Thoughts

  • What is Truth?

    As followers of Jesus, we know the importance of TRUTH. We know that Jesus is truth, that everything God has ever said is true, that the Holy Spirit leads us in truth, and that relationship with Jesus Christ is the only way to walk in the truth. We also know that the world hates the truth, and that Satan is the father of lies. Perhaps one of the hardest challenges for the Christian is the task of going about sharing this truth with the unbelieving world without being smug about it. There’s nothing quite so off-putting as someone who knows something and puts you down for not knowing it.

    This morning I came across a verse in John 18 that caught me off guard and led me down a rabbit hole of thought. Jesus has been brought before Pilate, not long before he is beaten and crucified, and he questions him. “Are you the king of the Jews?” he asks. In verse 37, Jesus responds “I am a king. In fact, for this reason I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.” And then comes the three-word question that surprised me so much. Pilate responds to Jesus by saying “What is truth?” 

    And then he walked away.

    This is one of the saddest moments I think I’ve found in the whole Bible. Historically, I’ve always felt bad for Pilate as being sympathetic to Jesus and trying to convince the Jews he wasn’t all that bad, but this verse puts him in a new light for me. How can you stand in front of the King of Truth, ask the question “what is truth?”, and then walk away?

    I was looking at some commentaries on this verse online and I found this comment that struck me.

    “This might be the most important question a human being can ask, and Pilate is standing in front of the ultimate answer, yet he walks away without really considering his own words.” (BibleRef article linked here: https://www.bibleref.com/John/18/John-18-38.html)

    Jesus is the ultimate answer, the ultimate truth. If Pilate were really seeking an answer, he would look no further. Clearly, Pilate was not genuinely seeking. I think the same can be said for most of the world. 

    Matthew 7:7 says “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened.”

    Romans 1:20 says “For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse.”

    1 Timothy 2:3-4 says “This is good, and pleases God our savior, who wants all men to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth.”

    While God is mysterious and confusing and nobody fully understands His ways, He does not make the truth hard to find. He upset history by sending Jesus to Earth, He put his Spirit inside His believers, and He commissioned us to spread the truth. There is great power in truth and one must choose to accept it or to reject it. Pilate rejected it. What will you do?

  • BEYOND THE EDGE

    “How far are we from the edge?” she asked me.

    “What edge?” I said.

    “The edge of the earth.”

    “There isn’t an edge, it just goes on and on and around and around forever,” I replied.

    She paused and thought for a while. I could tell she was thinking because her forehead was wrinkled and her head was tilted to the left and her eyes were studying the clouds above us. Finally she said, “well I wish there was an edge, cause I would jump off it.”

    I thought this was a wonderful thing to say. I imagined a cliff that leads to nowhere, just down into nothingness, and I wondered if I would jump. Then I remembered that scene in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C.S. Lewis, where Reepicheep, that small but noble mouse, sailed to the edge of the sea just to see where it led. This is the very essence of adventure, I think. It all starts with an idea that defies logic, that goes against science or math, that insults the enlightened man, but that captures the mind in a way that no concept or number could, and it sparks the most incredible adventure. And what is life without adventure? 

    I think following God is an adventure. Maybe that’s my favorite part of being a Christian, is that sense that I’ll never have it all figured out, that I’ll always be left with questions. For some people that might be frustrating, and it is for me too sometimes, but then I think about the edge of the world, and maybe God is beyond that cliff. Maybe that’s what heaven is, the place beyond the edge, and my whole life is leading up to that moment of death, when I finally make the leap.

  • Magic

    I’ll never understand the magic of story, the power of words woven together to make something that didn’t exist before. It truly is one of the most miraculous things, and I think it’s a gift. The way you feel when you read something that moves you, the empathy you feel for the characters you know only by name on the page, the deep sorrow and awe you feel when you finish a book… it’s all so mysterious. 

    I just read the last chapter of C.S. Lewis’s book The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. It’s one of my favorites. I am amazed not only by the words Lewis uses and the picture he paints, but by the feel of the chapter. When I read that chapter, I can’t help but feel sad and happy, dread and hope. It’s a chapter that tears you apart and puts you back together in seven short pages. I read it slow and fast at the same time, hoping it will never end yet wishing to read the final sentence. This chapter makes me worship. No joke, I am holding back tears as I write this, thinking about the glory of God, who created story and language and art and beauty and asks us not to hold these things back, but to express them and to help others express them. And isn’t that the job of the storyteller, to usher God’s children into His presence and show them how to bow before His throne?

    This is a noble and sacred thing, to create, and I hope I never waste this gift.

  • Visceral

    Visceral

    Hold my bleeding heart and keep it beating

    Sometimes I can’t tell if I am breathing

    These groanings in my chest, they are greedy

    But really it’s just you that I’m needing

     

    We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.

