Even though I’ve read through the bible many times, I can’t help but pause when I get to those instructions to wipe out whole communities of people.
“Now therefore, kill every male among the little ones, and kill every woman who has known man by lying with him” (Numbers 31:17).
Here it’s the Midianites, who had seduced God’s people into idolatry. But there are plenty of other battles where Israel’s enemies are to be obliterated.
That’s harsh, isn’t it? Very harsh for anyone who prefers a God who is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness. How could that God demand or allow such cruelty?
In worship, the church confesses that the Lord will come again to judge the living and the dead. What do you think that day will be like? Do you want him to condemn the unfaithful? Do you trust God to do this justly and righteously?
We never hesitate to pray, “Come, Lord Jesus.” We look forward to the Lord dealing with evil in the world. But do we understand all that entails? Because sin is so pervasive, nothing should survive that judgment. Yet because of Christ through trust in him, we will, since he was condemned and punished on the cross in our place.
All that nasty stuff throughout the Old Testament? That just a taste of what judgment day will be like. Yeah, it’s gonna be harsh.
How many times in life have you wished you could see farther down the path?
We plan out a day or a few weeks. Maybe a year on a good day.
But we really have little long range vision. The path is murky off in the distance. The mist is dense. Thick.
I can’t see what bends in the road are ahead. I can’t see where the road ends. I don’t know how long the trip will be. There might be a wall just ahead. Or a sinkhole. Maybe a river. Did the bridge washed out? Maybe there’s a herd of sheep on the road. Or another car will come out of nowhere right towards you on this one lane road.
Or maybe it will be a long, uneventful ride for a while.
You never know.
So what do you do?
You live today. You notice the stone fences. The fields. The ruts left by so many before you. Animals off to the side.
Sometimes the fog clears. You can see for miles ahead. And it looks great. Or you see the obstacles. Traffic. Who knows?
So you drive. You live. You’re grateful. You’re cautious. You’re hopeful. You’re __________ (fill in the blank).
(clockwise from top right) Fettuccini carbonara, Garbanelli al pomodoro crudo, Summer panzanella with fresh mozzarella and pesto vinaigrette
Part of my birthday celebration this past July was a meal preparation class at Sur La Table in Jacksonville, Florida. I finally enjoyed the class thanks to a gift card I got for last year’s birthday.
First, be sure you pronounce it correctly: “Sur-La-Tahb.” Like everyone else, I used to say, “Sur La Tay-bul.” I am sophisticated now.
Sur La Table is a retail store that sells kitchen cookware, knives, linens, food, small appliances, and dishes. They also offer cooking classes. Aspiring cooks can choose from beef, fish, chicken, pasta, and desserts.
When we arrived, we took advantage of some free espresso. It was delicious. It ought to be. The machine that brewed it had a sticker price of $4,500. Nothing in the store was inexpensive. I suppose I’d be a better cook with a $450 knife, but I doubt I’ll get the chance to find out.
We were called into the kitchen by Chef Josh who owns a restaurant in our city. When he found out where were were from, he asked, “Have I cooked for you?” I wondered, “How would I know?”
Three kitchen stations were prepped and ready for the ten students in the class. Two teams of four and one couple gathered around the butcher block counters. No one guided us to a handwashing station, just to pegs with aprons as Chef Josh hit us with a flurry of instructions.
We started with the pasta, cracking an egg into a hole in a bowl of flour. Our fingers gently mixed it into a ball of dough which we ran through a pasta maker. We cut out diamonds of pasta, rolled them into tubes and set them aside. Then we ran dough through the cutting part of the pasta maker to slice up long strands of fettuccini. As we worked on that, Chef Josh quickly whipped up the tiramisu while explaining the difference between different kinds of cheese.
If I had never used a pasta machine before, I would have been lost. I helped others get the hang of it since Chef Josh pushed us along a tight schedule. I turned on the stove to boil water and lit the stove to dry out the croutons that another couple chopped up.
We put chopped up parsley, oil, and garlic into a small food processor for the pesto. Chopped up onions, cheese, tomatoes were set aside. When we would point and ask, “What about this?” Chef Josh would simply say, “Yes, chop that up.” So we did.
Suddenly, it was break time. There’s a rule that after an hour, everyone takes a ten minute break. We wandered around the store, then got back to work frying bacon, boiling pasta, grating cheese, and assembling the meal.
Before we knew it, we were done. We plated the food but had to stand around to eat. It was delicious, and the tiramisu was wonderful.
Even though it all happened so quickly, it was a fun night and a delicious way to celebrate my birthday.
The restaurant was pretty busy, but we didn’t have to wait for a table. Our table was in front of a window, in a corner of the dining room. A family of three was seated at a table next to ours.
Every one of them was on their phone.
Each adult – a father, a son, and a daughter, I think – were hunched over their smart phones texting, scrolling through social media, and watching video. No one said a word to another.
