The Great and The Gentle

It’s always perplexed me how the Jews of Christ time could not recognize his divinity. Now, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized more that I’ve always gotten the information from the believer. It’s easy to see something the way someone once you to see it. Yet even Matthew uses the fulfillment of prophecy to help boister his account of the Saviors’ works.  Clearly their was a divide on what those ancient scriptures meant, but something else likely changed the view of the ancient Jews.

300 years before Christ, another young man entered the world. Not only did he spend some time in Egypt, but he also claimed to be the son of a god. Alexander the Great was a young Macedonian king who was bent on conjuring the known world. To the perisians, he was a pest, but to the conquered world, he was miracle. With some luck and a lot of military strategy, Alexander conquered the kingdom of Persia.

It did not last. Despite all his strength in battle, Alex took ill and would die in his early thirties. At his death, his kingdom became divided, and because of this divide, as well as other factors, the Romans were able to come in and make their own mark on the ancient world. He was a great leader whose kingdom fell apart immediately after his death.

Strangely enough, the life of Alexander is in contrast to the life of Jesus, yet they hold so many similarities. Christ was born into a people surrounded by a conquering nation. He claimed to be the Son of God on earth. He said he was there to free his people from the many things that bound them. His kingdom was being built on the earth and would not fall.

The Jewish nation had seen true conquers. They knew of Alexander the Great and his defeat of the Persian kingdom. If a man who claimed to be the son of god could do such things, how much greater would their Savior be. After the fall of Alexander’s kingdom, they watched the Maccabbes fight for the Jewish people with a might that would not be matched by their people again their time. If men who were not their Savior could do such works, how much greater would be their Savior.

Yet Jesus was not great in the world. He was gentle, humble, a quiet soul doing wonderous works. He taught gentleness and meekness of heart. He was a servant to his followers and taught that humility would be their way. His teachings did not raise him up to a leader who would conquer the Romans as these great leaders before him. They would raise him onto a cross where he would die.

Here’s the interesting part. Alexander made a great impact on the world of his day, but his Kingdom fell apart the moment he died. Christ made little impact on the world of his day, yet His kingdom has continued well beyond his day. Today, Christians fill the earth announcing the joy of the Saviors’ redemption. People are being made free from the bonds of sin right now, this very second, because of the Savior.

It was the gentle teachings of the Savior that ripple into our time. He still has active soldiers in his army fighting to spread his gentle message, while the soldiers of the Great ones have long sense passed to the grave. Great works will always be recorded in history, and we will always marvel over them. Gentle works are felt generations beyond, and we don’t have to marvel because we benefit from them.

People will always remember your great works, but it’s the gentle works that will impact their souls for generations to come.

The Self Made Obligations

This is very interesting. When I started writing this blog I went on and on about how, even though we love something it doesn’t mean it will always be easy. Then I started listing all the different careers that people might get in because they’re passionate about a subject and it hit me, love is action. When we love something we make an effort for that thing. It so wildly known and boasted about you’d think I’d already have that idea printed on my heart, but for some reason it really hit me just now.

Love isn’t easy, but it is. Love isn’t hard, but it is. It’s easy to love something, but we don’t truly love it if we aren’t willing to sacrifice. I’m been thinking about this in terms of writing. I love to write, it’s something I’ve enjoyed for a very long time, but over the years I’ve struggled with it sometimes becoming a chore. When I started this blog the whole point was to give myself an outlet to write all the time, but when I started to fall behind and not write as much as I should when it came to website relevance I lost a bit of the love. When you lose the love you act out of habit or routine. Routine gets boring and sometimes you realize all that routine isn’t what you wanted after all.

Obligation is the killer of love. To be obligated to do something often turns something into a chore. A requirement. Here’s the kicker. Obligation is a sign of true love. Obligation is the same as commitment, and commitment is the ultimate show of love. When I began this blog it was because I wanted to show myself, I was committed to writing more. When you get married thats a commitment to someone you love. Making a commitment is hard, but it’s made easier with love. When you commit to do something for someone or something you love it doesn’t seem so bad, unless you lose sight of the love.

