Giants: Legends and Lore of Goliaths

I just wanted to say thank you for all the support!  Amazon is having trouble keeping Giants in stock, and that's just awesome!  Get the word out, and use it to lead people back to the Scriptures!

Mawu the Righteous Judge

In the days past, Mawu sent his messenger each day to travel the earth.  The messenger traveled from the far east to the far west every day for many years.

One evening, the messenger came across the town of Adjala, where the sun had already set.  Because it was night, he stopped his errands and went to a house.  A man, who had been traveling on the road, also happened to stop at this same house on this same night. 

The messenger asked the man, "Where are you headed?"

He replied, "I am heading to where the sun sets."

Mawu's messenger responded, "Then perhaps we are to be companions, for I, too, am headed to that place."

In the house next door, as the day dawned, two parents were crying over their sick child.

Mawu's messenger asked them, "Why have you not slept?"

They replied, "Our child is very sick, and we were worried."

The messenger carried with him a sack, in which he carried some powder.  He gave some of this powder to the father, who gave it to the child.  The messenger went back to the house in which he spent the night and woke up his new companion, telling him that they were to leave immediately.

As they left, the people of the town followed them, shouting, "Where is the stranger?  Where is the stranger?"  The child had died, you see.

But the messenger and his companion escaped, and came to the town of Savalou, where they spent the night.  In the morning, Mawu's messenger set fire to the house, and he and his companion left.  The people followed them, asking "Where is the stranger?"  But the two men had escaped.

The companion was astonished, but did not know who the messenger was.  So the two continued on their journey, and reached Badahwedji, near where the sun sets.

The two travelers stood on the banks of the river, which separated them from the town.  An old man was there, gathering leaves by the bank, and ferrying them across to the other side.  Mawu's messenger followed the man to the bank, and pushed him into the water.  The messenger's companion ran away when he saw this, but the messenger called to him, "Please, you are going the wrong way!  This is the way we must go."

The man answered, "What I have seen is too much.  I am leaving you."

The messenger said, "You do not know who I am.  I am not a man, but a messenger of Mawu.  Mawu sent me to kill the child, for if she had lived, the parents would have become poor and died.  The family whose house I burned has wealthy relatives who have hidden all of their money, and allowed that family to become poor.  The poor family will discover all of that money when they dig to rebuild the walls.  I pushed the old man into the river because the king of Badahwedji has died, and a young man should replace him.  If the old man lives, he would have replaced the king, and a young man should be king instead.  With a young king, they will have goats, pigs, and children."

Then he said, "I can see into the depths of men, and Mawu sent me here to look at such.  Do not be afraid, for if I do not do this, I will become a headache and kill men.  Or I will become a serpent and burn houses down.  If, in your life, you see these things happen, you will know that it is Mawu who does these."

-From the Dahomey tribe of Africa



I think there is a great deal that we can learn from this story.  It seems to me, as an example, that we often blame God for bad things, making us just as near-sighted as the man in the story.  You see, we honestly have no idea how God will work things out - even the tragic and bad things.  One of the most important things we can remember when going through difficult times is that God is always in control, even when it doesn't feel like it, and that it is often for our good that difficult things transpire.


That's why I love Psalm 4 so much.  David is absolutely out of his mind with anger and grief, so much so that he begins the Psalm with a command to God:  "Answer me, when I call to You!"  David's life has gotten so tumultuous, that he feels it necessary to give orders to God.  What's awesome, though, is that in this situation, David discovers that peace and joy come, not from our circumstances, but from God and God alone.  Tell you what, do yourselves a favor and read Psalm 4 today and, if you're able, read it again tomorrow.  And the next day.  And the next.  In fact, spend the next week reading this psalm every day, and see if it doesn't change your perspective on the "bad" events in your life. 

Eulogy for Brennan

Editor's Note:  This post was originally published on April 19, 2013




The last week has been a deeply emotional one as we here in the states have dealt with the bombing in Boston, Massachusetts, and the Christian world has dealt with the passing of one of its greatest champions of grace, as well as the suicide of Rick Warren's son.  I've been saddened this week as I've thought about the lives lost, but also had great moments of joy as I've contemplated heaven's gain.  So while I could talk about Boston, or Matthew Warren, I won't.  This is not to say that these things are unimportant, or that we shouldn't pray for the Warren family or the people affected by the attack in Boston, I'm just choosing to focus instead on the one sad event that is also bringing me great joy.

