Tag Archives: God the Father

Chapter-a-Day Numbers 11

no_whining

The riffraff among the people had a craving and soon they had the People of Israel whining, “Why can’t we have meat? We ate fish in Egypt—and got it free!—to say nothing of the cucumbers and melons, the leeks and onions and garlic. But nothing tastes good out here; all we get is manna, manna, manna.”  Numbers 11:4-6 (MSG)

A couple of weeks ago, Wendy and I spent the week with our friends at the lake. There were four children under the age of five. It has been a long time since I’ve spent such a long period of time with such a number of little ones. I’d forgotten how quickly a child could transform from precious angel to a tearful, whining lump of humanity on the floor. Oh my.

As the week went on and I observed more and more of these sudden Jekyll and Hyde transformations, I was struck again at how adults are just big children who put a more sociably acceptable face on the same flawed human behaviors. Adults whine too, but we usually cloak it in more deceptive communication devices such as passive agressiveness, gossip, sarcasm, and silence.

We are such silly human beings. Even as adults we are constantly discontent with what we have, and continually craving things we don’t have. God blesses us with what we need and in not time we’re bored and discontent, desiring something else. I’ve discovered that sometimes it’s not good for me to get what I crave. What I want isn’t always my Heavenly Father’s best plan for me. But God is a parent, too. Today’s chapter stands in evidence that sometimes He gives in and gives us what we’re whining about, knowing that getting what we crave will prove to be a long, painful life lesson.

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Chapter-a-Day Leviticus 15

Person washing his hands
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God spoke to Moses and Aaron: “Speak to the People of Israel. Tell them, When a man has a discharge from his genitals, the discharge is unclean. Whether it comes from a seepage or an obstruction he is unclean. He is unclean all the days his body has a seepage or an obstruction.” Leviticus 15:1 (MSG)

When my daughters were young, the word for “unclean” was “acky” (toddler-ese derivative of the word “yucky”). Kids need a clear understanding of what things are acceptable and which things are “acky” because they could maim you, burn you, give you intestinal problems (and let’s face it – the diapers are nasty enough without compounding the issue), spread a communicable disease (we’d like to abandon our “pink-stuff-of-the-month” subscription with the local pharmacy, thank you), or outright kill you (dad gets blamed for enough, he doesn’t need that hanging over his head, too). As a result, there is a period of development when “acky” was a hot topic of conversation.

As I read today’s chapter, I found myself returning to the metaphor of Leviticus being a heavenly Father’s rules for the nation of Israel who were just toddlers in their societal development. Wives have enough trouble with us men who were reared in an advanced civilization and the best educational system in human history. We still fart, belch, spit, scratch, pick and leave unhealthy residue of our bodily emissions on toilets with the seat up. Can you imagine how bad guys must have been living in a tent city in 2500 b.c. without showers, indoor plumbing, laundry facilities and disposable razors?

All of the description about what was “acky” in today’s chapter served layers of purposes. From a societal point-of-view, it helped protect the nation from communicable disease by prescribing ceremonial washing of things that could easily carry all sorts of nasty germs and viruses. From a spiritual point-of-view, it reminded the people that they served a holy (and clean) God.

Today, I’m reminded that [wait for it….] “cleanliness is next to godliness.”

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Chapter-a-Day Luke 23

A cropped version of Antonio Ciseri's depictio...
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The Temple curtain split right down the middle. Luke 23:45 (MSG)

Torn. Ripped. Split asunder.

There are so many things that were ripped apart that day. Jesus’ flesh was torn with the soldier’s scourge. His face ripped with long Judean thorns. His body ripped through with nails. His heart torn with a Roman spear.

Then, the Son was ripped from the Father. Carrying the sin of the world, the beloved son became an anathema. The Father turned away from his own. Sin split asunder the unity between God the Father and God the Son. Jesus died alone and isolated. Because of my sin.

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

At the same time, the curtain of the temple was torn apart. The temple curtain separated the “Holiest Place” where God dwelt in the temple apart from sinful man on the outside. But with Jesus carrying the sin of the world and paying the penalty for our sin, the gap between God and man was bridged. God himself bore our sins. God himself made a way for us to enter his presence. The curtain of sin that separated us was torn asunder. Jesus paid the price. Jesus separated himself from the Father so that we could be united with the Father. Jesus paved the way for us to enter God’s presence.

That’s why the angels sang:

“Glory to God in the highest.
And on Earth: peace. Goodwill to men.”

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Chapter-a-Day Luke 22

Miniature from Chludov Psalter. Saint Peter an...
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At that very moment, the last word hardly off [Peter’s] lips, a rooster crowed. Just then, the Master turned and looked at Peter. Luke 22:61 (MSG)

As a child you come to know “the look.” As a parent you naturally learn to give it. “The look” is the most powerful tool of silent and deserved verdict. No words are necessary; No pious lectures required. You are caught red handed and you know it. You stand naked and alone in your shame. You are guilty as charged yet no one need utter the word.

There is just the look, and the unspoken truth of my own actions inscribes itself on my soul.

“I’ve disappointed the ones I care about.”
“I blew it.”
“I failed God, myself, and others I loved.”
“Sinner. Liar. Oathbreaker.”
“Unworthy.”
“Untrusting.”
“Unbelieving.”
“Prodigal.”

A picture may paint a thousand words, but ‘the look’ pierces the heart with ten thousand in a second. I would much rather have the angry diatribe. Scream at me. Yell at me. Give me the lecture. Just stop looking at me like that.

With one look, I feel the entire weight of my guilt and shame.

With that look, I find myself at the crossroads.

Which way will I turn?

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