I think I might be rambling at this point, but my main thought is how I had no idea what to write about this week. I started to get bogged down by what I should write about and I was losing a bit of the passion behind it. I debated if I should write if I wasn’t feeling like I had a topic, but then I realized I didn’t want to write because I had a topic or because I had an obligation. I just wanted to write. So I started writing about how I felt like I’d lost a bit of fire because of the obligation to write, and just gained more compassion for myself realizing I do love writing and this is something I don’t want to stop.

Barabbas: We are made Free

In the final hours of Christ’s life, He is taken before Pilot, who interviews Him intently. Upon discovering or deciding for himself that Jesus appeared innocent of wrong that permitted such involvement of the Romans, Pilot presented the people with an option. They could free Jesus of Nazareth or free Barabbas, a man known for his crimes against the people. Sure he knew what would be said, Pilot was shocked to hear “free Barabbas” shouted from below. He was so disturbed by this turn of events that Pilot insisted on washing his hands, clearing his own conscience.

I think the person most shocked to hear such a revelation was Barabbas himself. We have no way of truly knowing the man’s heart. Was he simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, or did he truly lead a life of crime? Did he have any remorse for his actions, or was he proud of his muddied reputation? One thing is for sure, he was not happy to be in the roman custody. It was likely he was meant to be the third in a row of robbers to be crucified that very day. In that very moment, he was pulled in front of the Roman leader looking out on all the people he had wronged and was certain his fate was set in stone. How could he possibly right his wrongs from the cross?

Then he hears his own name called out. The people wanted to free him. How could this be? Looking at Jesus, the Man meant to take his place all he would see was the humble Servant doing His Father’s bidding, and Barabbas would wonder how Jesus of all men, could be worse than himself. Despite everything, this Jesus, no matter what His reputation, had become Barabbas’ Savior. In that moment, the first was set free because of the death of Jesus.

In Barabbas, we see a type of each of us. We are all held prisoners to the wrongs we have done. Some of these can’t be undone. We can’t unbreak hearts that no longer trust us. We can’t bring joy back to someone we have stolen it from. We stand before the world, our crimes written in the hearts of those we’ve injured, emotionally, spiritually, and physically, and left to face the music. Beside us stands a Man, and despite our crimes so publicly placed, He takes those crimes upon Himself. It is He that you watch upon your cross, taking the punishment that was meant for you. Not just the physical punishment, but the emotional torment of knowing we can not recreate a bond we have broken.

This very sacrifice reconnects broken bonds. We can turn to those who have wronged us and look up together at the man on the cross, who took both our burdens. If He loved us both this much, why can’t we drop the chains of hate,  sorrow, and fear? Why can’t we love with a hope we won’t be hurt again? We can. Because of Him, we can hope those who have wronged us will become better, and we can better ourselves. Because of Him, we can walk away from the cross of our sins and start again.

I don’t know what Barabbas did with his second chance. Perhaps he wound up right back in prison. Maybe he was killed by another, unhappy he had been released. I would like to think Barabbas grew curious of this Man who had become his Savior. He sought after the Man and came upon His followers. He learned of Christ and His mission and suddenly felt a closer connection to the redeeming power of Christ than any other, for he had been redeemed in this life. His chains had literally been removed, his punishment literally given to another. His Savior. The Savior. Jesus Christ.

Barabbas

A thief I was, a liar too

The good i did was short of few

I never thought to seek of you

Yet stand we here together

I never thought I would be caught

But too much pain I chose to raught

So, for me, they often sought

Til here, we stand together.

My freedom I do not deserve

My evil deeds are well preserved

Yet in the crowd, I hear the words

Let go and free Barabbas!

My heart once swallowed deep in sorrow

Grew light, for there would be tomorrow

But it only came from being borrowed

From the man stood at my side.

And as I rush into the crowd

I look back up with freedom found

My sins no longer held me down

Because this man that stood with me.

And for a moment swear I saw

A tear drop down a gentle nod

His eyes locked on, I stood in awe

His sacrifice brought me freedom.

“I’m Not Reading That”

You may have noticed my deep religious roots in my writing. Honestly, early on, I tried to keep my writing as religiously light as possible. It wasn’t any sort of embarrassment of my religion or out of a desire to hide my religiousness, it was simply because I didn’t want to create any sort of barriers to whatever I was writing about.

Writing can be such a challenge because the number of people that actually spend quality time reading has dropped, and even those that still read need certain measures met to be drawn in. As a writer, it’s my task to create an engaging enough tale to occupy my readers and keep them wanting more. There is, however, a fine line between parading and propaganda.

