Oh, my aching back! I knew it would hurt today. I spent too much time yesterday on a bar stool.
Oh, you thought . . . No, I was sitting on a stool at the “bar” in our kitchen. I like to work there, but my back doesn’t like it when I do.
It was a Monday. I like Mondays. I love what happens on Sundays, but I’m okay with the fact that Mondays are as far as you can get from Sundays. I learned ages ago that anything “extra” I want to get accomplished during a given week can best be done early in the week.
So on the Monday in question I spent some time working on a kind of grandfatherly gift for my kids and grandkids.
When our four sons were just little guys (they didn’t stay little in any sense for long), more often than not, I’d put them to sleep by reading to them. My wife and I read them a bunch of the children’s books, Bible story books, etc., you’d expect. (And, yes, some fairy tales. No child should be deprived of the real-life truths found in fairy tales.)
As they got older (but way earlier than was reasonable) I read to them my favorite books, J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. During Christmas, we’d read Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.
But we spent most of our time reading C. S. Lewis’ series of seven children’s books, The Chronicles of Narnia.
I’m glad that The Lord of the Rings and several of the Narnia books are now movies. I was afraid Hollywood would butcher these books that I love, but those films are amazingly well done. Still, I’m glad that in my head, and those of my sons, our own images of hobbits and centaurs and epic voyages and wonderful Narnian and Middle Earth adventures came before Hollywood’s.
My sons loved the night-time readings, but they wanted more and longer readings than I could provide. (Since they went to sleep every night to the sound of my voice, they tell me that I have no one but myself to blame if they sleep through my sermons.)
But sometime in the midst of our reading years ago, I decided to crank up the tape recorder each evening, which means that I could later play them the tape when I got tired. I ended up with recordings of five of those Narnia books actually being read to my sons.
Now the grandkids are showing up, and Monday I spent some time “digitizing” those old tape recordings and putting them on CD so I can keep on reading to my favorite little people (if they’re interested) even when I’m not around. (I mean geographically “not around,” not dead, though I guess . . .)
Reading’s good. We all ought to do a lot more of it. Reading to kids is especially good. By all means, a good Bible story book, filled with the best stories of all, can wonderfully implant in little children’s minds pictures of Jesus and his love. But why stop there? If you’ve spent any time in Narnia, you know that it would be very hard to find a better picture of who Christ really is than that of a great Lion, awesome and joy-filled but completely untamed, named Aslan.
Thank God for all the ways the Father shows us the Son.
Copyright 2011 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
"Wow! That Person Really Knows the Bible!"
“Wow! That person really knows the Bible!” I hear that comment made fairly often, and I always wonder what the speaker means.
Usually they mean that someone is quite familiar with the words of the Bible, its many facts and wonderful stories, etc. On one level, that’s great, since most studies these days show that the general level of factual Bible knowledge among even Christians is appalling.
But then I wonder, how much does that person whose Bible knowledge is being touted really understand about God’s written revelation? For example, how much does he understand about the various types of literature that are contained in the Scriptures? Does she realize that being serious about learning what a particular book of the Bible has to teach means being serious enough to learn something about its context and setting? And on we could go.
I don’t doubt for a moment that one doesn’t have to have credentials as a Bible scholar to derive great blessing from simply reading the Bible and learning about the amazingly Good News of God’s love.
But neither do I doubt that those who have worked hardest to truly know the most about the facts, the message, and the meaning of the Bible are the very last to ever claim to know much about it at all. You might as well claim to truly know the Milky Way, and only the most foolish and blind astronomer would ever make that claim.
I’ve been enjoying Dr. Eugene Peterson’s memoir The Pastor. One of Peterson’s most truly wise and learned teachers at the Johns Hopkins University was Professor William Albright, then perhaps the world’s leading scholar in biblical archaeology and Semitic studies.
Peterson says that one day Dr. Albright walked into the classroom greatly excited. For years scholars had been debating the exact location (and meaning) of Mount Moriah, where Abraham had “bound Isaac for sacrifice.” Dr. Albright had awakened that morning to suddenly realize that he had discovered some very important answers. He stood before his doctoral students and laid it all out, filling the chalkboard with Ugaritic, Arabic, Assyrian, Aramaic, and Hebrew words pertinent to the issue. He’d gone on for twenty minutes when one of his best students raised his hand and asked, “But Dr. Albright, what about . . .”
