Michael Connelly’s character, Detective Harry Bosch, continues to develop throughout the series, especially his mission. Early on in the series, Bosch says, “Everyone counts, or no one counts.” His investigations into the truth are important regardless if the murder victim is someone well known politically or socially, or an unknown street person. Bosch’s own life’s story comes into play here: his own mother, a woman of the night, was brutally murdered, the killer never found. Bosch’s life, then, becomes a crusade for truth that often pits him against people who’d just as well let the truth slide, covering up the death. Bosch’s clashes with superiors cause him to be suspended on occasion, and even be demoted in his position.
As Bosch’s character develops we learn different views of his mission. For instance, we learn that he is becoming a voice for the dead, the murdered, he investigates. Always present is that Bosch is constantly on the edge as he looks deeply into what he terms the abyss where the monsters of our society abide. There is danger in chasing monsters, for it is all to easily to become a monster while deluding himself that he is speaking for the murdered. So Bosch must maintain a high standard in his operating practices. The humanity of Bosch the hero is revealed when he breaks the rules, so to speak, and causes damage to himself as well as others. In one instance he is responsible for the death of a man simply by using that man’s name to get information he wanted but knew he was not authorized to obtain.
Pilate therefore said unto him, Art thou a king then? Jesus answered, Thou sayest that I am a king. To this end was I born, and for this cause came I into the world, that I should bear witness unto the truth. Every one that is of the truth heareth my voice.
John 18:37
While the Character of Detective Harry Bosch does not believe in G-d, he does have one thing in common with those who do: his search for truth; his desire to truth be made known; and his battle against evil. For isn’t that precisely what our general mission is in our life here on Earth? Are we not to search diligently for truth? Are we not to make known that truth? Are we not constantly in a battle against evil?
Michael Connelly writes crime thrillers. The desire to write was born while attending the University of Florida. He studied journalism and creative writing. After working on several newspapers in Florida, on the crime beat, he moved to Los Angeles to cover crime for the LA Times. After three years there, his first novel was published, Black Echo. It introduced the character Harry Bosch, who would become a main character in a series of books. There are now twenty books in that series.
In the first book of the series, the main character, Harry Bosch, is already a homicide detective with the Los Angeles Police Department, with many years on the job. We learn Bosch’s background early on in the series: Born in 1950 in Los Angeles to Marjorie Phillips Lowe, Bosch was named Hieronymus Bosch after the 15th century Dutch artist and nicknamed “Harry.” He became an orphan at 11 when his mother, a prostitute, was murdered. He grew up living in a youth hall and foster homes. He joined the army and did two tours in Vietnam. Harry returned to Los Angeles and joined the LAPD in 1972. He became a detective after five years in patrol.
One of the key pieces of an investigation, we learn from Connelly’s Detective Bosch, is the Murder Book. It is a complete record of one particular investigation. We learn that not only does the book contain interviews with witnesses, records of evidence discovered, and reports from scientific analysis, but it contains comments by the detectives. These comments are invaluable, according to Connelly’s character Bosch, as they show the detectives’ minds, tie the evidence together, and give direction to the investigation.
In one of the novels, Connelly’s character Bosch describes going through a particular murder book from a four-year-old unsolved case. He goes over and over the book letting the facts and analysis of the case soak into him. Bosch tells us that the key to any case lies within the details of the Murder Book and doesn’t readily just pop out. He says that the more familiar he is with the book, the easier new pieces of the investigation will fit together. The end result is a moment in which he, the investigator, understands the significance of various details in the book and is able to come to a conclusion about the case.
It occurs to me that this is exactly what we as Followers of Y’shuaJesus do when we read and reread the Bible on a daily basis. I know for myself there are days in which I simply read a book. Yesterday I read Obadiah. It’s not a long book. I wasn’t “studying” it, looking for anything particular. I was just reading. But like Bosch’s Murder Book, the more I read, the more familiar various pieces of the whole work of G-d become to me. It seems to me that throughout my daily life, I’m confronted with new situations. The more familiar I am with the situations and the lessons gleaned from the Bible, the better I am at handling the situations encountered daily.
For Ezra had set his heart to study the Law of the LORD, and to do it and to teach his statutes and rules in Israel.
Esra 7:10
Additionally, there is something that changes within me the more I engage with the Bible. It’s no accident that it is called the Living Word. For the Bible, to those whose names are written in the Book of Life, is food that we consume and digest and it becomes part of us. Now that doesn’t mean I’m done. For every day is a day in which I know I am a work in progress. The Lord is our Potter, making us into the person we are to become. And one day, Thank You Lord Y’shua, we will feast with Him at the Great Supper of the Lamb.
