"THE DIFFERENCE OF HOLINESS" (based on Matthew 27:45-53)

All my life I looked for His coming. I waited, hoped, and prayed. Although numerous others lost faith in The Promise, I know that God would stay true to His Word. Even if not today, not in this lifetime, not in my generation or the next, His promise would be fulfilled. I knew the Messiah would come, and even if I never beheld his face on this earth, I still must proclaim His coming, despite the ridicule of those around me.
I was raised the oldest son of a prominent Jew in Jerusalem. The rituals of the Jewish faith soon became a routine part of my life and that of those around me. Many of my friends, and even some of my family members, grew tired of hearing of the Messiah, the Savior to come. Some lost hope, forgetting God’s previous faithfulness to our ancestors. I, however, determined to study the ancient words of the prophets of old, in order to be prepared should the hope of the Messiah at long last become manifest. If God was faithful in the past, I reasoned, then why should He not continue to be as such to all posterity in the present and future? I had not reason to doubt His goodness and faithfulness.
I devoted my life to the hope of His coming, having full assurance of its fulfillment. Because of my father’s influence, I readily gained access to the scrolls and manuscripts that made up the Holy Scriptures. At times, I entered debates with the religious leaders over various issues, being careful to study intently God’s view on the subject. The immorality and vice that had entered even our strict Jewish culture angered me, and in time I began to speak out against it as contrary to God’s Will. Although I became disfavored by man, as even some of the prominent Jewish officials and religious leaders took place in such evil practices, and received exceeding ridicule for my stands and earnest beliefs, I refused to become disheartened, rather turning to the God of my fathers for strength and sustenance. In my lifetime I saw many converted to a truly saving knowledge of my Jehovah God, though many fell away from their faith in our God of old, not realizing that He is also God of the present and future. I prayed for those who ridiculed me, gave to the poor, have to the poor and helped those in need, striving to live as Yahweh, my God, would have me to. I always kept an earnest watch for my Messiah, my Immanuel, but He never came. When I grew old, I taught the children of the city stories of God’s faithfulness and charged them to always look for the Messiah, never forsaking hope in His coming. I died and old man and a faithful servant or my God, looking for the Christ from my deathbed with my last words, “Come Immanuel.”
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Several years later, there came a Man. He claimed to be the Son of God. He performed many miracles, healing the blind and paralyzed, cleansing people of internal diseases, forgiving sins, converting hearts and inspiring faith in God, and raisin people from the dead. This Man was called Jesus, Immanuel, the Savior of the world. Although He committed no sin, He was illegally arrested and tried, brutally beaten, violently mocked, and finally condemned to die the most tortuous death as a criminal simply for claiming to be the Messiah. In their zeal for personal gain and earnest search for the Messiah, the Jewish religious leaders left no room for their promised Savior to actually come, condemning Him as a liar, a heretic, a blasphemer. This Jesus, this Man, fulfilled all the prophecies proclaimed about Him by the prophets from of old, beginning at His place of birth and His parentage, and going to His horrendous crucifixion.
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It was about three o’clock on Friday of Passover week. This man Jesus had been arrested the night before, tried by the Sanhedrin, Herod, and Pontius Pilate, and ultimately condemned to death by the cruel Roman methods of crucifixion after being beaten and flogged till barely alive. It had been dark in the land for the previous three hours. Suddenly, Jesus Christ called out from His place on the cross, “My God, My God, Why have You forsaken me?” fulfilling the words of the Psalmist. He had taken onto Himself all of the sins of the world, receiving the punishment for them, and in that moment His Father had turned His back on Him, His Son, Jesus. Crying out again, the Savior of the world died. Immediately, the curtain of the Temple ripped in two from top to bottom. The earth quaked, and rocks split. At the same time, tombs were opened and the bodies of many holy people were raised to life again. I was one of those people.
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As I rose from my tomb, resurrected in Christ’s death, I knew instantly that the Messiah had come. Although I did not know God’s complete purpose in giving me life again, I knew I must continue to proclaim the gospel of the Messiah. I did not at first disclose my identity to anyone, but secretly went into the city to discover what had happened. There, I learned of this Man from the line of David who had come from Nazareth, claiming to be the Messiah of the Jews.
On Sunday, I learned of the resurrection of Jesus from the dead. Although I had not doubts, this confirmed what I had already determined in my heart and mind- Jesus really was the Son of God, the promised Messiah. I went into the holy city of Jerusalem to proclaim salvation in Him alone.
I scared my granddaughter such that she nearly jumped out of her sandals when I first approached her. She believed me to be a ghost at first! I finally convinced her of what had happened. She was one of the few who had listened to m words while I had previously been on earth, and now believed Jesus to be the Messiah for whom I had so earnestly longed and yearned. She took me later to see the twelve disciples of Jesus, who were able to tell me much of the life and ministry of my Savior.
I was blessed to be among those to whom Jesus appeared before His final ascension until the last day. The One I had looked for all of my life, I was able to finally behold! I devoted the remainder of the new life which the Father had given to me on this earth to proclaiming the good news of His Son, the Messiah, my Savior Jesus Christ, and the marvelous work that he had done in my life.
I do not understand the ways of God. Why I was blessed in the power of Christ to be resurrected and to behold my Messiah, I may never know. But one thing I do know. I am given a time on this earth for a reasons and a purpose, and I must make use of that time, proclaiming Christ always, whatever the cost. If I had listened to those who persecuted me for my undying faith in the Messiah, I may never have been resurrected to behold my risen Lord. In such knowledge, I will devote the remainder of my resurrected life to the furtherance of His Kingdom, as I know not what blessings may come as a result of my devotion. I encourage all to give Christ the similar devotion of their own lives. WHO knows, maybe one day you’ll get another chance at life as a result of your faith as I did!

