Archive for June, 2010
My family doesn’t have kind words for dating. I’ve been brought up to view it as both pointless and dangerous. And when I went through a time of questioning that fact, Dad brought to light the example of Jacob: a man who was very diligent in marrying the right woman.
Although I now see eye-to-eye with my Dad concerning dating, I don’t think Jacob was all He was said to be.
I was reading over His account a week-or-so ago and I realized just how ridiculous His life actions were.
Let us go through a list:
Black and white. That is how the law starts out when it is written on our hearts (Romans 2:15.)
But God gave us a clever mind. A mind that is capable of reasoning away anything we wish to. We can convince ourselves that theft is okay, if you take only a little. Or that lying doesn’t matter, so long as nobody gets hurt.
Abortion is no exception to this list of exceptions.
I don’t care who you are. You could be the great grandchild of Adolf Hitler, but if you saw a small child about to be murdered, you would do everything you could to prevent it from happening.
Unless, of course, that child is in the womb.
Our culture has argued itself stupid with abortion, when in its simplest forms, we are killing babies.
They reason that they are not living, yet they feel pain.
They say that they are just extension of the mothers body, no more than a zit, yet it can have a completely different blood type.
I could go on with a list of reasons why I think abortion is wrong. But I’m going to let God do the talking.
The Value of Children (more…)
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings.
As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read “Brian Moore.” I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.
And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn’t match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.
A file named “Friends” was next to one marked “Friends I have betrayed.” The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. “Books I Have Read,” “Lies I Have Told,” “Comfort I have Given,” “Jokes I Have Laughed at.” Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: “Things I’ve yelled at my brothers.” Others I couldn’t laugh at: “Things I Have Done in My Anger,” “Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents.”
I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.
When I pulled out the file marked “Songs I have listened to,” I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn’t found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of music but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.
When I came to a file marked “Lustful Thoughts,” I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: “No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!”
In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn’t matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.
And then I saw it. The title bore “People I Have Shared the Gospel With.” The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tears came. I began to weep.
Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn’t bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn’t anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again.
He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn’t say a word. He just cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. “No!” I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was “No, no, ” as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn’t be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood.
He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards.
I don’t think I’ll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, “It is finished.” I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.
-Written by Joshua Harris, 1995
I was reading an article by an atheist a very long time ago, and He used this image to argue that God was evil.
Before I discuss whether it is evil for God to kill people, I want to point something out about this image. It’s very inaccurate. God has killed many more people than 2,038,344. He cursed all of humanity, dealing us the inevitable blow of death.
Let us begin with the 9/11/01 attacks on America.
So many people ask the question “how can a good God allow this?” I have heard many answers. Some very good. But I wish to offer my own to you. It begins with an assumption. Let’s assume that 50% of the people in the twin towers were sinless, Godly people who deserved to go to heaven. And the remaining 50% were sinful wretches who deserved to go to Hell.
Please note that this is pure speculation and I am in no way trying to judge or belittle any of the victims of 9/11.
When the airplanes struck the towers, and when they eventually collapsed, all the people who deserved Heaven went to Heaven, and all the people who deserved Hell went to Hell. Why is this evil?
For those who deserve Heaven, Earth is the closest thing to Hell they will ever experience and thus desire to leave.
For those who deserve Hell, Earth is the closest thing to Heaven they will ever experience and their judgment will be good.
Who deserves Hell and who deserves Heaven?
During our assumption the people who deserved Heaven or Hell were split into a clean 50 – 50. Do you know the actual percentage of people who deserve Hell?
We have all committed sins against a righteous God and deserve His wrath.
“For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God;“
Few seem to grasp this. And is it no wonder, when we are bombarded by “you deserve this” and “you deserve that” in our commercials, radio and newspapers?
When God kills somebody He has the full authority to do so. Does this anger you?
What if you turned on the television and saw on the news that a judge allowed a serial killer go, simply because he was sorry? Would that anger you? Of course it would, because the judge was not good in his decision.
Would you be angry if the judge sentenced the man to death? Probably not, for that is a righteous and just decision.
When God sentences a man to death, it is because that man deserves it. And any anger you feel is due to your own pride and inflated image of self-worth.
See yourself as God sees you, and then you will know the balance between love, wrath and mercy.