Believing Is Seeing

I have been thinking about food a lot lately.  

Actually, I have been thinking about food every single day for 40 years.  Eating is one of my main hobbies and after extensive practice, I must say I am getting pretty good at it.

Lately however, in addition to mulling over the delightful variety and volume of food available to me, I have been contemplating the metaphysical implications of eating.  

Stay with me!  It's actually fun!

You see, food is much more than the means to a biological end.  It has spiritual and moral elements.  It has the power to divide people, or be a source of intimate communion. 

Depending on the context in which it is shared, it can bring about either ecstasy or shame.  

It can be used as a visible sign of wealth or a symbol of oppression, a vehicle of beauty or of cruelty, an expression of power or an offering of obeisance.

In the hands of an enemy, it can cause death.  From the hands of a friend it is a tangible message of love.  

 Recently I have been a part of a number of discussions surrounding what constitutes a biblical diet.  The book "What Would Jesus Eat?" and the Daniel Diet offer two opinions.  I've also come across mentions of the Hallelujah Diet, the Genesis Diet, the Bible Diet, and the Maker's Diet, among others.  

All of them are variations on the theme of healthful, holy eating, which I suppose is a good thing.  

I can agree that as a rule people should consider the quality and quantity of what they intend to shove down their gullets, but even so, I can't escape the idea that the reason for so many mentions of food in Scripture goes way beyond cookbook templates and diet plans.  

It is bigger than the question of which ingredients belong in your bread.

Food is utterly essential to life.  It is designed to be consumed and enjoyed every day, multiple times a day.  Humans arrange their activities around the getting of it.  They rejoice and grow strong in its abundant presence, and mourn and wither away in its absence.  Eating is a singular joy that is multiplied in the company of others.  It is comforting.  Satisfying.  Pleasurable.

Hmmm.  Does this earthly experience have a spiritual counterpart?  Is there a divine parallel hidden somewhere? 

I think God shouts his presence to us in everything--in nature, in human relationships, in math and logic, in art, in biology, in music, in chemical reactions, in language, in physics--and in food.  

Do you really think the main point of mentioning wine and figs and olives and fish and bread in the gospels is so we could figure out and follow the precise composition of Jesus' earthly diet, or is it possible that God wanted to hammer home the message that we need a steady diet of HIM?  

"Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst.  Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life," Jesus says to the woman at the well. (John 4:13-14)

"Rabbi, eat something!" Jesus' disciples urged him.  

"My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to finish his work," Christ replies, pointing their eyes again to the preeminence of the kingdom of God over all other things.  (John 4:31-38)

  

 "Be on your guard against the yeast of the Pharisees and Saducees," Jesus warns his disciples in Matthew 16:6-12, using the mundane to illuminate the essential.  

"Do not let their false teaching infiltrate the truth!" Jesus all but shouts.  

But all the disciples could think about was bread.  (verse 7)

And isn't this so like us?  Aren't we prone to build a theology around the nutrition of figs when He is actually pleading for the fruit of repentance in our lives?  Parable of the Fig Tree  

The hunger of the physical body and the food which satisfies it are just reminders of the spiritual hunger within us and the heavenly food which is the cure.  

Eating is not the thing.  It is the arrow that points to and lights up THE THING and draws our gaze up from the dark well (John 4) and the dusty road (Luke 24).  

This is why I think there is such power in a simple story like the loaves and fishes.

When the crowd of 5,000 came to hear Jesus, he used food to gently teach Philip to see the riches that lay beyond his sight.  

"Where shall we buy bread for these people to eat?"  Jesus asked his disciple.  (John 6:6-13)

Good question.  There were five thousand hungry men and 12 empty pockets.  To the eye it was need beyond means.  You can almost hear the incredulity in Philip's response.  "Eight months wages would not buy enough bread for each one to have a bite!"

Philip was only thinking about bread. Jesus wanted him to see the kingdom.

He took five small loaves, five small fishes.  Blessed them and multiplied them until every person there had--not just a bite--but total satisfaction.  

This was not a minimal meal to take the edge off, but rather "as much as they wanted." (John 6:11) 

And then Jesus adds the exclamation mark.  "Gather the pieces that are left over," he tells his disciples. "Let nothing be wasted."

What would they have thought as they gathered and gathered and gathered to fill the twelve baskets?

Maybe they thought of 12 men who came to the Teacher with nothing much to offer--12 empty human baskets being divinely filled with the life-giving good news of the gospel.  

Maybe they thought of small lives of little consequence which would be blessed and broken and used to accomplish the impossible.   

Maybe they thought of the fields "white unto harvest"--of the men who would come to them hungry and leave filled by no earthly means.

Maybe they began to realize the necessity of a faith that can see beyond circumstances.