Politically Correct?

In a society where one should censure each and every word and phrase before uttering it in order to prevent oneself from being "politically incorrect," it is interesting to question what this even means and whether or not it is truly beneficial to be "politically correct." According to dictionary.com, to be politically correct means that one is "marked by or adhering to a typically progressive orthodoxy on issues involving esp. race, gender, sexual affinity, or ecology." The American Heritage Dictionary similarly defines the term as, "of, relating to, or supporting broad social, political, and educational change, especially to redress historical injustices in matters such as race, class, gender, and sexual orientation." Basically, being politically correct merely implies that one does not offend particular groups of people via one's speech or actions.
By these standards, conservatism is a mistaken viewpoint, in that it fails to allow for the changing of opinions with the progression of ideas. For example, beliefs such as those that gay marriage is immoral and should not become legal, are not politically correct and therefore are erroneous due to the fact that they do not allow for society to adapt to new dogma. Often, such political correctness fails to take into consideration history and the theories of previous civilizations. In no culture has it been inherently normal from birth for individuals of the same gender to be attracted to one another. On the contrary, people have invariably been magnetized towards the opposite sex, considering homogeneous sexual relations to be unnatural. Moreover, in order for reproduction to occur among any species, whether animal or human, it is necessary for there to be a male and a female. It is as impossible for two females to conceive a child as it is for a male to birth one. Furthermore, sustaining in all cultures throughout time and space is the presence of a male and a female as the mother and father of children. Although the roles of men and women have changed over time, the phenomenon of the family has not.
In like manner, consider the present view of abortion. The pro-life view is deemed politically incorrect, while the pro-choice view is hailed as the proper mainstream credence. Pro-lifers hold the belief that the embryo is a child from conception, and that it is murder to take the life of the child at any point in time, even before the actual birth. Divergently, those who hold the pro-choice belief consider the best interest of the pregnant woman to be of greater value than that of the fetus she carries within herself. Many believe that the fetus does not receive the status of "child" or "human being" until after it has exited the birth canal. At any rate, they do not consider aborting the embryo or fetus to be a homicide. Despite the latter conviction, the studies are more convincing in promotion of the former position. ( For more information visit vvv.JFAweb.org). Ironically, society today criticizes and detests the ancient Mayas, Incas, and Aztecs for their infant sacrifices as inhumane and appallingly loathsome. Is it politically correct to decry one civilization for their deeds while in essence the United States today is committing the same horrendous deeds from a slightly different venue? Is it politically correct to censure other nations and people groups for their actions? Is this not being politically incorrect by being closed-minded and antagonistic towards groups or doctrines that do not follow orthodox standards.
Taking it further, how does this effect the American Constitutional right to the freedoms of speech, press, religion, etc? Obviously, the U.S. is not going to outlaw certain religious factions, but already certain creeds are being criticized openly. Is it politically correct for one group to criticize another, but when that group is criticized in return it is suddenly politically incorrect Many Christians today feel a sense of injustice when they are lambasted left and right for their principles and the doctrines of their faith, but are considered "closed-minded" when they return the disparagement. Where is the line going to be drawn? It is politically incorrect for Caucasians to refer to African Americans in other ways, or to make racial jokes, but often it is not deemed to be politically correct when it is the other way around.
Lastly, what is the benefit of being politically correct? One half of a century ago, political correctness or incorrectness was irrelevant. People spoke what they thought and said what they believed. Today, to do such a think is generally unheard of, and certainly is viewed with much consternation on the seldom occasions in which it takes place. In essence, truth is being replaced in society today by what makes everyone else happy and content and comfortable. So what if what they believe is a lie, if it satisfies them, then leave them alone. If someone has lung cancer, would imagining that it is not truly there cause it to magically disappear? The easily palpable answer is no, no matter how much conjuring one may do, the cancer still remains. The only hope for having it removed would be operation, or chemo-therapy or other forms of treatment as prescribed by a specialist. Likewise, does ignoring the problems that our society faces and our culture contains today cause them to vanish? Once again, the plainly visible answer is no, it will not. No amount of political incorrect is going to purge the present population of its evils and downfalls. Perhaps a taste of political incorrectness would not be harmful to society today. After all, the truth may hurt may hurt for a time, and the means of achieving the cure may not be totally painless, but the end result makes it all worthwhile in the end.

