Seeing Jesus In Genesis

Today, class, we are going to review our parts of speech. Okay, so I know that this does not sound like the most exhilarating topic for a blog, but follow me on this one and I think you will see why the journey is worth it. I stumbled across this as I was working through Genesis one word at a time, taking them all apart, letter by letter, and doing my best to understand the Bible at molecular level, if you will. And this just blew me away. So let’s dive in.

The Bible opens with these words:

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Genesis 1:1

Pretty straight forward, so it would seem, but the truth is we could spend a life time on this verse and barely begin to touch the depths of knowledge that is revealed here. If you don’t believe me, just stop and consider what it means to create heavens and earth, what it tells about the one we worship, and how it informs us as to why he is worthy of worship. Look at all the components needed just to create one aspect of this reality we inhabit, a slug perhaps. Forget about the complexity of a snail, just consider a slug – can you speak one into existence? I didn’t think so. Now consider solar systems and galaxies, how powerful do you have to be for your words to make that a reality? I don’t think I will ever get over the wonder of these words, but it gets even more amazing when you have the privilege of reading them in the Hebrew.

Now this where things really start to get interesting.

One of the first things we have to recognize is we are reading translations of the Bible which are, for the most part, very well done and trust worthy. However, Hebrew is a language and not a code to be broken. In other words, you can’t just swap out the Hebrew letters for English letters and have a book that the average English reader could understand. Translators have to make judgement calls about which words best capture the meaning and intent of the passage for their audience. This is why the King James reads so different from the NIV or ESV. English was a different language back in the day, and people have ceased to talk that way, so the translators had to adjust to keep step with the evolution of our language.

Even more fun, English and Hebrew sentences have a different construction. In English, we typically have a subject>verb>direct object construction of sentences. We can look at a sentence and determine by the word order which part of speech is which. An example:

Sally hit the ball.

The ball hit the fence.

The electric fence shocked Sally.

We know that the ball did not hit Sally. We also know that fence did not hit the ball, and that Sally did not shock the fence.  No one has to tell us this, because despite the fact that each of the words serve as both subjects and as direct objects within the sentence, the forms and structures of our language tell us which part of speech the words function as.

In Hebrew things get a bit trickier as the sentences do not always follow the subject>verb>direct object formula. Instead, direct objects can float around all over the place in a sentence, so we need some way to know what is the direct object of a sentence verses the subject of a sentence.

Now if you have slept since your last English class, let’s do a quick review on what direct object is. A direct object is the object towards whom the action is directed. Another way to say this is that direct object is the noun that receives the action of the verb. So the ball in the first sentence received the hit, the fence received the hit in the second, and Sally received the shock in third.

If we go back and apply this to Genesis 1:1, we see that God (subject) created (verb) the heavens and the earth (direct objects. Yes, there can be more than one). Or in other words, the heaven and the earth received the creation, God’s action in this sentence

How do we know this? Aside from the fact that this is one of those times the Hebrew does follow the English structure for sentences, there is included within the Hebrew text a little word that indicates which words are the direct objects. It is called…..a direct object indicator. It looks like this, את.

It is not included in English translations, because we don’t need it. The sentence structure tells the reader what they need to know, and there is no English word that operates as its equivalent.

This is such an established and accepted fact that when I was going through Genesis, I almost breezed by it without a second thought. The only reason I decided to pay it any attention at all was out of a desire to be thorough and consistent with my work. And I am so glad I did, because these two letters blew me away.

If you look this word up in the Brown-Driver-Briggs, the gold standard of Hebrew definitions, you will find a rather lengthy and in-depth discussion of this word as a direct object indicator, but if you flip over a page, you will find another word that looks identical. It is only used in a handful of verses, but here is the most familiar:

Beat your plowshares into swords, and your pruning hooks into spears; let the weak say, “I am a warrior.” Joel 3:10

Do you see it? Remember a direct object is what receives the action of the verb. So direct object indicator would prepare the reader to see what is receiving the action of the verb. Which one of the items above prepares something to receive something?

Congratulations, if you picked plowshare, because that is exactly what a plowshare does. It prepares the earth to receive the seeds.

I know, this is all well and good, but someone out there is saying, “But, Emily, I want to hear about Jesus not all this grammar stuff.” We are getting there, just keep going!

Let’s skip back over to Revelation, where Jesus proclaims:

“I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.” 22:13

How many of you know that’s probably not what he really said? Pick up your jaw, Ethel, and think about this with me. Was Jesus Greek? I don’t think so. In fact, I am pretty certain that he was Jewish, and being Jewish he would have probably referenced the Hebrew aleph-bet, not the alpha-beta, or even the alphabet.

