(Just a warning: this will probably be a tl;dr narrative of what went down today. I just had to put it down... and I end up rambling a lot.)
Monday, April 25, 2011
Sunday, April 24, 2011
EOTY
God is so good. So good.
At each End-of-the-Year Party, God just amazes me and shocks me with his goodness and glory. Incredible. =)
At each End-of-the-Year Party, God just amazes me and shocks me with his goodness and glory. Incredible. =)
Saturday, April 23, 2011
". . . it will be a Good Friday."
As I sat in the Good Friday service, I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. I mean, sure, the choir and orchestra were beautiful, but they were singing about Jesus moaning on the cross, about the painful details of being nailed to wood and the blood dripping from the holes in his body.
It wasn't so much the graphic details that made me feel uncomfortable, but more like my mind couldn't help but say, "No. Don't. Stop." Don't do this. Stop it. It was as if I were at the cross, screaming at Jesus to get down from there, that he, of all people... of all beings, shouldn't be hanging there.
And not for me, no, please, don't do it for me. I'm not worthy. You're so much more important. Anyone is way more important than me. How could you do this for me? How dare you do this for me?
At one point, I couldn't quite handle more realization of how much shame and pain He must've dealt with. My hands shielded my face and I lowered my head.
In Spanish class today, someone gave a presentation on the deforestation of the Amazon, and the question they had for the class was whether we thought the problem of deforestation was more a problem of ignorance or of apathy. After a couple students gave their answer, our teacher remarked that sometimes the reality of how grave the situation is can turn us off. We begin to shut ourselves away from such news because if we actually listen to it, then we have to deal with it. We have to reconcile that there's a lot of pain and hurt in this world, and realizing its magnitude is overwhelming. Rather than be overwhelmed, or have our conscience nag at us, we decide to just turn a blind eye. So we choose to be ignorant.
In those moments I felt like choosing to be ignorant. I felt like holing myself away, ashamed that I could do nothing to help, and that in fact, I was the one who nailed Him to the cross. It was my sins He was dying for, and what did I have to show for his death? Nothing but helplessness.
Why would someone do this?
"This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins."
(1 John 4:10)
How dare He. Not just God, sending His Son, but also Jesus, the Son... how dare He choose to die for us. He should have just left me in the cold. There is nothing in me worth saving. There is nothing that I can give that He needs.
After all, Romans 5:7, "Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die."
ah. but. Romans 5:8. "But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."
Why did He die for us? Because he loves us. Why does He love us? Because He's God. It's who He is and it's part of His character. He is love, after all.
And it's His love that instills worth in me.
My devotional last night coincided nicely with Good Friday, telling me,
"How do we really and truly know God loves us? Where's the proof of His love?
It's at the cross that God proved once and for all that He loves us. There could be no greater expression of His devotion to us than to send His own Son to die such an undeserving death on our behalf. Love, and only love, would ever do something like that.
With the cross, God has given us something factual and historical that forever settles the issue of His love. The next time you begin to question if God really loves you, look at the cross. The next time you disappoint yourself and doubt God wants anything to do with you, look at the cross. The next time you hear the condemning whispers of the enemy ('You blew it. He doesn't want you anymore'), look at the cross. God loves you without end. Just look at the cross... there's the proof!"
So there is where I find my worth. In the unchangeable. In something that's not about my success, my grades, my talents, my good deeds, my words or other people's words about me.
In the end, it's all about Him. It was never about me, but He was so gracious as to let me be a part of all of this. I can't just look at the cross and demand that Jesus would stop dying for me. It's His choice, and it's His love.
All I can do is thank Him and praise Him.
It wasn't so much the graphic details that made me feel uncomfortable, but more like my mind couldn't help but say, "No. Don't. Stop." Don't do this. Stop it. It was as if I were at the cross, screaming at Jesus to get down from there, that he, of all people... of all beings, shouldn't be hanging there.
And not for me, no, please, don't do it for me. I'm not worthy. You're so much more important. Anyone is way more important than me. How could you do this for me? How dare you do this for me?
At one point, I couldn't quite handle more realization of how much shame and pain He must've dealt with. My hands shielded my face and I lowered my head.
In Spanish class today, someone gave a presentation on the deforestation of the Amazon, and the question they had for the class was whether we thought the problem of deforestation was more a problem of ignorance or of apathy. After a couple students gave their answer, our teacher remarked that sometimes the reality of how grave the situation is can turn us off. We begin to shut ourselves away from such news because if we actually listen to it, then we have to deal with it. We have to reconcile that there's a lot of pain and hurt in this world, and realizing its magnitude is overwhelming. Rather than be overwhelmed, or have our conscience nag at us, we decide to just turn a blind eye. So we choose to be ignorant.
In those moments I felt like choosing to be ignorant. I felt like holing myself away, ashamed that I could do nothing to help, and that in fact, I was the one who nailed Him to the cross. It was my sins He was dying for, and what did I have to show for his death? Nothing but helplessness.
Why would someone do this?
"This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins."
(1 John 4:10)
How dare He. Not just God, sending His Son, but also Jesus, the Son... how dare He choose to die for us. He should have just left me in the cold. There is nothing in me worth saving. There is nothing that I can give that He needs.
After all, Romans 5:7, "Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die."
ah. but. Romans 5:8. "But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."
Why did He die for us? Because he loves us. Why does He love us? Because He's God. It's who He is and it's part of His character. He is love, after all.
And it's His love that instills worth in me.
My devotional last night coincided nicely with Good Friday, telling me,
"How do we really and truly know God loves us? Where's the proof of His love?
It's at the cross that God proved once and for all that He loves us. There could be no greater expression of His devotion to us than to send His own Son to die such an undeserving death on our behalf. Love, and only love, would ever do something like that.
With the cross, God has given us something factual and historical that forever settles the issue of His love. The next time you begin to question if God really loves you, look at the cross. The next time you disappoint yourself and doubt God wants anything to do with you, look at the cross. The next time you hear the condemning whispers of the enemy ('You blew it. He doesn't want you anymore'), look at the cross. God loves you without end. Just look at the cross... there's the proof!"
So there is where I find my worth. In the unchangeable. In something that's not about my success, my grades, my talents, my good deeds, my words or other people's words about me.
In the end, it's all about Him. It was never about me, but He was so gracious as to let me be a part of all of this. I can't just look at the cross and demand that Jesus would stop dying for me. It's His choice, and it's His love.
All I can do is thank Him and praise Him.
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