Think Before You...

Why can't people just keep their mouths shut? Or in some cases, keep their fingers off "SEND"? What is it that compels people to speak when they shouldn't, or say some of the most bizarre and inappropriate things? This is not just a twenty-first century phenomenon.

In Mark 9, Jesus takes Peter, James and John up on a mountain. As they watched, Jesus was "transfigured". Merriam-Webster defines transfiguration as "a change in form or appearance; an exalting, glorifying, or spiritual change." A dramatic metamorphosis! Moses and Elijah even appeared and began talking with Jesus. The disciples were afraid, and Peter suddenly blurts out, "Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; and let us make three tabernacles: one for You, one for Moses, and one for Elijah."

**Record scratch.**

Most commentaries criticize Peter for placing Moses and Elijah on par with Jesus -- three tabernacles, one for each. Others take issue with the "containerization" of Jesus and Moses and Elijah -- Peter placing them under worldly or mortal restrictions. But there were some other things that came to me, and they, too, seem to reveal what I believe was the root problem -- Peter's immaturity:

1. Jesus obviously put a lot of stock in Peter -- His response to Peter's confession (Matt. 16:17-19), and the simple fact He invited Peter to the mountain, demonstrate Jesus had plans for his life. For Peter to volunteer such a fantastical suggestion, as though people would travel to this one place on earth to see Jesus and the patriarchs like some sacred sideshow betrays just how limited his thinking really was. Jesus created all the earth, the universe and what lies beyond; He is an infinite God with an eternal plan for all of creation!

2. Peter's suggestion was completely without thought. Jesus had just explained -- days before -- all that He would suffer, how He would be crucified and rise again. Exactly how was all of that going to transpire if Jesus was living in a hut on a mountain? Additionally, Jesus corrected Peter for designing his own plan (Mark 8:31) on that occasion; yet, there was Peter, "fixing things" again. "Jesus can remain here; He'll be safe." Are there any "fixers" out there? You know who you are.

3. Peter was afraid. Who wouldn't be? But Peter spoke out of that fear rather than speak out of the confidence that comes from a friendship with Jesus, rather than speak out of the peace that comes from knowing God. Over and over the disciples had been afraid; over and over Jesus struck down fear with His presence and power!

4. Peter "did not know what to say." So why speak at all? Because Peter was uncomfortable; he spoke to regain control of the situation. Jesus, Moses and Elijah were speaking to one another; Peter, James and John were looking on, apparently, in silent terror. No doubt, their minds were racing. "What is going to happen? Why did Jesus bring us here? How did these guys come back from the dead?" The perplexities and dread! "I've gotta do something!" Proverbs 17:28: "Even a fool is counted wise when he holds his peace..."

Peter went on to do incredible things for the sake of the Gospel. In Christ, none of us is beyond help or beyond hope, and maturity doesn't happen overnight. But thinking before we speak (or tweet, or post, or send) is always a good start!

Remembering Those Who Served

Three of my mother's brothers served in World War II. Mom was the baby in her family, so she was still living at home when America entered the war. There were post cards and packets of photos, silk stockings and pennants -- Mom wound up with a boatload of memorabilia. Despite all that, I know very little about my uncles' service. One was in Japan, one in Germany, and one in Australia. One was a bombardier. One refused to ever talk about it again. They all, by God's grace, returned.

What I do know, is that they helped me become who I am today. Maybe they were never aware of it, but they taught me that men work hard, and they care for their wives and their children, but they don't have to sit around sharing feelings and changing diapers to be great husbands and fathers. Maybe it's sexist, maybe it's taboo in this twenty-first century "enlightenment", but moms stayed home to raise their children and dads went to work to provide. And they were all very happy with the arrangement -- my uncles and my aunts. I wanted to be happy as well.

Neither of my parents smoked, but when the smell of my uncles' cigarettes was wafting up the stairs into our bedrooms late at night, I never felt so safe. In a house that was often tense and tomb-like in silence, the raucous laughter and ear-piercing voices of my uncles was a welcome offense for my brother and I. We loved the upset, and our childhood was never more alive. 

Uncle Norman had a cackle that drove everyone in the room to cackle right along with him. He still wore the same size pants he wore when he served in the Army -- only then he wore them at his waist, not somewhere south of it. Uncle Howard had a side glance that could have probably put Mussolini in his place had they sent him to Italy; he made it a point, each time he visited, to tell my mom's poodle to "go play on I-95." And Uncle George -- well, Uncle George was really special. He tortured the life outta me. Yeah, I know, it's sorta weird. But the teasing, the tormenting, telling me I was "full of soup" every time I proudly told him about my report card or something I'd done, it was an affection that was strangely comfortable to me. After all, how tough can a guy be if he takes time out to bother his seven year old niece, right?

As I said, Mom was the baby; she is the only one of all her siblings remaining. Uncle George was the first to pass. Before Uncle Howard died, just a couple of years ago, Scott had the pleasure of meeting him. I'm grateful for that -- Scott reminds me of him the most. Mom still asks for her brothers, is shocked each time I tell her one of them has died. They looked out for her; she looked up to them. 

And so did I.

