Fridays Are For One Question
I’ll go first on the question today:
“Christmas Shoes.”
What is the question, you ask? The question is this: What is the worst Christmas song? That’s a hard one for me, especially since I’ve been listening to Christmas music in my office non-stop since the day after Thanksgiving. But this one gets on me. If my mama were going to meet Jesus tonight, I think the last thing I’d be doing was going to Skechers.
And where is the father in this situation?
I could go on, but now I want you to share:
“What is the worst Christmas song?”
**The goal of “One Question Friday” is simple: To show that everyone has something funny, engaging, creative, and worthwhile to say. So comment away! Be real. Be creative. Think hard. And check back to see how others answered the question.
Hallelujah Chorus by the Silent Monks
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZCFCeJTEzNU]
A Prayer for the Last Day of Chemotherapy
“Our Father…
It seems that those words have taken on new meaning for me in the past 3 and a half years. In those 3 years, I have done the best I could to care for my son. Through sickness and hair loss. Through crying nights and days of questions. And for much of the time, I have felt myself hanging on by a thread.
But You? You know so much better than I do what it means to watch your Boy suffer. And because You do, I believe You have poured Your grace and mercy upon us. That grace has been far more profound than just the ability to get through the day, though You have been continuously faithful for doing that.
The fact that we are still here – all of us – is a testimony to your persevering power.
But You have gone beyond giving us our daily bread. You have sat with us in quiet rooms. You have rocked with us in hard-back chairs. You have cried with us as we have seen friends leave this world and go to be with You. You have lifted us up and born us on your strong back.
Over and over again, You have proven Yourself to be abundantly, exceedingly, and wonderfully able.
I think this morning of what our son’s name means: The Lord is Salvation. And the truth of that statement is starting to seep in. You have saved, are saving, and will continue to save us. And through these troubles, amazingly, we have become more convinced of Your love in Christ – from which we will never be separated – in us.
We have believed, and yet you have helped our unbelief. I confess at times I have accused You of sleeping in the boat while the wind and the waves raged around us, but I know deep in my heart that You do not slumber or sleep. You have been ever watchful, ever mindful, and ever good.
Thank You, Father, for keeping us in faith. For prospering us and not harming us. For giving us hope and a future.
And now, will You, by Your grace, continue to uphold our family as we move forward. Help us not to forget Your faithfulness. May the remaining decades of our lives ring with the stories of Your goodness. I pray that our little boy would become convinced of Your good work in His life, and that we might faithfully be a comfort to others with the comfort we have received from You.
May it be done for the glory of Your own suffering Son who now sits victoriously, interceding for us even at this very moment.
Amen.”
**Today is the last day of intravenous chemotherapy for Joshua, 3 and a half years after his diagnosis of leukemia. After his treatment today, he will take his pills for 5 more days. The last pill is Sunday.
Thinking About Santa
Some interesting comments from Noel Piper:
Over the years, we have chosen not to include Santa Claus in our Christmas stories and decorations. There are several reasons.
First, fairy tales are fun and we enjoy them, but we don’t ask our children to believe them.
Second, we want our children to understand God as fully as they’re able at whatever age they are. So we try to avoid anything that would delay or distort that understanding. It seems to us that celebrating with a mixture of Santa and manger will postpone a child’s clear understanding of what the real truth of God is. It’s very difficult for a young child to pick through a marble cake of part-truth and part-imagination to find the crumbs of reality.
Third, we think about how confusing it must be to a straight-thinking, uncritically-minded preschooler because Santa is so much like what we’re trying all year to teach our children about God. Look, for example, at the “attributes” of Santa.
- He’s omniscient—he sees everything you do.
- He rewards you if you’re good.
- He’s omnipresent—at least, he can be everywhere in one night.
- He gives you good gifts.
- He’s the most famous “old man in the sky” figure.
But at the deeper level that young children haven’t reached yet in their understanding, he is not like God at all.
For example, does Santa really care if we’re bad or good? Think of the most awful kid you can remember. Did he or she ever not get gifts from Santa?
What about Santa’s spying and then rewarding you if you’re good enough? That’s not the way God operates. He gave us his gift—his Son—even though we weren’t good at all. “God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). He gave his gift to us to make us good, not because we had proved ourselves good enough.
Helping our children understand God as much as they’re able at whatever age they are is our primary goal. But we’ve also seen some other encouraging effects of not including Santa in our celebration.
Read the rest of the article here.
What about you? How do you do Santa?
Rocking Out with a Balloon and a Box
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J5l_Se8C_pw&feature=player_embedded#]
Fridays Are For One Question
Once again this week, it’s a holiday-themed question. And this week, let’s discuss movies. There are some great holiday movies out there. I’ve been busily setting the Tivo all week to record various and sundry Christmas-y type things. So what about you?
“What’s the best holiday movie?”
