Beaten, bloodied, battered and dying . . .

Beaten, bloodied, battered and dying, he held strong. No matter what abuse they suffered him, no matter the insults they hurled at him, he did not waver. Through the pain, the humiliation, the torment, he held strong.

His face had been struck by fist and rod time and again. His nose was not merely broken, but mangled. Shards of twisted cartilage conspired with congealed blood to seal off his ability to breathe. Both sides of his head had been brutally assaulted by whips and belts, and his left ear, nearly separated from the rest of his face, hung near his jaw. His eyes, bloody slits nearly hidden by his grotesquely swollen face, were filled not with anger, but something else, something out of place in this scene of death.

His beard, twisted and matted with blood, spit, and bile framed the bottom of his seemingly inhuman face. A twisted mass of thorns, harshly puncturing skin and flesh, crowned his head. Stretched to each side, his arms strained, the tendons on their undersides taut to the point of tearing as they supported his weight. Through his wrists, still dripping blood, two large iron spikes were driven through skin, bone, and tendon into a rough hewn olive wood beam. His feet, crossed one over the other, were similarly pierced, securing him to the cross.

His chest heaved slightly, but stopped short of a normal breath. The weight of his body prevented his lungs from filling with air, and instead they filled with blood and water. Had he been able, he would have coughed the foul fluid out, but he was not. He had neither strength, nor desire, nor life to do so. Covered with dust and dirt, mixed with the filth cast at him by others, his body was encased in a crust of defilement.

He could have ended the pain, escaped the suffering, fled the humiliation at any time; but he did not. He could have called upon a legion of angels to avenge his wrongful arrest, but the command remained unspoken. His power was to do so, but his promise, his duty, was to not. His call was to bear the weight of punishment for a poor sinner not yet born, one who would too easily accept the price he paid.

He is Redeemer. He was man. He is God.

He is Christ, my Savior.

Do you know him?

In Debt Up To My Eyeballs

I'm in debt up to my eyeballs. But, thankfully, not in the way we usually think of such things. Let me explain.

I have a friend who is so much better at so many things than I am. Fishing, hunting, sports, and, most pertinently of late, building projects. Because he is so much better at these things than I am, I am always asking him for help and advice. And--weirdly enough--he even invites me to come with him to do fun stuff, and volunteers to help me on whatever I'm doing. It's a strange relationship known as friendship where a tally of who-owes-who-what is not kept.

And man, am I the beneficiary of that!

Were I to have to pay for all the consultations, expert labor, hunting and fishing guide services, and use of equipment (for work and pleasure), I would be thousands of dollars in debt. But he doesn't keep track, and won't let me either. And, if I had done any of these things without his presence, I probably would have been able to "make it work," but nothing would have been done as well, as quickly, or with as much enjoyment. Because he is a perfectionist, even more so when doing work for someone other than himself, every thing is done just right. It's amazing, really, the difference that makes. Something that I could have made work, while painful to look at, he makes work better and makes it aesthetically pleasing. Our most recent project was a privacy fence, mentioned in my last post. Thanks to him, it looks awesome.

But all of this leaves me feeling in debt. He doesn't keep track, but I can't help it. He gives me his absolute best, free of charge, and I have this feeling of obligation that I do not know how to repay. He tells me, "It's nothing," and he means it, but this feeling of indebtedness remains. It is said there are no debts between friends, and my friend personifies that; it's just hard for me to accept.

I don't like to owe anyone anything. I'd rather do things for myself, and not be obligated to anyone else. But I've had to accept that there are some things that I simply cannot do as well myself. That's when I call my friend.

This friendship reminds me a lot of my relationship with Jesus. There are so many things I cannot do myself that I call on Jesus for, and He is always there. And just like my friend, Jesus doesn't keep track of how many times I call on Him, or how much I owe. He responds, He gives, and He shrugs off the question of cost. "I'm glad to help," He says. The same thing my friend says. "It's nothing. Glad to help. Call if you need me. Don't try to do that alone."

Pretty amazing. I'm so very fortunate to have the friends I do, and to count Jesus Christ as one of them. I am forever indebted, but none of them are keeping track.

Now if only I could learn to do the same.

Fences, Neighbors, and Boundaries

Good fences make good neighbors, so the saying goes. That old saying has more than a grain of truth. Everyone likes to have boundaries that are recognized and respected. But sometimes our boundaries are just a little too strict, and that leads to problems. As another saying goes, The fence that makes good neighbors needs a gate to make good friends.

I have been both victim and perpetrator when it comes to abusing boundaries, whether they be fences, beliefs, rules, or personal preferences. I have to admit I have walked over others' properly placed boundaries, just as others have stepped beyond mine. But sometimes our boundaries are just ridiculous. In fact, some of them would be funny if they weren't so infuriating and, at times, costly.

We all know of some boundaries that are just plain silly; did you know in many places it is illegal to park your car in such a way that you block your own driveway? And we all know people who take perfectly good boundaries and abuse them for their own purposes. Both are frustrating. But, they are also unavoidable. Since we are throwing out old sayings, we might as well include, The world would be great, if it weren't for all the people.

So how are we to respond when someone abuses or ignores our boundaries, or sets up boundaries that are abusive to us?

The terms grace and mercy come to mind. Grace is giving someone something (good) they do not deserve; God is gracious in that He offers us salvation through Jesus Christ. Mercy is not giving someone something they do deserve, as in a punishment; God is merciful in that He does not submit us to the judgment we deserve. Similar, but distinctly different.

What does that have to do with the price of tea in China?

We should respond to others as God responds to us when we cross His boundaries. While it is true that God corrects and rebukes, even disciplines those He loves, He is also merciful and full of grace. He gives us grace that we do not deserve, and mercifully holds back His judgment.

That's a hard model to follow.

What did I do in response to the event which triggered this writing? I respected their boundaries, and am putting up a bigger fence of my own. For, as Carl Sandburg said, Love your neighbor as yourself, but don't take down the fence.

Has Anyone Found My . . .

Has anyone found something I lost? I am not sure what it is, but I know it is missing. I cannot tell you exactly what it looks like, or when or where I had it last, but I can tell you it is no longer in my possession.

This is not a riddle, exactly. More of a conundrum. Something is gone, but I don't know what, nor when I lost it. Whatever it is, it was important, and I would dearly love to have it back. When I discovered it was missing, which was a couple of months ago--maybe longer--I began to understand why I was feeling the way I was. Something is missing from my life. I need it back.

The something I have lost may be ambition, or drive, or desire. It may be joy, or hope, or anticipation. Shoot, it may even be youth, vim, or vigor, but I don't think so. I'm not that old yet!

But it looks like one of those, or maybe all of those wrapped up into one something. I don't know. But I am lacking this thing, and there is a hole where it is supposed to be. That emptiness is sucking the life from my life, and that is wholly disheartening--pun intended.

I have nothing to complain about. My marriage is good, my kids are good, my job is a good job. I have good health, God is providing for us well, and I have all the support I could ask for. Good friends, good family, good church. God is good.

The problem is, I am having trouble seeing that. Or maybe appreciating it would be a better way to say it. God provides and I reply Ho-hum; thanks God. No excitement, no true thanksgiving. Not a sense of entitlement, I don't believe, but a lack of graciousness, perhaps. I sometimes wonder if God has been too good, and, like a spoiled child, I keep wanting more. Not a pleasant thought.

So whatever is missing, I need it returned. If you have suffered a similar loss, and been able to recover that something, could you tell me where you found it?

I'm missing mine.