And in the aleph-bet, the first and last letters are the aleph and tav, our direct object indicator. The word that prepares the reader to see the word that will receive the action of the verb. The word that shows us action alone is not enough if it is not received, if reality is not impacted, changed or transformed, then the action of the verb is an exercise in futility. And here is Jesus saying, he is the one through him God’s actions are translated into this realm, that it is through him we receive God’s goodness, love, and grace. Through Jesus the world sees the Father and witnesses our Father’s heart for us.

As I worked my way around this, I was brought back to the Gospel of John where we are told that:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God.  All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. John 1:1-3

Do you see that? All things were made through him. Just as the action of the verb flows through the direct object indicator, creation flowed through him. It is the same picture we see in Genesis 1:1.

But despite all this, it wasn’t until I wrote it out in the paleo-Hebrew that I just sat staring at the goodness and wonders of our Lord. In the paleo-Hebrew, the first letter of our word is an ox head. It stands for strength, power, authority, and protection. The second letter is two sticks and symbolizes a sign or mark. When you put the letters together in the paleo-Hebrew, you also put the ideas together. So one possible translation is a “sign or mark of authority and power.” Or perhaps “the authority and power of the sign.” Either way, all I know is that when I look at the picture, I see Jesus. Right there, in Genesis 1:1, always and forever, the beginning and the end.

The Best I've Got - For Now

Last week, I hit a wall. As I scurried from one crises to another, wondering what in the world God was up to, I got smacked with a rather brutal realization. I had forgotten how to pray.

Yeah, you read that right. I forgot how to pray.

I know that must sound weird to you, but think about how I felt. All of these years where prayer was such a huge part of my life, and then suddenly, I just couldn’t do it anymore. Every time I tried the words got in the way, and I felt as if I had been betrayed by my best friend.

Words are a huge part of my life. My days are spent sifting through them, polishing them, and placing them in a precise order to create an image, to illicit an emotion, or provoke another to thought. It is what I do, and it is a natural as breathing for me. They are my tools and my weapons in this world. They help me make sense of what is around me, and they offer a comforting order to the chaos of my life. Yet, here I was unable to string two together without them rebelling against my attempts to align them according to my need.

Oh, I would start to pray and then I would realize that I wasn’t praying at all. Sure the words still flowed through my head, but it wasn’t prayer. Instead, I was thinking about how I was going to use them for a blog post or in the next book. I was writing articles in my mind about how I pray or what I was praying about. I was formulating the next idea I was going to present to the world, trying to find the most brilliant arrangement of words to impress you, my reader. In short, I was talking about God but I wasn’t talking to God.

And there is a huge difference.

So I did something radical. I took some time off. I put away my computer and I didn’t write anything other than replies to messages. I have to tell you it was weird. After years of arranging my days around time to write, I felt a little out of sorts and at a bit of loss at what to do with myself. I am writer, writing is what I do, and so who am I when I am not writing? What defines me if I am not doing the one thing I know I have been called to do? What if this was permanent? What if God decided that I needed to just put it down for good? What if my writing had become too much of an idol in my life, and I had to smash it if I was going to be faithful to him? So many moments of existential angst!

And it wasn’t like I could talk him about it, I had forgotten how to pray. Remember?

That meant the next step was trying to remember. My first attempts were less than eloquent. In fact, they were pretty much just groans and a repetition of the “Father…Father, Father…….Father….. Father, Father, Father.” If I attempted any other words, I would fall back into my pattern of writing in my head. Somewhere along the way something began to happen, the words stopped being important. And my mind began to fill with images of me standing before him, holding out all the broken things and people in my life. I didn’t need words to define the image. It was all there. Me small and powerless to fix things standing before my Father and King with my tangled kite strings, broken dolls, and shattered teapots, making my silent appeal for him to take them from my outstretched hands.

I fell asleep that night feeling as if I had experienced a major breakthrough. I wasn’t trying to contain or define God with my words. I had allowed my mind and heart to be opened to just being in his presence, but then I was reminded – this was God I was dealing with. Things are never that simple, even when they are.

The next day, we began phase two of remembering how to pray and this is where things got icky. It seems just giving God all my broken stuff wasn’t good enough. He wanted more, and more specifically, he wanted me. He wanted me to get real with him, to be honest about how this was affecting me, and what I thought about it. This meant I had to actually feel all the stuff I was trying hide behind a façade of faith and spirituality. Wounds had to be probed, some dead tissue removed, and some pride amputated. It wasn’t pretty, and it hurt like blazes.

And none of this could happen if I was trying to get out of it by just writing about it. It seems that I have become rather proficient at using words that describe the condition of my heart to distance myself from actually experiencing the condition of my heart. I could not judge my progress by a word count or pages written. I was having to confront me, without the one thing that I had begun to think made me, well, me.