**The goal of “One Question Friday” is simple: To show that everyone has something funny, engaging, creative, and worthwhile to say. So comment away! Be real. Be creative. Think hard. And check back to see how others answered the question.
I Am Joseph – Part 4
It didn’t take me long to decide what to do. For the several nights Mary came by every evening to try and see me. I just had my father send her away – I thought I would see how she liked it for a while. After about a week of this I sent word to her house that I would be divorcing her. It would be a private ceremony, just us and the Rabbi, and then I’m sure Mary would just move away. It would be quick and easy and best of all, over.
That was the first night that I actually slept well. Now I know what I’m about to tell you may sound crazy, but I woke up the next morning with an entirely different aim in mind. I had the strangest dream that night – except it wasn’t like a dream because it was more real than that – it was more like a vision. I’m not sure who it was that told it to me, but I remember the message clearly: “Do not divorce Mary, for her child is from the Holy Spirit.” And then he told me what to make this kid – Yeshua.
I’ve never been so conflicted. First of all I didn’t and still don’t understand all the implications of that dream. I mean, this angel – or whatever he was – called me Joseph son of David, which I’ve never been called, and then he said that there was something special about this little boy. So what was I supposed to do? Was that dream real? Was it from the Lord? Or was it just bad wine from the night before? It was pretty radical if it was real – that meant the Lord was asking me to become unrighteous. He was asking me to give up my reputation and go against the laws of my community. On the other hand, if it wasn’t real, then I would be taking on the responsibility of someone else’s child.
What can you do in a situation like that? You believe you have heard the voice of the Lord but it makes no sense to do what he has said. It defies logic. I mean He might as well have told me to move my whole family to Egypt! But I guess we all face that decision someday. So what could I do? I didn’t divorce Mary that day. In fact, when I talked to her, she told me that she had a dream almost exactly like mine! And believe it or not, she told me that she had actually not even, you know, been with a man. I know, crazy right? But it was sane enough for us to believe.
So against the advice of my father we continued our marriage. I with I could tell you that it was smooth after that. I wish I could tell you that our families fell in line and supported the decision we had made. I with I could say that we were not persecuted and that people didn’t whisper when we walked by. But I can’t. The day of our wedding was the worst. Usually the wedding happens about a year after the engagement begins and it can be a week long celebration, but not ours. Ours was quiet. Nobody from the community wanted to come. My mother was a basket case – she cried through the whole thing and then went home right after. Mary and I ended up just having a quiet meal at home together.
Things didn’t get better, either. People stopped coming to my father’s shop. My mother could barely go to the market without being publicly disgraced. Mary wasn’t even on speaking terms with her parents. We finally decided that the best thing for us to do would be to move from Nazareth. Maybe we could get a fresh start.
That’s really what we were thinking when we went to Bethlehem. Now that was an ordeal. Have you ever tried to make a 4 day trip with a pregnant woman? Let me tell you – the bathroom stops alone are enough to drive you nuts. That’s where my son was born – in a cave on the side of a hill in Bethlehem. And that’s the story of how our family began. Life was a little better in our new town, but we still got the looks when we walked down the street. We feel judged a lot of the time. And sometimes, if I am honest, I would have to say that it’s hard not to be angry at God. I was convinced that this is what he wanted from me, so where is the blessing for my obedience? Is my reward the disapproval of others? Is my reward a tarnished reputation? What about all the names that people call me and I know they will call my son? Is that our reward?
But in those moments when I feel angry, I catch a glimpse of my son – my little boy. I realize that this – my relationship with Jesus – is what really matters. And it’s like just for a moment everything that I once thought was profit – my own righteousness, my reputation, my job – I now consider loss. In fact, I consider all things as loss compared to the surpassing greatness of just knowing this little boy. And I’m not alone in that. I see in his eyes that he wants to know me, too. He loves me – not because I am a great guy, or have flawless righteousness, or because I am a great carpenter, but just because of who I am. He loves me because of our relationship.
It’s love like that that I believe can change the world.
I Am Joseph – Part 3
That day is crystal clear to me. She had sent word about a week ahead of time that she would soon be on her way, and I started to get excited. Sure, I wanted some answers about why she had left, but more than anything, I just wanted my wife back. It was a Friday that she came home. I remember because I had made a mental list of things that had to be done before sundown because sundown signaled the start of the Sabbath. I was going over the list in my mind as I approached my father’s house, and there she was. She was sitting on the gate of the house and I stopped in my tracks. I saw her before she saw me, so I just stood there for a moment.
