Tag Archives: Jesus Christ

When a storm is a rock

Jesus Calms the Storm – Fresco by Silvestro Pistolesi in the clerestory of the Church of the Transfiguration at the Community of Jesus. Creative Commons attribution-Share alike 4.0.

And when he got into the boat, his disciples followed him. And behold, there arose a great storm on the sea, so that the boat was being swamped by the waves; but he was asleep. And they went and woke him, saying, “Save us, Lord; we are perishing.” And he said to them, “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?” Then he rose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm. And the men marveled, saying, “What sort of man is this, that even winds and sea obey him?” (Matthew 8: 23-27, ESV)

My Heaven-sent translation work continues. I had a good day yesterday and got a little ahead of my quota. This is good, because I translated nothing on Saturday (and I don’t write for money on Sundays if I can help it). I need to translate 100 pages each month for the next five months to deliver on time. I’m 50 pages in now, and the month isn’t half over yet, so I’m doing just fine.

But it never hurts to run ahead of schedule. Impress the client, and if I finish sooner, I get my final payment sooner.

The laborer, as the Good Book says, is worthy of his hire.

Speaking of the Good Book, I was struck by the passage printed above during my devotions last week. I wrote about the Sermon on the Mount not long ago, and now I’m in the early passages that follow the sermon. I’ve read the Bible a number of times since I was a kid, but I never noticed until recently how much context means.

I wrote about it in my earlier posts – how counterintuitive Jesus’ teaching is (none of these thoughts are original to me, of course. I’m coming to them from the back of queue). The bottom line seems to be, “Build your house on a rock.” But what’s the rock like? It has nothing to do with a good job, or saving money, or investing in bonds or real estate. The rock Jesus is talking about seems to be solidly anchored in mid-air. Invest in Heaven. Step out onto the stormy waves – that’s your real security.

And Jesus demonstrates this in Matthew 8:23-27. Immediately after He delivers the sermon, He’s confronted with human chaos – he meets a leper, the very embodiment of disordered health. He heals the leper. He heals a centurion’s servant – the centurion, interestingly, doesn’t need to observe Jesus performing the miracle; he believes without seeing, earning approval. Then Jesus heals Peter’s mother-in-law, and then he’s mobbed by a multitude of “many who were oppressed by demons.” That’s the disordered state of the world – exactly what He’s been preaching against; exactly what He came to fix. Then a couple of disciple wannabees show up, offering to follow Jesus, but with reservations. Jesus puts it on the line – it’s all or nothing. They can’t handle the apparent insecurity and back off.

 And then what does Jesus do? He gets into a boat and starts across the Sea of Galilee.

I think I’ve written about this before. I allude to the theme frequently in The Baldur Game (it’s coming, it’s coming!). The Jews thought of the sea (any sea) as Chaos, as Sheol, as Hell. The place of maximum insecurity, maximum danger. The opposite of the Rock we’re supposed to build our houses on. And Jesus just sets out to sail on it. Not only that, but He’s headed for the Decapolis — pagan territory, where demons dwell.

And as they’re crossing the Sea (or lake), a storm blows up – which I understand is common on Galilee. And the disciples are terrified, and (one assumes) they’re running the sail down and bailing and rowing like mad…

And Jesus is sleeping like a baby. They wake Him, and He says, “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?” And he snaps His fingers (so to speak) and the storm turns over on its back like puppy wanting its belly scratched.

What Jesus is saying, I think, is “Buckle up, boys, this is what it means to build your house on a rock.”

The church, I think, is built by people who see faith as an adventure. It withers under people who see it as a job of work.

The glory in the Face

Rembrandt, Head of Christ. Fogg Museum. Netherlands Institute for Art History, Digital ID 232193

For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. (2 Corinthians 4:6)

I’ve been thinking about the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. That turn of phrase has intrigued me for a long time.

The glory of God is a frequent topic in Scripture. In the Old Testament, God’s glory is a serious issue. The people of Israel could not bear to hear His voice on Sinai, and asked Moses to be their mediator instead (Exodus 20). When Moses was permitted to see God’s “backside” (Exodus 34) on the mountain, he got the merest glimpse of the least part of the divine glory, and yet his face shown for days.

The Holy of Holies in the temple was so sacred that common people couldn’t enter. When Uzzah touched the Ark of the Covenant – even to keep it from slipping off a cart – God struck him down (2 Samuel 6).

In short, the Hebrews took God’s holiness deadly seriously. God was just and merciful, but nobody to treat lightly. Holiness meant separation, and nothing was holier than God. His holiness could kill you. He was so Other that even images of Him were forbidden.

Then along comes Jesus Christ, claiming to be God incarnate.

Suddenly God – of whom no image might be made – had a face.

That’s amazing, when you think of it.

If He really was the incarnation of that same God who terrified the Hebrews, a tremendous condescension had happened. The voltage had been stepped down infinitely, just so God could walk among men without leaving corpses behind wherever He went. To the contrary, this Holiness healed the sick and raised the dead.