The whole process was too much to do sitting still. So I started walking more, and resisting the urge to take a trash bag with me to pick up cans or plugging in a podcast to distract me. I did a lot of fishing, contemplating life, God, and me. It is amazing the amount of thinking you can do while staring at a bobber dancing around on the water.

And then something happened. When I put aside all the things I had been using to hide out, the words started to flow. Angry words, hurtful words, and heart wrenching words. Not the kind of thing you put in a blog post or book, or at least not one where you are trying to encourage people to seek God. I began to tell him about how mad I was that all of this was happening in my life. I started explaining to him how he was falling down on his job, and how I was sick and tired of him not taking care of me and the ones I loved. I told him that I was hurt and mad that he hadn’t stepped up to defend the hearts and minds of those I love, and how he needed to stop them from being stupid, from hurting themselves. I told him my faith was wearing a little thin, and he needed to do something quick because I wasn’t sure that it was going to hold out much longer.

Then there were no more words. Just that sad empty feeling you have after you’ve released all the anger that held the sadness at bay.

I wish I could say this when I saw a burning bush or the clouds parted and a voice called down from heaven telling me that it would all be okay. Heck, I would have settled for a phone call telling me that the ones I love had come to their senses and there was sizable check in the mail box. But the truth is, nothing happened. Nada, zip, zero.

The wind just kept blowing across the water, the birds kept singing, and fish kept snubbing my minnows. No major revelations, no change in the state of the world, just me and God sitting on the lake shore not talking to each other.

I don’t know where we go from here. I can’t shake this idea that God is real and he has a purpose and plan in all of this. Intellectually, I get that, but I am still upset by the things that are happening in my world. It hurts. I hurt. Knowing that he loves me is all fine and dandy, but sometimes you just get the itch to feel like he loves you. To get a break from all this operating in faith and have something a bit more tangible, a bit more comfortable and secure.

For now, I am not operating on my feelings. My feelings are still a big tangled mess of kite string that are keeping me grounded. I am making the choice to believe, to trust, and to love. He knows I am not happy with how he’s handling all this, but right now I don’t have a whole lot of joy and happiness to give him. So I am giving him what I do have the anger, the sadness, the doubt, the confusion, and all those icky emotions that make so many Christians uncomfortable. I am not giving them to him because they are pretty or that is what he deserves. I am giving them to him because they are real and right now it’s the best I’ve got - for now.

It's Love. It's What I Do

This year has been a doozie. If one thing isn’t falling apart, another thing is exploding. Things, plans, people, and ideas going up in great big giant flaming balls of stupidity and lack. Most of the time I can just roll with the punches, walk it off, and move on to the next minor emergency, but lately that hasn’t been so easy to do.

The stuff breaking down is one thing. Fix the tractor, replace the air conditioner, and buy a new phone. It’s life. It’s what you do. Plans falling apart and dreams not coming true that hurts, but you get up and make a new plan, dream a new dream. It’s life. It’s what you do.

But the people, oh the people, that one is rough.

If you know me, you know that I am pretty good at separating you from me, my life from yours, and the things you chose from the things I want. It’s life. It’s what you do. But then there are people that you love, that you let in so deep that there is no separation. Their life is your life, and the things they chose are things that are now a part of your world, for better or worse. And when you watch the fuse to their life ignite, all you can do is duck and cover because you know this is going to hurt.

The temptation in these moments is to cut ties, to run away, and deny them the right to be a part of your world at such a deep level. God knows it would be easier. And I honestly find more than a morsel of comfort in the fact that even he felt this way.

If you don’t remember the story, it goes something like this –

God had just demonstrated his undivided love and devotion to the Children of Israel. He does amazing and wondrous things to secure their freedom when they turn into snot nosed little brats. Here he’s rained terror and destruction down on the Egyptian nation that had dared to abuse those he loved, and they are dying to go back to their abusers. And on the particularly rough days, I find his solution rather appealing:

“I have seen this people, and behold, it is a stiff necked people. Now therefore let me alone, that my wrath may burn hot against them and I may consume them, in order that I make a great nation of you.” Exodus 32: 9, 10

Obviously, God did not carry through with this threat, but the point is this is his emotional response the situation. It is him being so honest about the feeling he has that it is shocking!

I think that so often in the Christian community we are told that if we really love someone you will never feel anger over their actions. We are told to forgive and forget, deny those oh-so-human emotions, and recognize that you have not say in the lives of others. Anger, we are told, is selfish and shows our need to control, but I don’t think that’s always the case.

Maybe my interpretation of this event is skewed, but I don’t think that God was angry just because people dared to worship another god. (In fact, that wasn’t what was going on at all. Check this out to see the story behind the story.) He’s not that selfish. I think his anger was the result of watching these people do something that he knew would hurt them. He knew the consequences of their actions far better than they did, they had been warned, and given the tools to make wise decisions. And instead of heeding his words, they acted out of their own wisdom and based their actions on the fear in their hearts.

