with Jesus’ statements about not knowing when the hour will come.

The past two weeks we have covered death and what happens just after death. The gist of it is this: body dies, spirit goes either to Paradise or Hades/Sheol based on whether you are a believer or not, to be continued…

Some things bothered me.

Firstly, much reliance was made on clues that are in the parable of the rich man and Lazarus. I worry about this because its a parable, so for example are the spirits really talking, thirsty etc?

Secondly, judgment seems to begin now, not at some future date when we are all gathered as per Revelation.

If you have any good links on these subjects, do send them my way.

Nice.

What a terrible word. It means everything without really meaning anything. Nice is insipid, devoid of content or contribution, weak, a waste of space.

We need glorious, feisty, delicious, devouring, passionate, strong adjectives that delight the mind and heart, not lukewarm, irrelevant, nice.

I am sometimes described as nice…

… and it infuriates me beyond reason.

I am a quiet, gentle sort, with moments of fire and passion when required, but nice I am not. I am not a doormat. I am not an irrelevance. I will not be ignored. I will be heard.

I don’t reckon Jesus was nice either. He was a man full of feelings, strength, devotion, duty, wisdom, a man after God’s own heart, a man after my own heart. He was no doormat. He would not be silenced.

So don’t call me nice.

Don’t call Him nice either.

We ain’t so.

I saw this on EBay the other day: someone had discovered the portrait of Jesus scorched on a slice of toast and was selling it. The bidding was furious but I snuck in at the last minute with my bid and won the item – it cost me everything, but it was worth it, a picture of my Lord, on toast. So it arrived today by special delivery and I could scarcely contain my excitement as I carefully opened the package. There it was, my very own miracle toast, except that Jesus had been covered with butter and jam and one bite of my toast was missing. I considered returning it, but it was strawberry jam, and I do like a bit of strawberry jam.

I saw this on EBay the other day: someone had discovered the portrait of Jesus scorched on a slice of toast and was selling it. The bidding was furious but I snuck in at the last minute with my bid and won the item – it cost me everything, but it was worth it, a picture of my Lord, on toast. So it arrived today by special delivery and I could scarcely contain my excitement as I carefully opened the package. There it was, my very own miracle toast, except that Jesus had been covered with butter and jam and one bite of my toast was missing. I considered returning it, but it was strawberry jam, and I do like a bit of strawberry jam.

Ever heard those words before? I have, a good few times, and I’m not sure whether to be glad or sad.

I’m glad if the person speaking the words means that I’m nothing like the awful stereotype that they have built up in their head, that its because I’m showing the true light of Christ.

However I’m sad if its because I’m nothing at all like Jesus, or because I hide my light so well it may as well be extinguished.

Being a peace keeper means that you get very good at blending in, seeing everyone’s point of view, but sometimes this means you forget where your lines should be drawn.

Is peace worth it at this cost?