Too often Christians forget what we’re dealing with in Jesus Christ. We take the incarnation for granted. We handle holy things lightly. We ought to remember what incredible power we’re dealing with. The Lion has agreed to be our friend, but it would be wise not to poke the Lion.

More than that, how amazing is it to look in a kind Man’s face, and encounter God Himself? As theologians have observed, only the Highest can descend to the very lowest level. God has always been perfect goodness, but Jesus Christ made that perfection touchable.

The phrase “perfection made better” comes to mind. It’s probably wrong in some theological way, but it’s what strikes me.

Sunday Singing: Who Shall Ascend the Mountain of the Lord

“Who Shall Ascend the Mountain of the Lord” performed by The Redeemer Choir of Austin, Texas

This week’s hymn of ascension is a new one, as hymns go. Edmund P. Clowney (1917-2005) taught practical theology and was the first president of Westminster Theological Seminary in Philadelphia. He published this hymn, based on Psalm 24, in 1987.

The tune, about a hundred years older, is by the Irishman Sir Charles Villiers Stanford. You’ll notice it’s different than many hymn tunes in its triumphal openness. Each verse ends on a high note, perhaps to lift our heads up to Christ above us. With that it doesn’t feel neatly wrapped. It feels as if it anticipates more to come.

The words are under copyright, so I will copy only the first verse here.

Who shall ascend the mountain of the Lord,
to search the mystery in heaven stored,
the knowledge of the Holy One adored?
Alleluia!

Mano on the Bethsaida Miracle

Photo credit: Stormseeker (sseeker). Unsplash license.

Our friend Dave Lull, ever generously aware of my fascination with the late author D. Keith Mano, sent me to this 1997 article he wrote for National Review.

The article builds on new medical information, shared by Oliver Sacks, concerning what happens to blind people when they are given (or even regain) their sight. Lacking the experience sighted people have acquired from childhood in recognizing visual clues, these people (he cites a patient named Virgil) see the world as an incoherent jumble of shapes and lines. They can tell color and movement, but all the rest of the data confounds them. Depth and perspective are particular challenges.

Mano relates this information (never available before modern times) to the biblical account of Jesus healing a blind man at Bethsaida in Mark 8:22-25:

“And he cometh to Bethsaida; and they bring a blind man unto him, and besought him to touch him. And he took the blind man by the hand, and led him out of the town; and when he had spit on his eyes, and put his hands upon him, he asked him if he saw ought.”

And the blind man (in what I had always considered a poetic image) replied to Jesus, “I see men as trees, walking.”

Mano notes the sequel, where Jesus touches the man a second time to enable him to process all this new information, and then draws the conclusion:

So let us suppose a man like Virgil, blind since childhood because of traumatic shock. Let us also suppose that Jesus, Messiah-as-therapist, came along and healed Virgil in a non-miraculous way. That does not (and cannot) explain Part Two. Whether Virgil’s blindness was physical or psychosomatic, still his brain would have been deprived of the visual exercise and constant drill essential to clear three-dimensional sight. Only by a miracle could Jesus provide that necessary crash course in visual recognition. Charismatic therapists may be able to unblock sight –but they cannot infuse a human brain with that lifetime of visual experience necessary for normal sight.

Read the whole thing.

Sunday Singing: Unto My Lord Jehovah Said

“Unto my Lord Jehovah said” piano accompaniment of the Elbing tune

This arrangement of Psalm 110 first appeared in the Irish Psalter of 1898. It’s paired with the Elbing tune in the Trinity Hymnal, which I’ve shared above, but other hymnals arrange this text with at least two more tunes.

I offer it here today in that strange Palm Sunday attitude of singing praise to Christ the King, even as the Jerusalem crowds shouted Hosanna in ignorance. They didn’t know the irony of their words. They wanted Jesus of Nazareth to be a political king who would overthrown Rome, but he was the king of kings whose kingdom was not of this world.

1 Unto my Lord Jehovah said:
At my right hand I throne thee,
till, at thy feet in triumph laid,
thy foes their ruler own thee.
From Zion hill the Lord shall send
thy scepter, till before thee bend
the knees of proud rebellion.

2 Thy saints, to greet thy day of might,
in holy raiment muster;
as dewdrops in the morning light
thy youths around thee cluster.
The Lord hath sworn and made decree,
thou, like Melchizedek, shalt be
a kingly priest for ever.

3 The Lord at thy right hand shall bring
on rulers desolation;
the Lord shall smite each heathen king,
and judge each rebel nation.
He, swiftly marching in his wrath,
shall quaff the brook upon his path,
and lift his head in glory.

As an alternative, let me also share this 9th century French hymn, “Gloria, laus et honor,” performed by Harpa Dei.

Sunday Singing: Rejoice, the Lord Is King!

