Voldemort was back. The devil personified, he hid himself in an upstairs room while gradually gathering followers. Not only that, but he had somehow managed to hoodwink Christian followers--my friends! I only learned of it because my best friend told me she was invited to see him. Well, I did not fight so hard to see him destroyed only to sit back and watch him regroup! I marched right up into the upstairs room where he was and sat down uninvited. Before I knew it I was resisting the devil in the name of Jesus and honoring the blood of Jesus right in his face and in front of all those people in that little room.
I woke, my own fervent prayers having disturbed my slumber, then peacefully went back to sleep, knowing the Enemy had been vanquished.
Even I am disturbed by the ferocity of this dream. No doubt you are either laughing or thinking that I am very strange. I, on the other hand, feel like doing both. However, at the same time I am extremely thankful that the name of Jesus is just as powerful in nightmares as it is in real life. It's good to have your sword ready for any moment.
And thus began a very interesting day which I will sum up quite briefly:
I read my Bible and was reminded how desperately I need God every minute.
I nearly panicked when my dad called me three minutes before my departure time to tell me he still had the car in town. Thankfully my sister came to the rescue and let me use her car so I was able to just make it on time to . . .
A hair appointment! Yes, I used a coupon and got a free shampoo and cut. Nothing major, but it's delightfully fresh. Even more interesting was the conversation I engaged in with the hair salon lady . . .
Who turned out to be a Jehovah's Witness! We had an interesting time talking about the Bible and the end times. It was a perfect opportunity to ask some questions and show the love of Christ. Then I drove home and rode out again with my dad to . . .
The jail! Actually, I didn't go in. But we discussed Jehovah's Witnesses a lot on the way. Instead of turning myself in, I rode on to town and stocked up on a few supplies before school starts. I also by some miracle . . .
Got a large matted frame at Michael's for only $4.19! I could hardly believe it when it rang up at such a low price. Now a late Christmas present for Kate S. can finally be delivered. After that I went to Target, and having no success finding a skirt hanger, I . . .
Used my Starbucks gift card! I slurped my caramel frappucino contentedly as I strolled about . . .
Loading my arms full of books at Borders! They are going out of business so all their merchandise is 70 to 80% off! I just grabbed whatever struck my fancy, then spent a long time figuring out what I could sensibly afford. I parted reluctantly with some of my choices, but still came away with eight books, all but two of which were under four dollars! Then I drove toward home and . . .
Picked up my daddy!
Then I ate liver, practiced my rare broad-stroking skills in cleaning, made lemon meringue pie, and the Sabbath came. It was like a machine gun of events.
Grand things can happen when the sun thrusts back the cobwebby clouds.
Friday, September 09, 2011
Thursday, September 08, 2011
Eternity in our hearts
Wow.
Sometimes there are feelings one can't capture. But maybe I'll be stupid enough to try.
However, in order to make any sense at all, I must make an enormous confession. It could shock, maim, or stupefy.
Are you ready?
Okay.
I've now read the whole Harry Potter series.
Yes, yes! I know! At this point you are staggering under the blow, offended or stumbled. Or you're rolling your eyes and muttering that it's about time I caught up with my generation.
Enough drama.
After observing one or two of my siblings trying the series for the first time, I discussed it with my parents and warily commenced reading, on guard for anything that might try hoodwinking me into thinking something abominable. I am not here to debate all of the positive and negative aspects of the series. Suffice it to say that Harry Potter has morals akin to Jack Bauer, and as I would rather my ten-year-old didn't immerse himself in Jack Bauer's ends-justify-the-means mentality, neither would I let him read Harry Potter and get duped into thinking he's always a great guy.
However, as I devoured the last book, my breathing short, I felt something stir within me. Something I couldn't name. And then I was done, closing the back cover with a mixture of satisfaction and disappointment. I laid the book down in the wee hours of the morning, my mind racing. And soon after that, something like despair set in. Despair that the series that I've long enjoyed over the summer is over (now what do I look forward to?:). Despair that the story came so close to hitting the mark, and yet barely fell short. And despair that if I ever wanted to write a story like that which actually did hit the mark, I could never make it that good.
What made the book fall short? Simply this: it didn't express a love for the truth. It expressed a great deal of other powerful things, but that one important thing was lacking. Oh yes, there was truth sprinkled in all right, but why does Harry Potter have to be such a liar? Why did he have to resort (however rarely) to using one or two of the Dark side's tools/curses?