I grew up in a culture where "Christian" was defined by what you did and did not do, what you said and did not say, what you watched and did not watch, and whether or not you prayed "The Sinner's Prayer."  It was okay to go roller skating, but it was not okay to skateboard.  It was okay to say "darn!" but it was not okay to say "damn!"  It was okay to watch Scooby-Doo, but it was not okay to watch The Smurfs (for those of you too young to remember, those were cartoons thirty years before they were movies!).  Christians didn't swear, didn't go to R-rated movies, didn't like violence, sex, or language on television . . . and didn't approve of anyone who did. 

Behave, because God can't use you if you don't.  Go to church every Sunday, because that's your special time with God.  Tithe, or God will take away all of your money.  And you had to say the words, "Jesus, come into my heart," or nothing you did counted (but, of course, you had to do it all anyway, whether it counted or not, or He would get mad). 

When I was thirteen, I found one of my grandfather's Playboy magazines.  As I flipped through the pages, I was both afraid and excited.  I was afraid of getting caught, I was afraid of making God mad, but I was excited because I like beautiful women, and this particularly beautiful woman was naked, which made it that much easier to set aside my fears and guilt.

But only for a moment.

You see, as I spent the next decade or so battling my lusts and, at times, descending into the nightmare of pornography addiction, a picture of God emerged in my mind:  He loved me, but He didn't much like me.  And so I waited for Him to punish me.  I waited for His wrath.  I wondered if everything bad in my life was a warning - or a judgment.  God became a taskmaster Who would never, ever be happy with me, because I had sinned.  Every time I sinned - no matter what the sin was - this self-abusing tape replayed over and over in my mind. 

And then Brennan came along and made one of the most profound spiritual impacts on my life that has ever happened:  he introduced me to Jesus.  The real Jesus.  The Jesus found in the Scriptures.  God in human flesh.

Brennan told the following story often, but it bears repeating here:

He woke up one morning in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida still drunk from the night before.  He was covered with vomit, shoeless, and completely dazed.  A woman, he says, shields her son's eyes and calls him "filth."  As he finishes telling the story, he pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice thunders, "Jesus loved me just as much then, in a state of disgrace, as He does today, in a state of grace!"   He reminds us later that Jesus knew us before we were born, He knew our mistakes, our sins and our hang-ups, and yet He loved us enough to die for us.  Brennan reminds us that Jesus expects more failure from us than we often expect from ourselves.  He knows what's coming, and He died for it.

The next day, after contemplating Brennan's words, I turned to Paul's letter to the Romans, where he writes, "God demonstrated His love for us, in that while we were sinners, Christ died for us."  The words hit my spirit like a thunderbolt, and I wept.  I wept out of grief for my sin (all of it - my entire nature of sin), grief for His death, and sheer and utter amazement that those two would ever be connected.  I deserved God's wrath, but He gave me love.  I deserved rejection, but he offered acceptance.  From that moment on, Christianity became less about what I do for God, and more about what He did for me.  Which is the point.

I owe Brennan my salvation.  He didn't say pretty words or amazing things - no, that's not what happened.  He said amazing things that forced me to go to the Scriptures and re-evaluate everything I had believed.  Sin is still sin.  That's why He died.  God's Commandments are still God's Commandments.  That's why He died.  But God loved me and died for me even before I had a chance to clean up my act, and He loved me and died for me in spite of the fact that I will never clean up my act.

Though we never had a chance to meet, I'm going to miss Brennan very much.  I'm going to miss his insights into the Scriptures, his humor, and his raw openness.  I rejoice, though, in knowing that his broken soul has been healed.  His struggle with alcoholism is done, his health is restored, and his doubts and fears are now irrevocably dispelled.   

I rejoice in knowing that he has at last seen face-to-face the Jesus Whom he so adored.  The very same Jesus Who "loves you just as you are and not as you should be, because no one is ever as they should be."  In truth, I'm a bit jealous.

