No One Is that White

Posted on by
Reply

I have clung to this verse rather feverishly through the last 4 years:

Isaiah 53:12 (NIV)
Therefore I will give him a portion among the great, and he will divide the spoils with the strong, because he poured out his life unto death, and was numbered with the transgressors. For he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.

Because I am a transgressor
And he was numbered with me

It really does not feel good being a transgressor. First there is the spiritual malaise of sin. Then there is the divide it creates between me and God. Next there is this fun fact: while all regular humans are sinners, we pretend we are not.

Jesus was no regular human.

He was poor, dark, and hated. His nickname was “bastard.”

He bore our shame.
He bore my shame.

Isaiah 53 is a chapter as hard as obsidian, so painful, so crucial. And it was written by a guy who walked around naked for 3 years just because God told him to do it.

I figure the naked walking was God’s writing seminar. Not fun or pretty, but soaring, redemptive, essential.

Do you know Jesus?

If you do, you know the only color that matters when describing him is blood red. Blood shed for me, one miserable transgressor.

And if you don’t? Walk that road, that narrow road he lights for us, to the Cross that sets us free.

Isaiah 1:18

Reann Murphy

Posted on by
Reply

What we know is scant:

A little girl plays in the snow
In a trailer park
In Ohio

She goes missing
They look for her
Only to find
Her too late.

Years ago I lived and worked in a community where a little girl was found murdered and discarded in a dumpster.

This seems to be defining: how do we respond to any story of any child murdered and treated like trash?

Do we mourn? Do we demand justice? Do we search for answers?

Or do we distance ourselves from our poverty–moral or tangible, and say,

not my kid, not my problem?

A Damned Good Sermon

Posted on by
Reply

This morning I listened to an excellent sermon.

The pastor had a great pastor voice–warm, sincere, sonorant.

The text was a biggie–Abraham and Isaac and the God who provides.

The sermon points were worth writing down, like a good recipe.

But.

But if my calculations are correct the sermon was delivered when the pastor was sliding down a hill of temptation, sin, and loss that he would not survive.

Good sermon. Worth playing at a funeral.

The truth of the sermon does not change if the speaker is not following the recipe.

But his willful hypocrisy will make the valley harder for his community, his family, his children.

By contrast Jesus preached a sermon and then exceeded the scope of that sermon by miles, years, eternity, and hell.

That is right: Jesus was damned for us.

We will be judged by the measure of our lives or his, our words or his.

I choose the God of life because he walks a path of sacrifice and love and then looks over his shoulder and says,

c’mon, follow me.

Follow Him, walk the hard road all the way to life…everlasting.

Who Will Save Us?

Posted on by
Reply

I drove by the outlet mall on Black Friday; people were parked on the grassy margins, everywhere.

I go to the store; the area by the checkout is bunkered with coffee makers and candy canes.

I see pictures of Santa Claus everywhere. Movies about with saccharine messages about the “Christmas spirit.”

Like that is a real thing.

The truth is a poor teenager in a barn laboring to bring forth a child. If Santa did not give Jesus a decent hotel room to be born in, who are we to expect xboxes and flat screen tvs?

We are defined by gods and idols or…we are defined by that little child in the manger.

Somethings are either/or propositions:

Life or death

Angels or demons

Truth or fiction

A small tribe on the outpost of history waited for thousands of years for news of their King, the God who saves.

And it has taken us a cool 50 years to forget he is the reason for this celebration–the only Christmas gift that will matter forever.

Nelson

Posted on by
Reply

When a great man dies it is fitting for the rest of us to stand in his honor.

So I do.

But it is even more worth noting that Mr. Mandela was just an ordinary man who stood when it cost him.

Stood when others ran.

Stood when sitting, hiding, turning, leaving would have been easier.

He paid in minutes, days, hours, years, indignity, and heartbreak for a freedom that should have been his birthright.