Okay, so we aren’t God. I get that. I know that he has rights and privileges that are way beyond our paygrade, but I think there is something to be learned here – actually, there are a lot of somethings to be learned here, but let’s just focus on one.

God was angry because he loved those snot nosed brats, they were his snot nosed brats, and he was not going to let anyone needlessly hurt them – including themselves. His anger was proof of a love that can only be kindled by those you are passionate for, a love that demands the best for those we call our own, and a love that refuses to allow anyone to be less than who he created them to be.

Yet, even in this, he did not act in anger. He acknowledged his pain and frustration. He had a conversation with someone who also had a vested interest in the wellbeing of these people. He allowed them to receive the consequences of their actions, he continued to speak truth over them, setting boundaries and refusing to be okay with their self-destructive ways, and then when they came to their senses, he renewed his promise to be there by their side through the battles that lay ahead.

I wonder how many of us need a friend who will not let anyone hurt us – including ourselves? How many of us can use a friend who will become enraged at our own self-destructive tendencies and will go toe-to-toe with us when we go full blown idiot in our lives?

And I wonder how many times the person who almost stepped up was told that they had no right to be angry? No right to have a say in the lives of those they love? How often have people been told that this type of passion for another is a sin? So they step back, cut ties, and remove themselves from a relationship that is too painful to bear in silence and believing that to speak up would be improper and unloving by the standards of so many.

I don’t want to be that friend. I want to be the one who makes you mad occasionally, who sets you off for calling it like it is, and hurts your feelings with honesty. I may yell. I may scream. I may call your mama, daddy, or the cops if that is what it takes to keep you safe, but I never want to be the friend who was more concerned with being polite than I was in protecting your heart. So if you were on the receiving end of my harsh words over the past few months, know that this – It’s is love. It’s what I do.

Time Travel and Eternity

Time travel, the almost unavoidable constant of all thing sci-fi. Whether is slingshotting around the sun, the worm hole that somehow gets diverted due to the sun’s gravitational pull, an ancient ruin that acts as a gate, or some alien technology that allows us to travel back and forth between the future and the past, the idea of time travel has fascinated us as few other concepts have. For most this is but a flight of fancy, an errant hope of somehow correcting the evils of yesterday, or the hope of knowing what tomorrow holds. It is far flung dream of what we may one day achieve as the human race, the ultimate demonstration that we have cast off the chains of this temporal existence to experience wonders that are inaccessible in our present being.

Few of us ever consider as anything more than this, but what if time travel were possible? What if time did not have the power to define our reality as we currently experience it?

And why is that we are fascinated by something that every reasonable thought rejects? Why would we devote so much time, effort, and money into creating worlds within movies, books, and TV to explore a concept that defies all known logic? It makes no sense unless…

But wait, let me back up for a second. I haven’t lost my mind, and no, I didn’t suddenly come into possession of some whacky telephone both or magic mirror. I know this sounds as if I completely lost my grip on reality, but just roll with me for second. I know that there is a part of you that is going to resist the idea on gut level. I mean, time travel, come on? We all know how impossible that is, but what if we have been looking at it wrong? What if we have been so wrapped up in our experience of reality  - the one in which time in engulfs us, where we at the mercy of ticking clocks that define our days in terms of hours, minutes and seconds? What if our experience has caused us to look at time backwards and inside out?

So gets some ideas in place. Ideas that do not rely on our perceptions of time and space, but are rooted in the revealed truth of God in Scripture.

1. God is eternal. Psalms 102: 26, 27; Romans 1:20, 1 Peter 1:24, 25
2. God knows the beginning from the end. Isaiah 46:10, 48:12; Ecclesiastes 3:11; Revelation 22: 13
3. God’s experience of time differs from ours. 2 Peter 3:8
4. Time was created by God. Psalms 90, Colossians 1:16, 1 Timothy 4:4, Revelation 4:11

Now all of this has led to some very sticky theological questions: Does God exist outside of time? Within time? Is he eternally present? Just how much did Augustine borrow from Plato? I want you to watch this next move very closely, as I dodge all of them. Why? Because, I really don’t care and it’s not part of this discussion of time travel. The point is that time is God’s. He gets to decide how he experiences it and inhabits it. And I am ok with that, and if even if I weren’t it make a rat’s whisker’s bit of difference to him. One of the perks of being sovereign is you get to have your way every day. This is also where I resist explaining how a lot of you need to accept that little fact, and live your lives accordingly.

But moving on –

Let’s go back to that “unless” I left dangling up there.

