A lot happens in Mark 6, and half of it is obscene. Sometimes what is not explicitly described is worth a glance. Mark describes the death of John as the reward for lust and obscenity.
It is one of the hardest stories in the Bible.
How could God be so close and not save his cousin, his messenger, his friend?
Mark 1:1-4 (NIV)
The beginning of the gospel about Jesus Christ, the Son of God. [2] It is written in Isaiah the prophet: “I will send my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way”— [3] “a voice of one calling in the desert, `Prepare the way for the Lord, make straight paths for him.’ ” [4] And so John came, baptizing in the desert region and preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.
There are 4 men here–Jesus, Isaiah, Mark, and John the Baptist. If you, like me, believe that the biblical record is true then you also probably see these men as prophets. Each of them would have acknowledged that among them, Jesus was God.
Mark wastes no time stating his purpose–
here,
he says,
this is the good news about God/Jesus. Here he is.
He is not just stating his belief about Jesus, he is sharing Jesus’ immaculate credentials–first Isaiah with his words of extravagant hope, then John the Baptist, nutty one man revival, messenger of God.
Cool.
And hard to line up so many prophets unless you are God. In which case it is just what you do
For love.
And while we are at it, allow me to say we are all wilderness without him.
How do you and I need to make a straight path for the Son of God?
I generally like PBS’s Frontline but I found myself amazed and disconcerted by the portion of their show on Jesus that aired this week. The show appeared to give exclusive weight to the idea that Jesus’ deity was a myth created ex post facto to cope with the power of the Roman empire.
I understand why they would want to find excuses for Jesus not being God, not being divine, not being resurrected. It just seemed like finding a single bone in the sand and telling everyone it was a chicken bone not a dragon’s tail. Of course, it might be a chicken’s bone, but what if the dragon was real? What if archeology and historically faulty human empiricism is not enough?
Frontline could not find a couple of believers with credible Phds? If they couldn’t then I would not trust them to unearth the full scoop on that guy on the cross…
That Guy on the Cross
Funny about him. The title of the show was From Jesus to Christ
Jesus is the name Yeshua which means God saves and Christ means Anointed King
God saves is enough. Jesus is enough. That He is also the Anointed One is the icing on the cake.
A very important cake.
Too good to miss
A few years ago my family had a nightmarish Christmas.
We found ourselves at a mall, just before closing. I felt a special connection with all the other down-to-the-wire last minute shoppers.
In fact, to this day I have a great fondness for those people–the outliers, the late-workers, the Walmart cashiers, health professionals who have to work during the one or two times a year our culture shuts down for “family.”
The “family” in the nativity story is a pretty bedraggled eleventh hour at the mall sort of tableau–teen mom, far from home, no room at the inn…
It is a lonely story. We are all safe in the stable. There may not be a rocking party in it’s quiet grubbiness, but it is the birth of hope.
Come in. There is room for us all…
I was in the 8th grade and was a very attentive student. My science teacher taught a lesson about evolution and I asked some question, asserted a dissenting opinion.
She got angry and made me stand in the hall for the rest of class. This was akin to office roulette–if the principal came by I would face discipline. If he did not then my punishment was just the public rebuke and humiliation.
Oddly enough I cherish this memory.
Jesus says if we are ashamed of him now, he will be ashamed of us later. If we stand for him now, he will stand for us later.
When I think of the “wasted” years of my life, years when people have taken my sacrifice without gratitude or worse, hurt my children, I think of this miracle Baby, this King made man.
We Christians understand the evidence for evolution. I teach it to my children. I want them to know it well.
But there is not a single soul on this planet who could ever convince me that Jesus is not
the Word made flesh.
I see Him in the most ordinary things.
I hear His voice in the stillness and the wind.
If you can believe that a single quiet failure of a carpenter can bring hope in the world through a thief’s death, well, the rest is easy.
We all have faith in something.
Someone.
Why not Jesus?
With his story so crazy it is true.
One year after we discovered that our adopted son Charles had abused our children and others we suffered additional blows. More loneliness. Less community.
We had already lost family and close friends, our children’s friends because people treated us as though we were contagious, people we had known for years. The second Christmas brought more loss–from our church.
I went to the grocery store and saw a dear friend from another church. We had a brief conversation in the bread aisle and she saw the pain in my eyes as I told her the short version of our story.