The amazing thing about this story is that it spoke even more than the disciples could understand in that moment.  The full picture would be revealed later when Jesus died on the cross, the just for the unjust, with power to take away the sins of the world--past, present, and future.  The Good News 

 The hunger, the bread, the fish, our sin, the sacrifice, the impossible reach of God's love--it wasn't "need beyond means" anymore, it was means beyond need.  And it still is.

Isn't that just like God?  The older I get, the more amazed I am to see Him revealing aspects of Himself to me in everyday life.  

It isn't special revelation, it is special affirmation of what He has already told me in His word--love letters to remind me of Him while we are "apart", so to speak.  

He is so magnificent that the bold, beautiful truth about Him splashes over into the smallest aspects of my earthly existence.  Including food.  

Especially food!

 He didn't just stand up and teach people from his throne on high.  He had every right to do so!  But instead He came down to share in the indignities of hunger and thirst and poverty and human frailty.   And when He left, the Comforter stayed, along with a million, million evidences of love and grace scattered like diamonds among our common hours.

I want to look for Him in everything, beyond the bread crumbs, past the water in my cup.  He is with me at the well, on the road, in the waves, speaking through pain and gladness, triumph and defeat, in sickness and in health, illuminating the mundane, transforming the ordinary, filling my empty basket with extravagant grace. 

He is the bread of life.  My hunger is there to remind me of my longing for Him.  My feasts bring to mind the riches of His grace. 

Our God reclined at the table with tax collectors and prostitutes to show us that no one is beyond grace and to waken us to compassion.  

He fed His followers from His own hand during the intimacy of shared meals to show us his desire and ability to meet our gnawing need.   

He gifted an ill-prepared wedding celebration with the best of wine to show us that His power can cover our shame.

He bore with the frailty and faithlessness of his closest friends to show His great patience.

He pictured His own sacrifice in the elements of the His final Passover meal, revealing to us a grace that is infinitely wide and deep, merciful and tender.  

 And this brings me back to food.  

I am struck by the fact that many of the most loving exchanges between Jesus and his followers occur around the table--Jesus washing the feet of his disciples (John 13), the woman washing Jesus feet with her hair (Luke 7), the joyful changing of Zaccheus' heart (Luke 19), Christ's gentle revealing of Himself at the home of men he met on Emmaus Road (Luke 24), the intimate breakfast he shared with his disciples on the beach after his resurrection (John 21), the anticipated wedding feast between Christ and His bride (us!) (Revelation 19).   

In each of these exchanges, the food is not the point.  It was there, but it does not speak.  There is no super-secret recipe for the elixer of life embedded in the text.  He wouldn't play games with us.  

The truth is, no matter what we eat, we will eventually die.  The beauty of a meal lies less in the what than in the with whom and the why.  

So yes, eat your food with wisdom and discernment and moderation and gratitude.

But more importantly, eat to remind yourself of the sacrifice it took to bring you salvation.  Eat to rejoice in the Bread of Life who took away your sin.  Drink to remember the Living Water which flows in and through you.  Share in the fellowship of food to celebrate the communion of saints, and fast to remind your heart to hunger after the only One who can satisfy your deepest needs.

That way, no matter the meal, be it grubs on a leaf in Papua New Guinea, caviar on a silver spoon at the Ritz, or Twinkies and Red Pop on a dorm room floor, you can always be sure you are eating like Jesus;)  

Reflections On The Future

Remarkably, another 12 months have passed, and I find myself again being drawn backwards to that dreadful day, now three years ago, that I learned the awful news of my brother Bobby's passing from this life to the next.  

As I have reflected on this somber anniversary I am struck by the propensity we humans have to be drawn to the past in our thinking, and not just necessarily in painful experiences, but in joyful ones as well. 

Now, obviously when someone is no longer here to develop new memories and experiences, we are obligated to think retrospectively to recall them at all.  I have memories of Bobby on a daily basis and I am glad to say that the VAST majority of them are pleasant and enjoyable ones, not the negative ones such as the association with the date March 26th. 

I feel that anything I could say of substance regarding this past event has been stated in my prior "anniversary" entries and there would not be much value in re-stating them again today.  Should you wish to be reminded, I have linked to those thoughts here: 

2012

and

2013

My concern at present is our tendency to have a backward focus in life.  Particularly alarming is the tendency we have to become truly trapped in a prison of our past.  This desire to return to a time that we recall or believe was better, a time when someone we loved was still here, or maybe a time when we achieved some major success or pleasure, is common to all.  

Being fettered to the past can easily make us of no good for the present, and will ultimately lead us to make no real provision for the future, which is, in the most ultimate sense, all we really have left as individuals.   Our reliance on the past can become utterly defining of who we are, and almost never in a good way.

At its core, I believe this truly represents a lack of faith.  A lack of faith in what God has promised, and provided for the future of those who love him and are called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28).  