As a writer, I feel like my job is to make a parade float. I’m given a theme that I wish to present with bright flowing colors and large bold letter banners. Mixed along the float are enthusiastic characters that throw handfuls of candy to the crowd. Each child watches anxiously as the float with all the fun characters and flowing candy approaches. The better the float, the more those watching can’t wait for you to pass by.

In an effort to create a great float, one may slowly slip into propaganda. While you have a theme to base it off of, you simply build your float based on what you believe people want to see and avoid what they don’t want to see. You have a bland color, a very normal character, and candy that people don’t love, but also don’t hate. Suddenly, you’ve created a float that won’t offend anyone, but neither does it excite anyone.

Why propaganda? Because you’ve become a slave to what you think people want or don’t what to see. You supress your own messages because it might offend or push away someone you might hope would engage with your artwork. Truth be told, I spent a lot of time in that boat. I have many people who I care deeply for that I simply don’t agree with. That’s okay.

This is all a long, winded way to say to anyone reading my blogs. They are about to make a shift. I feel a strong pull to talk more about religious themes. I have a desire to write more about Jesus and parallels of Him to our world and even to the histories of the world. For those who are intrigued and awesome, for those who are put off, I hope you can still enjoy them for what they’re meant to be. A way to connect to another person’s mind and maybe see how similar or different we can all be.

Mother

It’s such a wonderful time to celebrate one of the biggest influences in our lives. Everyone has a mother, and whether for the good or bad, they always leave an impact. I’m lucky enough to have one of the best mothers God put down here.

It’s such a strange feeling to look back and realize how such a sort of time it is we spend with our parents. Yet their influence is a major impact on who we become. As a parent myself, my kids’ lives just seemed to zoom through quicker and quicker each year. I look back and realize my oldest is halfway to driving already. It feels like yesterday I had a bunch of babies running around. If you say otherwise, I have a bunch of pictures where they looked like babies.

A mothers life can not be easy. She performs the ultimate labor for her children and then watches as they grow and leave her. Honestly, mothers are the nearest thing to the Savior on this earth. As soon as a mother is pregnant, her life is immediately given to that child. She carries that child for 9 months, giving it all it needs to survive. Then, she suffers through labor  so that child might have life outside the womb so that child can be a free agent. After all that suffering and care mothers are expected to watch that child use their freedom with a hope they will make good choices in their lives.

The Savior also suffered a great labor for us so we could be free agents. He watches as we use that freedom with a hope we will choose to do good. He is loving, patient, kind, and just. Don’t these words also describe a mother? For you moms reading that and remembering a time of anger, remember also the Savior in the temple, throwing the tables and casting out those that defiled the temple, with a wipe. Sure, we are not the Savior, so our anger may not always be justified, but a mothers anger is always a deepest desire to help their child.

All you mothers out their, keep going. This is the most difficult job on the planet, and pays the least, yet has the biggest impact on the worlds future. Not a single industry in the world could survive if mother failed to do their job. You hold the world in your hands in a world that tries daily to take away your helping hands. Where the world turns their back on you their is One who understands you better than anyone because just as you have, he suffered for each child on this planet. He will never turn his back on you. He will lift you in the hardest times and carry you through.

Happy Mothers Day, friends. May you be lifted in your burdens and have the opportunity to fulfill a desire of your own hearts.

Emotional Roadblock

If you happen to have read through my road to Tennessee posts, you’ll know my wife suffers from a rare disease. It’s been a long journey for us both, but more especially for and on her. There’s no way of truly understanding the emotional roller coaster she rides each day with her sickness. She tries explaining it, she tries expressing it, but I don’t think humans can really understand emotions unless we feel them for ourselves.

I wasn’t the first to think so. In history, all people of every culture recognized people just don’t understand emotion. We’ve learned to put emotion in art, music, and poems. Even those are imperfect mediums. Just the other day, my wife listened to a song I felt to be inspiring and wondered if I was depressed listening to it. Drawings can stir different feelings in people standing side by side. Poems that speak on one’s personal experience can suddenly hold a deeper meaning on the woes of the world.