Assignment for Bible Class on May 14, 2007

I was looking through some stuff today, and I find this old assignment from my Bible Class during my Junior year of high school. The assignment was to write if Jesus lived your life, how would your life be different. Here is my response, written on May 14, 2007:
"If Jesus lived my life, things would probably be different in a lot of way. I already have daily devotions, but Jesus would probably spend longer on them. He also would probably spend more prayer time in praise, worshiping Him and thanking Him for all that He has done rather than asking for lots of things. Secondly, I have had lots of health problems lately. I don't know for sure,but I think that just maybe Jesus wouldn't have migraines and such. Next, Jesus would be more respectful of his parents and always honor and obey them. His thoughts about things would be pure, holy, and pleasing before God. He would be a good example to those around Him, especially to those younger. Jesus would love people around Him who have hurt Him and forgive them. He would reach out to those left out and make sure that they are included. Jesus might also memorize more Scripture. I had been doing a really good job at that for a while, but I've slacked off lately. Jesus wouldbe a leader instead of a follower and be set apart. He also would not judge by appearances, but take time to get to know people for who they are. Jesus would most importantly invest in the souls and lives of those around Him, winning over hearts to the service of the Father and the conviction of the Holy Spirit."

Never Ceased to Be Amazed

After church one morning there was a Hispanic man sitting on the sidewalk outside, and seeing my pastor speaking to him, we pulled out of the parking lot thinking that everything was under control. When we arrived at home my mom, who had driven seperately with my brother Peter, told us how they had stopped and attempted with another man to communicate with this stranger. Knowing basically know Spanish except a few numbers, they managed to get across that he should return at 6 o'clock. We prayed then that he would indeed return.
When arrived at church, the pastor's wife came looking around for some one that knew Spanish. Knowing enough to communicate and understand for the most part while by no means being fluent, I volunteered to help out until they could locate Josh and Adriana, a couple at our church who are from Spain and Venezuela. I was able to tell him that they were looking for people who could talk to him much better than I could. His name, he said, was Quan, but he spoke an unusual dialect of Spanish so it could have been Juan. I was able to communicate with him well enough, but he spoke a dialect of Spanish that I am not very familiar with, so it was a bit of a struggle. He asked me if the building we were in was a church, which I affirmed. He told me that he lived in a neighborhood nearby with his family. I told him that although I am not very good at speaking Spanish, I understand just about anything. Then I told him that about going on two missions trips with the church to Guatemala. He seemed interested at this and then communicated that he was from Guatemala! Finally, Josh came along with Adriana's father who is a Venezuelan pastor that knows no English either. They sat down with the young man for about an hour and talked to him about how to recieve Christ to be his Lord and Savior and what exactly that means. I do not know all of the details, but I do know that the man accepted Christ into his heart!!! Praise the Lord!
One must stop and wonder what would cause a Hispanic man to sit outside of a church on a curb on an icy cold day like today for several long hours just to hear about Christ and how to recieve Him as his Savior. I know that God moved that day in that man's heart and life to draw him to Christ Baptist Church. I wish that Americans today would have such a passion to know Christ as this one Hispanic man showed that day. I wish that we would show the courage to step outside of our comfort zones for Christ as this man did by coming to an upper middle class English-speaking church. I praise the Lord for what has gone on today!
AND I WILL NEVER CEASE TO BE AMAZED BY WHAT THE LORD CAN AND WILL DO!!!!

