So this year, my small group co-leaders and I decided to go through the book of John. Though we weren't sure at the time if going through a single book would be a good idea (since we didn't know who would be showing up consistently), I think it's safe to say that God blessed our time going through it. And, having wrapped up the final chapter about a week ago, I figured that it would be appropriate to have a few inevitably incomplete reflections or two about what I learned. And besides, it's finals time, which for me means it's paper time, and I'm willing to concede that this is a paper of some sort. And that's just how it is.
So without further ado, here goes.
John 1 opens up with the reality that "in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God" (v.1-2). And then we are told that through the word "all things were made" and in the word "was life" and that this "life was the light of men" (v. 3-4). And if that wasn't enough, we're told that "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it" (v. 5)
Of course, Jesus's words and fulfillment of Scripture (the word of God) throughout the gospel are powerful. It is with words that Jesus summons his disciples. "Come and you will see," as he tell them to follow him (John 1). It is his words that command the wedding servants to fill the jars with water so that he can turn them into wine, the sick man at the pool in Bethesda to get up, Lazarus to "come out" (John 2, 5, 11). With words of anger does Jesus cleanse the temple and fulfills the psalmist's words: "Zeal for your house will consume me" (John 2). It is his words that reveal him to the Samaritan woman and his word given to the official to believe so that his son might be healed (John 4). Most assuredly, it is his words, repeated to Peter, that reaffirm his disciple not only of forgiveness but his status as a child of God (John 21).
Jesus also calls himself "the light of the world" (John 8). He is a light that reveals and condemns the hypocrisy of the Pharisees (John 8), exposes the fragile (but not necessarily disingenuous) faith of the thousands that try to follow him (John 6), a light that shows his disciples how they "also are to love one another" (John 13). He is the light of all men, drawing all people to himself, among which are Samaritans, Greeks, and skeptical teachers of the law. Where else do we hear of light. A city on a hill. A light to the nations (Matthew 5). While the Pharisees, afraid of losing their light, refrain from defiling themselves in the heathen Pilate's presence, Jesus is unafraid to associate with the unclean, to let doubt touch him and believe (Thomas). Jesus goes so far as to eat meals with and wash the feet of his betrayer (Judas), of his denier (Peter). Jesus is the light that shines in the darkness. It is in the dark of night that he meets with Nicodemus to share the good news of the kingdom of God (John 3). He is the light that prays for his children on the night before he is to be crucified.
The Word is light. Summoning, cleansing, revealing, reaffirming, giving, healing, exposing, condemning, associating, meeting, and praying (and most assuredly, in the process, doing many other things as well).
Monday, April 28, 2008
Saturday, April 26, 2008
why i need to get a camera phone
I friend of mine at church took this picture of me during church a week ago.
go here to see it
My thoughts?
1. I think I'll give a little drool next time for an added effect.
2. I still remembered the sermon.
3. Who doesn't sleep when they're at home?
Less than a month until graduation.
Goodness.
go here to see it
My thoughts?
1. I think I'll give a little drool next time for an added effect.
2. I still remembered the sermon.
3. Who doesn't sleep when they're at home?
Less than a month until graduation.
Goodness.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Ward No. 6
In Chekhov's short story, Ward No. 6, a conversation between the doctor Andrei Yefimych and the mad psychiatric patient Ivan Dmitrich takes place. Andrei is insisting that a person's environment has little to do with his security and peace of mind. Therefore, there's no need to be surprised at anything or get overwhelmed by the troubles of life. He says, "There's no difference between a warm, cozy study and this ward...A man's peace and content are not outside but within him."
Having already denounced the Stoics in their previous conversation, Ivan Dmitrich responds:
"To scorn suffering, to be always content and surprised at nothing you must reach that condition"--and Ivan Dmitrich pointed to the obese, fat swollen peasant--"or else harden yourself with suffering to such a degree that you lose all sensitivity to it, that is, in other words, stop living."
"A convenient philosophy: no need to do anything, and your conscience is clear, and you feel yourself a wise man...No, sir, that's not philosophy, not thinking, not breadth of vision, it's laziness, fakirism, a dreamy stupor..."
and most poignantly
"Christ responded to reality by weeping, smiling, grieving, being wrathful, even anguished; he didn't go to meet suffering with a smile, nor did he scorn death, but he prayed in the garden of Gethsemane for this cup to pass from him."
So I actually read Chekhov's story last summer as I was applying for medical school, ironically enough. As I re-read the story for my Russian Lit. paper, I am struck by how much often blunt insight that Chekhov and yet there's a constant tension between allowing his words to wholly resonate within me and guarding against a perceived excessiveness of cynicism that often comes out in his works (or at least in the ones about physicians). One thing remains. Sensitivity to other people's pain is paramount in our ability to love another. The ability to experience the peaks and valleys of life is what makes us human. And as I find these undergraduate years quickly coming to a close, I pray to God that I do not allow maturity to become infected with stoicism or wisdom to be equivocated with insensitivity to the stark realities around me.
Or, as Bum put it, "emotional retardation"
Having already denounced the Stoics in their previous conversation, Ivan Dmitrich responds:
"To scorn suffering, to be always content and surprised at nothing you must reach that condition"--and Ivan Dmitrich pointed to the obese, fat swollen peasant--"or else harden yourself with suffering to such a degree that you lose all sensitivity to it, that is, in other words, stop living."
"A convenient philosophy: no need to do anything, and your conscience is clear, and you feel yourself a wise man...No, sir, that's not philosophy, not thinking, not breadth of vision, it's laziness, fakirism, a dreamy stupor..."
and most poignantly
"Christ responded to reality by weeping, smiling, grieving, being wrathful, even anguished; he didn't go to meet suffering with a smile, nor did he scorn death, but he prayed in the garden of Gethsemane for this cup to pass from him."
So I actually read Chekhov's story last summer as I was applying for medical school, ironically enough. As I re-read the story for my Russian Lit. paper, I am struck by how much often blunt insight that Chekhov and yet there's a constant tension between allowing his words to wholly resonate within me and guarding against a perceived excessiveness of cynicism that often comes out in his works (or at least in the ones about physicians). One thing remains. Sensitivity to other people's pain is paramount in our ability to love another. The ability to experience the peaks and valleys of life is what makes us human. And as I find these undergraduate years quickly coming to a close, I pray to God that I do not allow maturity to become infected with stoicism or wisdom to be equivocated with insensitivity to the stark realities around me.
Or, as Bum put it, "emotional retardation"
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