In the meantime, we are here and one of our missions is to absorb the Word of G-d so, as the Ezra put it, do the Word and teach it.
Our journey is to take us forward with Messiah pointing the way. We are on the Pilgrim’s Progress. Though to some we appear to wander about, we are blown by the Spirit. We are as the Earth, in constant motion. As one old sailor put it, “If I rest, I rust.” Certainly we linger once and a while, here or there, to help someone or to recover some malady, or even to rest. It’s all spelled out by King David in Psalm 23:
The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever.
In John’s Revelation, (2:4,5) the Lord points out to us, however, there are times in which we must take a few steps backward. We must retrace our path, our steps.
Nevertheless I have somewhat against thee, because thou hast left thy first love. Remember therefore from whence thou art fallen, and repent, and do the first works; or else I will come unto thee quickly, and will remove thy candlestick out of his place, except thou repent.
“Remember – Consider the state of grace in which you once stood; the happiness, love, and joy which you felt when ye received remission of sins; the zeal ye had for God’s glory and the salvation of mankind; your willing, obedient spirit, your cheerful self-denial, your fervor in private prayer, your detachment from the world, and your heavenly-mindedness. Remember – consider, all these.
“Whence thou art fallen – Fallen from all those blessed dispositions and gracious feelings already mentioned. Or, remember what a loss you have sustained; for so εκπιπτειν is frequently used by the best Greek writers.
“Repent – Be deeply humbled before God for having so carelessly guarded the Divine treasure.
“Do the first works – Resume your former zeal and diligence; watch, fast, pray, reprove sin, carefully attend all the ordinances of God, walk as in his sight, and rest not till you have recovered all your lost ground, and got back the evidence of your acceptance with your Maker.”
–Adam Clarke (1760 or 1762 – 1832) British Methodist theologian and Biblical scholar.
There are times when I really want to escape the “modern” life. I want to go back to the Good Ole Days, to return to the Life of Riley. I read Revelation 2, the letter to the Church at Ephesus, and immediately recall the tough yet glorious days I spent in overseas ministries. Nothing about my life then was routine, ordinary. There was struggle, but there were inner rewards. As The Reverend Clarke wrote, “blessed dispositions and gracious feeling” surrounded me. I think back the trucking ministry over the road, traveling the highways of America, meeting people, ministering. Tough, hard. Yes. But oh so wonderful.
Ah, but it’s so easy to forget that retracing steps taken to get me to where I am at this minute doesn’t necessarily mean physical steps. There are spiritual steps taken that have removed me somewhat from the reasons for the glorious feelings of past times. Have I failed to take opportunities each day to do something simple such as pray? When was the last time I sat simply waiting for the Spirit of G-d to fill me, changing my heart? The Reverend Clarke wrote “Resume your former zeal and diligence; watch, fast, pray, reprove sin, carefully attend all the ordinances of God, walk as in his sight, and rest not till you have recovered all your lost ground, and got back the evidence of your acceptance with your Maker.”
It’s not the occupation in the former ministries that brought me closest to G-d, it was the way in which I approached G-d. It was the way I loved and responded to Messiah. The Apostle Paul found the same satisfaction in his Lord, our Lord, in times of terror and imprisonment as he found in times of blessed respite and fellowship. He was content in all things. Contentment isn’t a product of things external, but of what’s going on within.
It’s mid-morning in an up-scale and growing part of Georgia north of its big city, Atlanta. I came down here to pick up new glasses, ordered after an exam several weeks ago, but adjustments are necessary and the lab technician won’t be in until later. Rather than make another trip, I figured I’d hang out. I like breakfast. And I like hanging out in coffee shops. There are few places that I frequent, though, so I’m always up for a new experience, if the price isn’t outrageous, which is getting to be the norm these days, and if it looks like I can get an omelet that is without meat but more than cheese, I up for it. Too many places serve a veggie omelet that is just pepper, tomato, and onions. So here I am at Another Broken Egg Cafe.
