the call

i missed our good friday service last night. i had too much grading to do... still do. but i hate missing good friday. i feel like easter is cheapened without comemorating Jesus' death first. it's as if you went to a carnival and were handed a huge teddy bear without knocking down the milk jugs first. i mean sure, it's a nice teddy bear and all, but still, it will probably just sit on my shelf with the rest of the teddy bears (that is if i collected teddy bears... which i don't, really!). i remember when i registered to run a half marathon. they gave me my packet of info, which included a shirt, the week before the race. it was a cool shirt, but it was just that.... a shirt. after i ran the race, however, it took on special meaning, and i wore it with pride, with dignity (and i wore it often; too often... in fact, i think my wife threw it out due the wear i put on it).

so goes the life of christians, i think. we lose our sense of awe for the granduer of the easter message if we don't daily carry the cross of good friday. what does that mean? i think it means choosing god's way instead of ours even when it's hard, even when it's burdensome. resurrection and restoration entered our world 2000 years ago, and the baton has been passed on to his Church. a new age has begun, and new age still awaits. but the Church like Jesus, will only usher in this newness through obedience and suffering. it's the call of the christian.

between the barks

i was at my spot again yesterday off the trail by the creek. after half an hour there, i walked back to the trail and found a dirt path heading in a different direction, so i took it. it led me out to a familiar scene, part of an abandoned golf course where i often run. i was disoriented at first because i wasn't expecting to be there, and then i saw a dog -- a little poop colored chiuaua. it approached me somewhat aggressively, but i wasn't startled... after all, it was only a couple times bigger than our rat. the owner came walking up, and then the dog decided to bark. i started involunarily, which embarrassed me a bit especially when the owner said (with a sardonic grin, i think), "don't worry his bark is bigger than his bite." my thought was, put the little sh*t on a leash or put it out of my misery.

i continued walking. it was a beautiful day; as crisp and sweet as any i've experienced recently. i approached a small bridge that ran over the creek, and noticed red blossoms from the trees above carpeting the ground as if a wedding procession with an overzealous flower girl had just passed. as i approached the end of the course, i heard barking again and a couple of unleashed dogs approached me aggressively. two sh*t hued hounds (dachsunds i believe) ran right up to my ankles, yapping like cocky juveniles might to a homeless man they pass on the street. i stepped back, because even though they couldn't cause serious damage, they were all too close for comfort, and i didn't particularly need a pair of dog slippers after i put my feet up their asses ( but i hadn't counted the idea out either). the owner eventually came out of the backyard apologizing profusely. i accepted graciously and moved on.

it seems to me that there are often annoying dogs nipping at your ankles, barking at you simply because you exist. perhaps the best policy is just to keep walking and enjoy the intervals (however short they may be) between the barks.

the soil of our souls & the cross

so in the last two days i've had to confront two people separately on some serious sh*t. one of them responded with humility, while the other replied with defensive ire. what was the difference? i don't know. i could compare their beliefs about god, forgiveness, and redemption (which i think had something to do with it), but alas, i'll refrain from such assumptions in this assessment. perhaps it was my approach to each of them, or the subject matter.... i don't know. but the differences in their responses got me thinking about the soil of our souls. how ready is the soil of our souls to receive a seed of truth, rebuke, reminding? how ready is mine? i don't know the answer to that either, but the parable of the sower came to mind as i thought it over. it seems appropriate on maundy thursday to share it, since the disciples had heard jesus speak of his death and resurrection time and again, but even during the last days before his crucifixion, they couldn't hear what he was saying. their hearts refused to accept it. you can't really blame them that much. who would have thought that God's strategy for restoring the world and saving his people first entailed humiliation and death? who would think that maybe that's still the strategy for his Church?