Peterson says that the Professor stopped, considered for twenty seconds, and said, “Mr. Williams is right—forget everything I have said.” Amazing humility! And true humility is always impressive.
Most folks don’t even begin to realize how much we are blessed by those like the good Professor and so many others who have devoted their lives to helping us better understand God’s written word.
May we never forget that the real purpose of God’s written revelation—every page—is to help us know and become like the Lord behind it. Knowing its facts but not its Author would be sad indeed. The more we truly know of Him the more truly humble we will become.
Copyright 2011 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.
Usually they mean that someone is quite familiar with the words of the Bible, its many facts and wonderful stories, etc. On one level, that’s great, since most studies these days show that the general level of factual Bible knowledge among even Christians is appalling.
But then I wonder, how much does that person whose Bible knowledge is being touted really understand about God’s written revelation? For example, how much does he understand about the various types of literature that are contained in the Scriptures? Does she realize that being serious about learning what a particular book of the Bible has to teach means being serious enough to learn something about its context and setting? And on we could go.
I don’t doubt for a moment that one doesn’t have to have credentials as a Bible scholar to derive great blessing from simply reading the Bible and learning about the amazingly Good News of God’s love.
But neither do I doubt that those who have worked hardest to truly know the most about the facts, the message, and the meaning of the Bible are the very last to ever claim to know much about it at all. You might as well claim to truly know the Milky Way, and only the most foolish and blind astronomer would ever make that claim.
I’ve been enjoying Dr. Eugene Peterson’s memoir The Pastor. One of Peterson’s most truly wise and learned teachers at the Johns Hopkins University was Professor William Albright, then perhaps the world’s leading scholar in biblical archaeology and Semitic studies.
Peterson says that one day Dr. Albright walked into the classroom greatly excited. For years scholars had been debating the exact location (and meaning) of Mount Moriah, where Abraham had “bound Isaac for sacrifice.” Dr. Albright had awakened that morning to suddenly realize that he had discovered some very important answers. He stood before his doctoral students and laid it all out, filling the chalkboard with Ugaritic, Arabic, Assyrian, Aramaic, and Hebrew words pertinent to the issue. He’d gone on for twenty minutes when one of his best students raised his hand and asked, “But Dr. Albright, what about . . .”
Peterson says that the Professor stopped, considered for twenty seconds, and said, “Mr. Williams is right—forget everything I have said.” Amazing humility! And true humility is always impressive.
Most folks don’t even begin to realize how much we are blessed by those like the good Professor and so many others who have devoted their lives to helping us better understand God’s written word.
May we never forget that the real purpose of God’s written revelation—every page—is to help us know and become like the Lord behind it. Knowing its facts but not its Author would be sad indeed. The more we truly know of Him the more truly humble we will become.
Copyright 2011 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.
Monday, July 11, 2011
"When Jesus Saw What Was Happening, He Was Angry"
If I were to ask you to name some occasions in Scripture when Jesus was angry, where would you start?
Probably the incident that would come to mind first for most of us is Christ overturning the tables of the greedy money-changers in the temple. If he wasn’t awfully angry on that occasion, he certainly did a fine imitation of an angry Lord!
And when Jesus stared holes through the hypocritical religious leaders of his day and called them “a brood of vipers,” I doubt the Pharisees missed the fire in his eyes. It was fierce love of God’s people that sparked solar flares in those usually oh so gentle eyes.
Ah, but I’m thinking of another occasion now. I like what the first two say about our Lord, but I like even more what this next one says.
It’s found in Mark 10. The people have been bringing their children to Jesus to have him touch them, bless them, and the disciples, uptight about crowd control, have begun shooing them away. Surely the Lord is far too busy, far too important, to be bothered by a bunch of snotty-nosed kids. (Mind you, the Greek text says nothing about snot. Come to think of it, in two years of biblical Greek, I don’t remember learning the Greek term for mucous, but kids are kids.)