In fact, when the server came over, no one looked up. Each mumbled an order and the server walked away.
Their food came and no one looked up. Each ate, focused on their device. As if no one else existed. No one else in the world.
We are both more connected and disconnected than ever. Relationships sacrificed for instant and useless entertainment. We can contact anyone, yet we talk to no one. Even together we are alone.
In church yesterday, the pastor tackled “God is love” (1 John 4:16). It’s part of a series about the nature of God.
Afterwards, I thought about how I would approach that divine attribute. We use adjectives to describe God. God is powerful. Gracious. Just. Merciful. All-knowing. Unchanging. Eternal.
But we don’t use the word love as an adjective. It’s a feeling. I “love” something or someone. Or it’s accompanied by an action. Christ loved us and gave him for us. Or it’s a noun. God abounds in steadfast love.
So this is very different. At first I thought, “I don’t know how I would come at this.”
But then I thought, “What if I turned it around?” What if I start with “Love is God”? Like Paul’s description of love. “Love is patient. Love is kind…” (1 Corinthians 13:5-8). No one truly loves like that. No one but God.
So we learn what love is by observing God. And then we know God because we have seen his unconditional, sacrificial, and unending love.
Love is not just an attribute of God. It surrounds and permeates every other attribute. When God justly judges sin, it’s because of his love for us. He doesn’t want it to destroy us. God reveals his power because of his great love for us. We need a God who can do more than we ask or imagine. An unchanging God reveals his unchanging love for us. No matter what we do or don’t do, he doesn’t change and his love doesn’t change. God’s knowledge is complete. He knows everything about me. And yet he still loves me.
So once you grasp what love really is, you get a glimpse of God. And then you realize he is the essence of love. He is love.
Just a few days before, this bouquet brightened a room. Everyone noticed the fragrance of fresh flowers as they walked into the house. They smiled when they saw the vase full of colors on the dining room table.
It could have been from a celebration. Birthdays, anniversaries, and other holidays come to life with fresh cut flowers. My dad always got my mom an orchid to wear on Mothers Day.
I love seeing dancers and actors carrying bouquets after recitals or stage productions. It honors the work and hours of rehearsal.
Flowers go hand in hand with love and romance. They engage all our senses just like a special relationship. Wedding venues are filled with fresh flowers.
So are funerals and cemeteries. The sting of death is countered with a sensory reminder of life. Many express condolences with an arrangement of flowers.
Even with the best care, flowers end up like this. Brown. Lifeless. Dry. Discarded. But they accomplished their mission.
They always look perfect. They never change. No new blooms. No new growth.
Synthetic pansies.
Okay, they don’t look bad. They just make me sad.
The butterflies and bees aren’t fooled. They’re nowhere in sight. There are no buds, waiting for just right day to open up. None of them follow the sun across the sky. Nothing wilts. Nothing revives after an afternoon shower.
The colors will fade. Everything fades in the Florida sun. Maybe not today, but one day. And there will be no new replacement color.
And they smell like nothing. They are as fragrant as pictures in a book.
Flowers are a great reminder that no one has to bloom every single day. We can rest, recover, and resurface with renewed color, fragrance, and new growth. We can treasure a moment of beauty rather than take tomorrow’s for granted.
Most importantly, we don’t have to fake it. Just be yourself. You’ll bring color, aroma, and life to a world that desperately needs it.
Today was “chairs on the curb” day in the neighborhood. Fridays are big trash pickup day, which means you can put anything except toxic waste on the curb and the trash guys will haul it away. Lots of upholstered chairs got the old heave-ho this morning.
Every chair has a story. Who sat and stayed up into the night absorbed in a recently purchased book? Who binge-watched a whole new season of their favorite show from the chair? Who wore the jersey and hat of their favorite team, cheering them on to a championship from the comfort of a chair? Did a cat or dog occupy the chair, making it their favorite snooze location? Any chair like that would be ground-zero for many naps.
Every chair has a story. Stains from spilled drinks. Crumbs from late-night snacks. Grime from infrequent cleaning. Faded fabric from sunlight peeking through blinds.
Every chair has a story. Each started out in a furniture show showroom. Each one was brand new, delivered to a home, carefully placed in a room. The color matched the carpet and drapes. Scotch-guard protected each chair for one year. After that, you’re on your own.
Each chair was someone’s favorite. For a few years, at least.
Here’s another post about a mailbox in my neighborhood. Here’s a broken metal box nailed to an old wooden post. A fusion of two broken worlds. Functional. Ugly. Creative. Resourceful. Not even close to code. Unashamed. Neighbors hate this. Mail carrier must chuckle every day.
This is definitely Florida man. Hell no, I’m not buying a new mailbox. The old post hasn’t fallen over yet. All we get is junk mail anyway. A couple of nails. Problem solved.
Waite for it... 