The Workings of Providence: A Short Story

It was the autumn of the year, the time when clouds hung ominously in the gray skies, when days were monotonously gloomy and uneventful, when I set out on my solitary horseback excursion. As I journeyed, I traveled along a featureless and unremarkable stretch of land until presently, as the colors and then the duskiness of evening drew on, a desolate and mournful house came into my line of vision. Although I do not know what caused the emotion, the structure gave me immediately an overwhelming feeling of despondency within my soul. Already the weight I bore on my shoulders after the recent discovery of the sad state of the plantation’s financial affairs seemed overwhelming, and now the hopeless appearance of the cottage pervaded my mind with still further memories from the war and questions concerning its aftermath.
Raised in Georgia’s heartland, I grew up the only child of a widowed owner of a vast estate, whose primary crop was cotton. Exceedingly prosperous, the plantation thrived because of the sweat and toil of several hundred slaves who incessantly labored underneath the sun to provide for the whims of my father, Jacob Schwann, without ever receiving gratitude of any sort. As a small child I was taught that these Negroes were inferior to whites like myself, and that I should not fraternize with them. Fearing my father’s unpredictable temper, I avoided them at all cost, only interacting with the household domestics with the barest of perfunctory communication. Unfortunately, even taking such measures, I was not completely free from my father’s severe reprimands.
Similarly, my father believed that religion was for the infirm and the poor, and would only decrease his own productivity while increasing his vulnerability. Hence, it could be said I was raised a “heathen,” as I never attended church. Once, when I was about nine years old, I went secretly with a friend to attend a service at Easter. When my father found out, he was prodigiously furious, and after the thrashing I received at his hand, I never again attempted to return. Unfortunately, the phenomenon that induced my father to passionately abhor Christianity within his own household also caused him to prohibit it among his “property.” It added to his staunch requirements for hard labor and success to make him quite a formidable figure among those he encountered. All feared his wrath, and throughout my childhood I cringed to see his harsh punishment for failure, disobedience, and displays of religious faith.
Now, as I approached this melancholy cottage, childhood memories flooded through my mind. As I drew closer, something about the house held my attention. On a whim of my adventurous nature, I reigned in my horse at the gate, and dismounted to investigate further. The gate, with peeling paint that revealed former whitewash seeming to suggest better days, hung only on one hinge and creaked as I opened it. The grass on the side of the path grew tall and threatened to cover it. Upon reaching the porch, I tested each board as I stepped up to the front door. Out of habit, I raised my hand, knocking on the door, and receiving no answer, I entered the house.
Inside, the scent was surprisingly clean instead of the musty smell I expected as a result of long disuse. The room I had just entered contained a few chairs and an old desk of the kind that close and lock. The walls were as bare as an infant just entering the world. In one corner, part of a floor board had rotted away. Cautiously, I opened another door, which led to the other room that formed the back side of the house.
I drew back a bit surprised as I stepped through the doorway and found that a fire was burning on the hearth. Although I realized that I was invading someone’s property, my tendency towards curiosity got the better of me, and I continued to look about the house. A table with two chairs was located in the middle of the room on top of an old, multi-colored, braided rug. A shelf contained a few dishes, and a few pots hung from nails on the wall. Noticing a ladder, my eyes turned upward to discover a loft above half of the room that appeared to contain a cot of some sort.
To my dismay, as I stood trespassing in someone else’s quarters, a voice penetrated my thoughts. “Well, hello there. I see I have an unexpected visitor today!”
I whirled around quickly to discover an elderly black man addressing me, having apparently just entered the back door of the cottage. Sensing my embarrassment and speechlessness, he continued speaking.
“Don’t mind me. I’m jus’ ole’ James. I live here ya see. An’ I had jus’ gone down to the cellar to get me some food for dinner,” he said in a kind, Southern drawl.
“I…I’m sorry sir,” I stammered. “I didn’t realize that anyone lived here, and I was out for a ride and decided to have a look inside and… oh please, sir, let me go I didn’t do any harm to anything…I didn’t know…”
“Easy there, miss. I’m not gonna hurt ya none. Haven’t ya ever seen a black man before? Of course you didn’t hurt a thin’,” he chuckled.