True Passion Knows No Fear

I know nothing about birds. They're interesting, kinda cool to watch, but that whole fascination with soaring like a bird or whatever -- not my thing. Give me invisibility -- now there's a superpower! More to the point, I have started lapping the parking lot at work for exercise a couple of days a week. It just so happens, our building (and, by extension our parking lot) is situated near a wildlife refuge. All sorts of birds frequent the grounds, and I really am quite proud of myself when I can identify more than the garden variety seagull or the eagles we've become so accustomed to seeing. The other morning, as I was lapping, two red-winged blackbirds were swooping and diving some thirty feet or so away. There was a battle or romantically-intended chase going on, and things were getting heated. My approach did nothing to deter them. Still swooping. Still diving. Still engaged in whatever intense exchange compelled them. When I finally passed them by, they had been mere inches from my feet. These delicate creatures, weighing ounces, were so bent on what they were doing, they had no fear of this enormous beast tromping through their flight path at full tilt. They were fearless. This time.

One day I was sitting in my office at work; our windows overlook the gate where tractor trailers enter. A driver arrived, and as I had her on the phone, she described to me a scene that was taking place in the yard beside her. A few birds had decided to "harass another bird" (her words, not mine). She was pretty upset about it, and quickly jumped from her tractor to shoo away the foul fowl. She was at least ten feet away when her flapping arms, her yelling, and her imposing presence drove the lot of them away. According to her, the offending creatures "had nothing better to do." That may have been true. These birds were certainly not committed to their bullying -- they dispersed at the mere sight and sound of her!

That's the difference between just being something, and being passionately engaged in being something. I can't imagine a skydiver who "kinda likes it." You're either terrified and fully committed to stay on that aircraft, or you relish the thought of abandoning it to fall freely to earth for the next sixty seconds or so. There really is no in-between. Passion removes the middle ground. You're either passionate about always using a seat that doubles as a flotation device to descend, or you're passionate about using a hanky some guy making minimum wage and pulling an all-nighter has crumpled into a backpack. True passion knows no fear.

What does your relationship with Jesus look like? Passionate? Or passionless? Are you just killing time, looking for trouble to get into -- or, maybe, trouble is finding you? Or are you tenaciously engaged in chasing off the enemy, single-mindedly pursuing Jesus Christ? If there is passion in what you're doing, nothing will keep you from it. Nothing will deter you. Nothing will run you from that hallowed ground you seek to occupy.

Time for Healing

Mark 8 records the healing of a blind man in Bethsaida. This is, to my knowledge, the only account of a gradual healing in the Scriptures (and it was pretty instantaneous when you consider sight was completely restored to a once blind man). I wondered why, when Jesus healed others from afar, instantaneously, with only a word was this man's healing so different? And, right between "Phase 1" and "Phase 2" Jesus asked the man if he saw anything. If Jesus wasn't second guessing His success (and I'm certain He wasn't), what was that all about? Curiosity led me to Google.

Most commentaries and pastors see this healing as a reflection of the spiritual healing that comes when we surrender to Jesus. The "seeing" bring us to Jesus, and He takes us by the hand and begins to transform us -- slowly, maybe, by our standards, but pret.ty quickly when you consider this is a complete resurrection and reconstruction! That was an explanation I could tolerate.

Then I turned back to my study guide, a booklet from Moody Bible Institute (1964), written by Keith L. Brooks. Brooks quoted a Dr. Parker in saying, "Some men cannot stand instantaneous." It was merely an interesting thought until I continued reading Mark 8. Jesus and His disciples are traveling along when Jesus asks, "Who do men say that I am?" Once they discuss public conjecture, Jesus asks, "But who do you say that I am?" And Peter says it,the "Granddaddy of all confessions", the cornerstone of the church universal: "You are the Christ." The long awaited Messiah. Matthew adds, "Son of the living God." Peter got it! And yet...

As Jesus began to teach the disciples of His impending ordeal, the rejection He would face, the pain and suffering, His murder and His resurrection three days later, Peter took offense. He confronted Jesus privately and rebuked Him, a rebuke that Jesus sternly corrected with words that must have pierced Peter's soul: "Get behind Me, Satan! For you are not mindful of the things of God, but the things of men." Although Peter readily accepted Jesus' identity, he rebuked His role.

Peter was a man whose sight came to him gradually. It had to be so -- he couldn't stand the instantaneous. When Peter realized the true identity of this Man with whom they'd traveled so much, and from whom they'd learned so much, he eagerly, emphatically confessed it -- "You are the Christ." But when Jesus began to reveal to him the rest of the picture, Peter refused to fill His mind with the things of God, choosing instead to be mind-full of the things of men. Peter chose to "see men as trees walking", rather than open his eyes to the gory details of a comprehensive remedy for all of creation. To use Brooks' language, Peter "did not have the spiritual sight to see the deity of Christ all at once."

And I understand! Sometimes I feel God's presence in a way that leaves me gasping for air. I think to myself, "This is too much. I need to get out of here." It's His love, His goodness, His might, His justice, His wisdom, His holiness -- the weight of which I can only withstand a portion. But it is a much larger portion than that first moment I placed my hand in His and He led me to a place of healing. When some of us cannot stand instantaneous, God takes His time.