    Romans 8:22-23

  • ScotThoughts 2

    There are people who are more comfortable doing than thinking. They are the ones who play in the rain, while all the thinkers are holed up in their warm, dry lairs, doing their best thinking, undistracted by the FOMO that the doers try to impose on everyone else. I think I’m a doer, but then again, I’m sitting here thinking instead of doing. Yesterday I did, but today I think. Maybe I’m just both. Maybe we all are. Maybe I’m overthinking this. Maybe I’m not thinking enough.

  • ScotThoughts 1

    Have you ever thought about the homogeneity of clouds on a rainy day? Gray. Gray. Gray.

    All the clouds mingled together so closely that you can’t tell where one ends and another begins. Is it even a bunch of clouds or is it just one massive cloud that blankets the entire earth?

    That’s a spectacular unity, one I wish could exist in humanity.

    If humanity were clouds, the sky would look like a jigsaw puzzle put together by an angry two-year-old; just a bunch of broken pieces mashed together. And when the sun shines on it from the other side, all the creases and cracks are exposed.

    But the clouds, they’re together. They’re one.

  • rain is beautiful, isn’t it?

    Everybody’s broken and I’m no different.

    I feel unworthy, deficient.

    The great lie in my heart: I’ve gotta be perfect to serve.

    Truth is the best of us are really just the worst of us.

    I face addictions too, you know, I face temptations just like you. I’m insecure, afraid, just trying to make it to the next day.

    The true test of faith is what you do with shame; do you let it sit and simmer, or do you give yourself some grace?

    I wish life were easier, but it only gets harder.

    I hope I can learn to see beauty in pain, oh, I just can’t wait til I can dance in the rain.

  • re: turn

    re: turn

    i feel lost, i feel hopeless, i feel broken, even though i know deep down
    that i’m chosen.
    even still, in my heart, i am frozen.

    you tell me not to fight, that you’ve spoken. all these lies hold no weight, for
    you have risen. all my chains are on the ground, they have fallen!

    look, look, look where i am and where i started! redemption’s story being told
    though i’ve parted.

    “return to me,” says the Lord, “return to me.”

  • Everything is Grace

    Everything is Grace

    A gentle rain upon my face…

    that is grace.

    A vicious downpour that leaves no trace…

    that is grace.

    Truly,

    every breath, every step, every touch, every taste,

    every single little thing…

    is GRACE

    “Abounding sin is the terror of the world, but abounding grace is the hope of mankind.” -A. W. Tozer

  • A Desert Soul, Part 4

    We walked for a mile in silence. Jack’s steps were light and I noticed he was barely sweating at all; I on the other hand, if invertebrate, could have been wrung out like a wet towel, filling many buckets with my sweat. My steps were still sinking deep into the sand as well, and with every step I cursed Jack and this blazing dream and God even. All I wanted was to return to my ordinary day, to go out and buy a coffee – maybe a croissant – and go about my day! God, did that sound lovely! My mouth nearly drooled at the thought. Suddenly I realized I was extremely thirsty, for I hadn’t drunk water since this whole nightmare began. I contemplated asking Jack if he had water, but of course he didn’t have a water bottle. And why would he? He was an angel; do they even drink? Aren’t they satiated by God alone?

    I sneered at my own thought. All this was rather uncomfortable, was it not? What, in the end, would I draw away from this hellish experience? As soon as I was returned to my ordinarity, I would forget this whole thing – Jack, the two colleagues, the drunkard, and this hot desert.

    This thought reminded me of my temporariness in this world. Surely I would be returned to Earth soon! This gave me hope to keep trudging, for I was exhausted and ready to collapse into the burning sand. I also reminded myself that it was cold on Earth right now and I would need my coat upon return, so with renewed passion, I gripped my coat and caught up to Jack, whose pace was difficult to match.

    We came upon a scene which, in retrospect, is rather comical. In the moment, however, it hit way too close to home.

    There was, on the cliff wall (for we had followed the wall of the ravine the whole time) was a worn ladder made from some sort of tied together twine. It looked suspicious and altogether not fit for climbing. There was upon it, however, a large man with a gigantic pack on his back. Furthermore, he was grasping in his left hand a staff, leaving his right arm alone to support and balance the weight that he carried. His situation was such that I thought several times he would fall, for he was tipping this way and that due to so much pressure on his back. And without both hands to properly climb the ladder, he swayed and rocked the ladder violently. And with every sway, an item from his pack would linger precariously close to tipping out and falling back down the wall; the man was no less than 20 feet above the ground.

    Indeed, he would have made quicker progress, but for the fact that each time he swung to the right or to the left and noticed one of his precious collectables about to fall, he would do everything within his effort to clutch at it until it was once more secure in his pack. This he did a hundred times within the first minute of us observing him from below.

    “Surely we must do something!” said I to Jack, cringing with every shake and stagger, “he’s going to fall!”

    “Sadly nothing can be done for this poor old fool,” Jack responded.

    “Nothing! Well, surely someone in his right mind might coax him down!”

    “Do you not think this man is of a stable frame of mind?”