And yet there is so much truth that the story displays: an epic battle of good versus evil, the power of faithful friends who are willing to die for you even when they don't know what's going on, and the power of love--more importantly, the power of sacrificial love. The final movie (which I just saw in Imax 3D = awesome) doesn't even emphasize this last part, but the book does. Something stirs within me when I think about all of it.
And then I remember the power that art has over the spirit. And I remember that God has put eternity in our hearts. Whatever it is, God has placed a yearning within us that knows deep inside that in the end there is going to be a Battle. The Enemy has yet to succeed in making cowardice a positive attribute, and so stories of courage thrill our hearts still. We long to see good triumph over evil, and we easily experience fear, tragedy, or exhilaration in the description of a battle because we know we are meant to be a part of the Battle.
Love has been twisted and idolized in our society, but in stories like this we know what real love is. As Someone so eloquently put it, "Greater love hath no man than this, than he who lays down his life for his friends." I don't want to spoil the story of Harry Potter for someone who hasn't read it yet, but this happens. In a climax so poignant, a life is willingly given up, making no defense, and people are magically shielded as a result. Sound familiar? If I hadn't heard that the author has questions about God, I would have thought it was quite purposeful, except the point isn't emphasized strongly. It almost hits the bull's eye right on, but the (dishonest) hero finishes the villain off and the Gospel connotations are left hanging and unnoticed.
Despite this discouraging fact, I am still amazed. Amazed that this redemptive analogy, in the midst of the gripping heat of a battle, is actually present. I guess it shouldn't surprise me in our Western Judeo-Christian society, but one has to admit that over the past thirty years our Western world has largely become pagan. And here, in the midst of what some Christians would deem a pagan, wicked story . . . is the Gospel staring you right in the face. Jesus Christ gave His life, making no effort to defend Himself. He not only laid His life down for His friends, but also for His enemies. And because of that precious blood that He spilled for others, we who believe are magically shielded from the Enemy's worst curses.
Mind you, the analogy between Harry Potter and Jesus Christ very quickly breaks down. Very quickly. I've already alluded to Harry's tendency to lie and not behave ethically. However, the story as a whole still resonates a chord within me, and it astounds me that just as God can take a pagan ritual in the jungles of New Guinea and insert truth about Himself that prepares the hearers for the Real Truth (see Don Richardson and the Perspectives on the World Christian Movement course on "redemptive analogies"), so can He insert truth about Himself in the pagan story of Harry Potter, even if the author had absolutely no intention of doing so. We long for Truth, and although not as palate-cleansing as Narnia or Lord of the Rings, we find an imperfect yet intact measure of it in a fanatically popular story like Harry Potter.
The story resonates with us for a reason. God has put eternity into our hearts.
What an amazing God we serve!
Again, wow.
Sometimes there are feelings one can't capture. But maybe I'll be stupid enough to try.
However, in order to make any sense at all, I must make an enormous confession. It could shock, maim, or stupefy.
Are you ready?
Okay.
I've now read the whole Harry Potter series.
Yes, yes! I know! At this point you are staggering under the blow, offended or stumbled. Or you're rolling your eyes and muttering that it's about time I caught up with my generation.
Enough drama.
After observing one or two of my siblings trying the series for the first time, I discussed it with my parents and warily commenced reading, on guard for anything that might try hoodwinking me into thinking something abominable. I am not here to debate all of the positive and negative aspects of the series. Suffice it to say that Harry Potter has morals akin to Jack Bauer, and as I would rather my ten-year-old didn't immerse himself in Jack Bauer's ends-justify-the-means mentality, neither would I let him read Harry Potter and get duped into thinking he's always a great guy.
However, as I devoured the last book, my breathing short, I felt something stir within me. Something I couldn't name. And then I was done, closing the back cover with a mixture of satisfaction and disappointment. I laid the book down in the wee hours of the morning, my mind racing. And soon after that, something like despair set in. Despair that the series that I've long enjoyed over the summer is over (now what do I look forward to?:). Despair that the story came so close to hitting the mark, and yet barely fell short. And despair that if I ever wanted to write a story like that which actually did hit the mark, I could never make it that good.
What made the book fall short? Simply this: it didn't express a love for the truth. It expressed a great deal of other powerful things, but that one important thing was lacking. Oh yes, there was truth sprinkled in all right, but why does Harry Potter have to be such a liar? Why did he have to resort (however rarely) to using one or two of the Dark side's tools/curses?
And yet there is so much truth that the story displays: an epic battle of good versus evil, the power of faithful friends who are willing to die for you even when they don't know what's going on, and the power of love--more importantly, the power of sacrificial love. The final movie (which I just saw in Imax 3D = awesome) doesn't even emphasize this last part, but the book does. Something stirs within me when I think about all of it.
