Last weekend I attended my first ever church service on a Saturday morning. My friend is a Seventh Day Baptist (bet you didn't even know that denomination existed) and had been telling me about her church's beliefs for a while. I finally had the opportunity to check it out for myself. Really, the only big difference between this church and mine was its emphasis on the Sabbath. Instead of observing it on Sunday, the day Constantine designated it, the practitioners of this faith believe that it should be observed on Saturday, the original Jewish designation.
I don't believe it matters whether the Sabbath falls on Saturday or Sunday, but I think that these Seventh Day Baptists are on to something... Sort of. They were right in acknowledging the Sabbath, but they emphasized the wrong aspect of it. Instead of focusing on the day of Sabbath, maybe they should be focusing on the observance of the Sabbath in general.
Not just them, but Christians everywhere.
I was reading through the book of Exodus this morning and came across the story of God sending manna for the Israelites to eat during their wilderness wandering. The interesting twist in the story (because bread from heaven isn't interesting enough) is that God commands the Hebrew people to collect manna for the Sabbath in advance. No manna came on the Sabbath, and those who did not save food for the next day went hungry.Reading this, I couldn't help but to wonder what the significance of picking up bread from the ground on the Sabbath was. Is bending over to pick up food so hard? Could it really be classified as "work?" But if God allowed this seemingly simple task, what other little tasks would He have to allow? Pretty soon the Israelites would be feeding their cows, sweeping up the dirt on the floor... The list of little tasks would pile up quickly.Isn't this the story of our lives? We're too busy to rest and spend time with God. Too busy to listen to ourselves and talk to our Abba. Even when we're not "busy" and plan on resting, we decide to tackle the little tasks that soon turn into a whole day of work.
God is serious about the Sabbath.
These past few weeks I have been neglecting rest. I allow myself to get caught up in the business of life that I lost contact with both God and myself. I bypassed the time I would normally spend reflecting and writing in my journal. I boycotted my time with God and justified it by saying that I had already spent all daily dose from chapel and Bible classes. I've finally caught on to what this was doing to me. I really haven't felt like I've known God or even myself, for that matter.
My mind has continually jumped to this passage from Isaiah:
Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat; Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost. Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare" (55:1-2).
God is serious about the Sabbath.
So often spending time with God seems like even more work. It is something that will take effort, but, as this passage says, this labor satisfies in the end.
All throughout Scripture Yahweh commands His people to observe the Sabbath and keep it holy. It's even one of the ten commandments.
God is serious about the Sabbath.
Because God is serious about spending time with you.
30 September 2008
13 September 2008
Being Theologically "Sound"
In a previous post I mentioned that I took Sociology 101 at the OSU Delaware campus this summer. I enjoyed the learning environment and certainly liked being the minority racially and religiously. I even liked the subject of the course, but there was something about it that really bothered me. We addressed many significant social issues in class, such as poverty, discrimination, gender inequality, and social stratification. We analyzed them and approached them from as many different perspectives as we could think of. The thing was, we spent so much time on the problems that we never examined possible solutions. We were so concerned with the research of the issues that we never even considered that we might be able to do something about them.
Right now I'm taking a theology class, and I've immediately noticed the same pattern. So often I think that this same attitude carries over to theology. In fact, many times the first image that pops into my mind when I think about the subject is a whole bunch of people sitting around an oval table discussing insignificant details while other people right out their large windows are peering in at them, desperate for their help.
Of course, theology is essential to our Christian faith. Without a working belief system our faith would just fall apart. Still, theology can be a dangerous diversion from our real mission. In class, my prof mentioned angelologers. That's right- people who have devoted their entire lives to the sole purpose of studying angels. Angels.I don't think that even Jesus Himself would find that an imperative subject. Angels don't save people from their sins. They don't change people either. I think you can devote yourself to something (Someone) so much higher than that.
What exactly is theology good for? Sitting in class, I can't help but to perpetually wonder this. Here's my conclusion: theology's purpose is to prompt us to action. Theology is something that equips us in our ministry. Without implementation, it is merely what James calls "faith without works."
I think this concept is best exemplified by the early apostles. Acts 4:32 says that they were all "one in heart and mind." This isn't to say that they agreed theologically. I'm sure they had frequent theological discussions and debates. But, instead of spending ALL their time discussing the personhood of Jesus or eschatological subjects they united and acted within the community. They went out and affected people's lives with their already implaced theology.