I sit down at a table with a view of the coffee station, which is okay. There are lots of windows that look out into the parking lot that surrounds the small shopping plaza in which this cafe is located, just down from the optometrist’s office. WiFi is available, so I set my MacBook Air next to my Bible. The Bible is the one that I keep on the dash of the truck that is in a nylon cover proclaiming “This Book is Illegal in 53 Countries.” I ordered unsweetened ice tea. I stopped drinking coffee several months ago, and don’t really miss it, which is a bit odd. While sweet tea is a southern specialty, unsweetened with lemon suites me just fine. I ordered the veggie omelet: spinach, tomatoes, portabella mushrooms, and goat cheese, served with seasoned potatoes and an English muffin. All this at an acceptable price. The service is great here, the folks friendly. On the walls that aren’t windows, there are various framed posters that copies of floral paintings. There are a few framed posters with spoon collections displayed, and one that has a fork and a spoon enclosed in a deep frame that must be four-feet tall. I suppose the decor is Chic Country. There are a number of tables that have couples with older kids. School hasn’t begun here, as it has where I live. Several business-types are here, too, one with others that could be clients or perhaps just friends. At least four tables are crowded with women. They could be on their way to work, or just having a meal out after dropping kids at a pre-school or day camp. For the stay-at-home moms, next week will be the beginning of their real summer break.
The omelet is served quickly. It is good. The seasoning is subtle, lacking the zest of other places. But it’s good. The potatoes are mildly seasoned, and though they are okay, they are really just frozen potatoes heated. The eggs did taste real, though. I was totally disgusted at an IHOP one day when I learned that the omelet is made with batter from a carton, not actually made from eggs broken and stirred. I only learned this when I asked the waitress if I received the wrong eggs–my wife had ordered the fake eggs with her omelet. We’d eaten at IHOP several times, and this was the first time the omelet was so bad. It may have been a new change, or just the way it was cooked. It was not good.
That reminds me of this ma and pa diner outside Oklahoma City. It wasn’t a fancy diner, but served good eggs and great homemade hash browns. The woman behind the counter of the small place was the owner. I suppose it was her husband back in the kitchen. We got to talking and she told me that one time she hired a cook to help out. It didn’t work out, though. The guy came from the fast-food school of cooking and hadn’t a clue how to cook a real egg. It makes me wonder about ordering eggs over easy at a chain restaurant. Do they come frozen, too?
It feels like I fit in here in Another Broken Egg Cafe. I’m wearing western-style boots and a long-sleeve, plaid shirt. It’s not that there are others dressed this way. It’s the diversity of patrons. Some are plainly dressed. Women in shorts, and some guys in a beach-style attire. There’s two men in suits. One guy has a camo hat on, and looks like he drove up in his hunting truck. Only a glance in the parking lots says that others clearly drove an audi or BMW or something more fancy. A person’s car is no indication of wealth, however. The guy in the truck probably owns it, while many folks with fancy cars just rent them. Oh, yeah, it called “leasing.” While one couple with a baby sits by the widow, eating with strained faces and not really talking, all the rest look happy, smiling and talking with their breakfast friends. Ordinary people on an ordinary day, in more-than-ordinary restaurant in northern Georgia.
And not one person has read the cover to my Bible, or given any indication of having done so. And not one person has asked me about it. It’s time to go.
Yesterday, I went out to the lake to sail. I stopped on the way to pay a bill. When I arrived at the marina, despite forecasts of wind, there was nothing. Then I realized my phone dropped from my pocket while paying that bill. I drove back to the place, retrieved my wallet, and thought, “No wind. Why bother going all the way back out.” I drove toward home, yet turned on to the highway toward the marina without even realizing it. So I figured, “Okay, let’s try anyway.” On the way, I did see some tree tops moving and some waves forming on the lake. The wind was coming up.
That’s not the first time things like that have occurred to me. I’ve taken the “wrong” highway, ending up in the same place I was suppose to be, only by a different route, and only realizing it when I entered the destination from a different place than I’d recalled from the last time there. I knew it was the right “wrong” way, and wondered what was on the other route that I was prevented from taking: an accident that might delay me? an accident waiting for me? Don’t know. Some things just work out the way they do. Things happen.
At the dock, Cassandra, a Cape Dory Sailboat, was looking pretty good, despite needing her teak oiled and some yellow jackets buzzing around the mast. I’ve sealed off the places they used to build nests, but now they’d found a place under the mainsail cover that apparently suited them. Without ado, I cranked up the motor, cast off the lines, and backed out of the slip. The slip is located deep within a cove, off the lake. The water was calm, mostly clear, and I really wondered if it would be worth it going out. I motored slowly toward the mouth of the cove, rounded the shoreline, and was surprised to see another sailboat on the water, full sails, and moving along just fine. As I entered the lake, I could feel the wind now, coming out of the west. The cove is well protected from that direction, which is why it appeared not to be any wind at all.