And then I remember the power that art has over the spirit. And I remember that God has put eternity in our hearts. Whatever it is, God has placed a yearning within us that knows deep inside that in the end there is going to be a Battle. The Enemy has yet to succeed in making cowardice a positive attribute, and so stories of courage thrill our hearts still. We long to see good triumph over evil, and we easily experience fear, tragedy, or exhilaration in the description of a battle because we know we are meant to be a part of the Battle.
Love has been twisted and idolized in our society, but in stories like this we know what real love is. As Someone so eloquently put it, "Greater love hath no man than this, than he who lays down his life for his friends." I don't want to spoil the story of Harry Potter for someone who hasn't read it yet, but this happens. In a climax so poignant, a life is willingly given up, making no defense, and people are magically shielded as a result. Sound familiar? If I hadn't heard that the author has questions about God, I would have thought it was quite purposeful, except the point isn't emphasized strongly. It almost hits the bull's eye right on, but the (dishonest) hero finishes the villain off and the Gospel connotations are left hanging and unnoticed.
Despite this discouraging fact, I am still amazed. Amazed that this redemptive analogy, in the midst of the gripping heat of a battle, is actually present. I guess it shouldn't surprise me in our Western Judeo-Christian society, but one has to admit that over the past thirty years our Western world has largely become pagan. And here, in the midst of what some Christians would deem a pagan, wicked story . . . is the Gospel staring you right in the face. Jesus Christ gave His life, making no effort to defend Himself. He not only laid His life down for His friends, but also for His enemies. And because of that precious blood that He spilled for others, we who believe are magically shielded from the Enemy's worst curses.
Mind you, the analogy between Harry Potter and Jesus Christ very quickly breaks down. Very quickly. I've already alluded to Harry's tendency to lie and not behave ethically. However, the story as a whole still resonates a chord within me, and it astounds me that just as God can take a pagan ritual in the jungles of New Guinea and insert truth about Himself that prepares the hearers for the Real Truth (see Don Richardson and the Perspectives on the World Christian Movement course on "redemptive analogies"), so can He insert truth about Himself in the pagan story of Harry Potter, even if the author had absolutely no intention of doing so. We long for Truth, and although not as palate-cleansing as Narnia or Lord of the Rings, we find an imperfect yet intact measure of it in a fanatically popular story like Harry Potter.
The story resonates with us for a reason. God has put eternity into our hearts.
What an amazing God we serve!
Again, wow.
Monday, September 05, 2011
A Noble Profession
In the course of my life I have formed a glorious opinion: the artist is one of the most noble occupations one can have. Unfortunately, in the course of my life I have also come to a tragic conclusion: the artist's job is one of the hardest of all. Probably every outer instinct you possess is reacting to my theories. I say "outer instinct" because you haven't stopped fully to think. Let me explain myself.
There are many noble occupations in the world that I value. The construction worker is just as important as the farmer because while without one we would starve, without the other we wouldn't be able to travel to the store and keep ourselves from starving. The janitor is just as key as the doctor because while without one we'd have no way to be cured, without the other we'd have so much filth that there would be too much sickness to even try to cure it. Such jobs and countless others are vital in proper care of the body, but we all know that the body is temporary.
Teachers! Ah, yes! Where would we be without them? I would not be writing this and you would not be reading if we hadn't had teachers to pass on knowledge and to mold our young minds into sharp, thinking instruments. And yet--there is so much more to life than just head knowledge.
Artists, on the other hand, don't seem to have direct impact on the mind and they seem to have even less on the body. Or so it seems. We admire a spectacular painting, breathe in the soft strains of a sweet melody, or delve into another world inside a book, and when we leave the art we've been exposing ourselves to, any onlooker might say we were no different. In fact, what have we gained? We cannot silence a rumbling stomach with a painting nor staunch the flowing blood of the wounded with a tonic chord. A story doesn't usually teach us that C6H12O6 is glucose; our minds seem to have barely expanded. And yet we've already agreed that the body is temporary, and there's more to life than what you know.
So what does last?
The fact is, there's something deeper than the body and deeper than the mind. The spirit (or heart) and soul are the essence of a person. Now, I'm no theologian or psychologist. I'm not going to explain and dissect where one begins and the other ends. But I'm just as confident that they exist as I am that there's a North Pole, even though I have never seen it and don't fully understand how it works. The soul is the deepest part of you, where it surrenders itself is where you will spend eternity. But personally, I believe that there's something that's almost as deep but not quite as deep, and that's your spirit. It is loosely linked with your personality and even more loosely connected with your emotions. It is the outermost shell of your soul. This is getting way more abstract than I wanted to go, but bear with me.