It makes no sense unless…we were designed for eternity. For many of us eternity has been flattened into a timeline, two points eternally retreating from each other to the distant edges of our imaginations, but eternity is more than a line. It expands in all directions, more of an endless web rather than a line, encompassing all things past, present, and possible. And we crave it in depth of our being, to the point that we fantasize about being able to transcend the bounds of this time and move freely within the totality of its space. Our collective obsession demonstrates that truth Ecclesiastes 3:11 which tells us that God has placed eternity in the hearts of man.

And if this is a fundamental craving of humanity, how then do we fulfill that hunger that God has given us? I think the answer is simple – to draw near to the one who is eternal.

A plan as simple as the words of Psalm 145 which tells us that God draws near all who call on him. Or James 4:8 that tells us that if we draw near to God he will draw near to us. And Psalm 65:4 that declares that blessed is the one that God brings near to dwell in his courts, and how do we come into his courts? With praise! Psalm 100. I could go on, but I think you should be getting the idea. Praise is a key to being in the presence of the Eternal God.

Something happens when we start to praise, when we proclaim who he is, and let that reality flood our soul. Time and all that it contains is no longer what defines us or the realm we inhabit. We confronted by the God who is both Ancient of Days and the Lord of What Shall Be. We recognize that time does not hold our God captive, nor is his reality engulfed in time's dictates. Time, that cruel dictator of our lives, bows before our God and proceeds at his bidding and good pleasure. The ticking clock, the changing season, and passing moments become nothing more than tools that he picks up and lays aside as it suits him. That alone should stir our hearts to praise!

And when we praise him, we join our voices with those who have sang his praise since the dawn of time, and our songs will echo in the ears of those who follow. For his praises endure forever, as we are told in Psalms 111:10, and by choosing to praise him we are stepping into the realm of the eternal to experience something far greater than the here and now. To live beyond this tangible moment, to proclaim the events of history as a demonstration of his power for this age, and to proclaim his eternal reign not as some distant future event, but the defining element of our lives today. To lay hold of it all - past, present, and future - as our defining reality and reason to life our voice to him.

So perhaps we are not time travelers, not in the sense that we move through time, but rather that in those moments of praise time moves through us. The past, present, and future aligning in one splendid truth, our God is the God of all time and his steadfast endures forever. Love given since before the thought of creation and will endure past the edges of time, love that we chose to embrace today, so that we might know the God of Eternity in this moment.

Hearing the Word Anew!

Over the past several months I have been doing a word by word break down of Genesis one, taking it back to the original Hebrew, looking at each word in the pictographs that proceeded the alphabet we currently use, seeing what is foreshadowed in this inaugural passage of our sacred text, and trying to understand what these words would have sounded like to those who heard it for the first time. To say the least, it has been an eye opening experience to study these verses that were presented to me in flannel graphs and the colorful picture books of Sunday school.

Something happens to our understanding of the Bible when you grow up with it being doled out in pretty little bite size pieces. When the stories all stand alone without any historical moorings to hold them in place or to give you perspective. We lose sight of the fact that these events happened to real people in a real world with a very real socio-economic-political-religious context that would have colored every word and phrase in a way that is all but lost on the modern reader.

To put it another way, Genesis was not dropped on a people whose minds and hearts were a blank slate. They were not automatons simply waiting for their programing to be downloaded. Just like us, they heard the news of creation with buttload of baggage and preconceived notions that had to be confronted, rooted out, and brought into alignment with this new revelation. (And yes, buttload is a proper and precise theological term – well, in my world anyways.)

So we ask the obvious questions:  Who wrote Genesis? When was it written? And to whom was it written?  

The first one is easy enough. The answer is Moses. Jesus even said so in Luke 24:44, and then Paul gives us a little more insight in Acts 7. This also answers the second and third questions. It was written after the Exodus and to the Children of Israel after they had been freed from slavery.

It is easy to brush by all that with a nod of acceptance, but we have got to stop flying through our Bible and acting as if reading the words is enough to understand what we are being shown. Think about this with me.

Moses who Paul says was “educated in all the wisdom of the Pharaohs” takes this bunch of refugees out into the desert. Refugees who had lived their whole lives in fear, who had all hope for the future snuffed out under a slave master’s whip, whose sole purpose was to toil for a people who viewed them as so sub-human that with a simple decree their children were ripped out of their arms and slaughtered. Can you imagine degradation they had endured? The sheer worthlessness that had been ingrained so deeply into their heads that they would one day beg to return to this condition because the comfort of the known held much more appeal than the rigors of the desert before them?

As we read the accounts in our comfy arm chairs, in rooms heated and cooled to our preference, and munching on our Cheetos, it is easy to proclaim that we would have never spurned God’s promises the way they did. We would never turn our backs on him after having experienced the awesome terror of the plagues or the grand wonder of the parting of the sea. How smug we can be! And yet how many of us can’t even bother with being polite to the checkout girl. Tell me again how easy it would be for a Christian today to make this walk of faith.