What ordinary men do…

When the foundations

Posted on by
Reply

Psalm 11:2-4 (NIV)
For look, the wicked bend their bows; they set their arrows against the strings to shoot from the shadows at the upright in heart. [3] When the foundations are being destroyed, what can the righteous do ?” [4] The Lord is in his holy temple; the Lord is on his heavenly throne. He observes the sons of men; his eyes examine them.

Do you believe?

In foundations
In holy
In arrows shot through
shadows in the dark
Do you believe in
A God who sees?

12 years a slave

Posted on by
Reply

At the risk of exciting the attention of the NSA or the IRS, I am not impressed with “justice” and “diplomacy” in recent years. The decisions at the federal level seem to be so politicized and capricious as to render the term “justice” moot.

Kenneth Bae is languishing in North Korea for being a tour guide and Obama has done nothing to help him.

Similarly the DOJ has failed to do its job in defending federal laws if those laws get in the way of either the nefarious antics or political disposition of the POTUS.

That is not how it is supposed to work, of course, and a rare show of basic decency the SCOTUS has told Holder to respond to a German family being persecuted for homeschooling.

I admit I am doubtful they will do the right thing and let this family stay. But it is time for us to face the truth: this administration has done harm to its citizens and the cause of justice by not acting.

Ignoring injustice is a fine means of promoting it.

Tad Costin, Julia Lack, and the diminishing language of evil

Posted on by
Reply

A story developing out of Houston is so evil that I have opted to skip links: a man used his connection to in-home daycare for single parents to rape very young girls.

His pornographic model girlfriend may have helped him make videos. So far she has been charged with possessing child pornography.

It is a lurid story with the potential for hundreds of victims, many of whom would have been saved from this predator if he had been properly charged and convicted when he was caught sexually assaulting a young girl a few years ago.

The charges in that case were dropped, leaving him free to rape countless other little girls.

It further disturbs me that the language associated with the young victims is very dehumanizing.

The official legal statement refers to the victims as “young female children.”

Another site refers to the videos of the rapes of little girls as “material with minors.”

When you can’t call unfiltered evil evil, you definitely don’t have the guts to fight it.

The Girl in the Cage

Posted on by
Reply

The catalyst was an unsolved burglary–a nonviolent crime, and one that some police departments would not even bother to pursue.

Perhaps it was the gold bullion that saved her. You can imagine the home owner’s sense of violation and loss.

But in this case a pedestrian break-in and a bit of decent detective work revealed an unspeakable evil.

To think of the suffering of the little girl and the other children these two hurt is a burden to the psyche.

So the quotes about Mr. Gore are worth pondering–he seemed like a nice guy, went to church and everything.

Went to church and everything. Until we face the monsters in our own hearts we cannot face the monsters that walk among us.

And the scars, terrible scars in the heart of a little girl.

The Formula for Attachment Disorder

Posted on by
Reply

Of course I have wracked my brain about this–has it always been there?

Have there been generations of attachment disorder kids? I don’t think so. I think that RAD is a mostly modern problem, ushered in with the advent of formula for infants, ushered in as quickly as nursing mamas have been ushered out.

Up until the invention of fake breastmilk everyone had assumptions about the survival of infants: for at least the first few months someone with breasts was required.

We see nursing mothers (and surrogates) in great art and ancient sculpture. The baby who survived survived at the breast, able to spend crucial hours close to the face of love.

Attachment disorder is the opposite of that.. At the very most crucial time in a baby’s life, detaching a child from a consistent, nurturing presence is deadly–if not for the body, then absolutely for the soul.

Lots and lots and lots of people have been nurtured and loved and bottle-fed. But make no mistake–the advent of bottle-feeding is at the heart of the change that has robbed our poorest and most vulnerable babies of the love that would grow their souls.

The easiest way to “solve” the problem of attachment disorder is to make nursing a priority in our culture, and start valuing the power of nurture–breast or bottle, babies need snuggle time and a regular source of love.

There is no substitute for love.