Friday, March 25, 2016

On Friday, Mourning…



Some 1980 years ago, a humble man knelt in a garden known as Gethsemane that sat at the base of the Mount of Olives. 

Most of the world didn’t know he existed. If they had gazed upon him at this moment they would have told you he was just a man praying in a garden. To those who had felt his touch, heard his voice, or saw him in action, he was a teacher, a rabbi, a prophet, and a miracle worker. Some of them would tell you they had seen him heal the lame and the sick. Some would tell you they were the lame and the sick he had healed. Others would have told you they watched as he had called forth life where death had left its sting just days before. The denizens of Hell knew him on sight. He’d walked on water and turned water into wine.

Not your average dude.

Despite all this, tonight he was troubled and his heart filled with sorrow. He had one more thing to do; one more act of love to perform. If the fear in him that night had won, the world you and I live in would be a very different and darker place.  He knew the road to his next destination would be bumpy, excruciatingly painful and ultimately, the hardest and loneliest steps he had ever walked. In anguish so great that blood dripped from his pores, he prayed only for the will of his Father to be done.

What took place over the next several hours was a travesty of religion and justice. Betrayed by one friend, disowned by another, and abandoned by nearly everyone else, Jesus stood amid a sea of accusations, lies and threats. His accusers were men who could quote the entire book that had spoken about him since Moses scribbled, “In the beginning…” These were the men who supposedly knew God better and served more closely to Him than anyone alive. They were men, who after years of sacrificing animals as the price of sin, completely missed the irony of what they were going to do to this man standing before them. 

His crimes were healing on the Sabbath and claiming to be the Son of God. The sentence was death.

Given to the Roman leader Pilate to be put to death, Jesus was found to be innocent of wrong doing twice; once by Pilate himself and the second by Herod and Pilate. When offered a choice to spare an innocent man or a murderer, the people Jesus had come to serve chose to allow the taker of life to go free, while the giver of life was sent to be crucified.  The mob had won a victory.

For the moment...

First, this innocent and humble man was taken and scourged. While the scholarly judging priests wore garments that gave them power and prestige, the man they hated had his clothes ripped from him, his flesh torn away in chunks, and his blood spilled on the ground. In jest, the Roman guards twisted a garland from bushes that had long, sharp thorns. They forced the thorny crown down on the bleeding man’s head, laughing as they watched the thorns bite into his flesh and blood flow down his swollen, bruised face to mingle with the blood pooling around his feet. The guards taunted him further, covering him in a scarlet robe and beating him in the head with a staff they had put in his hands as a joke.l

Beaten severely and most certainly suffering from loss of blood, this man was forced to carry his cross through the streets to Golgotha – the place of the skull. When Jesus could not carry the cross any further, a man named Simon was pulled from the crowd and forced to carry it the rest of the way. Once there, he was placed on the cross with nails pounded through his hands and feet into the wood beneath them. The cross was then raised into place beside the two criminals that were sentenced to die with him. While one of the men taunted Jesus, the other asked Jesus to remember him when he came into his kingdom. In a moment when most would focus on their own misery, Jesus blessed a new traveling companion.

As the day reached noon, the sun stopped shining and supernatural darkness covered the land. At three in the afternoon, Jesus cried out his last words and breathed his last breath. In the temple, the thick curtain that had separated the people from the Holy of Holies was torn in two, from top to bottom. The ground shook and the rocks split apart, causing the tombs to break open. Then, silence. It was finished.

Jesus’ body was taken from the cross and placed in a tomb carved from solid rock. Then, fearing the friends of this humble man might steal the body in order to fool the people into believe he had risen from the dead, the religious leaders requested Pilate to put a guard outside the tomb.

Inside the stone tomb, nothing moved. The scent of expensive spices and herbs filled the air. 

Outside, the tomb's guard checked the seal and watched intently for anything out of the ordinary.

The disciples were in shock. The Mary's were in tears.

Meanwhile, Heaven counted to three…

Friday, January 15, 2016

Oh Lord, it's hard to be humble...


In my neverending desire to own more books than I can ever read, I acquired a copy of Kyle Idleman's "The End of Me: Where Real Life in the Upside-Down Ways of Jesus Begins".

It's a great read and it is exactly the book I needed right now. I highly recommend it. Kyle is transparent and his dialog is great.

One thing I came across as I was reading it is a slang term that has arisen over the past few years called a "humbrag".

Yes, that's humbrag not humbug.

A humbrag is defined in the urban dictionary as a "person that wants to be humble, however, takes time to brag about something." Interestingly enough, a humbug is defined as "language or behavior that is false or meant to deceive people".

If you'd like to see some interesting examples of the humbrag phenomena, you can look here. You might have seen some of these hoastings (humble boastings) already if you've seen posts or tweets sporting a #humbrag keyword.

So, let me see if I have this right: there is a thriving aspect of public posting wherein the attempt of illustrating humility is overshadowed by the glaring success of bragging about oneself.

Why am I only hearing about this term now? I must assume it is due in part to my own staggering humility. Delivering Meals-on-Wheels to 50 beautiful, wonderful people from the backseat of a stretch limo would be the most humbling part of my day. and I would most likely do that before breakfast, cuz that is just how I Roll(s Royce). Caught up in such attempts to save my little corner of the world, it is no wonder I miss out on such high-handed manners of conveying one's thoughts to a world that can appreciate all that I am doing for it.

And of course, I do it all without any concern for the safety of my bodyguards.

You're welcome everyone. I assure you, it's the least I could do.

Seriously (sort of), hearing about this has made me look at everything I do, say or write in order to see if I am sprinkling myself in glitter and stage lights while simultaneously depicting a moment of supposed humility.

The beginning of Matthew 6 sounds dangerously close to suggesting that once upon a time, the keyword #humbrag might have been dancing across the bottoms of documents signed by politicians and of course held ever so humbraggartly by the Pharisees.

"So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full." Matthew 6:2 NIV

Seems many people might have been giving to others in order to look pious when, according to what Jesus said here, if God didn't give you a comb and a beak, maybe you ought to leave the crowing to those who were given the job.

That's a rooster reference for you city dwellers.

I wonder if any of the disciples might have some similar examples...

"JC dropped the bomb and washed our feet. Feeling the weight of my 30 silver pcs!" #newlandowner #humbrag

"So tough to get warm on the beach after walking on water." #JesusMyLifeSavior #humbrag

"I got to see thousands of people get saved by Jesus when I preached and cast out demons." #HisPowerMyPrayer #humbug

While I'm sure not every example of humbragging is someone intentionally bragging, I would be interested to know how many specifically tailor their messages to be the trite examples they are. Where Twitter is concerned, a misplaced or omitted word expelled to meet the word count could easily cause the tone of one's thought to go from idling humility to revved self-reverence.

Maybe the best way to determine if we're following Jesus' teachings as written in Matthew would be simply to assume that anyone who is truly humble wouldn't be caught in a position to have their sincerity called into question. At the very least, the number of "I"s in your post should be less than the number of "them"s or "Him"s.

Then again, if you find it necessary to crow about what you've done, then I say crow away my friend. The reward is immediate and the gratification as sweet as fresh water to a man in the desert. Just bear in mind, those who seek their honor in this life by their peers may find no one left to hold a candle to when the day is finally done and the One who made it bright returns.

And that's no humbug.