And yet, here they are. In a desert, carrying the only possessions they have, and wondering what is going to happen to them and their children when the food runs out. If this was not terrifying enough, there is another thought process running in the backgrounds of their minds – they may have just brought the entire world to an end.

The land they had just left was a land of cycles. Cycles of the sun personified by Ra who made his daily circuit through the sky, eaten each night by Set, and delivered from Set’s belly each morning, governing the ebb and flow of all life. Cycles of the Nile with its seasonal flooding that washed in the fertile silt and watered the crops that most of the known world depended upon for food at one point or another in history. Cycles of life, a 3000 year process of life, death, and reincarnation that only the most worthy could hope to escape. Cycles guarded and upheld by Pharaoh, the man they had just watched drown in the collapsing walls of the sea. The god-man entrusted with putting down political coups and slave uprisings so that the cycles could continue unbroken and unhindered lest the mighty Nun, the god of chaos, rise up from his watery prison and consume the world once more.

Did they not just witness the chaotic waters destroy the one charged with holding back Nun’s power? Did they not just rise up in defiance against the one the only culture they knew proclaimed to be their guardian and savior? What had they done? Was it a mistake? Could they be forgiven? Freedom? What did freedom mean to dead men?

Certainly they had experienced the fierce power of this God that Moses had claimed to follow, but hadn’t this God failed them before?  What of all the years they had languished as slaves, crying out for a savior and none was given? Hadn’t they watched their own parents, grandparents, and even their children die as this God ignored their cries? What was to say that this time would be different? And Moses, where was he? It seemed like so long ago that he had left them here in this barren waste and disappeared into the clouds that surrounded Sinai. Perhaps he had brought them here to die.

So many questions, so much fear, and so little to cling to as they waited their fates.

Then one day they seem him as he walks down the mountains, still radiant from his time with God. Moses who carries back the tablets of stone, the laws by which they are to live, but he carries back something more – the stories of a time only dimly remembered, the time of their forefathers, and the times of creation.

And the story begins with these life changing words – IN THE BEGINNING!

No more cycles to be defended or guarded. No more endless loops of time imprisoning humanity in never ending toil and hardships. No more wheels crushing them into oblivion. No! There was a beginning!  A point where it all started, a point where God acted, and a God did not conquer the chaos – he redeemed it! Fashioning and shaping it according to his desires, not reliant on a man, even a god-man to defend his cycles of life. He stood above it all.

And with the declaration of beginning came the promise of an end. Hope, purpose, and meaning! For now all of humanity would take part in the culmination of time so that the glory of God might be revealed to all men and women who walked this earth. A God who stood in power and glory above the chaos of this world, not with the need to conquer but with the desire to redeem.

I can only imagine the wonder that filled them as they heard this word we brush past. I can only imagine how the pillars of the world they knew shook and crumbled under the weight of this new revelation as they rose again. This time not as runaway slaves, but as a nation, holy, set apart, with a mission and purpose decreed by the God who defied every truth they had been trained to hold dear.

Can it mean any less for us? Even in our comfy chairs? Is the word any less vital or true for us? How many times have you felt like a rat on wheel, that life had no purpose, no meaning? That the chaos of this world had overwhelmed you, consuming all that you gave security and peace? The world does not have to be as we have been trained to see it. It does not have to be limited by the truths that everyone wants us to hold dear. For we are not slaves to this world, we have been freed so that we to might be a holy nation, set apart, with a mission, and with a purpose. We – you and I, not some person on a pedestal, not some spiritual guru, we have been set apart holy unto him! And he still the God who redeems all of creation to himself, we just need to hear the words anew.

Reader’s Question: Why do you believe in a spiritual realm?

Reader’s Question: Why do you believe in a spiritual realm? Hasn’t science proven that all the stuff that they thought were demons and spirits are really diseases or mental disorders? Aren’t you just being superstitious?

This is one of those questions where I have to ask myself, where do I begin? The second question I ask myself, is there anything I can say that would truly convince anyone that my answer is right and true? The honest answer is probably not. And third question I ask myself, how crazy do you want to look when you reply – particularly since you know that your answer probably doesn’t matter?

Well, I have never done anything half way in my entire life (with the exception of keeping house). So I may as well keep up the tradition.

If I wanted to play it safe, I would give you a list of Bible verses that confirm the existence of a spiritual realm, but as the person who asked this does not view the Bible as an authoritative source that is rather pointless. And to be entirely honest, it was not the Bible that convinced me to believe in a spiritual realm. It was only after a number of experiences that I realized that this was a reality that I could not escape, and I learned how to cope with my experiences through the teachings of the Bible.