Pastor Ford (Alton Bible Church) spoke this past Sunday regarding the critical importance of how we make our "investments" in the future.  He was reflecting on the passage from Romans 5, particularly verses 14-17.  These passages show a stark difference between those who have a real future, and those who do not.  

For those who know Christ, and are submitted to him, we are to recognize that we have been brought from death to life, darkness to light, and from being one who is "guilty of trespass" to being the recipients of a glorious "free gift."

With such stark contrasts to consider, the question that is very worth asking for each of us is what are we investing our future hope in? 

A wonderful analogy that Pastor asked us to consider in this context is money.  How wise would we be to diversify our financial resources in multiple different "portfolios", all of which are assured of ultimately becoming absolutely worth NOTHING?  Should I put some money in the stock market, a bit in gold and silver, a bit more over here in real estate, maybe a bit in cash; if I knew that in 5 years they would all be worth nothing?

Investing in the momentary things of this world is a fool's errand, even if they are transiently pleasurable or satisfying things.  Friendship with the things of this world will inevitably make oneself an enemy of God (see 1 John, among others).  

In essence this is what we do when we define ourselves by our past joys or cling to our past hurts, or even by working diligently on self-improvement strategies that are defined by the self.  We are ultimately locked in this life, not in the future which we are promised through faith in God's promises.  

When we focus so intently on the things of this world, we ultimately live as if God does not exist and his promises are invalid.  If this is indeed the terrifying truth (which it isn't), or if we live as if it is truth ("my truth is whatever I want it to be"), then all that we invest in now will have absolutely no lasting future benefit, as the grave will truly the end of the line  (except for judgement, if God exists, which He does) 

Thankfully, Jesus offers us a REAL future through his death and resurrection.  It is this future that he offers to those who will submit to him as LORD of their lives.  And this future is indeed glorious and joyful, because it is not based on what is passing away.  

This also serves as the only proper way to interpret our past and present experiences, whether good or bad.  

Hebrews 12:2  

"fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God."

So I ask, is it reasonable to expend such a majority of our energy, focus, emotion, and time on things that are certain to pass away, particularly when we can have the absolute assurance of the one investment that is assured to bring us an eternally increasing return?  

Ephesians 2:1- 8

"And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience— among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind.

 But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved— and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus."

The concept of future grace is foreign to most of our thinking, even amongst the long "churched."  We tend to focus (I believe correctly to an extent) on what God has done for us, on what we have been forgiven, how we ought to work toward a better world... now.  But rarely do we contemplate that His future promises are NO LESS SURE than the past and present ones.  

Along this line of thought, I highly recommend John Piper's book "Future Grace" to all, as it deals with this topic in far more depth than I could ever do justice to in this setting. 

In the context of my current reflections, however, I would say that it is ONLY this future minded view that will ever provide a way for the restoration of what we have lost.  This is the ONLY way that relationships shattered by death can continue.  This is the ONLY way we can truly obtain hope in a way that will motivate selfless action and change in our lives.  

So what is my point in all this?  Well, I believe my brother knew Christ as his savior.  I believe he will be in heaven when I get there.  I have a hope that the future holds a continuation of this relationship.  Therefore, I am not a slave to the past and shackled there with nothing to confidently look forward to as the days melt into years, and ultimately into decades.  

Believe it or not, I have MUCH more than this hope of a restored relationship.  But first I must give a word of caution, as it is critical to point out that no one who denies Christ or refuses his lordship over their lives, will similarly be in heaven for eternity.  

So, say I happen to wrong, and perhaps I tragically misread my brother's heart?  Perhaps he did ultimately reject his Saviors entreaty to come to him and therefore will ultimately be separated from me forever (a fate I pray never happens to anyone I love).  

Despite this awful possibility, I will state confidently that I have a greater hope.  That of a perfected relationship with the one who truly is the greatest lover of my soul, that I will be in heaven for eternity with Jesus Christ and he will delight to show his "immeasurable riches" in "kindness" toward me... FOREVER!   

This is a future grace that is too great to fully grasp, but one I pray you will reflect on with me, even as we all reflect on the temporariness of this life.   

What I Did On My Vacation

Kids are like little mirrors.  Not ordinary mirrors.  That would be scary enough.  

No, I'm talking magnifying mirrors--the kind that make your face look like the surface of the moon and which acquaint you with your nostrils and hair follicles in ways you wish you could forget.  

Imagine the lessons you could learn if you were to take spend, say, 23 hours (straight) in a sealed vehicle with seven such mirrors!  It would be such an education!  Like summer school!  

Or boot camp.  I speak from experience.