How do you respond to a fine work of art? Does it make your heart beat faster, your breathing slow down? Does it fill you with excitement or awe? Why? You may have a difficult time explaining this. There is no outward reason your body should respond or your emotions fluctuate as you bask in the art. The only reason I can think of is that something within you is responding. As the beauty of what you are seeing, or listening to, or reading calls out to you, something inside of you is answering. That something is your spirit. As the art is reflecting the wonder of a Creator, we, as created beings, are responding naturally, drawn to the creation that so clearly cries, "Look! I am beautiful! Somebody made me! And I'm reflecting my ultimate Maker!" And if our spirits are tuned in to this voice, our automatic result is worship. We leave the room exactly the same on the outside, but forever changed on the inside.
Needless to say, the Enemy doesn't like this.
Anything that ministers to our spirits is going to face resistance from the powers of darkness. Why? Firstly, our spirits are just a small step away from our souls, and the Enemy wants these under his prickly belt. If he wants to get his sticky fingers on our souls then he will undoubtedly set out to crush our spirits. Once this shell is punctured his opportunities widen. Secondly, anything that even remotely inspires worship of the true Creator is to be discouraged.
And so the battle rages. I am not here to debate what constitutes good or bad art, but I think many Christians can agree that much art is crudely twisted. Paintings swirl into pornography, melodies of heaven crunch into sounds of hell, tales of valor morph into subtle promotions of deceit.
You would think with so much bad art more Christians would be inspired to counterbalance it. However, here's where Satan has stepped in again. He has taken one of the most noble professions (ministering to the spirit) and has projected it as an elevated hobby. He convinces people that you have to have a rare talent to ever make a go at being an artist. He discourages adults who were prolific artists as children by embarrassing them with their crude style. He depicts artists as feeble wanderers who can barely scratch out a living until the picture has almost turned into a reality. He impresses the importance of "real jobs" like banking and cooking while minimizing your art so much that you feel obliged to put it at the bottom of your priority list. "It's really a waste of time, after all," you tell yourself sadly, then you go for a run, go to work, feed the dog, and fritter away the rest of your time on the Internet.
But is art really a waste of time?
No.
And again I say, "No."
What's more important than ministering to one's spirit? I can think of only a few professions off the top of my head that go deeper than helping just the body and mind: those involved in ministry, and parents. If you're a missionary or pastor your priority is the soul, the core of man. It is possible to be a missionary and a teacher, or police man, or secretary, or anything else, I know, so many of us may already be missionaries even if we don't realize it. These people are vital, caring for souls as well as bodies, minds, and spirits as long as they remain focused. Parents too are essential because they appeal to the bodies, spirits, and souls of their children in a "controlled" mission field. The artist, however, need not distract himself with caring for the body. No sirree, they can target the spirit right away and by the blessing of God stir the spirit into worship. And if the Holy Spirit is in it, that spirit may be softened into unfolding its delicate petals and surrendering the soul within to its Maker.
This idea may indeed be fantasized, I'll not pretend otherwise. But like every story of true art, I believe such fantasies contains gems of truth truer than any spoken. So if you're an artist of any sort, take courage. Your work is more important than you know. And as warped as the world's appetites have become, they are hungry for the true art you have to give them. I say this to myself more than anybody else: don't let them go hungry. Don't be afraid to put forth your art as a testimony to the Creator. Naturally speaking I'm scared sick to do this because I know I don't have what it takes to be a great artist. But greatness doesn't matter. It's the real Artist that does.
Think of Him and the impact you can have together.
There are many noble occupations in the world that I value. The construction worker is just as important as the farmer because while without one we would starve, without the other we wouldn't be able to travel to the store and keep ourselves from starving. The janitor is just as key as the doctor because while without one we'd have no way to be cured, without the other we'd have so much filth that there would be too much sickness to even try to cure it. Such jobs and countless others are vital in proper care of the body, but we all know that the body is temporary.
Teachers! Ah, yes! Where would we be without them? I would not be writing this and you would not be reading if we hadn't had teachers to pass on knowledge and to mold our young minds into sharp, thinking instruments. And yet--there is so much more to life than just head knowledge.