So, Brennan, thank you.  Thank you for sharing your life with so many of us.  Thank you for sharing your struggles and doubts, as well as the insights and moments of clarity. 

Thank you for sharing God's grace.  We'll miss you, but we'll see you again.

Tout est Grace

Rustic Greek Fries

The last few posts have been a little heavy, I admit.  And while the Gospel really is the most important thing any of us will ever consider, part of that is taking joy in what God has given us.  And God has given us food.  More specifically in this case, french fries.  I love me some of them french fried potaters.  Mm hm.  

3-4 red skin potatoes, OR 2-3 Russet potatoes          1/2 t  dried basil
2 T olive oil                                                                1/4 t lemon juice
1 garlic clove, minced                                                 1/4 t salt
1 t dried oregano                                                       1/4 t black pepper


1) Pre-heat oven to 400 degrees.
2) Cut potatoes into 1/4-in. thick strips; place in large bowl.
3) Combine remaining ingredients in a bowl, whisking until thoroughly mixed.  Pour over potatoes and toss until potatoes are evenly coated.
4) Arrange in a single layer on a baking sheet coated with cooking spray.  Bake until golden brown, about twenty minutes, stirring once.  If you'd like, sprinkle some crumbled feta on top before serving.  Yum.

Pride and joy

It always starts the same:  hurt, scars, unmet expectations.  Maybe you had an absent parent (physically or emotionally).  Maybe it was abuse.  Maybe it was a lifetime of unkind words from peers who couldn't appreciate your differences.  The end result, however, is also the same:  hurt, scars, and unmet expectations.

So now there's a hole in your life, a need to fix the wrong; it's a need to find that happiness that was taken from you so early on.  So you pursue the things in life that make you happy.  You play video games, but they become boring.  You read books, but they become predictable.  As you grow up, you begin to pursue other interests: sex, movies, good times.  You throw yourself into schoolwork.  You pursue colleges.  You get in, and you pursue a degree.  You graduate, and you pursue a career, a spouse, a significant other.  But the happiness doesn't last, so you throw yourself into these things with a fervent passion.  You pursue a promotion, children.  You take pride in these things, because they are worthy goals.  But when the happiness doesn't last, you pursue more.  Your pursuits could be perfectly fine:  new hobbies, a new home, a new car.  They could be destructive:  alcoholism, affairs, drugs.  Regardless, the happiness doesn't last.

That's because you don't need happiness.  Happiness is temporary, and the things you pursue are temporary.  Movies end, books have a last page, and people can be taken (or walk away) from you; people die.  You will die.  Happiness is good, but it isn't what you need.  What you need is something permanent.  What you need is something that can't be spoiled by rain or snow, by car accidents and medical crises; you need joy.

Joy is permanent.  As such, it can only come from something that is permanent and eternal, and there is only one Thing in this universe that is eternal:  God.  So let me ask you:  are you pursuing happiness that will fade, or are you pursuing joy that will remain? 

Ignoble Pursuits

In a large house, there are vessels not only of gold and silver, but also of wood and clay.  Some are for noble purposes, some are for ignoble purposes.  If a man cleanses himself from the latter, he will be an instrument for noble purposes, made holy, and useful to the Master for any good work.

-2 Timothy 2:20-21

You know what's interesting about these verses?  I've always thought that Paul was referring to discarding the clay and wooden vessels.  As in, if you cleanse yourself from your sin, then you can be noble and holy, but that's completely off base. First, we know that we can't cleanse ourselves from sin, only Christ can.  His life, death, and resurrection are what removes our sins, not what we do. 

Secondly, we can't make ourselves holy.  Paul even says that, when he says we will be made holy.  That's not an active verb, but a very passive verb; it's done to us, not by us.

Thirdly, the wood and clay vessels have both noble and ignoble purposes.  Look carefully at the wording, and you'll note that Paul is addressing the everyday vessels.  The mention of gold and silver is just so there's no confusion.  "When I speak about noble purposes," he's saying, "I'm not talking about gold and silver, but wood and clay." 