We just got back from a family vacation to Florida.  To make the already long trip even more of an adventure, we decided to drive straight through the night in an wind/snow/ice storm that covered two states in a truck sporting not only a large, square trailer box on our hitch (what we like to call "the mainsail"), but also a car-top carrier as big as a Prius (a.k.a "the jib").  

Our oversize luggage carriers, in addition to the general square-ishness of our Suburban allowed us to experience the wind gusts through the mountains to the fullest extent.  

This, combined with the fact that the only other travelers on the ice-covered roads seemed to be 18 wheelers of the "fast and flirty" variety, made for a truly memorable ride.  (At one point I mentioned to Jamey that if his window had been open, he could have licked the semi that was blowing past us.)

It was truly a white-knuckle ride--or it could have been in less capable hands than Jamey's.  He is an excellent driver, but it was at the very least a potentially dangerous situation.  

Interestingly, my children had a very different experience than I did. 

OK. Audience participation time! 

Q:  What did I learn from my children during the ice storm?  Choose the best answer.

a)  If you fully trust your father, you can sleep like tiny angels even when there is danger outside.

b)  When a person is actively navigating a storm, it is better to offer him soft, encouraging words and a neck rub from the back seat than to pepper him with high-pitched predictions of imminent doom from the passenger seat.

c)  Panicked pillow clutching and loud, helpful gasping are less calming than quiet singing or even heavy snoring.

  d)  All of the above.  

Bingo!  It was "d"!  Good job.  

I got it wrong on the test, but I'm going to try to remember for next time.

Lesson number two:  In Georgia, we stopped at a gas station and Jude (age 6) leaped out of his prison in the "back-back", hopped up onto the trailer box, and announced that he would be finishing the trip right there on the back of the truck.  He looped his fingers through a bungee strap, leaned up against the box in a jaunty pose, and flashed a confident smile.  "Can I?"  he asked in all seriousness.  "I want to feel the wind on my head."

As I cupped his little chin in my hand, I was reminded of how many times my heavenly Father has had to rework my grand ideas to fit a reality I didn't fully grasp.  

Over and over I come to Him with all the reasons I am tired of riding in tight places with people who breathe on me and smell like feet.  My logic seems flawless.  

I want to feel the wind on my head.  

Over and over, He gently explains how so often my idea of freedom would actually result in a face full of bugs, dry eyes, and maybe death.

How like Jude I am!

Lesson 3:  As soon as we told Keira (age 4) about our impending trip, she began demanding regular re-affirmation of the agenda.  "We going to Flo-duh?" she would ask 20 times a day.

"Yes," we would say.  "We're going to Florida."

 "OK," she would say, looking satisfied--until 30 minutes later when she would come back and ask the same thing.

This occurred in the week leading up to the trip.  

It continued as she saw us loading up the truck.  

It continued as we loaded HER into the truck.  

It continued for the entire 23 hours it took to drive to Florida.  

Two days after we arrived in Florida, even as she was standing by the pool in her swimsuit and floaties, she was still not quite believing us. 

"We going to Flo-duh?"  she asked as the water dripped off her braids.  

Ummm...yep.  We are.   And if you don't believe us yet,  I'm not sure we can help you.

Does this ring any bells in your life?  It did in mine.  Being carried along by my loving God, who has always kept His word to me, I nevertheless keep asking Him, "Are you sure?"  

"Is what you promised true?"  

"Can I trust that what you have said will come to pass?"  

"Do you know what You are doing?"

"We going to Flo-duh?"

Lesson 4:  Several days into the vacation, we walked the younger children down to a park to play for the morning.  The sun was shining. It was warm. We had no agenda.  No schedule to keep.  Bliss!

Thirty minutes in, the complaints starting trickling in.  "I'm too hot."

"I'm bored."

"I'm thirsty."

"This slide is slow."

"Why didn't they build swings here?"

"When is lunch?"

How did it not occur to them, I pondered on the swift and steely march back to the house, that their father had worked hard and sacrificed to bring them on this vacation?  That their friends were sitting at home doing schoolwork?  That it was 2 degrees where we live?   That their playground at home was buried in two feet of snow?

They were like a miniature tribe of Israel who, having been delivered from the grip of eternal winter, could only say, "Why have you brought us down from the frozen tundra to roast on this playground?  There are no granola bars!  There are no juice boxes!  And we detest this miserable rock climbing wall!"  (Paraphrase of Numbers 21:5 ) 

Ah!  How young it doth begin!  The relentless ingratitude of the human heart.  

Dear friends, do not neglect to mine the wealth of object lessons from the lives of your children.  Even as you are correcting and redirecting and instructing and trying not to laugh at them where they can see you, they are showing you stark images of yourself...

...which I think answers the question of why God leaves them with us for a full 18 years instead of for six weeks like say, baby gerbils.  

Even then, it's not long enough for most of us. 

Yet another reason to look forward to grandchildren;)