Artists, on the other hand, don't seem to have direct impact on the mind and they seem to have even less on the body. Or so it seems. We admire a spectacular painting, breathe in the soft strains of a sweet melody, or delve into another world inside a book, and when we leave the art we've been exposing ourselves to, any onlooker might say we were no different. In fact, what have we gained? We cannot silence a rumbling stomach with a painting nor staunch the flowing blood of the wounded with a tonic chord. A story doesn't usually teach us that C6H12O6 is glucose; our minds seem to have barely expanded. And yet we've already agreed that the body is temporary, and there's more to life than what you know.
So what does last?
The fact is, there's something deeper than the body and deeper than the mind. The spirit (or heart) and soul are the essence of a person. Now, I'm no theologian or psychologist. I'm not going to explain and dissect where one begins and the other ends. But I'm just as confident that they exist as I am that there's a North Pole, even though I have never seen it and don't fully understand how it works. The soul is the deepest part of you, where it surrenders itself is where you will spend eternity. But personally, I believe that there's something that's almost as deep but not quite as deep, and that's your spirit. It is loosely linked with your personality and even more loosely connected with your emotions. It is the outermost shell of your soul. This is getting way more abstract than I wanted to go, but bear with me.
How do you respond to a fine work of art? Does it make your heart beat faster, your breathing slow down? Does it fill you with excitement or awe? Why? You may have a difficult time explaining this. There is no outward reason your body should respond or your emotions fluctuate as you bask in the art. The only reason I can think of is that something within you is responding. As the beauty of what you are seeing, or listening to, or reading calls out to you, something inside of you is answering. That something is your spirit. As the art is reflecting the wonder of a Creator, we, as created beings, are responding naturally, drawn to the creation that so clearly cries, "Look! I am beautiful! Somebody made me! And I'm reflecting my ultimate Maker!" And if our spirits are tuned in to this voice, our automatic result is worship. We leave the room exactly the same on the outside, but forever changed on the inside.
Needless to say, the Enemy doesn't like this.
Anything that ministers to our spirits is going to face resistance from the powers of darkness. Why? Firstly, our spirits are just a small step away from our souls, and the Enemy wants these under his prickly belt. If he wants to get his sticky fingers on our souls then he will undoubtedly set out to crush our spirits. Once this shell is punctured his opportunities widen. Secondly, anything that even remotely inspires worship of the true Creator is to be discouraged.
And so the battle rages. I am not here to debate what constitutes good or bad art, but I think many Christians can agree that much art is crudely twisted. Paintings swirl into pornography, melodies of heaven crunch into sounds of hell, tales of valor morph into subtle promotions of deceit.
You would think with so much bad art more Christians would be inspired to counterbalance it. However, here's where Satan has stepped in again. He has taken one of the most noble professions (ministering to the spirit) and has projected it as an elevated hobby. He convinces people that you have to have a rare talent to ever make a go at being an artist. He discourages adults who were prolific artists as children by embarrassing them with their crude style. He depicts artists as feeble wanderers who can barely scratch out a living until the picture has almost turned into a reality. He impresses the importance of "real jobs" like banking and cooking while minimizing your art so much that you feel obliged to put it at the bottom of your priority list. "It's really a waste of time, after all," you tell yourself sadly, then you go for a run, go to work, feed the dog, and fritter away the rest of your time on the Internet.
But is art really a waste of time?
No.
And again I say, "No."
What's more important than ministering to one's spirit? I can think of only a few professions off the top of my head that go deeper than helping just the body and mind: those involved in ministry, and parents. If you're a missionary or pastor your priority is the soul, the core of man. It is possible to be a missionary and a teacher, or police man, or secretary, or anything else, I know, so many of us may already be missionaries even if we don't realize it. These people are vital, caring for souls as well as bodies, minds, and spirits as long as they remain focused. Parents too are essential because they appeal to the bodies, spirits, and souls of their children in a "controlled" mission field. The artist, however, need not distract himself with caring for the body. No sirree, they can target the spirit right away and by the blessing of God stir the spirit into worship. And if the Holy Spirit is in it, that spirit may be softened into unfolding its delicate petals and surrendering the soul within to its Maker.
This idea may indeed be fantasized, I'll not pretend otherwise. But like every story of true art, I believe such fantasies contains gems of truth truer than any spoken. So if you're an artist of any sort, take courage. Your work is more important than you know. And as warped as the world's appetites have become, they are hungry for the true art you have to give them. I say this to myself more than anybody else: don't let them go hungry. Don't be afraid to put forth your art as a testimony to the Creator. Naturally speaking I'm scared sick to do this because I know I don't have what it takes to be a great artist. But greatness doesn't matter. It's the real Artist that does.
Think of Him and the impact you can have together.
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