When God Smacks You in the Face

Alright, so he doesn't smack. God doesn't deserve to be turned in for child abuse. Actually, he loves us pretty incredibly deeply- infinitely -and I think that's deep enough for me. So, no, God doesn't really *smack* you in the face, but sometimes he gives you a revelation that's so obvious you think you might have been smacked.

I had one such revelation this weekend: perseverance. Before you close out this tab, though, and think, "Lame. Old topic. There is just not anything new here," allow me to set you straight: There is nothing new here, but I want to shed some new light on it. In just a few moments you will be done, and maybe you'll have some new inspiration to keep going.

The first thing I'd like to recommend is a book called, The Traveler's Gift. This book, of all the boatloads of books that I've read, has by far been one of the most inspiring and refreshing. Andy Andrews takes the reader on a crazy journey through time with a man who's not so sure he wants his life anymore, or if his dreams ever can become realities. In the process, seven phenomenal truths are laid out that will absolutely change your life forever if you take them to heart. As you might have guessed, perseverance is incorporated in there. But, since I don't want to spoil anything, I'll move right along to the next thing that stunned me: the Bible.

If you are at all familiar with the Gospel of John, you'll know that it is one power-packed book. I've been reading through it over the past few days, but one passage shocked me a little, simply because of it's profound truth: "I sent you to reap that for which you did not labor. Others have labored, and you have entered into their labor.” (John 4:38)


Wow. We get the benefit of those who have gone before us, and all we have to do is reap! So, why shouldn't we persevere? 


One final thing hit me, and it hit me hard: Jesus isn't giving up, so why should we? This was one of the main points of the sermon our pastor gave on Sunday. Essentially, he showed us our desperate need as sinners for a king, and presented the method of the King in saving us: the Gospel. Finally, he encouraged us, letting us know that our God isn't a quitter. He's not giving up. This battle may rage on, and be miserable, brutal, and cruel, and still our God will not quit. Simply put in the winsome words of Winston Churchill, "If you're going through hell, keep going."


I don't know what you are facing today, whether it's a joyous spring break, the death of a friend, a dream on the verge of breaking, or a dream just beginning to sprout, but whatever it is, embrace it, and keep going. Build that dream and run with it. Write that book. Travel to the ends of the world. But, as Winston Churchill (again ;D) said, "Never, never, never, never give up."


Meridian

Torrents of Trepidation (and Why I Live in the Hills)

WHOOSH!

The wind swept about me, thrashing its finger in my face. Rain was coming. In Israel, the wet season was upon us. Seeing the storm clouds moving in, I began trudging wearily toward the house. As I gazed back at the crops, I sighed at how much work remained to be done when the rain stopped. But, I reminded myself, I ought to be thankful that I lived in my native country, when so many before me had lived in exile.  

Just then, a figure burst through the gate at the end of the field, and came running straight in my direction.

“Judas!” the man yelled, clearly angered by something. “Go and gather your brothers together, and don’t tarry!”

My father, a priest, was vehement in tone, and whenever he got like this, it was wise not to question his authority. Quickly I turned to fetch my brothers, John, Simon, Eleazar, and Jonathan. Like any other boys, my brothers had their share of quarrels. As the middle child, somehow I always landed being the mediator. Once again, this proved true.

                                                            ~

The news my father had for us was not happy. Israel had been commanded, under Antiochus Epiphanus, to conform to the culture of the pagans. We were to worship as the heathens, dress as the heathens – essentially, we were to be heathen. Moreover, my father, Matthathias, as a respected priest in Israel, was expected to be among the first to comply with this official order. Yet, being the godly patriarch he was, father wouldn’t go along with the heathens and certainly would not lead the people into sin. This burden was heavy, and caused us to lose ourselves to grief for many days. But, at last, we realized this could continue no longer. My father’s intention was to be a man of God, and each of us knew he would stay in God’s will.

                                               

With renewed vigor, our family marched along the way to Jerusalem, ready to greet the officials with a clear refutation.

                                                            ~

“You wish to do what?”

The Seleucid general was clearly in disbelief, but my father remained calm.

“Must I live to see these days?”

Appalled at this show of disrespect toward the government, the soldier took a step closer to us. We, in fear, closed ourselves in tighter to one another.

“I will have no one in this land who does not obey the command of his own authorities!” 

The s hissed through the man’s gritted teeth, giving him an aura of penetrating villainy, and a strong presence of regime throughout his enormous bulk. I felt a shiver run down my spine in full acknowledgement of the evil before me. Almost at once, our family exchanged glances, realizing the danger in which we placed ourselves.

“It is a small matter,” continued the man, “to alter your manner of worship.”

“Perhaps to you it is,” replied my father in his rather notorious vehemence, “but I see it not as you do. Indeed, if you change my practice in worship, you will take away my God whom I love. And if you do so, you shall have me exchange all my other daily practices for your own. No, this is no small matter. If this succeeds, may God be my deliverer!”

A cheer rose up behind me. Gladdened that someone was on our side, I turned.

My heart dropped. The cheer was not for my father’s courage in going before the government – no, it was far from that. A young man, a man I had played with in my childhood, a man from a god-fearing, honorable family, had chosen to side with the general.

Bowing down before an idol of the gentiles, my friend threw himself prostrate and began to pray, “Oh Zeus, most high and blessed above all the gods, the son of Kronos, husband to Hera, and father of Athena, Apollo, Dionysus, and the rest of the most beautiful divinities in Olympus: may your name be great forever.”

Disgusted, my father was filled with fury, as were the rest of my family and those few others who were faithful to Yahweh. Enraged at the denial of the Jewish people toward their God, and all they once held dear, it was apparent that my father was moved to wrath, tensing every muscle in his body. In this heat, my father erupted and began to slay all those worshippers who had left the Hebrew faith for pagan idolatry. Furiously, he swept through the crowd gathered in this square of Jerusalem, trampling those thrown prostrate before the graven images of the gods of the Greek-speaking peoples, tearing down these corrupt statues, and ending the lives of those who sought to defend this rebellion against the one true God. Catastrophe marked the scene in Jerusalem, and all were distraught. Still, my father Mattathias had one purpose: to serve the living God by fulfilling his holy call to lead the people of Israel n righteousness.

                                                                        ~

That day proved to be just the beginning of many great struggles between those Jews faithful to God, and those unfaithful. It was not long before my father took our family away to the hills, to be preserved against the pagan influences and harsh persecution we experienced in the city. Since then, we have remained here, a growing number of others joining us. My father’s wish is that someday Israel may be restored to her full glory, for the Lord has promised this to us. It seems more and more clear, however, that perhaps I am the one the Lord would have go before Israel while she waits, and renew her strength to endure. How I will do so, I know not, but one thing I do know: that this man Antiochus is wicked, and does not follow the true and living God.

I am afraid I must take leave of my writing, and tend to the fields. The work never ends around here, since we are so few in number. But, before I go, I must take one last look over the ridge where I sit. Ah, yes, over there, just in view near the horizon, is my hometown. If I blur my eyes, I can almost see the fields, and feel the wind whipping around my face. The rainy season is back in Israel; and maybe, just maybe – Yahweh’s cleansing rain will heal my people soon.