Only when theology is acted upon can it transmit a vision of reality.
24 August 2008
Preemptive Healing
Christians place such a large emphasis on cleaning up after people once they've messed up. We have help lines, pregnancy decision centers, rehab programs, counseling sessions, outreach programs for kids in detention centers. We tell drug addicts that God can help them overcome their dependency. Cutters that God can heal their emotional wounds. We are challenged to be the Good Samaritan to people in need.
God has the power to change people, and He can definitely use us to help. But what would it look like if someone had cleaned up the road to Jericho before the man was beaten up?
What if we, instead of waiting for someone to get hurt, broken, and dejected, took the measures to make sure it didn't happen in the first place? Some support and personal attention could prevent someone from becoming an alcoholic. A seminar on godly stewardship could prevent someone from falling into bankruptcy. Sitting down with a pre-teen girl and explaining her how to select a boyfriend could prevent abuse and maybe even divorce.
It's time we start affecting people with the love of Christ before Satan even has a chance to get a hold of them.
"Build up, build up, prepare the road! Remove the obstacles out of the way of my people."
-Isaiah 57:14
God has the power to change people, and He can definitely use us to help. But what would it look like if someone had cleaned up the road to Jericho before the man was beaten up?
What if we, instead of waiting for someone to get hurt, broken, and dejected, took the measures to make sure it didn't happen in the first place? Some support and personal attention could prevent someone from becoming an alcoholic. A seminar on godly stewardship could prevent someone from falling into bankruptcy. Sitting down with a pre-teen girl and explaining her how to select a boyfriend could prevent abuse and maybe even divorce.
It's time we start affecting people with the love of Christ before Satan even has a chance to get a hold of them.
"Build up, build up, prepare the road! Remove the obstacles out of the way of my people."
-Isaiah 57:14
15 August 2008
Violence Resistance
A couple days ago I made a visit to the Somali community at Capital Park Apartments. This was by far one of the worst visits I've ever made. The little girls were hitting and taking things from each other, trying to be in control. The boys incessantly argued over the rules of the games and who could do what. Hayou, the popular little four year old, jerked on my arm and cried when I packed up the art supplies. Two fights broke out among the boys, each time with two boys rolling around on the ground, wrestling each other. By the time the day was over, my stress level had doubled. How could kids be this violent in just a two-hour period of time?
It's not just the Somali kids. Last week, when I was teaching my kids a Bible lesson on Wednesday night, we discussed what God's peace looked like and how to implement it into the world. We imagined what the world would look like when there would be perfect peace. Ironically, the kids were everything but peaceful. They were egging each other on to anger, hitting and kicking when they thought I wasn't watching. Or sometimes when they knew I was watching.
One of the middle-school aged boys shocked me and stopped me dead in my tracks during my lesson. "I don't think that a world with peace would be very fun," I immediately questioned him why. "If there wasn't any violence or killing," he replied, "there wouldn't be any good movies."
A chill rose up inside of me. Movies. The number one reason why we have become so desensitized to violence.
It's amazing how much violence we justify in movies. It's not real, so therefore it's ok. Or telling ourselves that just watching a violent movie isn't going to cause us to go out and kill someone.
There is something completely wrong with those statements. God hate violence. Period. Even if we aren't necessarily going to mimic what we see, even the visual images and notions of killing and death are despicable to God.
If we claim to have Christ within us, then viewing scenes of violence should affect us. If the Holy Spirit resides in us, seeing murderous scenes should sicken us.
If God hates something, His followers should hate it too.
It's not just the Somali kids. Last week, when I was teaching my kids a Bible lesson on Wednesday night, we discussed what God's peace looked like and how to implement it into the world. We imagined what the world would look like when there would be perfect peace. Ironically, the kids were everything but peaceful. They were egging each other on to anger, hitting and kicking when they thought I wasn't watching. Or sometimes when they knew I was watching.
One of the middle-school aged boys shocked me and stopped me dead in my tracks during my lesson. "I don't think that a world with peace would be very fun," I immediately questioned him why. "If there wasn't any violence or killing," he replied, "there wouldn't be any good movies."
A chill rose up inside of me. Movies. The number one reason why we have become so desensitized to violence.
It's amazing how much violence we justify in movies. It's not real, so therefore it's ok. Or telling ourselves that just watching a violent movie isn't going to cause us to go out and kill someone.