Soon I shut off the motor, removed the sail cover, which made the few remaining yellow jackets take fly to another haven, and went forward to the mast where I raised the sail. Returning to the cockpit, I sheeted in the mainsail and began to slowly move ahead. Unfurling the jib to it’s full size, I gained further headway. Though the wind was light, under ten miles an hour, I easily made between three-and-a-half to four mph heading southwest about forty-five degrees off the wind. The light wind had very little gusting, and I easily trimmed the sails to point high enough to clear two small islands off to port, my left, and proceed up the lake toward Three Sisters Islands.
The wind began to vary in strength, and Cassandra responded, heeling about 15 degrees and leaping forward nearly to full hull speed of six miles per hour. This lasted five minutes or so and she would settle back down as the wind slowed. This process repeated many times along our route. An occasional gust or change in the direction of the wind did little to disturb Cassandra’s drive toward the islands, though it had me pulling in on the sheets to trim the sail a time or two. We went on this way, remaining on the same tack, that is with the sail to port and wind to starboard, to the right off the bow, for nearly two hours. Finally, we changed direction, tacking and rounding about near the island, then steering a course back toward the marina.
The entire time we were out, dark clouds moved slowly overhead, with only a few gaps where the sun could pop its head through to say, “Hello.” Only a few fishing boats hung around the shores, and one family towing kids on a tube behind a small powerboat sped happily past. One large cruiser moved quickly across my bow, leaving a large wake, which Cassandra bound over as if she were a horse jumping a fence. Or perhaps Cassandra was dreaming of the ocean, and the waves offshore. I think she wants to sail the seas, and only hope she’ll take me as her crew. The other sail boat I’d seen earlier came nearby once and we exchanged greetings as he rounded a buoy I’d just pasted, perhaps preparing for a race or just having fun. His two small children, bundled in life jackets, stood along the stern rail, and waved.
The sail, yesterday, was peaceful. It’s often like that during the week days, unlike the weekends when so many boaters are out. The clouds made it feel a little cooler, too, blocking the intense rays of the sun. It was a nice morning. I like the water, both lakes and ocean. I like being on the water and I like being in the water. I always have. There’s something soothing about the water. Water is unpredictable, too, untamed. Yet it brings me back to a peaceful place where I find a measure of refreshment. Spending some moments such as those yesterday, sailing, open my ears to hear what the Lord would speak to me through the His words recorded by the Apostle Paul so long ago:
I [Paul]therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of
The week before last, after writing about rain, I read a news article and took up the charge of writing about its subject. Then I left for a week’s holiday with my wife’s family up North, in Yankee Country. We celebrated Fourth of July together. Returning, I took up the topic at hand. But it wasn’t going anywhere. It seems like I just got off on a tangent, leaving the Spirit of G-d back in the rainy day somewhere.
Earlier this morning the day began with some blue sky and spoke of a sunny day, despite the weather forecast. Now, a couple hours into the day, it is heavily overcast. The NOAA weather forecasts have been close to accurate lately. As foretold yesterday, lightning and thunder closed out the day and lots of rain soaked the garden quite nicely. Even the pond filled to its maximum level.
The pond’s been in about a month now. It isn’t a large pond, really. Oddly shaped with the widest part about ten feet and about twelve feet in the longest. At night a chorus of frogs belts out a tuneless song. Tadpoles swim below the lily pads, some now growing legs. They will soon join the chorus, adding their voices. Eventually we plan to add gold fish to the pond. We’ve added some bog plants, sitting on a shallow ledge that encircles the pond. Bog plants sit in water, with their soil just below the surface. Three lily plants are on another lower ledge toward the middle of the pond. Before the fish, though, we need to drop a large flat rock on a ledge so that it hangs over the deepest part, which is about four feet deep. This will provide a place out of the sun for the fish to stay cool in the summer, and to hide from herons that will feed on them. Also, we are still getting the pond’s natural balance to take hold. At first algae bloomed filled the water with its green haze. I added a bit of natural bacteria to the water, and it is collecting in the filter. A pump forces water through the filter. The algae cleared rapidly as the bacteria decomposed the dying blooms. Algae remains trapped in the filter now, and the bacteria keeps it from getting out of hand. The water is clear, though now we can see the bottom and some leaves and such that have fallen in the pond. We’ll have to clear that stuff too.