Lastly, anything that God pronounces clean is clean.  When God appeared to Peter on a rooftop in Jerusalem, He said as much.  Peter had a hangup about Gentiles, and God said, "Don't.  Even Gentiles can be cleansed by me."

When we become followers of Christ, we are pronounced clean by God - all areas of our lives.  But that doesn't mean that all areas of our lives are bearing fruit for the Gospel.  Not all areas of our lives are pointing to Christ, and so those areas must go.  It's what Christ means in John 15 when He talks about pruning the branches of the vine:  "Every branch that does bear fruit He prunes, so that it will be even more fruitful" (2).

No one on earth kills plants faster than I do.  I actually killed a cactus once because I didn't water it enough.  Let me repeat that:  I didn't give my cactus enough water.  You only have to water the things a dozen times a year, and I failed to do even that.  But even I know that sometimes a branch that is living needs to be cut on once in a while, because it can still have dead growth:  twigs and whatnot that just won't blossom, that are diverting nutrients away from the flowers and fruit, preventing them from being even more fruitful.

I have some sins that have been a part of my life for decades now.  They're comfortable in their stability.  Can I be honest with you?  The idea of having them cut out scares me, because anytime you remove a part of your life, it hurts.  But if I love my security and my sin more than I love Christ, then I'm worshiping the wrong god, and it needs to go.

What's more important to you, God, or your idols?   

   

The Dangerous Delusion of Control

Any of you remember the Caesar games for the PC?  I was introduced to the third one - called (appropriately) Caesar III - when I was in college.  It was one of those standard strategy games where you oversee the construction and operation of some sort of organization.  In this case, you were in charge of building Roman provinces.  You controlled farming, mining, fishing, and a whole host of other natural resources.  You were in charge of trade, festivals, employment, and so on.  Games like this were so popular - and are still so popular - because you, the player, have total control of the system.  And when things went wrong - an earthquake, perhaps, or barbarian invasions - it was your reactions and rebuilding that got the whole thing back on course.  I believe, in other words, that the games are popular because they appeal to our very human desire to be in control.  We think that if we can be in control, then things won't go (as) wrong as they otherwise would.


It's why we take vitamins and avoid bacon, right?  If I get all the nutrients I need and avoid all the stuff I don't, then I'll live a long and healthy life.  That's why I take cholesterol medicine, so that I won't die of a heart attack when I'm 40.  If I eat right, then I can control the span of my life.  It's also why I have an IRA - if I save for retirement, then I can live comfortably later without being a burden to my child. 



But it's an illusion.  If I don't take the medicine, if I eat lots of a bacon, if I stop taking vitamins and eating salads, will I die when I'm 40?  The answer is that I don't know; I'm not in charge of how long I live.  I could be hit by a car tomorrow, and then what did my diet get me?  What did the pills do?  Nothing.  What good was saving all of that money?  I don't know the number of my days . . . only God does.  "Eating right" is only the illusion of being in control.  Large bank accounts are only the illusion of being in control.

None of us can control our lives.


Now, don't misread this.  Our mission, as disciples of Jesus, is to bring as many people to Jesus as we possibly can, and to keep at it for as long as we can.  So we take care of ourselves in order to be at our peak performance as witnesses to the Gospel, knowing, at the same time, that our lives are no longer ours to control.  Our mission, as disciples of Jesus, is to take care of those around us, so that they can know the love of Christ.  So I save money, I spend wisely, and I am learning to give generously, knowing that my money is no longer mine to control. 



David's Fear
King David starts out Psalm 4 with a very intense - and human - cry of frustration:  "Answer me when I call to you, oh my righteous God!  Give me relief from my distress; be merciful and hear my prayer!" 


How many times in my life have you and I said the same thing when our prayers go unanswered?  How many times have I cried out in frustration when God was silent?  "Where are you, God?  Answer me!" or "Do something!"



How many times did I cry that as I watched my mother die?  "Heal her, God!  DO SOMETHING!"


How many times did I cry that when my struggle with lust and porn got the better of me?  "Take it from me, God!  DO SOMETHING!"