We saw that was the case and invented a whole new art form to encapsulate all of those. In plays, we see passionate monologues surrounding the tragedy of romance accompanied by heartfelt music. Each character dressed in makeup to depict the struggle that led to the unfortunate ending. All arts pointed at a need for the audience to feel sadness. With three art forms pointing to sorrow, it’s almost harder not to feel the emotions they intend to evoke.

Think of all that takes. Clothes had to be made to keep people from falling out of the story. Make-up has to be “time period” accurate. The staged or scene has to feel like a whole world while being contained in a small box. Music has to be in tune with harmonies designed for the feeling of the scene. An actor must present his monolgue without hesitation, knowing his lines well enough to put his own emotions into each word. All this just to help an audience feel the emotions the writer wants them feel each moment of a play. 

We wonder why people struggle to understand how we feel. Look at everything we do just to bring about emotions. It’s no wonder people can’t feel what we are feeling when we describe our struggles. People are selfish, not intentionally, naturally. We want to be compassionate with each other, but we can’t understand emotions we have not felt. I don’t know if there is a way to feel the emotions of someone else. I do know we can’t know someone else’s experience. Next time you see someone struggle, remember they are alone inside it, but they don’t have to be alone outside of it. We don’t have to understand the emotion to understand a person needs a person.

The Rose on a Hill

Bright and beautiful the day

A shining sun aloft

The green grass moved with every gust

The dew formed from the frost

A rose of red stood proud and strong

It watched the fields below

Atop a hill the rose abode

It watched the world flow.

A strange sight just a mile away

Another bright and red.

It’s stem seemed strong, it’s pedals thick

Not close to being dead.

Yet with its strength, A Gardner came

Each day took tender care.

The Gardner watered, fed, and pruned

Took precious time right there.

The rose from high upon a hill

Wondered jealously

Why am I not so well attend?

Who shall take care of me?

With each new day the Gardner came

And took care of the rose

and the one that stood upon a hill

Soon turned up its nose.

I have bugs, and water needs,

I could also use a trim.

My leafs are getting out of hand

My pedals feel quite dim.

The Gardner never comes to me

He never looks my way

I am nothing to the Gardner

I wittle all the day.

As days went by the rose grew dim

It’s heart consumed in hate

Every day I watched that flower

Get cared for near the gate.

Then afternoon a day or so 

The Gardner couldn’t be found

The rose looked down beyond the field

But no Gardner was around.

A gentle touch made the pedals freeze

A cool liquid at her feet.

A shovel loosened hardened dirt

The rose and Gardner meet.

My dearest rose, how do you do?

The Gardner says aloud.

The rose looks up not making eyes

To speak, she was too proud.

Sensing the hate the Gardner sighed

“I’m sorry for your pain

You see that rose inside my gate

It’s health i must sustain.”

You see it’s roots don’t run as deep

Yours burrow down below

It’s carried easy by the wind

While you are taken slow.

I must sustain that rose below

It needs me constantly

But know this dear I’m watching you

Your needs, I always see.

I see your strength and what could be

When left up to yourself

So remember when your left alone

I know your strengths and health.

He stood and smiled and turned away

Returning to the gate.

He walked up to the other rose

And spoke to it til late.

As days past and she watched him work

A light appeared inside

The strength the Gardner said she had

was always on her mind.

The Gardner sees inside our hearts

he watches constantly,

He knows our needs, our wants, and dreams

But teaches patiently.

Tomorrow may be filed with sad

The next day, joy prolongs.

The Gardner knows just what we need

So we bloom bright and strong.

The Caged Bird

The other day, my wife was on a walk with the dog. Nearing the end of the walk, the dog seemed unusually interested in the trunk of a car. Her mind started thinking the worst when an injured bird leaped out from its hiding place. Her immediate thought was to help, but she knew I wasn’t as open to the idea of an injured bird coming into the house.

A year earlier, a bird struck our window and fell into the window well. My wife had rescued the bird and placed it into a box. I wasn’t happy because of all the diseases birds carry, and when I got home, the bird flew off the second I released it from the box. All of this played into my wife deciding not to pick up the bird and take it home. But, as if someone heard the hesitation, a group of birds began attacking the injured bird. My wife could watch no longer and came to the birds rescue.