Outside the pond, along one side, we planted herbs that will last through the winter, mint and oregano. There are other plants along the other sides. They, too, will last through the winter, to rebloom in the summer. My wife says the garden is done, now, and we can sit on the deck and enjoy. But by this time of year that is nearly impossible; the no-see-ums and the mosquitoes are thick out there. The spring is still the nicest season down here in Georgia. The cool nights prevent the bugs from getting bad, and the warm days carry over to the evening hours making it quite pleasant. Next spring, then, we’ll enjoy the pond as we’ve enjoyed the rest of the garden.
When we were kids, growing up in California, we would sing on the school bus. On rainy days, we’d sing “Rain, Rain, Go Away. Come Again Another Day!” I don’t know why. I’m sure we just didn’t appreciate the rain. Maybe it’s that rain so often has a negative image, like the expression, “Rain on my/your/our/the Parade.” Folks up in Calgary, Alberta, Canada, must be getting pretty sick of rain and its associated flooding. But down here in Georgia, the soft rain this morning is appreciated. Not only does it cool things down somewhat, though making it more humid, it waters the ground that has gone without for a week now.
Sure, a perfect rain would begin in the late evening and continue softly dropping an inch or so until the early morning hours. It wouldn’t interfere with the daily lives of millions of folks all scrambling to make it to work on time. A fresh rain like today will leave the roads slick for a while today. Yet, while I empathize with commuters–been there, done that–I still love to watch the rain gently fall on the garden. I don’t mind walking in the rain, either. Except perhaps those sudden downpours that drench despite rain jacket and hood. No, I do not carry or use an umbrella; that’s just too English. I’m of Good Welsh stock on my Mother’s side, which means I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth, and don’t have blue blood; I have, indeed, music in my soul and poetry flowing through my veins.
Rain is water. And I love water. While it isn’t the source of life, as many scientist like to say, it is certainly essential. Humans can go many weeks without eating food, and some, like me trying to lose twenty pounds, can go many more weeks. But we need water to exist. Like in three days we’ll perish if we don’t drink of water. We dry up.
We dry up physically without enough water. We dehydrate. If you pinch your flesh between two fingers, softly gathering the skin together, then release, it quickly moves back into shape. When you are dehydrated, your skin just stays puckered for a while. Dehydration dries us up, and makes us weak. There’s a spiritual correlation to dehydration. It’s worst than physically drying up. Like a the skin test, spiritual dehydration makes us pucker up, too. Our demeanor is sour, agitated. We wither, like a plant in the sun, drooping over spiritually. There’s a saying, “One Week without Prayer makes One Weak.” Prayer, the Word of G-d, praise and worship, thanksgiving, it’s all fellowship with G-d. Without that, we dry up.
That’s pretty much what kept happening in Israel, during the Temple Days. The people would forget about G-d and things would begin to go terrible wrong. They’d listen, at last, to a new Judge or a new king, and return to the LORD.
We don’t live in a theocracy, though. Once upon a time in America, we were a Christian nation and while we’ve had many and varied denominations, we worshiped the same G-d, the G-d of Israel. Those days are gone now. Some say that’s a good thing. But even then there was no one leader that we all looked toward that would lead us back to G-d if we strayed too far away. The secular government, while made up of Christians, mostly, had separated the political from the religious. We have a history of this separation of Church and State. And it’s really worked out pretty well. We don’t yet have a political ruler that also tells us how and whom to worship. That’s good thing. But it also leaves us with out a shepherd to call our attention, our focus back upon our Lord.
How do we get back into right communion with G-d after staying away? What will prompt us, remind us? For jsut like dehydration can come upon us easily on a hot day, we can move away from our Lord easily to, without even really noticing it until we’ve drifted a ways.
Water.
Photo credit: gregglesworth
When we pour a glass of water, crisp, clear water, we should think of G-d. We ought think perhaps of the well outside Shecham where our Lord Y’shuaJesus asked a woman for cup of water to drink. When it’s raining, it can remind us of the Living Water that the Lord said he’d give to all who ask of Him. A pond or pool or lake can remind us of John who baptized in the Jordan River, or of the pool by which a crippled man awaited healing. The sea reminds us that the Earth is covered mostly in water. We must be moved by the ocean’s power, majesty, and vastness. Our minds must turn to our Creator, reminded that He, too, is all powerful, majestic, and everywhere and close at the same time.