    “Well certainly I don’t! Just look at him, he values his belongings more than his very life!”

    “Ah, does he now?” And as Jack said it, I knew the tremor in his voice was meant to challenge my own way of thinking, for I was still holding on to my coat. Inside I boiled but outwardly kept my cool, feinting oblivion.

    “Well very well, you may interact with the fellow,” said Jack, snapping his fingers. I was inserted into this new realm, the realm without Jack. I very much liked not having to bother with Jack’s judgmental attitude.

    I approached the cliffside and looked up at the man, who had made no progress – in fact he may have traveled down a rung or two!

    “Good sir!” I hollered up at the man. No response. “Good sir!” I tried again, louder this time.

    “Ay, is somebody there?” the man called down without looking down.

    “Hello good sir! Might I suggest you come down from there?”

    “Well why on earth would I do that? I need to make it up!”

    “I fear that if you continue, you shall fall and greatly injure yourself!”

    “Ha! Never have I been one to follow fear’s whims. I am a conquerer!”

    He tried to continue up the ladder, but only managed to knock loose a badminton racket from his bag, which he managed to catch with his foot, pinching the racket between his foot and the wall. It was quite impressive, I must say, but he nearly lost his balance and fell. The next minute was riveting to watch, as he precariously reached down with his left hand to grab the racket. The trick was that he was already holding his staff with his left hand, so in order to free his hand, he clenched the staff between his knees and grabbed the racket, then placed it back into his pack and wielded the staff once more.

    “Sir,” I called up once more, “why don’t you let a few things go? You’re endangering your safety for the sake of your objects!”

    “Indeed I am, but let me assure you, kind gentleman, that all of my possessions are of great worth!”

    “Well, would you at least loose your staff so you have 2 free hands to climb the ladder?”

    “Loose my– well!” huffed the man, “I could simply never do such a thing! This staff holds very dear sentiment to my heart and dropping it would be the cruelest thing I’d ever done.”

    “Well, what about lightening your pack a little bit, then? Tell you what, why don’t you come back down and I’ll help you sort out your belongings, and then you can return up the ladder with ease!”

    “You speak as a simpleton I’m afraid. You know nothing of the value of my possessions and if you did I’m positive you’d agree with me. Now, if you’ll leave me be, I’m almost to the top!”

    It was then that Jack fetched me back and we both watched the fool climb the ladder hopelessly. He was nowhere near the summit.

    “Will he ever reach the top?” I asked.

    “I guess not.”

    “A shame.”

    “And what about you, John?” Jack turned to me as he said this.

    “Well what about me?” I replied.

    “Are you ready to drop your possessions?”

    “This is hardly about me! Besides, the poor old man is carrying more weight than I! One shouldn’t compare the two of us!” I waved my hand in Jack’s face and turned my attention back to the man on the ladder. I never felt Jack’s gaze leave me, however, and it was quite uncomfortable.

    “John, face the truth. You’ve been carrying around more weight than just your coat. You know I’m not only talking about physical things – the man’s pack represents more than just his physical belongings. You’ve been bearing many things upon your shoulders, since you were a child even!”

    “You don’t know me and I wish you’d stop pretending you do!”

    “You always blamed yourself for your father’s drinking habit, didn’t you?”

    I turned to Jack, rage in my eyes, unable to form words. Jack continued, though I silently begged him to stop.

    “And when your parents divorced, you promised yourself you’d never make the same mistakes… but here we are. You’ve been carrying these wounds like you’ve been carrying that coat, and you refuse to let go. Why is that, John?”

    Like salt to an open wound were Jack’s words to my heart. I was crying now. I felt in that moment naked, completely exposed, weak, vulnerable, and I hated it. I hated Jack for doing this to me. Above all, I hated myself.

    “It’s time to let go. It’s time to drop the coat. ‘Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.’”

    I felt like a little child. I was weak, dependent, unable to provide for myself. I was a failure. I had done the very thing I promised I’d never do. I promised I’d never hurt someone the way my father hurt my mother. And yet, I was no different from him… no better.

    “Love and hate cannot coexist within your heart. You must rid yourself of one to make room for the other.”

    How did Jack do that? How did he pierce my mind and soul and speak so eloquently into it? I didn’t know and for a moment I didn’t care. My eyes began to open to the truth of it all – just a sliver, mind you – it would take years before I began to fully understand the depravity of my heart, but there in the desert the door to my soul was cracked open, letting in a sliver of light.

    I dropped my coat.

    Oh the joy that embraced me in that moment! I danced a silly dance there on the hot sand, yet I barely even felt the sand on my feet anymore! What once had burned so painfully now seemed like nothing! My steps were not deep as they were before – no, they were light like Jack’s! I felt freer than I’d ever felt before. Greater than that, I felt the overwhelming power of love rush over me and take my breath away. I was speechless!

    I looked at Jack, awe in my eyes and happiness inflating my chest. He looked back at me the same and we embraced.

    “Now do you believe?”

    I believed.