The Bible says Jesus gets “irate.” “Indignant.” “Much displeased.” And one version just says, “angry.”
Not at the kids or the parents. At the disciples.
“Don’t push these children away,” he admonishes his disciples. “Don’t ever get between them and me. These children are at the very center of life in the kingdom.”
And he goes on: “Mark this: Unless you accept God’s kingdom in the simplicity of a child, you’ll never get in” (The Message). Then he gathers the little ones into his arms and blesses them.
I love this picture of our Lord! And I love what it says not only about the Son but also about the Father and His estimation of who is really greatest in the Kingdom.
Probably I should admit that these words are not being written by a presently emotionally stable individual. Stable people don’t get misty-eyed when they see chalk drawings on their sidewalk, and bubble “guns” sitting still and bubble-less, and tree swings becalmed (and nothing is sadder than a grandpa sitting in a tree swing alone). It’s far too quiet around here. No little fingers are tugging at me to come see a really pretty purple flower. Yes, our granddaughters just spent a few days with us in Muleshoe (they prefer Muleshoe hands down to Malibu), and I’m experiencing PawPaw withdrawal.
“That’s my PawPaw!” I’ve heard both girls “explain.” Loudly. I’d rather be their PawPaw than any country’s king.
And wonder of wonders, the King of the universe feels that way about all His little ones. And you. And me.
Copyright 2011 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.
Probably the incident that would come to mind first for most of us is Christ overturning the tables of the greedy money-changers in the temple. If he wasn’t awfully angry on that occasion, he certainly did a fine imitation of an angry Lord!
And when Jesus stared holes through the hypocritical religious leaders of his day and called them “a brood of vipers,” I doubt the Pharisees missed the fire in his eyes. It was fierce love of God’s people that sparked solar flares in those usually oh so gentle eyes.
Ah, but I’m thinking of another occasion now. I like what the first two say about our Lord, but I like even more what this next one says.
It’s found in Mark 10. The people have been bringing their children to Jesus to have him touch them, bless them, and the disciples, uptight about crowd control, have begun shooing them away. Surely the Lord is far too busy, far too important, to be bothered by a bunch of snotty-nosed kids. (Mind you, the Greek text says nothing about snot. Come to think of it, in two years of biblical Greek, I don’t remember learning the Greek term for mucous, but kids are kids.)
The Bible says Jesus gets “irate.” “Indignant.” “Much displeased.” And one version just says, “angry.”
Not at the kids or the parents. At the disciples.
“Don’t push these children away,” he admonishes his disciples. “Don’t ever get between them and me. These children are at the very center of life in the kingdom.”
And he goes on: “Mark this: Unless you accept God’s kingdom in the simplicity of a child, you’ll never get in” (The Message). Then he gathers the little ones into his arms and blesses them.
I love this picture of our Lord! And I love what it says not only about the Son but also about the Father and His estimation of who is really greatest in the Kingdom.
Probably I should admit that these words are not being written by a presently emotionally stable individual. Stable people don’t get misty-eyed when they see chalk drawings on their sidewalk, and bubble “guns” sitting still and bubble-less, and tree swings becalmed (and nothing is sadder than a grandpa sitting in a tree swing alone). It’s far too quiet around here. No little fingers are tugging at me to come see a really pretty purple flower. Yes, our granddaughters just spent a few days with us in Muleshoe (they prefer Muleshoe hands down to Malibu), and I’m experiencing PawPaw withdrawal.
“That’s my PawPaw!” I’ve heard both girls “explain.” Loudly. I’d rather be their PawPaw than any country’s king.
And wonder of wonders, the King of the universe feels that way about all His little ones. And you. And me.
Copyright 2011 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
God Insists That His Children Learn To Be Thankful
My parents believed in giving thanks. Yes, they believed in giving thanks primarily to God for the blessings he showers upon us. But Mom & Dad also believed in giving thanks to the people around us.
My mother, normally a most loving woman, was an absolute tyrant regarding “thank you” notes. From the moment we were old enough to scratch out a note, if we received any kind of gift from friends or family, she’d glue a writing instrument to our hands, staple our posteriors into a chair, and crack the whip as we wrote the required heartfelt note of thanks.