Winter is long gone; so too spring. It is now summer. Yet there are heavy clouds that obscure the sun. It doesn’t have to be winter to just feel like it. The sky looms darkly over Georgia like an anvil ready to drop on our heads at any moment. Yesterday, showers with lightning and thunder, then out of the darkness followed bright sun and blue skies. The seasons are confused. Looking outside, the temperatures may be in the 20 C range but it appears like more like 20 F. Are we depressed? Are we sad? Do we just feel like crying? Do we even know why? Perhaps prompted by the weather, what we see though the window, we stare at the state of our nations, our people, and we mourn like Jeremiah mourned.
His people were far from G-d. And to this he wrote:
“For these things I weep; my eyes flow with tears; for a comforter is far from me, one to revive my spirit; my children are desolate, for the enemy has prevailed.”
Lamentations 1:16
A Glooming Perspective by Wil Robinson
Jeremiah had cause to weep. Things hadn’t gone well for his people. G-d felt very far away. And his people had distanced themselves from Him. And He allowed disaster to strike. And perhaps as we look through our own eyes, we see a world not much different than his. We as a people are distant from our G-d, too. Here in America, there are many that cry out to the nation to repent and turn to G-d before it is too late. It’s another Welsh revival that we seek. Or a revival like the Azuza Street Revival. We want the Spirit of G-d to fall upon us and lead us as a nation back into being a Christian nation. We want the 1950s back, were life seemed some how simple. So we mourn, too, like Jeremiah.
And we see what might be signs of revival, like what started down in Lakeland, Florida. It was suppose to be a move of G-d that had begun in Toronto, Canada. People flocked to the church services looking for a “blessing,” looking for the Spirit of G-d to fall afresh up them–like the praise song goes. People yearn for something from G-d. We want to somehow “feel” His presence.
There are movements afoot that capitalize upon this yearning, too. They seek to build a peaceful kingdom here on Earth. If we just do this or that or have love and tolerance then. . . Then what? If we are honest with ourselves we can look at these movements and see the fallacies within them. On the surface they appear to promote a Christian revival. At the least, they promote a “modern” Gospel with a “modern” Messiah. Hummmmm. A New Age Gospel for a New Age. If we could all just get over the exclusivity of the old notion of one savior, one Christ, they tell us. We need to broaden our minds, our thinking. This is a darkness that engulfs the world today. Perhaps this is the mourning we feel. Naivety passes. We face a world of chaos as spoken of in the Book of Revelation. We are not building a new and peaceful world. We are seeing the first stages of chaos and the coming of G-d’s wrath that will cleanse the world in order for Y’shuaJesus to come and rule as Lord and King over a Kingdom that He will build.
We need to see clearly, despite the darkness that engulfs our tiny world, which is the limitations of our perspective. Y’shuaJesus, the Light of the World, shines brightly upon our hearts as He chooses.
There is for the people of G-d, to the people whom G-d has chosen and written their names in the Book of Life, continual renewal, a refreshing in and by the Holy Spirit of G-d. We don’t go to church to find it. This revival isn’t something for which we can pray. It is something that G-d, our Heavenly Father, drops upon us at His pleasure. This is the Springtime in our relationship with our Lord, when we feel anew His refreshing breath, His Spirit falling upon us. . .
Springtime for the Heart by Wil Robinson
We are renewed in Praise. We acknowledge acts of kindness, wisdom, and truth previously unseen. We acknowledge that even during those troubling times our Lord has been right beside us, urging us onward. Have we not heard the angels singing “Onward Christian Soldiers. . .” Praise is the acknowledgement of what G-d has done, is doing, and is going to do.
We are renewed in Worship. We find a deep and utter sense of who our Heavenly Father is, and Y’shuaJesus, and The Holy Spirit. We find ourselves and our place in our Lord. We worship for Who He is.
We are renewed in our Gratitude and Thankfulness. We begin to understand, to see through the vale that has distorted our vision. The troubled pieces of our lives seem less disjointed, less terrible, more just stepping stones to get us into a place in which we are engulfed by HIS PRESENCE.
We are renewed in our Purpose and our Mission. We begin to sort out where in Messiah we are at the moment. We begin to recognize where we are going, where He is taking us.
We are renewed in Holy Fear, the Awe of G-d Almighty. Our Father invites us into His house, through His library, and on to His back porch. He shows us His backyard. The Lord Y’shuaJesus comes to sit next to us while we are in our own home. We are speechless. There is nothing we can say. We just experience Him. We are lifted up by the Holy Spirit and carried upward, beyond the Earth and its woes, toward Heaven, toward the Throne of the Living G-d. We begin, so slowly, to understand. We gain some perspective. Revival is the springtime of our Lord that invades our heart and makes us a little more whole.