How many times did I cry that when relationships crumbled, when things went wrong, or when life got hard?  So when David says, "Answer me, God!" I can relate  My guess is that if you're reading this, you probably can, too.  Now we don't know exactly what was going on with David at this point, but we get a glimpse of it in verse 3.  After asking God - pleading with God - to answer him, David turns his plea to his subjects:  "How long, oh men, will you turn my glory into shame?  How long will you love delusions and seek false gods?" 


David's people were slandering him.  They had turned on him, perhaps they were blaming him for their problems.  Maybe it was a famine, a war - who knows - but his people turned their backs on their king.  More than that, they had turned their backs on God, too, and David wanted it to stop.  "How long?" he asks.  "Answer me when I call to you, God!"


Do.  Some.  Thing.


But then David seems to take a step back and remind himself of three things, three concepts that change his whole perspective on life.  The first is that no matter what happens, God is still God.


Check out verse 4:  "The Lord has set apart the righteous for himself.  The Lord will hear when I call to him."  No matter how silent God might be at your moment of crisis, He's still God and He's still on His throne.  He doesn't step out for a latte, He doesn't sleep, He doesn't have a potty emergency . . . He's God.  He's the God of the good, the bad, and the ugly, and, no matter what the situation is, He's in control.  God works all things for the good of those who live Him and are called according to His purpose, Paul reminds us.  This means that God's silence wasn't out of absenteeism or apathy, but was for David's good, our good and, most of all, God's glory. 


The second thing David reminds himself is that anger and fear are never an excuse to sin:  "In your anger, do not sin.  When you are on your beds, search your hearts and be silent" (5).  Note that very important phrase:  "When you are on your beds. . . ."  Sounds like it was written by someone who knows what it means to toss and turn, doesn't it?  The control he had was slipping away, and David, in the dark watches of the night, was afraid.  But God is still God, and we are to search our hearts and root out that fear, knowing that God knows the plans He has for us, and we should be awed into a reverent silence at His mercy and holiness. 


Then David hits us with what I think is the hardest point:  keep living out our faith.  "Offer right sacrifices and trust in the Lord" (6), he writes.  It's not enough to not overtly sin, we must continue to live and preach the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  Our fear of losing control is never an excuse to commit sin, but neither is it an excuse to sin by omission.  In David's time, that was the sacrifice offered at the temple.  In our time, it's ourselves.  "Offer yourselves,"  Paul writes, "as living sacrifices."  Remember when I said that our lives were not ours to control?  That, friends, is what it means to be a living sacrifice.


Now, after all of this, David reminds us that things haven't gotten any better:  "Many are asking, 'Who can show us any good?'" (7).  The problems still remain, morale is low, people are slandering him, but David's entire perspective has changed.  Instead of praying, "Answer me!" David prays, "Let the light of your face shine upon us, oh God."  In other words, "Be who you are, God."  And then. . . .


. . . "You have filled my heart with greater joy than when their grain and new wine abound.  I lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, oh Lord, make me dwell in safety" (8).  David is more content, more at peace, than when his entire country is well-fed and drunk.  The man who was tossing and turning in his bed in verse 5 now sleeps like a baby.  And it wasn't - get this - it wasn't because circumstances had improved.  People were still hopeless and without morale, but David's entire perspective had changed because he realized one very important point:  God is our only security.


"For you alone, oh Lord, make me dwell in safety."


Think about it this way.  If God, for whatever reason, wanted you to be destitute, would He be capable of wiping out your entire savings account?  If God could bring a person to faith in Jesus Christ by having your home broken into, could He cause your fancy security system to malfunction?  These are not necessarily bad things to have, but we must always - always - remember that God alone makes us dwell in safety.  I am not guaranteed my next heartbeat, and neither is anyone else. 


Including my loved ones.


So I will fasten my seat belt, I won't leave my dryer running when I go to the store, and I will teach my daughter to look both ways before crossing the street.  But at the end of the day, I will try to remember that the belief that I can control my life is about as fruitless and pointless as believing that I was actually building the Roman Empire whenever I turned on my computer.  God is in control, and He will receive glory.  So if by my life - or death - that will happen, then all I can say is "Amen."