And Dad? Well, what started me thinking about all this was an essay one of my brothers recently wrote, remarking on the incredible amount of correspondence that my dad sent out each week. As the founder of a Bible school for preachers and church leaders, Dad depended upon contributors to keep the school funded, and, added to the mound of pastoral letters he sent out to minister to friends and extended flock far and wide, were stacks of those “thank you’s” for support. I wonder how many Underwood typewriters Dad rode right into the ground!
My mother and father taught me that there is a time for gratitude. That time is all the time. And they taught me the biblical truth that a grateful heart is the antidote for all manner of diseases of the soul.
I admit that I’ve not always followed their lead. Far too often, I’ve allowed “grinchy-ness” to crowd out gratitude, but Mom & Dad made sure that when I fall to that temptation I’m rarely able to feel good about it for very long.
Funny. Even before I read my brother’s essay, I’d already been thinking specifically about how gratitude seems to be the key to living the life God wants for us. In my own private devotions . . .
Stop! Don’t get the idea that I’ve got anything at all to be proud of regarding such devotions. I do them sporadically at best and usually poorly, I’m sure. So that’s my confession.
Okay. In my own private devotions, I often use the now-centuries-old (first published in 1549) and, to me, richly beautiful, Book of Common Prayer and its “order” for daily devotions and systematic readings and prayers from Scripture. On one recent morning, a morning which followed an evening in which I was grinchier than usual, I noticed how many of the words and Scriptures in the “morning rite” point to gratitude.
“O give thanks to Lord!” worshipers are urged in a variety of words in almost every paragraph and with multiple psalms and other Scriptures.
My circumstances, feelings, mood, and digestion may change often. But it’s good to be reminded each new day that God does not change—nor does my deep need to give thanks to him.
It seems that I’ve got another Father who is also serious about me learning to be a genuinely thankful person—whether I like it or not.
Copyright 2011 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.
My mother, normally a most loving woman, was an absolute tyrant regarding “thank you” notes. From the moment we were old enough to scratch out a note, if we received any kind of gift from friends or family, she’d glue a writing instrument to our hands, staple our posteriors into a chair, and crack the whip as we wrote the required heartfelt note of thanks.
And Dad? Well, what started me thinking about all this was an essay one of my brothers recently wrote, remarking on the incredible amount of correspondence that my dad sent out each week. As the founder of a Bible school for preachers and church leaders, Dad depended upon contributors to keep the school funded, and, added to the mound of pastoral letters he sent out to minister to friends and extended flock far and wide, were stacks of those “thank you’s” for support. I wonder how many Underwood typewriters Dad rode right into the ground!
My mother and father taught me that there is a time for gratitude. That time is all the time. And they taught me the biblical truth that a grateful heart is the antidote for all manner of diseases of the soul.
I admit that I’ve not always followed their lead. Far too often, I’ve allowed “grinchy-ness” to crowd out gratitude, but Mom & Dad made sure that when I fall to that temptation I’m rarely able to feel good about it for very long.
Funny. Even before I read my brother’s essay, I’d already been thinking specifically about how gratitude seems to be the key to living the life God wants for us. In my own private devotions . . .
Stop! Don’t get the idea that I’ve got anything at all to be proud of regarding such devotions. I do them sporadically at best and usually poorly, I’m sure. So that’s my confession.
Okay. In my own private devotions, I often use the now-centuries-old (first published in 1549) and, to me, richly beautiful, Book of Common Prayer and its “order” for daily devotions and systematic readings and prayers from Scripture. On one recent morning, a morning which followed an evening in which I was grinchier than usual, I noticed how many of the words and Scriptures in the “morning rite” point to gratitude.
“O give thanks to Lord!” worshipers are urged in a variety of words in almost every paragraph and with multiple psalms and other Scriptures.
My circumstances, feelings, mood, and digestion may change often. But it’s good to be reminded each new day that God does not change—nor does my deep need to give thanks to him.
It seems that I’ve got another Father who is also serious about me learning to be a genuinely thankful person—whether I like it or not.
Copyright 2011 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.
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