So instead of offering up that list, allow me to answer with a story.

A few weeks ago a friend of mine decided to help a homeless man. She invited him into her house, fed him, gave him a few useful things, and then at his request brought him to the park where my husband and I are hosts. Camping is free here, and she knew that we would offer any help that we could.

After his first night here, he came up to our camper, knocked on our door, and asked if I would give him a cup of coffee. If you know me, then you already know that coffee is never in short supply. So I invited him, poured him a cup, and listened to his story. Which if you know me, you will also know that one of my favorite things in this world is learning other people’s stories.

He told me about his divorce, how he had lost everything, and how afterwards he just started walking. He caught a Grey Hound in Virginia, rode into Texarkana, and from there started his journey on foot once more. He explained how he was looking for some place quiet, and how he needed to clear his head of all the noises.

So I asked him, “What type of noises are rumbling about in your head?”

He studied his cup for a long time before answering. “I hear voices, all the time voices, telling me what to do. I get a government check for being schizophrenic. Does that scare you?”

I reassured him that it didn’t, and explained that I was bipolar so he was in good company. He laughed a little, but started studying his cup once more, in a way that told me that he wanted to say more but was unsure of how to begin. I waited in silence, giving him a chance to collect his thoughts and gather his courage.

“Your friend said you know a lot about the Bible and stuff,” he finally said. “Do you know about Ra and Nun?”

If I was interested in the man before, he had my full attention now. Just the day before, I had been studying these ancient Egyptian gods. I told him I knew a little, and then asked him what he wanted to know, and why he was asking.

“I hear them,” he told me. “I don’t know who they are or why they are talking to me, but they I know their names because they argue in my head, telling me to do bad things, like kill animals and such. They sent me here. Are they in the Bible? They sound like they could be in the Bible.”

I explained to him that they were not in the Bible, at least not directly mentioned in the Bible. I told him how they were worshipped in ancient Egypt, and how they were gods – one a sun god and one the god of chaos. I told him that believed they were connected to the Nephilim and Sons of God mentioned in Genesis 6, and I how they masqueraded as gods in an effort to fool the people into worshipping them instead of the true God.

As I was speaking, he began to get agitated. His entire manner changed, and he cut me off. He began telling me how he wanted to kill something, a bird, a squirrel, or anything he could overpower.

Abruptly, his mannerism changed again, and he began asking me if I believed that there were spirits who could give us higher knowledge and power.

I told him that there is only one true source of power and knowledge, the God of the Bible, God incarnate in the person of Jesus, and how it was through his blood that we can come to know God’s love and mercy for us. He slammed the coffee cup down on the table and walked out the door. I followed him, and by the time we were outside, he had calmed down again.

“I wish I had more time to study the Bible,” he said not looking at me. “Do you have one I can have?”

I assured him that I would get him one and bring it to him later. He returned to his campsite, and I called Ty and asked him to pick up a Bible on his way home. Later that day, I took the Bible and some food to the spot by the lake where he was set up. He accepted it all less than enthusiastically and began to talk about killing again. As I listened, I studied his campsite and saw that he had cooked various plants over the fires in empty cans, he had more plants drying on the table, and I asked him what that was about. He said he was doing some experiments that voices had told him to do. I didn’t press any further.

As I was leaving, he asked me if I would give him my dog. I smiled and told him, “Hell, no.” He shrugged and pushed the Bible to the far side of the table away from him.

The next day he left. He told me it was too quiet that he couldn’t stay here because the voices got too loud here. He needed to go someplace he felt more comfortable and familiar with, and he walked out of the park.

On the surface, this seems like a random encounter with a mentally ill man, and I am in no way discounting that he had a very real medical condition. Nor am I belittling him for it. After all, I have one too. However, there are two things that make me believe this was a spiritually motivated encounter.

First of all, this is just one of many events that has happened since I started writing my latest book. The list of coincidences could easily be the basis for another book entirely, but I don’t believe in coincidence. I believe that everything has a reason and a purpose. The fact that just the day before I had been researching the very gods he named, supposedly gods that he knew nothing about, confirms to me that this encounter was not accidental. Additionally, many of these encounters seemed to have been engineered to engender one response within me – fear.

Secondly, this was not the first stranger to knock on my door since I began writing this book. The first man approached asking me if my bus was for sale. When I told him no, he walked off muttering some sort of sing-song chant. I watched him as he snuck through the woods to get a better look at the bus, and called the sheriff. When the deputy sheriff picked him, he told me that the man kept muttering that he had to “stop the gypsy.” In case you didn’t know, everyone calls my bus the Gypsy Bus.