There is something completely wrong with those statements. God hate violence. Period. Even if we aren't necessarily going to mimic what we see, even the visual images and notions of killing and death are despicable to God.
If we claim to have Christ within us, then viewing scenes of violence should affect us. If the Holy Spirit resides in us, seeing murderous scenes should sicken us.
If God hates something, His followers should hate it too.
08 August 2008
Hawa
A couple of weeks ago I went with my friend, Pat, to visit a Somali family on the west side of Columbus. That visit was different from anything I had experienced at Capital Park through Commissioned. The apartments were noticeably nicer, but drug dealing and violence was much more rampant. Further, I've mostly interacted with the kids and haven't spent too much time with adults.
Pat introduced me to a short Bantu woman named Hawa. At 21, a little older than me, she stood below my shoulders. She wobbled around the apartment, trying to maintain her balance with a child in her womb that was due any day. That day, Pat and I assumed the roles of social workers. I helped her husband with employment applications and called the clinics to verify Hawa's pregnancy checkups. Pat called the Franklin Family Service department for food stamps and asked the electric company to mercifully wait until the family received their welfare check before cutting off their power. The whole day proved to be stressful, but it was really eye-opening to see how Somalis like this family lived on a daily basis.
Yesterday wasn't so stressful, but it was fascinating learning more about their daily life. Mohammad, Hawa's husband, kept disappearing for days on end and refused to attend to the needs of Hawa and their two daughters. Hawa's girl friend just received another wife in the house, and she left her husband because she hated living with another woman. Another woman in the community stabbed a girlfriend her husband brought home one day, and a 19 year old boy was shot in the stomach and died due to conflict in the drug ring.
Last time I was visiting, Hawa told me how afraid for her safety, health, and financial problems. Tears began to well up in her large, dark eyes. Before I even knew what I was saying, I impulsively said, "Let's pray." I was rather shocked at my own boldness. What would this Somali woman, a Muslim, say to this? To my astonishment, Hawa simply agreed. As she closed her eyes and grabbed my hand, I just stared at her in disbelief. I think I was more surprised by what I had just said than she was.
People just like Hawa are in desperate of hope. This made me realize how I've been trained to mask my belief in Christ so as not to offend anyone. Not just with Muslims or people of different faiths, but with non-Christians in general. Why have we bought into this lie that we're suppose to shield and withhold our beliefs from other people? Paul writes in Romans that God is a God of hope, and hope does not disappoint us (5:5, 15:13). We have the Hope, so why hide it from people who desperately need it?
Pat introduced me to a short Bantu woman named Hawa. At 21, a little older than me, she stood below my shoulders. She wobbled around the apartment, trying to maintain her balance with a child in her womb that was due any day. That day, Pat and I assumed the roles of social workers. I helped her husband with employment applications and called the clinics to verify Hawa's pregnancy checkups. Pat called the Franklin Family Service department for food stamps and asked the electric company to mercifully wait until the family received their welfare check before cutting off their power. The whole day proved to be stressful, but it was really eye-opening to see how Somalis like this family lived on a daily basis.
Yesterday wasn't so stressful, but it was fascinating learning more about their daily life. Mohammad, Hawa's husband, kept disappearing for days on end and refused to attend to the needs of Hawa and their two daughters. Hawa's girl friend just received another wife in the house, and she left her husband because she hated living with another woman. Another woman in the community stabbed a girlfriend her husband brought home one day, and a 19 year old boy was shot in the stomach and died due to conflict in the drug ring.
Last time I was visiting, Hawa told me how afraid for her safety, health, and financial problems. Tears began to well up in her large, dark eyes. Before I even knew what I was saying, I impulsively said, "Let's pray." I was rather shocked at my own boldness. What would this Somali woman, a Muslim, say to this? To my astonishment, Hawa simply agreed. As she closed her eyes and grabbed my hand, I just stared at her in disbelief. I think I was more surprised by what I had just said than she was.
People just like Hawa are in desperate of hope. This made me realize how I've been trained to mask my belief in Christ so as not to offend anyone. Not just with Muslims or people of different faiths, but with non-Christians in general. Why have we bought into this lie that we're suppose to shield and withhold our beliefs from other people? Paul writes in Romans that God is a God of hope, and hope does not disappoint us (5:5, 15:13). We have the Hope, so why hide it from people who desperately need it?
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