Later that week I was complaining to God–
Why so much pain and loneliness?
I gathered our family and we began to sing Christmas carols. A few minutes later it sounded as though we were not the only singers. We went to our front door to find a group of carolers from my friend’s church singing in front of our house.
My friend was there. She said that after our talk in the bread aisle she felt God telling her to add a stop to their scheduled houses.
I appreciated my friend
I appreciated each singer
But I marvel at this God of Christmas who is able to rebut my loneliness and despair with song. Songs of light in the world.
listen.
Your child is smart and logical and already has pieces of information. Ask what he thinks and if he has questions.
be honest
Honesty demonstrates advocacy. It gives your child a strong sense of safety. If you lie or obscure the truth your child will not feel as stable. Truth telling does not have to be explicit or graphic, but it provides security.
admit when you don’t have answers
It is ok to say you dont know something. Find out if you can…
Enlist your community
Don’t be afraid to talk to a counselor, doctor, or trusted friends.
Practice safety
Give your child a chance to practice safety and self-defense. Hopefully she will never need these skills, but she will feel safer and more secure if she knows how to handle emergencies.
keep talking
Big traumas stay with us. Make time to check in on your child over days, weeks and years. This will allow him to process all the complicated emotions that travel with grief and uncertainty.
We should never make our children face the scary stuff alone.
Alone is the scariest of all
I know I need to swim because I dream about it. My mind offers creative solutions like living room cascade pools or in the garden coy pond swimming pools. Or it mourns and I dream about pools where the water is gone, seeping out, gushing out or just inexplicably closed to me.
So I push the limits and swim late at night. The water is cool now, in the fifties, not Arctic fanatic cold, but cold enough that I swim gingerly to avoid getting my head wet. I know my skull will ache if I do.
I swim to feel alive and quiet in the world. The stars and stillness are a gift. I usually have to talk myself into the water.
Once I am in I remember why. There is such a grace in water anyway. But in winter the added challenge of cold feels like an unexpected gift.
I like it because it is not pleasant, easy or comfortable–instead it is valuable and bracing.
For a moment I wonder if heaven will be like swimming in cold water–not for everyone’s taste but more alive and challenging than before.
There has been a lot of talk about what is wrong with us–our dying empire, our violent young men. But I know the simplest answer is mostly unspoken because it is so difficult to face–
Perhaps a man would think twice before shooting children or ramming planes into buildings if he believed in eternal justice. A split second after your heart stops beating–wham!
I admit most of these concepts are borrowings from CS Lewis. Everyone should read The Great Divorce. And then blink hard as they look around for signs of these eternal places in the way we each live our lives or not.
I have been a little off today. Not looking in my side mirror enough, burning the toast–I wanted several times today to nap. Just nap. Today was a beautiful day and I could see myself caved up under a quilt.
The old dude I did not see in his shiny jeep would have preferred that.
This time I know what is wrong. It is more than my usual December malaise. It is more than my customary invisible arrow lodged in my sternum.
No. This was the weight of grief. The unavoidable heaviness that accompanies grief–knowing that ordinary families like mine are facing hell for the long haul, knowing we are not safe.
I do hold my children tight and I am constantly aware of their grace in my life.
It hurts to know the terrible thing we all face in death. The sign of a torn universe, waiting for consolation.
The words are familiar, the voices quavering–
a table before mine enemies
Psalm 23 at the memorial for children who should have been safe at school.. What do we do with our grief? With Christmas? With all those presents for the fallen?
I have been praying for the Krims. I knew this holiday season would be terribly hard for them. Now I have this image in my mind–20 homes without their babies.
I keep thinking-they were six, they were six, they were just little.
Yes. I know some were seven. Seven years is long enough to fall in love with a bright light in the world and long enough to know that the dark has grown darker with each light extinguished.
These people will never be the same.
We should never be the same.
Yes. I know that each death hurts and the hurt is the more unrelenting because it was so cruel.
Cruel. Cruel like our enemies. Cruel like Herod ordering the murder of babies. A king who murders children?
This table set for us in the presence of…
Our enemies.
Chief among them, death itself.
We forget sometimes that the baby in the manger is the Man on the cross.
In the presence of our enemies.
He dies
To set this table where light cannot be snuffed out–
No matter what
Heaven
Carrying Light 