I felt my chin start to shake and the tears form in my eyes. My tool belt slipped from my hands and fell to the ground and then she looked up and saw me. In that split second, I wondered what her reaction would be. Did she leave because of me? Did she not want me any more? But all of my doubts were soon gone, because when she saw me she grinned from ear to ear. We walked toward each other and then we embraced. I know, I know – it’s too far physically, but in that moment, I don’t think either one of us cared. And suddenly I knew that everything was going to be okay. I had so many questions to ask her, and I had so many things to tell her. I wanted to tell her how much I had missed her and how much I did love her. I wanted her to know that I never wanted her to leave again and I would always be there for her. I wanted to hold her and tell her that she could confide and trust in me. But before I could say any of those things, she pulled away from me.
That’s when I noticed it. She was looking down at the ground and the sun was at just the right angle for me to see the brightness in her face. She looked beautiful and yet somehow different. It wasn’t the girlish kind of beauty that I was first attracted to but a more mature – an older beauty that I now saw. I was 7 years older than she was and suddenly I felt like a child.
She said to me, “Joseph, I want to tell you the reason that I have been away. It is a wonderful reason, but it may be difficult for you to hear.” I wasn’t worried about what she would say. Not right then. So I assured her that she could tell me anything and that the important thing was that we were together again. And then she said 2 words that literally took my breath away: “I’m pregnant.”
I can’t describe what it felt like. My head felt dizzy. All the breath went out of me. I couldn’t process what she had just told me. She was pregnant? How could she be pregnant? Who was this person? This is not the Mary I thought I knew. How could she have been unfaithful to me? Then it all started to make sense – her father’s shame, her distancing herself from the situation, the lack of news. I felt like such a fool. And all the while she had the nerve to stand there smiling like this was a good thing.
Did she not understand what was happening? She was an adulteress! She had gone behind my back and ruined herself with another man. She had ruined everything – our life together, our future, her reputation, my reputation, my family’s reputation – what would our neighbors say? What would my father say? And still she smiled. I dropped her hands and started to back away. I said, “You’re what? How… how could you?” She wasn’t smiling any more. She started after me and said that if I would only give her a chance to explain – but I would hear none of that. I didn’t want to see her. I didn’t want to know her. These last few months had been nothing but a lie. All I wanted to do was to get as far away as possible from the situation, and so I did. I ran. I ran until my legs started to hurt and my stomach got a pain in the side. And after I stopped running, I started to cry. I felt angry – who was she to think that she could make a fool out of me? I felt betrayed – who was this other man who could not control himself? But most of all, I felt hurt. And ashamed.
I stayed out very late that night. When I finally came home my father was waiting for me. I thought about trying to hold it in, but I told him everything. He responded just like I knew he would. Father always raised us to respect the law. The law was what separated us from the other nations. The law is the means by which God blesses and curses. And on this point, the law was very clear – I had to divorce Mary. It was not even an option – in fact, most Jewish communities demanded a divorce in the case of adultery. To not divorce her would be illegal, not to mention compromising my own personal righteousness. I mean, think about it – if I married Mary, then it is as if I condone her actions. Not only that, but I will be branded as unclean for the rest of my life. She’s already going to carry that reputation around – why should I go down with her? It’s not my fault she got pregnant.
So, as father said, I basically had 2 options. I could either seek a public divorce or a private divorce. If I went public then Mary would be disgraced before the whole community, and technically, she could be stoned even though nobody really did that any more. And part of me really wanted that. Was that really so wrong after what she had done to me? Part of me wanted to see her have to explain her conduct in front of everyone. I wanted people to come up to me and shake my hand and congratulate me on my own purity.
But in the end I decided that the best thing to do was to divorce her quietly. I don’t know why I decided to do it; maybe it was because it would give Mary a chance in life if she moved out of Nazareth, maybe it was for the baby. Probably it was mostly because even though she had hurt me so badly I still didn’t want her to be mad at me. But whatever the reason, this option would allow me to maintain my personal righteousness and save Mary from so much humiliation.
Now I know what you’re thinking: is your own personal righteousness really that important? Maybe it should not be, but I’m just asking you to try and understand my culture for a minute. We live our whole lives based on honor and shame. If I didn’t have my honor, my own personal integrity, then I wouldn’t be able to shop in public. Some merchants wouldn’t sell their goods to me. Most people would refuse to buy the stuff that I make. Being shamed would affect every area of my life.
It just wasn’t worth it…
I Am Joseph – Part 2
I’m not exactly sure how marriage works in your culture, but in our culture, it is a year long process. At least. That in itself is not easy for an 18 year old. I mean, I have needs! But anyway, back to the marriage. There are two stages in a Jewish marriage and the first stage is the betrothal period. This begins when my father would go throughout the town and surrounding towns and find me a young girl, usually about 11 years old, who would be my wife. I remember the day that it all happened. I was outside in the shop working on a chair for some neighbors when my dad burst into the house.