They were all eyes and ears. They monitored the doings of the people about them. They cast angry looks toward anyone who might dare to commit an infraction, or what they perceived to be wrong. They are self-appointed critics. The speak out at any opportunity, pointing out the sins of those they encounter, those they choose to hate. They are Accusers.
They are the liberals in America pointing fingers at people for doing what is, to the liberal, wrong, which is just about everything a liberal doesn’t like. They are conservatives pointing equally judgmental fingers at anyone whom they don’t approve. Some are worse than others. All have some basis they think gives them the right, the mandate, to be an accuser.
After this there was a feast of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. Now there is in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate a pool, in Aramaic called Bethesda, which has five roofed colonnades. In these lay a multitude of invalids–blind, lame, and paralyzed [waiting for the moving of the water;] [for an angel of the Lord went down at certain seasons into the pool, and stirred the water: whoever stepped in first after the stirring of the water was healed of whatever disease he had.] One man was there who had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had already been there a long time, he said to him, “Do you want to be healed?” The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am going another steps down before me.” Jesus said to him, “Get up, take up your bed, and walk.” And at once the man was healed, and he took up his bed and walked. Now that day was the Sabbath. So the Jews said to the man who had been healed, “It is the Sabbath, and it is not lawful for you to take up your bed.“
John 5:1-10 (emphasis added)
Now here’s the thing: “It is not lawful. . .” What they are saying is, “It’s not me telling you that you that you are not allowed to do that, it is (insert some reference here)!”
Standing upon some ruling, some law, they point there fingers saying, “I don’t judge, but the law says what you are doing is unlawful.” How many times have I heard some Christian say that he doesn’t judge people but the Word of G-d does? Too many. And yet who am I to say that he wasn’t appointed, like Jonah or Elijah, or whomever else, to point out the wrongs he is shown by Almighty G-d Himself?
How do we respond to accusations of wrong doing? To the credit of the newly healed man in the Gospel of John, he didn’t say “@$#%&$ Off!” Rather, he, according to Matthew Henry, wanted to give credit and glory to the One Who healed him, though didn’t know the man’s Name. He said, “He made me whole.” Eventually, the healed man learned the Name of the One who’d healed him, and told the Jews. Matthew Henry points out that while done with a mind to give glory to Y’shuaJesus, was like “throwing pearls before swine.”
Some points come to mind while reading the Word this morning, and reflecting upon it. One I led with, that too many people are self-appointed judges, regardless whether or not they are liberals or conservatives, or Chistians. Worse, I’m right there along with them. I have a very bad habit of pointing out the driving faults of most every one on the road, especially when my kids are in the truck with me. My excuse is that I want them to notice the wrongs so that they’ll know to do right. And I certainly get there attention when my hand goes to the horn, and it blasts away at some unwary offender. Yet, I’m just acting in the self-appointed role of accuser. Just like too many other people in this angry, volatile, ready-to-explode country, world.
But there is a more important point, easily overlooked when I get off on to a tangent. This newly healed man said, “He that made me whole. . .” told me what to do.
Thank You, Y’shuaJesus, for making us all whole in You. May we be bold and stand firm in You when accused of wrongs. For this newly healed man obeyed the One who made him whole. He stood, picked up his bed, and carried it away. In essence, his reply to those who accused him was, “I do not do it in contempt of the law and the sabbath, but I am obeying a greater law than the one you cite, for the One who healed me is greater than those laws.” (paraphrased from Matthew Henry’s Commentary) This man obeyed G-d.
Y’shua was accused of breaking the law, too. Many times. On several occasions he referred to scripture to support his action. He pointed out David’s eating of the showbread, of the priests’ slaying the sacrifices, and of the people’s watering their cattle on the sabbath day. Eventually, when accused of healing this man on the sabbath, Y’shuaJesus goes higher and alleges the example of His Father and His divine authority.
Another point: Y’shuaJesus was a radical. Why not just come back another day. That man had been there 38 years, so another day wouldn’t hurt. Then Y’shuaJesus wouldn’t have caused this man to “break the law” and carry his mat. Y’shuaJesus wouldn’t have broken the law, either. Well, why did Y’shuaJesus heal the man on the sabbath?