“Rejoice, the Lord Is King!” sung by the congregation of Grace Community Church,
Sun Valley, California

The great Charles Wesley gave us today’s hymn. “Rejoice, the Lord Is King!” focuses our attention on his perfect majesty and our glorious hope. The Trinity hymnal has an extra verse, which is also in some of the oldest hymn texts I checked, so I assume Wesley wrote it too.

As a man said on his dying day, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

1 Rejoice, the Lord is King:
Your Lord and King adore!
Rejoice, give thanks and sing,
And triumph evermore.

Refrain: Lift up your heart,
Lift up your voice!
Rejoice, again I say, rejoice!

2 Jesus, the Savior, reigns,
The God of truth and love;
When He has purged our stains,
He took his seat above; [Refrain]

3 His kingdom cannot fail,
He rules o’er earth and heav’n;
The keys of death and hell
Are to our Jesus giv’n: [Refrain]

4 He sits at God’s right hand
’til all his foes submit,
and bow to his command,
and fall beneath his feet. [Refrain]

5 Rejoice in glorious hope!
Our Lord and judge shall come
And take His servants up
To their eternal home: [Refrain]

Sunday Singing: Fairest Lord Jesus

Taken from “Fairest Lord Jesus” performed at the 100th Anniversary Celebration of the St. Olaf Choir

This month, I plan to post hymns focused on Christ Jesus. “Fairest Lord Jesus” was written anonymously and set to a Polish folk tune. Franz Liszt used the tune in a crusaders’ march in The Legend of St. Elizabeth, which is apparently the most concrete thing that can be said about its origin.

1 Fairest Lord Jesus, Ruler of all nature,
Son of God and Son of Man!
Thee will I cherish, thee will I honor,
thou, my soul’s glory, joy, and crown.

2 Fair are the meadows, fair are the woodlands,
robed in the blooming garb of spring:
Jesus is fairer, Jesus is purer,
who makes the woeful heart to sing.

3 Fair is the sunshine, fair is the moonlight,
and all the twinkling, starry host:
Jesus shines brighter, Jesus shines purer
than all the angels heav’n can boast.

4 Beautiful Savior! Lord of the nations!
Son of God and Son of Man!
Glory and honor, praise, adoration,
now and forevermore be thine.

The Prince of Peace Has Come, Yet We Have Little Peace

The Christmas concert my church choir performed this year featured Vivaldi’s Gloria. The video above is the second movement, “Et in Terra Pax,” performed by the Oxford Schola Cantorum and Northern Chamber Orchestra.

“Et in terra pax hominibus bonae voluntatis.”
And in earth peace to men of good will.

Vivaldi set these words to rather unpeaceful music. It has a dreadful plodding to it, as if we fear the coming of terra pax. Its slow tension is a beautiful metaphor for knowing the Prince of Peace has come and yet feeling our lack of peace throughout our lives. We long for the peace that has come, Lord. How long?

Of the increase of his government and of peace
  there will be no end,

on the throne of David and over his kingdom,

   to establish it and to uphold it

with justice and with righteousness

   from this time forth and forevermore.

The zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this. (Isaiah 6:7 ESV)

Jesus Christ the Apple Tree

The tree of life my soul hath seen,
Laden with fruit and always green:
The trees of nature fruitless be
Compared with Christ the apple tree.

Seraphic Fire performs “Jesus Christ the Apple Tree” by Elizabeth Poston

This traditional Christmas carol would fit well during apple season, in September or October when many of us look for cider at a farmers market or visit orchards to pick or buy Jonagolds, Mitzus, and Arkansas Blacks off the trees around us.

Eric Hollas has a beautiful story of the apple trees his father tended in the inhospitable climate of Oklahoma City.

So it was that each autumn we ate apples until we grew tired of them.  And when it was clear that we’d eat no more, he turned to pies.  Late into the night, night after night, he peeled apples relentlessly, while my bemused mother baked on and on.  Our kitchen became a pie factory, and by the end of the season there could be eighty or a hundred pies in the freezer.

“Jesus Christ the Apple Tree” has been found in print from 1761 and possibly a bit earlier, attributed to Rev. Richard Hutchins, a clergyman of Northamptonshire, England.

The Word Was Made Flesh, Merry Christmas

This is the real meaning of Christmas: “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14 ESV).

This does not mean God posed as a man for a few years, casting an illusion on everyone in order to influence them with well-spoken sermons.

It does not mean God sent his spirit into a man for a time, having found someone who was sufficiently humble to indwell for divine purposes.

It does not mean that God actually is a man who lives eternally on another plane but for a season he came to Earth to do things.

It also does not mean that Jesus was only a man who connected dots like no one before him and introduced some darn good principles to Western civilization.

It does not mean that a uniquely spiritual man called on divine power to perform marvelous works and speak with wisdom beyond the scope of mortal reason.

Those ideas are a bit easier to understand. The truth is beyond us. Christ Jesus, born as a child to a poor, virgin woman, was the Word of God from the beginning, both with God and actually God. The invisible, eternal God became a mortal man. That doesn’t make complete sense to us, but it is the only hope for ourselves and all the world.

Merry Christmas.