“Joseph! Joseph!” he yelled. “I’ve found her! And son, you will love her. She is beautiful.” Well you can imagine my excitement, and my nervousness. I mean, I trust my dad, but you know – seeing is believing. As it turned out, she was from Nazareth, too, so later on that night I went out for a walk. Now I knew that I couldn’t be alone with her yet – heck, I really wasn’t even supposed to be in her presence yet, but I went out looking for her house anyway. I just wanted to see her. And so I crept around through the courtyard and eventually found her home and I waited there until I got one good look. I was not disappointed. She was beautiful. In fact, I must confess, all I could do when I saw her was to think back to the Song of Solomon – you know the parts I mean.
The next morning the marriage preparations were in full swing and about a week later we had our first ceremony. Now this was not the official marriage ceremony, it was more like a pre-nuptial ceremony. This would officially begin Mary and I’s life together. Even though after this ceremony we would be called “husband” and “wife”, we still couldn’t, you know, be together. In fact, the best we could do is spend a little time alone together at my dad’s house. I remember that day well – the rabbi was there and my dad gave the traditional gift of livestock to Mary’s family to unite our families. Her father gave us some money that we could use to start our family in about a year, and then it was time for me to give my gift to her. Through the giving of my gift, I would symbolize my commitment to our relationship. I didn’t know what to give to her. I thought about when my forefather Isaac gave expensive clothes and jewels to Rebekkah to begin their marriage. I sure couldn’t do that – I mean, who was I? Just the son of the local carpenter. So I did what I do best – I made her something. It was a little plaque to put over our doorposts that had the shema written on it, and I decorated it with some ornate wood on the sides and it looked pretty good. She seemed to like it anyway. I just wanted her to know that I was going to base our marriage on the law of the Lord from the very start.
And then it was done. We were married legally. In fact, at that point I had legal rights over Mary. The only way that our betrothal could be broken was by divorce, but you never think about that right after your marriage begins. For the first couple of weeks, things were great. Mary and I would spend time together almost every night. We would talk about our lives and our future. We would talk about the carpentry shop and how we might even someday try to save up enough money to open up a second store. Imagine me, Joseph, a chain! We were getting along so well so you can imagine my surprise when I decided to stop by her father’s house on the way to work one morning. Her father opened the door like he was surprised to see me. We exchanged pleasantries, but there was something wrong in his voice. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it was like he almost felt ashamed. He wouldn’t look me in the eye and he acted very hurried in our conversation. And then he told me that Mary had left early that morning for her cousin’s house up in the hill country. I tried to get him to tell me why she left so quickly and without telling me herself, but I couldn’t get anything out of him. All he would tell me was that it was important for her to go away and that she would be gone for 3 months.
As he shut the door, I stood on the porch in disbelief. Was Mary sick? Was Elizabeth, her cousin, sick? What was going on? So there I was with nothing to do except wait. So I waited, and I waited. There was no news. Mary’s father stopped opening the door when I came to ask about her. No one in town knew anything. Everyday I would get up and go to the shop and try to concentrate on work, but how can you do that? My wife was somewhere in Judea, not sure exactly where and not sure exactly why. Three months is a long time. It was a long time of wondering and thinking, and of trying not to be angry. Those months are just kind of a blur now – work and home, work and home, work and home. Some days I was angry, some days I was hurt, but by the time it was over, all I could think of was how much I just wanted her to come home. And then she did…
I am Joseph – Part 1
You may or may not know that I have a 5-year-old son. His name in English is Joshua; the Greek translation is Jesus. Both of those sound pretty good, but I think I like best of all the sound of the original Hebrew name: Yeshua. Yeshua does pretty much the same things that all 5-year-olds do. He likes to run and jump and play. He makes silly noises that sound like bodily functions. He likes to be tickled. And I know that every father thinks that his kid is the best, but Yeshua really is. I’m just so proud of him – and I know that he is going to do great things in life.
Of course he is going to do great things in life – look who his mother is! I wish all of you could know my wife and what an extraordinary woman she is. She is beautiful and patient. She loves her God more than anyone I have ever known. She loves her family and is fiercely protective of them, and she is a wonderful mother. There’s so much that goes into having children, and she remarkably handles every piece of it.
And I never get over the fact that she loves me. She makes me feel important. She makes me feel important when we’re never going to be rich. I mean, I have an okay job, and I can put food on the table, but our life will never be extravagant. We will always live pretty much hand to mouth. And I’m not a really important person in the community and I never will be. But overall, I would say that we are a very happy family. I know that none of this sounds very extraordinary or amazing in any way, and to be honest, it’s not. It’s only amazing when you know the way that our family started.
What I have told you about us up to this point, many of you probably already know. Great wife, wonderful child, that’s all very clear just from observation. But what you may not know is that my wife was actually pregnant before we got married. Yeah, I know, you never would have guessed it looking at us, but it’s true. So now you know – we are not the perfectly righteous, completely obedient, wonderful Jewish couple that we appear to be. But I’m asking you to reserve judgment until you hear the whole story…