The other day I heard someone on the radio speak of the gentleness and kindness of Jesus. This authority on Jesus said Jesus wasn’t a zealot. I sorta figured he meant that Jesus just walked around Israel doing nice things for people, patting the heads of children, talking to outcasts, eating with sinners. Okay, so sure, Y’shuaJesus did those things. But that just isn’t ALL of the things Y’shuaJesus did. And to imply that it was, is to undermine the Word of G-d. It borders on deception. It also marks a man as not truly knowing Y’shuaJesus.
Maybe the Lord was just plain tired of the self-righteousness of a stubborn people who prized the “Law” over the people for whom the Law was given. Perhaps Y’shuaJesus wanted to stir up some trouble to make a point. I’m sure it got the attention of more than one person when He went into the Temple, in an act of fury, and drove out sellers and money changers. This gentle Jesus was also the One Who called Pharisees white-washed, empty tombs, vipers. Hum. Not so very gentle. Y’shuaJesus was a very dangerous man, one that the religious establishment knew would cause them distress, one that would undermine the all they’d done to get along with the Roman rulers. Y’shuaJesus was a rebel.
Y’shuaJesus didn’t come down from His throne to bring a temporary, carnal peace. He came to die violently for a true Peace that is eternal, offered to all. Well, to all as long as they believe that Y’shuaJesus is Lord and Savior. He said “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. . .” Hummmmmmm. That’s “hate” speech, isn’t it? I mean, He excluded a lot of people who follow the universalist religious views. And humanist who believe humanity is god, as well as New Agers. Well, let’s not go there, shall we.
Jesus (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
The One Who healed me made me whole. Thank G-d. Blessed is the Name of the Lord Y’shuaJesus.
Lord Bless, Keep, Shine upon you and yours today and tomorrow, as we long for His coming. . .
. . . and that means we’re off to a state university to watch a couple state championship semi-final high school basketball games. My daughter’s team will play, as will the school’s boy’s team. Last year the girl’s team got into the top eight, this year into the semi’s. Not too shabby for. . . I was going to say, a small school. But the there is a somewhat level playing field, so to speak, in that the schools compete within divisions based upon school size. The kids’ high school is in the lowest division, having a student population of around two hundred.
It’s been a good year for sports. I mentioned that my son made it to the regional wrestling championship. That was a great accomplishment: he wrestled only half season last year and only half season this year. When he switched schools after first semester last year, he was, by Georgia’s Athletic Association rules, unable to compete for one complete calendar year.
Unlike so many American families that really get into sports, neither my wife nor I are particularly interested, at least not until the kids’ interest developed beyond the years of playing soccer (which is really football throughout the rest of the world). This year we even hosted a Super Bowl party in which my son had two male friends and three female friends over to the house.
Now I competed in various sports as a kid. I was on the swim team, competing back stroke and freestyle. I played football as a line man. I was also on the rifle team. But I didn’t get into watching sports or attending games. . . as I said, until now.
One thing I’ve noticed at both the wrestling matches and basketball games is the audience/spectator involvement. There’s an energy that seems to build until even I begin to shout “Yeah!” when one of the girls on my daughter’s team makes a long hoop shot for three points. And when their team leads by sixty points, we all cheer when a girl on the opposing team scores on a tough shot, and sometimes on any shot. At a game last weekend, a girl was hurt, twisting her knee badly. Immediately the gym began to quiet down, and when both team trainers and the athletic director headed to join the coaches attending the girl, you could hear a pin drop.
My take on all the energy flow, and reaction to injuries, is that spectators become engaged in the activity such that it becomes personal. Each player becomes a daughter or a son or a sister or brother. There’s a corporate flow of brain waves that seem to draw even the most reluctant person into the moment, engaging some primordial place within each of us. Some how we all become one family–at least for a few moments.
That’s a totally secular spirituality, in a sense. It’s what it was like when the Believers gathered together. They were all in one accord. [ ASIDE. That reminds me of a joke: The Bible says the Apostles drove a Honda; it says the Apostles were in one accord. The Bible also says Joshua rode a motorcycle; his triumph was heard throughout the land. ]
And they, continuing daily with one accord in the temple, and breaking bread from house to house, did eat their meat with gladness and singleness of heart. . .
Acts 2:46
Flag of St David with Welsh Red Dragon (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Today is also St. David’s Day. Don’t know what that is, it’s a day for the Welsh patron saint, something like the Irish St. Patrick’s Day. I can only guess why all America seems to celebrate the Irish day and not the Welsh. Perhaps it has something to do with the invisibility of the Welsh in America. Here, yes, and throughout the last two hundred years, but reserved and just invisible. Anyway, Happy Saint David’s Day.
Jonah’s Song 