“I knocked on the door and no one responded,” I continued.
“Miss, it be alright. You done nothin’ wrong. Why, I was jus’ thinkin’ earlier today how nice it would be to have a visitor. ‘Cause you see, ole’ James here lives by hisself, and no one ever come visit him, so I think that the Good Lord done sent you to bless me!” he said enthusiastically. “Would you like to have some tea with me? I have some leaves left over here.”
“Sir, I’m sorry. There must be a misunderstanding. I didn’t mean to come visit you. I didn’t even know anyone lived here.” I responded in confusion.
“I know dat, miss. But dat don’t matter. Now, you didn’t answer my question. Would you like some tea, miss…what was your name?” his warm brown eyes glowed.
“Liza…Liza Schwann. And I’m sorry sir, but I must be going. If my dad knew I were here…well, I must go…” I began edging toward the door through which I had entered.
“Liza Schwann? You be Liza Schwann, the daughter of Joseph Schwann?” the man said incredulously.
“Yes, I am.” I replied uncertainly.
“Well I’ll be! If the Good Lord ain’t workin’ mighty kindly for an old man like me today! First He bring me a visitor, and then she be Liza Schwann!” James raised his hands and looked towards heaven with an expression of gratitude.
“I’m afraid I do not understand,” I said inquisitively.
“Miss Liza, I done prayed for you since you was born. Ya see, your father be my ole’ massah till after the war. Your father say there be no God, and one time he whip me for teachin’ the children ‘bout Jesus. He whip me more when I say I pray for him an’ his family. But I didn’t stop prayin’. When I see you I knew the Good Lord had some big plan for you, so I prayed for you eva’ since. Now I get to see you and talk wit’ you and tell you ‘bout Jesus myself!”
“I…I don’t know what to say…” My emerald eyes must have shown my questions.
“There be nothin’ you need to say, Miss Liza. Now, will you have tea wit’ me so I can tell ya ‘bout Jesus?” he probed further.
“You mean…You mean…I didn’t know…I’m so sorry,” I stammered with remorseful realization of the truth.
“There be nothin’ for you to be sorry ‘bout, nor you father. I already done forgive ‘em,” he said with a huge smile.
“But how? How could you forgive him for what he did to you? He beat you and many other slaves. I know. I saw him do it many different times.” I questioned dubiously.
“The Good Book say to forgive our enemies, so I forgive him. Jesus died for me and the bad things I done. He need Jesus, too,” James said matter of factly.
“He was so wrong…all my life he told me that…that blacks were inferior, that they were nothing,” I mused regretfully. “I don’t know how I could have fallen for his delusion. And God…he never let me go to church. I know nothing about religion.”
James and I proceeded to sit down at his crude, wooden table and, over a cup of tea, he told me all about how God created the world which rebelled against Him, so He sent His Only Begotten Son to die to pay the retribution for our sin. I marveled at how such love could flow from this old, former slave man for the daughter of his cruel master. Tears came to my eyes as I thought of the bitterness and hatred stored up inside of my father. Maybe ole’ James was right. Perhaps father needed Jesus…perhaps we both did.
Finally, it came time for me to leave for home. I promised to return quite soon, and James sent his Bible-his one battered, old Bible that He had kept hidden for years under the tyranny of my father, along with the fact of his literacy. He saw me to the door, and I trudged in deep thought down the path to where my horse waited. Mounting my ride, I galloped off across the fields towards home with my hair, dark as a starless, midnight sky streaming out behind me. Reaching the stable near twilight, I looked up into the beautiful starry sky and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there indeed must be a God who had created all of this. That night, I knelt down at my bedside and prayed to a God from whose identity I had all my life been shrouded and secluded, but from whom my own could never be hidden.
The next morning, I walked with a lighter step, whistling as I went about my duties, and joyful in my newfound faith and personal relationship with the Living God. Soon, I obtained my own Bible, having returned James’ to him with the news that his prayers of many long and difficult years had finally been answered. I began going to see him frequently for spiritual nurturing, and I joined him in vigilant prayer for the salvation of my father.
The fallacy of everything that I had been taught as truth throughout my entire life was shattered in a matter of minutes. I was amazed at the impact the love of Christ could have on the life of an old and abused man, and how it could flow as a river of eternal life to my thirsty soul. Years of racial prejudice and religious intolerance were crumbled like old bricks by the power of this love. Although the days ahead were uncertain with the precarious situation of my family estate, I knew that I could finally live in peace and contentment for the remainder of my days on God’s earth.