Ty and I have been here for over a year and both of these occurrences happened within weeks of each other. Never before have any of the campers here so much as given me a creepy vibe. Most of the folks are good people just looking for some time on the lake to fish, and they have been encouraging supportive of the work we are doing here. Yet, within a matter of weeks, we have two men here whose presence was disconcerting and concerning. And why did they appear at these times? It was when I started the book that led me to research Ra, Nun, and a whole host of other ancient gods and their myths.

I no way expect anyone to believe in a spiritual realm because I had these experiences. With enough effort, anyone could reason them away into nothing more than random events. I realize that and accept it, but I cannot dismiss the sheer number of things that have occurred in my world since the inception of this book. These are but a part of a larger story that stands as but a chapter in my own life. To me it is a manifestation of the activities of the spiritual realm, but you alone can determine what it means to you.

Some Thoughts On Turning Forty

This morning I woke up to over one hundred notifications on my phone from friends and family who paused for a moment to wish me happy birthday from all over the world. Oh, the wonders of technology. I spent the morning reading through them and pondering what this year would bring, but honestly, I am having a hard time wrapping my head around the number. Forty. Wow. Forty.

Every year, I pick out a theme for myself. Something that I wish to accomplish within my heart and mind, new behaviors to adopt, new thoughts I wish to entertain, new challenges that I am ready to take on. One year I decided it was my year to be uncensored, and that was highly entertaining for me at least. I am not so sure about my friends. Last year, I determined to be more honest with and about myself. That wasn’t much fun for anyone. This year life has been throwing me curve balls so I had not really stopped to think about what the theme for this milestone of life was going to be. So I spent the morning thinking about the oh-so-significant number that is forty.

The Bible talks a lot about the number forty. It was the length of time it rained in the great flood of Noah’s day. Forty was the number of years that the children of Israel wandered in the wilderness.  For forty days Jonah prophesied to Nineveh about its impending judgement. Elijah spent forty days eating roadkill delivered by ravens when he fled from Jezebel. Moses spent forty years in Egypt and another forty in tending sheep before God spoke to him at the burning bush, and for forty days he remained on Mt. Sinai as he received the Torah. Forty was also the number of days that Jesus faced temptation before embarking on his earthly ministry.

Testing, trials, and temptation are all aspects of forty, but in the middle of all that fun stuff it is easy to overlook the positive aspects – at the end of forty, be it days, weeks, or years, that is when the good stuff starting happening. Sure the forty leading up to the good stuff was awful, but once it was over, that is when God really kicked things off. The rain stopped, they got to go into the promise land, Nineveh repented, Elijah got to go eat real food, Moses got to have a sit down with God, and Jesus emerged from the desert and shook the whole word up.

This doesn’t mean that everything became smooth sailing, not by a long shot. It meant that all the stuff that had happened before either equipped, empowered, or validated the right of these people to do the real work God had called them to do. Noah didn’t emerge the ark to sit on his rump. He had to rebuild civilization. The entry into the promise land meant full on war with the giants who lived there. Nineveh had to give up its evil ways and act on the words of the prophet. Jezebel didn’t evaporate while Elijah was hiding out, she was still there and he had to face her and her prophets again. Every time Moses got to talk to God, it wasn’t so he could sip some tea and share some gossip about the neighbors. He was being given the tools to build a nation out of a bunch of rag tag slaves who didn’t have a clue about how to become the people God declared them to be. And Jesus? His temptation is what allowed the writer of Hebrews to say what he did. Look it up yourself, and rejoice – Hebrews 4:15. But we all know that was just the beginning of what he would endure.

In Hebrew the number forty is represented by the letter mem. The mem denotes power, might, chaos, spirit, the womb, and water. Water because it is the first letter of the ma’yim the Hebrew word for water and the original pictograph that the Hebrew letter is based on is a three pointed wave. The connection the womb is found in the forty weeks of pregnancy, and the fact that the mem has two forms – open and closed, portraying that there is a season for enclosure and protection and a season to go out into the world when one has properly matured. In creation, we see the Spirit of God hovering over the waters and calling forth life from the deep or from the chaos the proceeded the manifestation of his will for this earth. Within the mem we see this overwhelming picture of change from chaos to order, from potential to being, from thought into action, all in the proper time and manner.

No matter how I turn this number around in my head, one thing keeps repeating. Forty is the beginning point. The place from which one emerges into the world mature enough and wise enough to take action, and to begin the process of actively working towards one’s God given calling. I wished there were room and time to permit all the ways that God has been pointing me to this idea over the past few months, and all the ways that I have been trying to escape it. So as I chose this year’s theme for my life, it isn’t based on some mystical interpretation of a number, but instead I am seeing confirmation of a direction he has in store for me. Time to emerge from the season of testing, trials, and temptation and move into a season of actively shaping the world I inhabit in accordance with all things I have learned thus far.

Fasten your seatbelts. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.