She spent the entire day digging in the mud for worms and changing water in and out for the injured creature. She kept it safe in the dog kennel, keeping to safe from children, and dogs peeked interest. Our daughter even named the bird Bella. Once we took it outside to see if perhaps it could fly, it was clearly too injured, and we returned it to the kennel.

This morning, we took it to a wild animal shelter where they we be able to assist in its recovery and hopful return to the wild.

From my wifes side of the story, she went out of her way to make sure that bird was fed and protected. You can see her sweet heart making sure the creature felt as safe as possible despite being in a foreign cage. Yet, as we spoke, we thought about how little the creature probably understood. From the birds perspective, it had been struck by a car. After realizing it couldn’t fly, it hid and was discovered by a dog, a terrible creature that roared and chased them all the time.

Luckily, the dog was being pulled by a human who moved it along, but the second Bella felt safe again, a group of birds attacked. Suddenly, she’s swooped up and caught in two large hands where she can’t escape. She’s taken into the human lair and forced into a cage where she’s given worms and water. For a robin, with an average lifespan of two to fourteen years, the hours in a kennels felt like days. Without the ability to wander in the wild, the poor Bella had to wait as hours passed till her human capture finally brought worms.

After what felt like months, Bella had her first chance to breathe outside air. This was her moment to escape. The moment the human approaches, she makes a break for it. She manages to get under the fence and is finally free again, except her wing is still injured. Within moments, she’s in the grasp of the human who returns her to her prison. Bella stars off into the darkness, wondering if she will ever return to the wild. Will she ever be free again?

We hope Bella will be free once more after healing. How much like Bella are we? Sometimes, we don’t understand the bigger plan. Sometimes, we’re caught up in a horrible situation thinking everything is going downhill not realizing theirs a bigger purpose to our current situation and perhaps, without knowing it, we are being rescued from a much worse fate.

Radiation

  Did you know nearly everything gives off some form of radiation? From the ultraviolet we are exposed to daily, to the X-rays we get when injured. Even our bodies have elements essential to our lives that give off radiation. It is a constant part of our life that leaves an imprint, whether brief or lasting.

  Radiation may seem like an out of place topic. Recently, I was thinking about how things in our lives seem to leave different impressions on our personality and life. Events, holidays, and even moments give off a radiation that travels through time. I think everyone can recall a song they heard as a child that radiates memories from a distant past into the present.

  You can break up radiation into different categories based on how damaging it can be to the body. Ionized Radiation and Non-ionized Radiation. Non-ionized radiation causes vibrations that can heat an object significantly. Ionized radiation has the power to add or subtract electronic from atoms, changing them from neutral to positive or negative.

  I feel like non-ionized radiation can be similar to those daily emotions we feel, anger, embarrassment, sadness, etc. They vary on how much they affect the body. One can simply heat the body for a short time, while another can cause major lasting damage. A lot of daily emotions are just that, a daily accurance that eventually fades. Yet these emotions can radiate into other objects that we surround ourselves with at the time. Suddenly, we have music that brings back tears or that meal that hits just right. It is almost as if our emotions are literally radioactive material clinging to things in the immediate vicinity.

  On the other hand, Ionized radiation can literally change the way an element works. Sodium can go from being used in table salt to exploding on contact with water simply by changing its charge. Ionized events in our lives literally change us. It’s not just the emotion behind an event. It’s the need internally to move differently. When you hear someone having a change of heart that comes from an Ionized event.

  With Easter passing, I realized we exposed ourselves to Ionized events all the  time. Easter is an example of a radiant event that changes people every time it passes, yet so many hold up their lead vests to keep the radiation out. How often do we find ourselves refusing to make changes to the good? How much more do we find ourselves hiding away from these life changing events we celebrate every year. Nothing more potent than a birthday where we literally celebrate a year of growth, yet the older we get, the more we bawk at birthdays and bury ourselves in a mountain of lead to avoid changing anything in our lives.

  This Easter, I felt the radiation surgery through me. I wondered how long this desire for change would last and how soon life would go back to normal. Then I decided I wanted to make a new normal and the radiation sickness of Easter didn’t have to be a sickness at all, it could be the wave I need to put me back on course to being the man I want to be for my family and myself.

  Take a moment. Do you have a big event coming up that will radiate goodness in your life? Can that be the motivation you need? If anything, don’t let your lead pride stop you from making steps towards the success you deserve in life. Ride the wave.